Date: 1896-01-01T07:00:00+00:00
Keywords: liberty
Description: Herbert Spencer The Principles of Ethics, Volume I
Publisher: D. Appleton and Company, New York

The Principles of Ethics, Volume I

Herbert Spencer

THE PRINOIPLES OF ETHICS BY HERBERT SPENOER. YOLo 1. NEW YORK: D. APPJ~ETON AND OOMPANY. 1896.

COPYRIGHT, 1892, By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. PRINTED AT THE ApPLETON PRESS, U. S. A.

GENERAL PREFACE. THE divisions of· which this work consists have been pub lished in· an irregular manner. Part I was issued in 1879 ; Part IV in 1891; Parts II and III, forIning along with Part I, the first volume, ,vere issued in 1892; and Parts V and VI, concluding the second volun1e, have now, along with Part IV, been just issued. The reasons for this seemingly eccentric order of publication, primarily caused by ill-health, will be found stated in the respective prefaces; which, by those who care to understand why the succession named has been followed, should be read in the order: Preface to Part I; then that to Part IV/; Preface to Vol. I; and then that to Vol. II. . The· preservation of these respective prefaces, while in tended to account £01' the anomalous course pursued, serves also to explain some repetitions which, I fancy, have been made requisite by the separate publication of the parts: the independence of each having been ade8ideratum.

N ow that the work -is cOIllplete, it becomes possible to prefix some l general remarks, which cOllldnot rightly be prefixed to anyone of the instalments. The ethical doctrine set forth is fundamentally a cor re~ted and elaborated version of the doctrine set forth in Social Static8, issued at the end of 18'50. The correspond ence between the two is sho,vn, in the first place, by the coincidence of their constructive divisions. In Social Static8 the subject-matter of Morality is divided into parts which treat respecti ~el'y of Pri vate. Oonduct, .J ustice, Negative (v) vi GENERAL PREFACE. Beneficence, and Poeiti ve Beneficence; and these severally answer to Part III, Part IV, Part V, and Part VI, con stituting the constructive portion of this work: to \,dlich there are, however, here prefixed Part I, The Data, and Part II, The Inductions; in conformity with the course I have pursued throughout The Synthetic Philosophy. In Social Static8 one division only of the ethical systern marked out was developed - Justice; and I did not, when it was written, suppose that I should ever develop the others.

Besides coinciding in - their divisions, the two works agree in their cardinal ideas. As in the one so in the other, }Ian, in cornmon with lower creatures, is held to be capable of indefinite change by adaptation to conditions. In both he is regarded as undergoing transforrnation from a nature appropriate to his aboriginal wild life, to a nature appropriate to a settled civilized life; and in both this transforrnation is described as a moulding into a fornl fitted for harmonious cooperation. In both, too, this moulding is said to. be effected by the repression of certain primitive traits no longer needed, and the development of needful traits. As in the first \vork, so in this last, the great factor in the progressive modification is shown to be Sympathy. It was contended then, as it is contended now, that harmonious social cooperation implies that limitation of individual freedom wliich results froIn sympathetic regard for the freedoms of others; and that the law of equal freedom is the law in conformity to \\Thich equit able individual conduct and equitable social arrangements consist. Morality, truly so called, was described in the original work as formulating the law of the "straight Inan "; and this conception corresponds \vith the concep tion of Absolute Ethics, set forth in this work. The theory then was, as tbe theory still is, that those mental products of Synlpathy constituting what is called" the Moral Sense,"

arise as fast as lTIen are disciplined into social life; and that along with them arise intellectual perceptions of right GENERAL PREFACE. vii human relations, which become clearer as the form of social life becomes better. Further, it was inferred at that time as at this, that there is being effected a conciliation of individual natures with social reqllirelnents; so that there 'will eventually be achieved the greatest indi vidna tion along with the greatest Inutual dependence - an equilibriuin of such kind that each, in fulfilling the wants of his own life, ""\Till spontaneously aid in fulfilling the wants of all other Iives. Finally, in the first 'York there were drawn essentially the same corollaries respecting the rights of individuals and their relations to the State, that are drawn in this last work. Of course it yields me no small satisfaction to find that these ideas ,vhich fell dead in 1850, have now become generally diffused; and, more especially since the publica tion of the .Data qf Ethic8 in 1879, have met with so wide an acceptance that the majority of recent ,yorks on Ethics take cognizance of theIn, and, in !llany cases, tacitly assume them, or S0111e of them. Sundry of these works con vey either the hnpression that the evolutionary vie,Y of Ethics has long been familiar, or else that it dates from 1859, when the doctrine of " Natural Selection" was pro mulgated. In this connexion I lnay name Mr. S. Alexan der's Koral Order and Progress, and still more the Review oftn,e Systems ofEth,icsfounded on Evolution, by Mr. '0. M.

Williarns. Alike in the introductory remarks of this last volume, and ·in the paragraph closing the account given of the views of Darwin, Wallace, and Haeckel, it is alleged that these "great original authorities paved the way for a s,ysteln of Evolutionary Ethics." Though in the exposition of my own views, which ilnmediately succeeds, there is a recognition of the fact that they date back to 1851, yet the collocation, as well as the express statements, practically cancel this inconsistent admission; and leave the impression that they are sequences of those of lVir. Darwin. And this, indeed, is the established general beviii GENERAL PREFACE. lief; as is sufficiently shown by the phrase "Darwinislll in Ethics," frequently to be Inet with, and .."rhich I no""v have before me in a review of Mr. vVillialns' book. Rectification of this misbelief is of course hopeless. The world resents any attempt to show that it ,has fallen into an error; so that I should perhaps best .consult my personal in terests by saying nothing. But it seems to me proper to point out, as a matter of historical truth, that in this case, as in other cases, the genesis of ideas does not al\vays follow the order of logical sequence; and that the doctrine of organic evolution in its application to human character and intelli gence, and, by inlplication, to society, is of earlier date than The Origin of Species.

Without entering at length upon the prolegomena of Ethics, it Inay be ""veIl here to state briefly one of them. The tacit assumption Inade in this work, as more or less con sistently in all mode:t:,n works on Ethics, is that the conduct dealt with is the conduct of and between like-natured indi viduals-individuals whose likenesses of nature are so great in comparison with their differences as to constitute them of the same kind. The possibility of another assulnption, and consequently' of another Ethics, may be best shown by an analogy. The several kinds of social. insects, though they do not form societies proper (since a nest of theIn is one large family descended from the same parents) yet show us that there Inay exist a body of co-operators aluong which a marked in equality is an essential trait; and they illustrate the possi bility of a social organization such that the normal conduct of class to class is guided by rules appropriate to each class, and not common to all classes. They suggest that dissimilar members of a community may work together harmoniously on principles adapted to inequalities of nature. And they draw attention to the fact that there have been, and are, hUluan societies constituted in a 'way which is analogous, to GENERAL PREFACE: ix the extent that its classes of units, clearly marked off froln one another, and devoted to different kinds of activities, either have, or tend to acquire, contrasted characters proper to their relative positions, and reciprocal codes of conduct which are thought. obligatory. Societies fornled of dOlni· nant and enslaved races obviously answer to this description.

In the United States in &lavery days, it was common for slaves to jeer at free negroes as having no white man to take care 'of them. To such an extent may the sentiments be come moulded to relations of inequality that, as in South .Africa, the servants of a mild nlaster will speak contemptu ously of him because he does not thrash them. With ex treme cases such as these to give the clue, we may perceive that "whereverthere are ruling classes and servile classes, as throughout Europe' in early days, there COlnes to be' an ad justment of natures such that command on the one side and obedience on the other are the natural concomitants of the social type. By continuous breeding of each class within it self, there tends to arise a differentiation into two varieties, such that the one becomes organically ~dapted to suprelnacy and the other to subordination. And it needs but to recall the ancient feudal loyalty, running down through all grades, or the fealty shown by an ancient Highlander to his chief, to see that there grow up ethical conceptions adjusted to the conditions.

But systems of ethics appropriate to social systems charac terized by ~hese organized inequalities of 8tatu8 cannot be the hig4est systems of /ethics. Manifestly they presuppose imperfect natures-natures which are not self-sufficing. On the one side there is the need for control from without for the proper regulation of conduct; and on the other side there is the need for exercise of control, which, in an opposite way, irnplies lack of self-sufficingness. Further, external regulation is less economical of energy than internal regulation. When classes -of inferiors are governed by classes of superiors, there is a waste of action which does not x GENERAL PREFACE. occur when all are self-governed. But chiefly the imperfec tion of ethical systerns appropriate to societies characterized by organized inequality, is that synlpathy, and all those emo tions into which sympathy enters, and all that happiness of which sympathy is the root, relnain incomplete. Alien na tures cannot synlpathize in full measure-can synlpathize only in respect of those feelings which they have in com mon. Hence the unlikenesses presupposed between perma nently ruling classes and pernlanently subject classes, nega ti ve that highest happiness which a rational ethics takes for its end.

Throughout this work, therefore, the tacit assumption will be that the beings spoken of have that substantial unity of nature which characterizes the same variety of Man; and the work will not, save incidentally Or by contrast, take ac count of mixed societies, such as that which we have estab lished in India, and still less of slave-societies. June, 1893. H. S.

PREFACE TO VOL. I. MISAPPREHENSIONS would probably arise in the absence of explanations respecting the order in which the several parts of The Principles of Ethics have been, and are to be, pub lished; for the· production of the 'work, and its appearance in print, have proceeded in an unusual manner. As explained in the original preface fixed·· to Part I (which is reproduced on the pages which follow), that part was written, and issued by itself in 1879, under the impres sion that ill-health might wholly prevent me from treating the subject of Ethics, if I waited till it was reached in the prescribed course of my work. More than ten years followed, partly occupied in further elaboration of The j)rinciples of Sociology, an& partly passed in a state of prostration which prevented all serious work. Along with partial recovery there came the decision to. write at once the most important of the further divisions of The Prin ciples of .E~hics-Part IV: Justice. This was issued sepa rately in June, 1891. . As stated in the preface to it, I pro posed thereafter to write, if possible, Parts II and III, completing the first volulne. This purpose has fortunately no\v been cOlnpassed; and Parts II and III are herewith issued in conjunction with Part I, as proposed in the origi nal prograrrnne.

One obje~ct I have in describing this irregnlar course of Iii PREFACE. publication, is the excuse it affords for SOine sInall repeti tions, and perhaps Ininor incongruities, 'vhich I suspect exist. The endeavour to make certain of the divisions com prehensible by themselves, has prompted inclusion in them of explanations belonging to other di visions, which publi cation of the work as a whole would have rendered super fluous. There have still to be written and published the conclud ing parts of the second volume:- Part V, " The Ethics of Social Life,- Negati ve Beneficence;" and Part VI, '~The Ethics of Social Life,- Positi ve Beneficence." The "rriting of these parts I hope to complete before ability ends: being especially anxious to do this because, in the absence of them, the divisions at present published will leave, on nearly all minds, a very erroneous hnpression respecting the general tone of evolutionary ethics. In its full scope, the moral system to be set forth unites sternness with. kindness; but thus far attention has been drawn alI!10st wholly to the sternness. Extreme misapprehensions and gross mis-state ments have hence resulted.

London, June, 1892.

PREFACE TO PART I WHEN FIRST ISSUED SEPAR ....\TELY. A. REFERENCE to the programme of the tt System of Synthetic Philosophy.," will show that the chapters herewith issued, constitute the first division of the work on the Principles oj Moralt"ty, with which the System ends. As the second and third volumes of the P·rinciplesof Sociology are as yet unpublished, this instalment of the succeeding work appears out of its place. I have besn led thus. to deviate from the order originally set down, by the fear that persistence in conforming to it might result in leaving the. final work of the series unexecuted. Hints,' repeated of late years with increasing frequency and distinctness, have shown me that health may permanently fail, even if life does not end, before I ref',ch the last part of the task I have marked out for myself. This last part of the task it is, to which I regard all the preceding parts as subsidiary. Written as far back as 1842, my fiist .essay, consisting of h3tters on The Proper Sphe1re oj Government, vaguely indicated. what I conceived to be certain general principles of. right and wrong in political conduct; and from that time onwards my ultimate purpose, lying behind all proximate purposes, has been that of finding for the principles of right and wrong in conduct at large, a scientific basis. To leave this purpose unfulfilled after making so extensive a preparation for fulfilling it, would be a failure the probability of which I do. not like to contem plate; and I am anxious to preclude it, if not wholly, still partially. Hence the step I now take. Though this first division of the work terminating the Synthetic Philosophy, cannot, of course, contain the specific conclusions to be set forth in the entire work; yet it implies them in such wise xiv PREFACE.

that, definitely to formulate them requires nothing beyond logical deduction. I am the more anxious to indicate in outline, if I cannot complete, this final work, because the establishment of rules of right conduct on a scientific basis is a pressing need. Now that moral injunctions are losing the authority given by their supposed Racred origin, the secularization of morals is becoming imperative. Few things can happen more disastrous than the decay and death of a regulative systelD no longer fit, before another and fitter regulative system has grown up to replace it. ,Most of those who reject the current creed, appear to assume that the controlling agency furnished by it may safely be thrown aside, and the vacancy left unfilled by any other controlling agency. Meanwhile, those who defend the cnrrent creed allege that in the absence of the guidance it yields, no guidance can exist: divine commandments they think the only possible guides. Thus between these extreme opponents there is a certain community. The one holds that the gap left by dis appearance of the code of supernatural ethics, need not be filled by a code of natural ethics j and the other holds that it cannot be so filled. Both contemplate a vacuum: which the one wishes and the other fears. As the change which promises or threatens to bring about this state, desired or dreaded, is rapidly progressing, those who believe that the vaCUUln can be filled, and that it must be filled, are called on to do something in pursuance of their belief.

To this more special reason I may add a more general reason. Great mischief has been done by the repellent aspect habitually given to moral rule by its expositors; and immense benefits are to be anticipated from presenting moral rule under that attractive aspect which it has when undistorted by superstition and asceticism. If a father, sternly enforcing nUlllerous commands, some needful and some needless, adds to his severe control a behaviour wholly unsympathetic-if his children have to take theu PREFACE. xv pleasures by stealth, or, when timidly lo(\king up from their play, ever meet a cold glance or more frequently a frown; his government will inevitably be disliked, i£ not hated; and the aiDI will be to evade it as much as possible. Con.. trariwise, a father who, equally firm in maintaining restraints needful for the well-being of his children or the well-being 01 other persons, not only avoids needless restraints, but, giving his sanction to all legitimate gratifications and pro viding the means for them, looks on at their gambols with an approving smile, can scarcely fail to gain an influence whicb, no Jess efficient for the time being, will also be perulanently 'efficient. The controls of such two fathers symbolize the controls of Morality as it is and Morality as it should be.

Nor does mischief result only from this undue severity of the ethical doctrine bequeathed us by the harsh past. Further mischief results from the impracticability of its ideal. In violent reaction against the utter selfishness of life as carried on in barbarous societies, it has insisted on a ·life utterly unselfish. But just as· the rampant egoism of a brutal militancy, was not to be remedied by attempts at tho absolute subjection of the ego in convents and monasteries; so neither is the misconduct of ordinary humanity as now existing, to be remedied by upholding a standard of abnega tion beyond human achievement. Rather the effect is to produce a despairing abandonment of all attempts at a higher ·life. And not only does an effort to achieve the impossible, end in this way, but it simultaneously discredits the possible. By association with rules that cannot be ::>beyed,rules that can be obeyed lose their authority.

Muchadvers'e comment will, I doubt not, be passed on tho theory of right· conduct which the follo'wing pages shadow forth. Critics of a certain class, far from rejoicing that ethical principles otherwise derived by them} coincide with ethical principles scientifically derived, are offended by the coincidence. Instead of recognizing esseutial·likeness they enlarge on superficial difference. Since the· days of perse~ xvi PREFACE. cution, a curious change· has taken place in the behaviour of so-called orthodoxy towards so-called heterodoxy. The time was when a heretic, forced by torture to recant, satisfied authority by external conformity: apparent· agreement sufficed, however profound continued to be the real disagree ment. But now that the heretic can no longer be coerced into professing the ordinary belief, his belief is made to app.3ar as much opposed to the ordinary as possible. Does he diverge from established theological dogma? Then he shall be an atheist; however inadlujssible he considers the term. Does he think spiritualistic interpretations of pheno mena not valid? Then he shall be classed as a materialist; indignantly though he repudiates the nalne. And in like manner, what differences exist between natural morality and supernatural ul0rality, it has becolne the policy to exaggerate into fundamental antagonisms. In pursuance of this polIty, there will probably be singled out for repro'bation from this volume, doctrines which, taken by themselves, may readily be mad.e to seem utterly wrong. With a view to clearness, I have treated separately some correlative a~pects of conduct, drawing conclusions either of which becomes untrue if divorced from the other; and have t.hus given abundant opportunity for misrepresentation.

'fhe relations,o£ this work to works preceding it in the series, are such as to involve frequent reference. Containing, as it does, the outcome of principles set forth in each of thenl, I have found it impracticable to. dispense 'with 1'estatements of those principles. Further, the presentation of them in their relations to different ethical theories, has made it need.. ful, in every case, briefly to remind the reader what they are, and how they are derived. Hence an amount of repetition which to some will probably appear tedious. I do not, however, much regret this almost :Iuavoidable result; for only ·by varied iteration can alien conceptions be forced on reluctant minds. June, 1879.

CONTENTS OF ·VOL. I. PART I.-THE DATA OF ETHICS. CHAP. PAGB I.-CONDUCT IN GENERAL 3 H.-THE EVOLUTION OF CONDI;CT 8 IlL-GOOD AND BAD CONDUCT 21 IV.-WAYSOF JUDGING CONDUCT... 41 V.-'-THE PHYSICAL VIEW 64 VI.-THE BIOLOGICAL VIEW 15 VII.-THE PSYCHOLOGICAL VIEvV 102 VIlI.-THE SOCIOLOGICAL VIEW 132 IX.-CRITICISMS AND EXPLANATIONS 150 X.-THE RELATIVITY OF PAINS AND PLEASURES 174 XL-EGOISM VERSUS ALTRUISM 187 XII.-ALTRUISM VERSUS EGOISM 201 XIII.-TRIAL AND COMPROMISE 219 XIV.-:-CONCILIATION 242 XV.-ABSOLUTE ETHICS AND RELATIVE ETHICS 258 XVI.-THE SCOPE OF ETHICS 281 APPENDIX TO PART I 289 P.A.RT II.-THE INDUCTIONS OF ETIIICS. I.-THE CONFUSION OF ETHICAL 'fHOUGHT... 307 lI.-WHArr IDEAS AND SENTIMENTS ARE ETHICAL ~ 325 2 xviii CONTENTS. CH.AP. PAGE III.-AGGRESSION 340 IV.-ROBBERY ••• 352 V.-REVENGE 361 VI. -JUSTICE ... 369 VII.-G ENEROSITY 378 VIII. -HUMANITY 391 IX.-VERACITY 400 X.-OBEDIENCE 410 XL-INDUSTRY 422 XII. -TEMPERANCE 435 XIII.-CHASTITY 448 XIV.-SUMMARY OF INDUOTIONS 464 PART IlL-THE ETHIOS OF INDIVIDlTAL LIFE.

1.-INTRODUCTORY Il.- AOTIVITY •.• IlL-REST IV.-NUTRITION V.-STIMULATION VI.-CULTURE ••• VII. -AMUSEMENTS Vln.-MARRIAGE "\~ IX.-PARENTHOOD X.-GENERAL OONCLUSIONS 4'77 485 493 500 508 514 523 532 544 555 PART I. THE DATA OF ETHICSo COPYRIGHT, 1892, By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. PRINTED AT THE ApPLETO~ PRESS, U. S. A.

CHAPTER I. CONDUCT IN GENERAL. § 1. The doctrine that correlatives imply one another -that a father cannot be thought of without thinking of a child, and that there can be DO consciousness of superior without a consciousness o£inferior-has for one of its common examples the nece~sary connexion betwe8u the conceptions of whole and part. Beyond the primary truth that no idea of a whole can be franled without a nascent idea of parts constituting it, and that no idea of a part can be framed without a nascent idea of SOlne whole to which it helongs, there is the secondary truth that there can be no correct idea of a part without a correct idea of the correlative whole. There are several ways in which inade quate knowledge of the one involves inadequate knowledge of the other. If the part is conceived without any reference to tho whole, it becomes itself a whole-an independent entity; and its relations to existence in general are misapprehended.

Further, the size of the part as cOlupared with the size of the whole, IDustbe misapprehended unless the whole is not only recognized as including it, but is figured in its total extent. And again, the position. which the part occupies in relation to other parts, cannot be rightly conceived unless there is some conception of the whole in its distribu .. tion as well as in its amount.

4 THE DATA OF ETHICS. Still more wIlen part and whole, instead of being stati cally related only, are dynamically related, must there be a general understanding of the whole before the part can be understood. By a savage who has never seen a vehicle, no idea can be formed of the use and action of a wheel. To tlle unsymmetrically-pierced disk of an eccentric, no place or purpose can be ascribed by a rustic unacquainted with machinery. Even a mechanician, if he has never looked into a piano, will, if shown a damper, be unable ho conceive its function or relative value. J\!Iost of all, however, where the whole is organic, dOOR complete comprehension of a part imply extensive cou1prehen sion of the whole. Suppose a being ignorant of the human body to find a detached arm. If not misconceived by him as a supposed whole, instead ofbeil1g conceived as a part, still its relations to other parts, and its structure, would be wholly inexplicable. Admitting that. the cooperation of its bonef3 and muscles might be divined, yet no thought could be fral:ned of the s11are taken by the arm in the actions of the unknown whole it belonged to ; nor could any interpretation be put upon the nerves and vessels ramifying through it, which severally refer to certain central organs. A theory of the structure of the arm implies a theory of tho atrnctureof the body at large.

And this truth holds not of material aggregates only, but of nnmaterial aggregates-aggregated motions, deeds, thoughts, words. rrhe Moon's movements cannot be fully interpreted without taking into account the movements of the Solar System at large. The process of loading a gun is meaningless until the subsequent actions performed with the gun are known. 'A fragment of a sentence, if not unin .. telligible, is wrongly interpreted in the absence of the remainder. Cut off its beginning and end, and the rest of a demonstration proves nothing. Evidence given by a plain tiff often misleads until the evidence which the defendant produces is joined with it.

CONDUCT IN GENER,AL. ~ 2. Cvnduct is a whole ; and, in a sense, it is an organic whole-an aggregate of inter-dependent actions performed by an organism. That division or aspect of conduct with which Ethics,deals, is· a part of this organic whole-a part having its components inextricably bound up with the rest. As currently conceived, stirring the fire, or reading a newspaper, or eating a meal, are acts with which Morality has no concern: Opening the window to air the room, putting on an overcoat when the weather is cold, are thought of as having no ethical significance. These, however, are all portions of conduct. The behaviour we call good and the behaviour we call bad, are included, along with the behaviour we call indifferent, under the conception of behaviour at large. The whole of which Ethics forms a part, is the whole constituted by the theory of conduct in general; and this whole must be understood before the part can be under stood. Let us consider this proposition more closely.

And first, how shall we define conduct? It is not co... extensive with the aggregate of actions, though it. is nearly so. Such actions as .those of an epileptic in a fit, are not included in our conception of conduct: the conception excludes purpoReless actions. And in recognizing this ex cluf?ion, we simultaneously recognize· all that is included. The definition of conduct which emerges is either-acts adjusted to ends, or else-the adjustment of acts to ends; according as we contemplate the formed body ot acts, or think of the form alone. And conduct in its full acceptation must be taken as comprehending all adjustments of acts to ends, from the simplest to the most complex, whatever thejr speciall1atures and whether considered separately or in their totality. Conduct in general being thus distinguished from the somewhat larger whole constituted by actions in general, let us next ask what distinction is habitually made bet,weeu the conduct on which ethical judgments are passed and the remainder of conduct. As already said,a large part of THE DATA OF ETHICS.

ordinary conduct is indifferent. Shall I walk to the water ... fall to-day? or shall I ramble along the sea-shore? Hel'e the ends are ethically indifferent. If I go to the waterfall, shall I go over the moor or take the path through the wood? Here the means are ethically indifferent. And from hour· to hour nlost of the things we do are not to be judged as either good or bad in respect of either ends or means. No less clear is it that the transition from .indifferent fl cts to acts which are good or bad is gradual. If a friend who is with me has· explored the sea... shore but has not seen the waterfall, the choice of one or othel end 1S no longer ethically indifferent. And if} the waterfall being fixed on as our goal, the way over the moor is too long for his strength, while the shorter way through the wood is not, the choice of means is no longer ethically indifferent. Again, if a probable result of making tho one excursion rather than the other, is that I shall not be back in time to keep an appointment, or if taking the longer route entails this risk while taking the shorter does not, the decision in favour of one or other end or means acquires in another wayan ethical character; and if the appointment is one of some importance, or one of great importance, or one of lifeand-death importance, to self or others, the ethical character becomes pronounced. These instances will sufficiently suggest the truth that conduct with which Morality is not concerned, passes into conduct which is moral or immoral, by small degrees and in countless ways.

But the conduct that has to be conceived scientifically before we can scientifically conceive those modes of conduct which are the objects of ethical judgnlents, is a conduct immensely wider in range than that just indicated. Com .. plete comprehension of conduct is not to be obtained by contemplating the conduct of human· beings only: we have to regard this as a part of universal conduct-conduct as exhibited by fl,llliving creatures. }1-'or evidently this C0mea within our definition-acts adjusted to ends. The COlt· CONDuc,r IN GENERAL. duct of the higher animals as compared with that of man, and the conduct of the lower animals as compared with that of the higher, mainly differ in this, that the adjustments of acts to ends· are relatively simple and relatively incom plete. And as in other cases, so in this case, we must interpret the more developed .by the less· developed. Just as, fully to understand the part of conduct which Ethics cleals with, we must study human conduct as a whole; so, funy to understand human conduct as a whole, we must study it as a part of that larger whole constituted by the conduct of a.nimate beings in general.

Nor is even this whole conceived with the needful fulness, so long as we think only of the conduct at present dis played around us. We have to include in our conception the less-developed conduct out of which this has arisen in course of time. We have to regard the conduct now shown us by creatures of all orders, as an outcome of the conduct which has brought life 6£ every kind to its present height. And this is tantamount to saying that our preparatory ~tep must he to study the evolution of oondllct.

CHAPTER JI. THE EVOLUTION OF CONDUCT. § 3. We have become quite familiar with the idea of an evolution of structures throughout the ascending types of animals. To a considerable degree we have become familiar with the thought that an evolution of functions has gone 011 pari passu) with the evolution of structures. Now advancing' a step, we have to frame a conception of the evolution of conduct, as correlated with this evolution of structures and functions. 'J.'hese three subjects are to be definitely distinguished. Obviously the facts conlparative morphology sets forth, form a whole which, th.ough it cannot be treated ill general or in detail without taking into account facts belonging to comparative physiology, is essentially independent. No less clear is it that we may devote our attention exclusively to that progressive differentiation of functions, and COlli bination of functions, which acco111paniesthe development of structures-may say no more about the characters and COllllexions of organs than is implied in describing their separate and joint actions. And the subject of conduct lies outside the subject of functions, if not as far as this lies outside the subject of structures, still, far enough to make it substantially separate. For those functions which are already variously compounded to achieve what we regard as· single bodily acts, are endlessly re-com.pounded THE EVOLUTION OF CONDUCT. 9 to achieve that coordination of bodily acts which is known as conduct.

We are concerned with functions in the true sense, while we think of them as processes carried on within the body; and, without exceeding the limits of physiology, we may treat of, their adjusted combinations, so long as these are regarded as parts of the vital consensus. 1£ we observe how the lungs aerate the blood. which the heart sends to them; how heart and lungs together· supply aerated blood to' the stomach, and' so enable it to do its work ; how these co-operate lrith sundry secreting and excreting glands to further digestion and to remove waste matter; and how all of them join to keep the brain in a fit condition for carrying on those actions which indirectly conduce to maintenance of the life at large; we are dealing with functions. Even when considering how parts that act directly on the environment legs, arms, wings-perform their duties, we are still concerned with functions in that aspect of them constituting physiology, so long fiB we rebtrict our attention to internal processes, and to internal combinations of them. But we entel-on the subject of conduct when we begin to study such combinations among the actions of sensory and motor organs as are externally manifested. Suppose that lostead of observing those contractions of muscles by which the optic axes are converged and the foci of the eyes ad...

justed (which is a portion of physiology), and that instead or observing the cooperation of other nerves, muscles, and b.ones,by which a hand is moved to a particular place and the fingers closed (which is also a portion of physiology), we observe a ,veapon being seized by a hand under guidance of the eyes. \tVe now pass from the-thought of combined internal functions to the thought of combined external motions. Doubtless if we could trace the cerebral processes which accompany these, we should find an inner physio~ logical coordination corresponding with the outer coordina .. tion of actions. Bnt this admission is consistent, with tho 10 THE DA,l'A OF ETHICS. assertion, that when we ignore the internal combination and attend only to the external combination, we pass from a portion of physiology to a portion of conduct. For though it nlay be objected that the external combination instanced, LE too simple to be rightly included under the name conduct"

ret a moment's thought shows that it is joined with what we call conduct by insensible gradations. Suppose the weapon seized is used to ward off a blow. Suppose a counter .. Ijlow is gIven. Suppose the aggressor runs and is chased, Suppose there comes a struggle and a handing him over to the police. Suppose there follow the many and varied acts constituting a prosecution. Obviously the initial adjustnlent of an act to an end, inseparable from the rest, must be included with them under the same general head; and obviously from this initial simple adjustment, having intrinsically no moral character, we pass by degreeR to the most complex adjustments and to those on which llloral judgments are passed. Hence, excluding all internal coordinations, our subject here is the aggregate of all external coordinations; and this aggregate includes not only the simpleRt as well as the most complex performed by human beings, but also those per ...

formed by all inferior beings considered as less or more evolved. § 4. Already the question-What constitutes advance in tho evolution of conduct, as we trace it up from the lowest types of living creatures to the highest? has been answered by iluplication. A few examples will now bring the answer into conspicuous relief. We saw that conduct is distinguished from the totality of actions by excluding purposeless actions; but during evolution this di~tinction arises by degrees. In the very lowest creatures most of the movements from moment to moment nlade, have not more recognizable aims than havo the struggles of an epileptic. An infusorium SWl ms randomly THE EVOLUTION OF CONDUCT. 11 about, determined in its course not by a perceived object to be pursued or .escaped, but, apparently, by varying stimuli in its medium; and its acts, unadjusted in any appreciable way to· ends, lead it now into contact with some nutriti'fYe 5ubstance which it absorbs, and now into the Il;eighbourhood of some creature by which it is swallowed and digestf\(1.

I Jacking those developed senses and motor powers which higher animals possess, ninety-nine in the hundred of these nlinute animals, severally living for but a few hours, ais ... appear either by innutrition or by destruction. The conduct is constituted of actions so little adjusted to ends, that life continues only as long aathe accidents of the environnient are favourable. But when, among aquatic creatures,· we observe one which, though still low in tJ~pe, i~ much higher than the infusorium-say a rotifer-we see how, along with larger size, more developed structures, and greater power of combining functions, there goes an advance in con... duct. We see how by its whirling cilia it· sucks in as food these small animals moving around; how by its prehensile tail it fixes itself to' some fit object; how by withdrawing its outer organs and contracting its body, it preserves itself from this or that injury from time to time threatened; and how thus, by better adjusting its own actions, it becomes less dependent on the actions going on around, and so pre serves itself for a longer period.

A superior sub-kingdom, as the MolhlIsca,still bettet exemplifies this contrast. When we compare a low mollusc, such as a floating ascidian, with a high mollusc, such as Q cephalopod, we are again shown that greaterorganicevolu ... tion is accompanied by more evolved conduct. At the mercy of·· every marine creature large enough to swallow it, a,nd drifted about by currents which may,chance to keep it t),t sea or may·· chance to leave it fatally strand~d, the ascidian .displays but IHtle adjustment of acts to ends in c0mparison with the cephalopod; which, no\v crawling over the beach,· now exploring the rocky crevices, now swimming .12 THE DATA OF ETHICS. through the open water, now darting after a fish, now hiding itself from some larger animal ina cloud of ink, and using its suckered arms at one tilne for anchoring itself and at another for holding fast its prey; sel~cts, and combines, and proportions, its. movements from nlinute to minute, so as to evade dangers which threaten, while ntilizing chances of fi)od which offer: so showing us varied activities which, in achieving special ends, achieve the general end of securing continuance of the activities.

Among vertebrate animals we sirnilarly trace up, along with advance in structures and fnnctions, this advance in conduct. .A. fish roaming about at hazard in search of something to eat, able to detect it by smell or sight only within short distances, and now and again rushing away in alarm on .the approach of a bigger fish, makes adjustments of acts to ends that are relatively few and simple in their kinds; and shows us, as a consequence, how small is the average duration of life. So few survive to maturity that, to make up for destruction of unhatched young and small fry and half-grown individuals, a nlil1ion ova have to be spawned by a cod-fish that two may reach the spawning age. Conversely, by a highly-evolved mammal, such as an ele phant, those general actions performed in common with the fish are far better adjusted to their ends. By sight as well, probably, as by odour, it detects food at relatively great distances; and when, at intervals, there arises a need for escape, relatively-great· speed is attained. But the chief difference arises from the addition of new sets of adjust ments. We have combined actions which facilitate nutrition -the breaking offof succulent and fruit-bearing branches, the selecting of edible growths throughout a comparatively wide reach; and, in case of danger, safety can be achieved not by flight only, but, if necessary, by defence or attack: bringing into comhined use tusks, trunk, and ponderous feet. Fur~ ther, we see various subsidiary acts adjusted to subsidiary ends-now the going into a river for coolness, and using th(:l THE EVOLUTION OF CONDUCT. 18 trunk as a, means of projecting~ water over the body; now the employment of a bough for sweeping away flies front the back; now the making of signal sounds to alarm the herd, and adapting the actions to such sounds when made by others. Evidently, the effect of this more highly evolved conduct is to secure the balance of the organic actions throughout far longer periods.

And now, on studying the doings of the highest of mama / mals,mankind,we not only find that the adjustments of acts .to ends are both 'more numerous and better than among lower mammals; but we find the same thing on com-' paring the doings of higher races of men with those of lower races. If we take anyone of the major ends achieved, we see greater completene.3s of achievement by civilized than by savage; and we also .see an achievement of relatively numerous minor ends subserving major ends. Is it in nutritiun? The food is obtained more regularly in response to appetite; it is far higher in quality; it is free from dirt; it is greater in variety; it is better prepared. Is it in warmth? The characters of the fabrics and forms of the articles used for clothing, and the adaptations of them to requirements from day to day and hour to hour, are much superior. Is it in dwellings? Between the shelter of boughs alnd grass which the· lowest savage builds, and the mansion of the civilized man, the contrast in aspect is not more ex treme than is the contrast in n,umber and efficiency of the adjustments of acts to ends betrayed in their respective constructions. And when with the ordinary activities of the savage we compare the ordinary civilized activities as the business of the trader, which involves multiplied and complex transactions extending over long ~ periods, or as professional avocations, prepared for by elaborate studies and daily carried on in endlessly-varied fornls, or as political discussions and agitations,. directed now to the carrying of this measure and now to the defeating of that,-we see sets of adjustments of ~cts to ends, not only immensely exceeding 14 THE DATA GF ETHIeR.

those seen among lower races of men in variety and intri· cacy, but sets to which lower races of men present nothing analogous. And along with this greater elaboration of life produced by the pursuit of more numerous ends, th8ro goes that increased duration of life which constitutes the snpreme end. And here is suggested the need for supplementing this conception of evolvi~g conduct. For besides being an improving adju~tment of acts to ends, such as furthers pro longation of life, it is such as furthers increased amount of life. Reconsideration of the examples above given, will show that length of life is not by itself a measure of evolu tion of conduct; but that quantity of life must be taken into account. An oyster, adapted by its structure to the diffused food contained in the water it draws in, and shielded by its shell from nearly all dangers, may live longer than a cuttle fish, which has such superior powers of dealing with numerous contingencies; but then; the sum of vital activities during any given interval is far less in the oyster than in the cuttle-fish. So a worm, ordinarily sheltered from most enemies by the earth it burrows through, which also supplies a sufficiency of its poor food, may have greater longevity than many of its annulose relatives, the insects; but one of these during its existence as larva and imago, may experience a greater quantity of the changes which con stitute life. Nor is it otherwise when we compare the more evolved with the less evolved. among mankind. The differ..

ence between the average lengths of the lives of savage and civilized, is no true measure of the difference between the totalities of their two lives} considered as aggregates of thought, feeling, and action. Hence, estimating life by multiplying its length into its breadth, we must say that the augmentation of it which accompanies evolution of conduct, results from increase of both factors. The more multiplied and varied adjustments of acts to ends, by which the more developed creature from hour to hour fulfils more numerOllfi THE EVOLUTION OF CONDUCT. 15 requirements, severally add to the activities that are carried on abreast, and severally. help to make greater the period through which such simultaneous activities endure. Each further evolution of conduct widens the aggregate of actiollH while conducing to elongation of it. § 5. Turn we now to a further aspect of the phenomena, ~eparate from, but necessarily associated with, the last.

'rhus far we have considered only those adjustments of acts to ends which have for their final purpose complete individual life. Now we have to consider those adjustments which have for their fiual purpose the life of the species. Self-preservation in each generation has all along depended on the preservation of offspring by preceding generations. And in proportion as evolution of the conduct subserving individual life is high, implying high organization, there must previously have been a highly-evolved conduct sub~ serving nurture of the young. Throughout the ascending grades of the animal kingdom, this second kind of conduct presents stages of advance like those which we have observed in the first. Low down, where structures and functions arc little developed, and the power of adjusting acts to ends but slight, there is no conduct, properly so named, further ing salvation of the species. Race-maintaining conduct, liko sf'l£-maintaining conduct, arises gradually out of that which cannot· be caned conduct: adjusted actions are preceded by unadjusted ones. Protozoa spontaneously divide and subdivide, in consequence of physical changes over which they have no control; or) at other times, after a period of quiesconce, break up into minute portions which severally grow into new individuals. In neither case can conduct be alleged. Higher up, the process is that of ripening, at intervals,' gerrn-cells and sperm-cells, which, on occasion, are sent forth into the surrounding water and left to their fate: perhaps one in ten thousand surviving to maturity.

Here, again, we see only development and disperf~ion :3 16 THE DATA OF ETHICS. going on apart {roln parental care. Types above these, as fish which choose fit places in which to deposit their ova, or as the higher crustaceans which carry masses of o'Va, about until they are hatched, exhibit adjustments of acts to ends which we may properly call conduct; though it is of the simplest kind. Where, as among certain fish, tho male keeps guard over the eggs, driving away intruders, there is au additional adjustment of acts to ends; and the appli cability of the name conduct is more decided. Passing at once to creatures far superior, Ruch as birds which, building nests and sitt,ing on their eggs, feed their broods for considerable periods, and give them aid after they can fly; or such as mammals which, suckling their young fot' a time, continue afterwards to bring them food or protect them while they feed, until they reach ages at which they can provide for themselves; we are shown how this conduct which furthers race-maintenanco evolves hand-in-hand with the conduct which furthers self. maintenance. That better organization which makes possible-the last, lllakes l)os~ible the first also. Mankind e~hibit a great progress of like nature. Compared with brntes J the savage, higher in his self-maintaining conduct, is higher too in his race-main taining conduct. A larger number of tl:t' wants of offspring are provided for; and parental care, enduring longer, extends to the disciplining of offspring in arts and habits which fit them for their conditions of existenc(). Conduct of thia order, equally with conduct of the first orJer, we see becoming evolved in a still greater degree as we ascend from savage to civilized. The adjustments of acts to endH in the rearing of children become far more elaborate, alike in number of ends met, variety of means used, and efficiency of their adaptations; and the aid and oversight are continued throughout a much greater part of early life.

In tracing up the evolution of conduct, so that we may flame a true conception of conduct in general, we have thus to recogniie these two kinds as mutuaHv dependent. Speak ..

THE EVOLUTION OF· CONDUCT. ,·17 ing generally, neither can evolve without· evolution oftha other ; and the .high est evolutions of the two must bereaehed simultaneously. § 6.. To conclude, however, that on reaching a perfect adjnstmeHt. of acts to ends subsel"ving individual life. and the rearing of offspring, the evolution ofctnduct becomes complete,· is ·toconclude erroneously. Or rather, I should say, it is an error to suppose that either of these kinds of conduct can assume its .highest form, without its. highest form being assumed by a third. kind of conduct yet to be nanled. The multitudinous creatures of all kinds which fill the Earth, cannot live wholly apart from one another, but are more or less in presence of one another..-are interfered with. by one another. In large meaSllre the adjustments of acts to ends which we have been considering, are componentso£ that C( struggle for existence" carried on bQth .. between members of the same species and between memhersof different species; and, very generally, a successful adjust ment n1ade by one creature involves anunsuccessfuladjust~ ment made by another creature, either of the same kind or ofa different kind. Thfltthe carnivore may Iiva herbivores must die; .and tLat its. young may be reared the young of weaker creatures must be orphaned. Maintenance of the hawk and its bl'oodinvolves the deaths of.many small birds ; find that .small birds may multiply, their progeny must be red with innumerable sacrificed worms and. larvffi.

CompetItion among members of the .. sulue species has allied) though less conspicuous, results. '.rhestronger oftencarrica off by force the prey which the weaker has. caught. Mono polizing certain hunting grounds, the more-ferocious drive others of their. kind into less favourable places. With plant .. eating animals, too, the like holds: the better food is secured by the more vigorous individuals, while the less vigorous and WQrt;e fed, succumb either directly from innutrition 01' 18 THE DATA OF ETHICS. indirectly from resulting inf'Jbility to escape enenlies. That is to say, among creatures whose lives are carried on anta gonistically, each of the two kinds of conduct delineated above, must remain imperfectly evolved. Even in such few kinds of them as have little to fear froIn enemies or compe.. tilors, as lions or 6gers, there is still inevitable failure in the adjustments of acts to ends towards the close of life.

Death by starvation fr01TI inability to catch prey, shows a falling short of conduct froul its ideal. This iUlperfectly-evolved conduct introduces us by anti thesis to conduct that is perfectly evolved. Contemplating these adjustlnents of acts to ends which miss c0111pletenes8 because they cannot be made by one creature without other creatures being prevented from making thenl, raises tho thought of adjustments such that each creature may mako them without preventing them from being made by other creatures. That the highest form of conduct must be so distinguished, is an inevitable implication; for while the form of conduct is such that adjustments of acts to ends by SOlne necessitate non-adjustments by others, there remains room for rnodificatiolls which bring conduct into a form avoiding this, and so making the totality of life greater. From the abstract let us pass to the concrete. Recogniz ing men as the beings whose conduct is most evolved, let us ask under what conditions their conduct, in all threo aspects of its evolution, reaches its linlit. Clearly while the lives led are entirely predatory, as those of savages, the adjustments of acts to ends fall short of this highest form of conduct in every WHy. Individual life, ill carried on froln hour to hour, is prematurely cut short; the fostering of offspring often fails, and is incomplete when it does not fail; and inso far as the ends of self-maintenance and race maintenance are met, they are met by destruction of other beings, of different kind or of like kind. In social groups fornled by compounding and re-compounding primitive hordes, cond not remains imperfectly evolved in proportion as thero THE EVOLUTION OF CONDUCT. 19 continuE,.antagonisms between the groups and antagonisms between members of the same group-two traits necessdrily associated; since the nature which prompts international aggression prompts aggression of individuals on one another.

Hence the limit of evolution can be reached by conduct only, in porulanently peaceful societies. That perfect adjustment of acts to ends in maintaining individual life and reating new individuals, which is effected by each without hindering otners from effecting like perfect adjustulents, is, in its very definition, shown to constitute a kind of conduct that can be approached only as war decreases and dies oui. A gap in this outline must now be filled up. There remains a further advance not yet even hinted. For beyond so behaving that each achieves his ends without preventing others from achieving their ends, the members of a society may give mutual help in the achievement. of ends. And if, either indirectly by industrial cooperation, or directly by volunteered aid, fellow citizens can make easier for one another the adjustments of acts to e-q.ds, then their conduct assumes a still higher phase of evolution; ,sil~ce whatever facilitates the making of adjustments by each, increases the tot l1ity of the adjustments ma,de, and serves to render the lives of all more complete.

§ 7. The reader who recalls certain passages in F1'rst Prin ciples, in the PTin '~iples oj Briology,and in the Principles oj Psychology, will perceive above a re-statement, ill another forni, of generalizations set forth in tho~e works. Especially will he be reminded of the proposition that Life is "t~10 definite combination of heterogeneous changes, both sironl'! taneous and successive, in correspondence with external coexlstences and sequence:.;;'" and still more of that abridged and less specific formula, in which Life is said to be "the continuous adjustment of internal relations to external relations." 'l1he pl·esentation of the facts here made, differs from the 20 THE DATA OF ETHICS. presentations before made, mainly by ignoring the inner part of the correspondence and attending exclusively to that outer part constituted of visible actions. But the two are in harmony; and the reader who wishes further to prepare him self for dealing with our present topic from the evolution point of view, may advantageously join to the foregoing U10liJ special aspect of the phenomena, the more generS11 aspects before delineated.

After this passing remark, I recur to the main proposi ... tion set forth in these two chapters, which has, I think, been fully justified. Guided by the truth that as the con A duct with which Ethics deals is part of ·conduct at large, conduct at large must be generally understood before this part can be specially understood; and guided by the further truth that to understand conduct at large we must under stand the evolution of conduct; we have been lod to see that Ethics has for its subject-matter, that form which universal conductassu mes during the last stages of its evolution. We have also concluded that these last stages in the evolution of conduct are those displayed by the highest type of being, when he is forced, by increase of numbers, to live more and more in presence of his fellows. And there has followed the corollary that conduct gains ethical sanction in proportion as the activities, bec01uing less and less militant and more and more· industrial, .

are such as do not necessitate mutual injury or hindrance, but consist with, and are furthered by, cooperation and Dlutual aid. These implications of the Evolution-Hypothesis, we shall no,v see harmonize with the leading moral ideas men have other\'dse reached.

CHAPTER III. GOOD AND BAD CONDUCT. ~ 8. By c01'1lparing·it~ meanings' in different connenolls (ind observing what they have in common, we learn +,he essential meaning of a word; and the essential meaning of a word that is variously applied, may best be learnt by comparing with one another those applications of it which diverge most·widely. Let us thus ascertain what good and bad mean. In which case~ do we distinguish as good, a knife, a guu, u, house? And what trait leads us to speak 9£ a bad umbrella or a bad pair of boots? The characters hero predicated by the words good and bad, are not intrinsio characters; for apart from human wants, such things, have neither merits nor demerits. We call these articles good or had according as they .are well or ill adapted to achieve prescribed ends. The good knife is one which will cut j the good gun is one which carries far and true; the good house is one which duly yields the shelter, comfort, and accommodation sought for. Conversely, the badnesA alleged of the umbrella or the pair of boots, ref81's to thoir failures in fulfilling the endso£ keeping .~ff the rain and comfortably protecting the feet, ~tvith due regard to appear ...

ances. So is it when Ne pass from inanimate objects to inanimato actions. We call a day bad in which storms prevent us from satisfying certain of our desires. A.

22 1 1 HEDATA OF ETHICS. good season is the expression used when the weather has favoured the production of. valuable crops. If from. lifeless things and actions we pass to living ones, ",ve simiJarly find that these words in their current applications refer to efficient subservience. The goodness or badness of a pointer or a hunter, of a sheep or an ox, ignoring all other attributes of tllese creatures, refer in the one case to the fitness of their actions for effecting the ends men use thorn for, and in the other case to the qualities of their flesh as adapting it to support human life. And those doin5~s of men which, morally considered, are indifferent, we class as good or bad according to their success or failure. A good jump is a jump which) remoter ends ignored, well achieves the immediate purpose of a jump; and a stroke at billiards is called good when the movements are skilfully adjusted to the requirements. Oppositely, the badness of a walk that is shuffling and an utterance that is indistinct, is alleged because of the relative non-adaptations of the acts to the ends.

Thus recognizing the meanings of good and bad as other wise used, we shall understand better their meanings as used in characterizing conduct under its ethical aspects. Here, too, observation shows that we apply them according as the adjustments of acts to ends are, or are not, efficient. This truth is somewhat disguised. The entanglement of social relations is such, that men's actions often simul .. taneously affect the welfares of self, of offspring, and of fellow-citizens. Hence results confusion in judging of actions as good or bad; since actions well fitted ·~o achieve ends of one order, may prevent ends of the other orders frolu being achieved. Nevertheless, when we disentangle tho three orders of ends, and consider each separately, it be comes clear that the conduct which achieves each kind of end is regarded as relatively good; and is l"egarded as relatively bad if it fails to achieve it.

Take first the primary set of adjustments-those sub.GOOD AND BAD CONDUCT. 23 serving individual life. Apart from approval or disapproval of his ulterior aims, a man who fights is said to make a good defence, if his defence is well adapted for self-preservation; and, the judgments on ot.her aspects of his conduct remain ing the same, he brings down on himsolf 'an unfavourable verdict, .in so far as his immediitte acts are concerned, if these are futile. 1'he goodness ascribed to a' man of business, as such, is measured by the activity and ability with which he buys and sells to advantage; aud may coexist with a hard treatnlent of dependents which is repro bated. Though in repeatedly lending money to a friend who sinks one loan after another, a man is doing that which, con sidered in itself is held praiseworthy; yet, if he does it to the extent of bringing on his own ruin, he is held blameworthy for a self-sacrifice carried too far. And thus is it with the opinio~s we express from hour to .hour on those acts of people around which bear on their health and personal wel fare. "You should not. have done that;" is the reproof given to one who crosses the street amid a dangerous rush of vehicles. " You ought to have changed your clothes;" is said to another who has taken cold after getting wet. "You were right to take a r8cejpt;" "you were wrong to invest without advice ;" are common criticisms. All such approving and disapproving utterances make the tacit assertion that, other things equal, conduct is right or wrong according as its special acts, well or ill adjusted to special ends, do or do not further the general end of self,;.,preservation.

These ethical judgments we pass on self-regarding acts are ordinarily little emphasized; partly because the prolnpt. 'ings of 'the self-regarding desires, generally strong enough, do not need moral enforcement, and partly because the promptings of the other-regarding desires, less strong, and often over-ridden, do need moral enforcement. Henc6 results a contrast. On turning to that second .class of adjustments of acts to ends which subserve the rearing of offspring, we DO longer find any obscurity in the application 24 THE DATA OF ETHICS. of the words good and bad to them, according as they are efficient or inefficient. The expressions good nursing and bad nursing, whether they refer to the supply of food, the quality and amount of cLothing, or the due nlinistration to infantine wan'ts from hour to .hour, tacitly recognize as special ends· which ought to be fulfilled, the furthering of the vital functions, with a view to the general end of con tinued life and growth. .A. mother is called good who, ministering to all the physical needs of her children, also adjusts her behaviour in ways conducive to their mental health; and· a bad father is one who either does not provide the necessaries of life for his family, or otherwise acts in a manner injurious to their bodies or minds. Similarly of the education given to them, or provided for them. Goodness 01"

badness is affirmed of it (often with little consistency, how ever) according as its methods are so adapted to physical· and psychical requirements, as to further the children's lives for the time being, while preparing them for carrying Oil complete and prolonged adult life. Most eIl1phatic, however, are the applications of the 'words good and bad to conduct throughout that third division of it comprising the deeds by which men affect one another. In maintaining their own lives and fostering their offspring, men's adjustments of acts to ends are so apt to hinder the kindred adjustments of other men, that insistance on the needful limitations has to be perpetual; and the miHchiefs caused by men's interferences with one another's life-sub serving actions are so great, that tbe interdicts have to be perelnptory. Hence the fact that the words good and bad have corne to be specially associated with acts which further the cOlnplete living of others and acts which obstruct their con1plete living. Goodness, standing by itself, suggest~, above all other things, the' conduct of one who aids the sick in re-acquiring normal vitality, assists the unfortunate to recover the means of maintaining themselves 1 defends those who are threatened with harm in person, pro· GOOD AND BAD CONDUCT. 25 perty, or reputation, and aids whatever promisestoimprove the living ofall his fellows.. Contrariwise, badness brings to mind, as its leading correlative, the conduct of one who, in carrying on his own life, damages the ··liyes of others by irjuring their bodies, destroying their possessions, defraud ..

mg them, calun111iatingthem. Always, then, acts are called good or .bad,· according as they are well or ill adjusted to ends; and 'vhat ever incon sistency there is in our uses of the words, arises from inconsistencyo£ the ends. Here, however, the study of' conduct in general, and of the evolution of conduct,· have urepared us to harmonize these interpretations. The fore;. going exposition· shows that the conduct to which we apply the name good, is the relatively more evolved conduct; and that bad is the name we apply to conduct which is relatively less evolved. We SttW that evolution, tending ever towards self-preserv9.tion, reaches its lilnit when individual life is the greatest, both in length and breadth; and now we see that, leaving other ends aside, weregttrd as good the conduct furthering self-preservation, and as bad the cond uct tending to self-destruction. It was shown that along with increas ing po·wer of maintaining individual life, which evolution brings, there goes increasing power of perpetuating the species by fostering progeny, and that in this direction .evolu tion reaches its lin1it when the needful number of young, preserved to n1aturity, are then fit for a life that is COlil pletein fulness and duration; and here it turns out that parental conduct is called good or bad as it approaches or falls short of this ideal result. Lastly, we inferped that· establishment of an associated state, both makes possible and requires a form of conduct such that life may be COIn ..

pleted in each and in his offspring, not only without pre venting conlpletion of it in others, but with furtherance of it in others; and we have found above, that this is the form o£conduct most emphatically termed good. Moreover, just as we there saw that evolution becomes the highest possible 26 " THE DATA OF ETHICS. when the conduct siulultaneously achieves the greatest totality of life in self, in offspring, and in fellow 1118n; so here we see that the conduct called good rises to the con duct conceived as best, when it fulfils all three classes of ends at the same time. § 9. Is there any postulate involved in these judgments on conduct? Is there any assumption made in calling good the acts conducive to life, in self or others, and "bad those which directly or indirectly tend towards death, special or general ? Yes; an assuruption of extreme significance has been made-an assnmption underlying all moral estimates.

The question to be definitely raised and answered before entering on any ethical discussion, is the question of late much agitated-Is life worth" living? Shall we take the pessimiEt view? or shall we take the optimist view? or shall we, after weighing pessimistic and optimistic argu ments, conclude that the balance is in favour of a qualified optimism? On the answer to this question depends entirely every decision concerning the goodness or badness of conduct. By those who think life is not a be~1efit but a misfortune, conduct which prolongs it is to be blamed rather than praised: the ending of an undesirable existence being the thing to be wished, that which causes the ending of it mURt be applauded; while actions furthering its continuance, either in self or others, must be reprobated. Those who, on the other hand, take an optimistic view) or who) if not "pure optimists, yet hold that in life the good exceeds the evil, are committed to opposite estima.tes; and lllust regard as conduct to be approved that which fosters life in .self and others, and as conduct to be disapproved that which injures or endangers life in self or others.

The ultimate qU8stion, therefore, is-Has evolution been a mistake; nnd especially that evolution which improves the adjustment .:>£ acts to ends in ascending stages of organiza~ GOOD AND BAD CONDUCT. 27 tionr If it is held that there had better not have been any animate existence at all, and ~hat the sooner it comes to an end the better; then one set of conclusions with, respect to conduct emerges. If, contrariwise, it is held that there is a balance in favour of animate existence, and if, still further, t it is held that in the future this balance may be increased; then the opposite set of conclusions emerges. Even should it be alleged that the worth of life is not to be judged by its intrinsic character, but -rather by its extrinsic sequences by cortain results to be anticipated when life has passed -the ultimate issue reappears in a new shape. For though the accompanying creed may negative a deliberate shortening of life that is miserable, it cannot justify a gratuitous lengthening of such life. Legislation conducive to increased longevity would, on the pessimistic view, remain blameable; while it would be praiseworthy on the optimistic view.

But now, have these irreconcilable opinions anything in common? 1\1en being divisible into two schools differing on· this ultimate question, the inquiry arises-Is there anything which their radically-opposed yiews alike take for granted? In the optimistic proposition, tacitly made when using the words good and bad after the ordinary manner; and in the pessimistic proposition overtly made, which inlplies that the words good and bad should be used in the reverse senses; does examination disclose any joint pro position-any proposition which, contained in both of them, nlay be held more certain than either-any universally asserted proposition? § 10. Yes, there is one postulate in which pessimists nTl(l optimists agree. Both their arguments assume it to he self-evident that life is good or bad, according as it doe~, Ol" does not, bring a surplus of a.greeable feeling 0 The pessimist says he condemns life because it results in more pain than pleasure. The optimist defenas life in the belief thatl it 28 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

brings more pleasure than pain. Each makes the kind of sen· tiency which accompanies life the test. They agree that the justification for life as-a state of being, turns on this issue whether the average consciousness rises above indifference point into pleasurable feeling _or falls below it into painful feeling. The implication common to their antagonist views is) that conduct should. conduce to preservation of the indi .. 'Vidual, of the family, and of the society, only supposing that life brings more happiness than misery .. Changing the venue cannot alter the verdict. If either the pessimist, while saying that the pains of life predolllillate, or the optimist, while saying that the plea,sures pred.ominate, urges that the pains borne here are to be compensated by pleasures received hereafter; and that so life, whether or not justified in its immediate results, is justified in its ultimate results; the iluplication remains the same.

The decision is still reached by balancing pleasures against pains. Animate existence would be jndged by both a curse, if to a surplus of misery borne her2, were added a surplus of misery to be borne hereafter. And for either to regard animate existence as a blessing, if here its pains were held to exceed its -pleasures, he must hold that here after its pleasures will exceed its pains. Thus there is no escape from the adtnission that in calling good the conduct which subserves life, and bad the conduct which hinders or destroys it, and in so ilnplying that life is a blesRing and not a curse, ,ve are inevitably asserting that conduct is good or bad according as its total effects are pleasurable or painful. One theory only is imaginable in pursuance of which other interpretations of good and bad can be gi ven. Thi~ theory is that men were created with the intention that they should be sources of lnisery to themselves; and that they are bound to continue living that their creator may _have the satisfaction of contemplating their misery. Though this is Hot a theory avowedly entertained by many-though it is not formulated by any in this distinct way; yet not a few do GOOD AND ··BAD CONDUCT. 29 aceept it under a disguised form. Inferior creeds are. per vaded by the belief that the sight ofsufferil1gis pleasing to the gods. Derived fro.m·bloodthirsty ancestors,. such gods are naturally conceived as gratified by the infliction of pain: when living tlleydelighted in torturing other being;~; .and witnessing torture is supposed still to give them. delight.

The implied c~nceptions long survive. It needs but to name Indian fakirs who hang on hooks and Eastern dervishes who gash· themselves, to show that in· societies considerably ad vanced,are still to be found many who thil1kthat submission to a,nguish brings divine favour. And without enlarging on fasts and penances, it will be clear that there has existed, and still exists, ·among Christian peoples, the belief that the Deity .whom Jephthah .thought to propitiatebysacri ficinghis .daughter, may be propitiated by self-inflicted pains. Further, the conception accompanying this,that acts pleasing to self are offensive to God, has survived alpng with it, and still widely prevails; if not in .formulated . dogmas, yet in beliefs that are manifestly operative. Doubtless, ·in modern days such ·.··beliefs have assumed qualified forms. The satisfactions. which ferocious gods were supposed to feel in contemplating tortures,· has. been, in large measure, transformed into· the satisfaction felt. by·a deity in contemplating thatsel£-infliction of pain which is held to further eventual happiness~ But clearly those who enter tain this modified view, are excluded· from ·the class whose position we are here considering. Restricting ourselves to this class-:-.supposing .that from the .savage who immola.tes victimstoa cannibal god, there are descendants among the civilized, who hold that. mankind were made for suffering, and that it is their duty to continue living in misery for tho delight of.• their maker, we can only recognize the fact.that devil-worshippers are not yet extinct.

Omitting people of this classj if· there areany,.as beyond or beneath argument, we find that all others avowedly or tacitly hold that the final justification for .maintaining life, 30 THE DATA OF ETHICS. c~~n only be the reception from it of a surplus of pleasurablt) feeling over painful feeling; and that goodness or badness can be ascribed to acts which subserve life or hinder life, only on this supposition. And here we are brought round to those prin1ary mean ings of the 'words goou and bad, which we passed over when considering their secondary, meanings. For on remen1bel'ing that we call good and bad the things whic.h inllnediately produce agreeable and disagreeable sensatioD8, and also the sensations themselvesa good wine, a good appetite,a bad sn1elJ, a bad headache-we see that by referring directly to pleasures and pains, these meanings harmonize with those which indirectly refer to pleasures and pains. If we call good the enjoyable state itself, as a good laugh ··-if we call gc.od the proximate cause of an enjoyable state, as good music-if we call good any agent which conduces immediately or ren10tely to an el1joyablt~ state, as a good shop, a good teacher-if we call good Donsidered intrinsically, each act so arljusted to its end as to further self-preservation and that surplus of enjoyment which makes self-preservation desirable-if we call good every kind of conduct which aids the lives of others, and do this under the belief that life brings more happiness than misery; then it becomes undeniable that, tf;tking into account imrnediate and remote effects on all persons, the good is universally the pleasurable.

§ 11. Sundry influences-moral, theological, and political -conspire to make people disguise from themselves this truth. As in narrower cases so in this widest case, they become so pre-occupied with the means by which an end is achieved, as eventually to mistake it for the end. Just as money, which is a means of satisfying wants, comes to be regarded by a nliser as the sole thing to be worked for, leaving the wants unsatisfied; so the conduct men have found preferable because most conducive to happiness) haa GOOD AND· BAD CONDUCT. 31 come to be thought of as intrinsically preferable: not only to be made a proximate ep.d (which it s,pould be), but to be made an ultimate end, to the exclusion ~f the true ultimate end. And yet cross-examin~tion quickly compels everyone to confess the true ultimate end. trust as the n1iser, asked to justify himself, is obliged to allege the power of money to purchase desirable things, as his reason for prizing it; so the moralist who thinks this conduct intrinsically good and that intrinsically bad, if pushel1 home, has no choice but to fall back on their pleasure-giving and pain-giving effects. To pro.ve this it needs but to observe how impossible it would be to think of them as we do, if their effects were reversed.

Suppose that gashes and bruises caused agreeable sensa tions, and brought in their train increased power of doing work aI;ld receiving enjoyment; should we l'egal~d assault in the same manner as at present? Or suppose that self nlutilation, say by cutting off a hand, was both intrinsically pleasant and furthered performance of the processes by which personal welfare and the welfare of dependents is achieved; should we hold as now, that deliberate injury to one's own body is to be reprobated? Or again, suppose that picking a man's pocket excited in him joyful emotions, by brightening his prospects; would theft be counted among crimes, as in existing law-books and moral codes? In these extreme cases, no one can deny that what we call the badness of actions is ascribed to them solely for the reason that they entail pain, immediate or remote, and would not be 80 ascribed did they entail pleasure.

If we exalnine our conceptions on their obverse side, this general fact forces itse1£ on our attention ,vith equal dis tinctness. Imagine that ministering to a sick person always increased the pains of illness. Irnagine that an orphan's relatives who took charge of it., thereby necessal"ily brought miseries upon it. Imagine that liquidating another man's pecuniary claiU18 on you redounded to his disad vantago. 4 32 THE DATA OF ETHICS. Imagine that crediting a man with noble behaviour hindered his social welfare and consequent gratification. What should we say to these acts which now fall into the class we call praiseworthy? Should we not contrariwise class them as bla,]ueworthy ? Using, then, as our tests, these most pronounced fornls of good ana bad conduct, we find it unquestionable that ou!' ideas ot their goodness and badness really originate from our consciousness of the certainty or probability that they will produce pleasures or pains somewhere. And this truth is brought out with equal clearness by examining' the standards of different moral schools; for analysis shows that every one of them derives its authority from this ultiluate standard.

Ethical systems are roughly distinguishable according as they take for their cardinal ideas (1) the character of the agent; (2) the nature of his motive; (3) the quality of his deeds; and (4) the results. Each of these may be character ized as good or bad; and those who do not estirnate a mode of life by its effects on happiness, estin1ate it by the implied goodness or badness in the agent, in his motive, or in his deeds. We have perfection in the agent set up as a test by which conduct is to be judged. Apart from the agent we have his feeling considered as moral. And apart from the feeling we have his action considered as virtuous. Though the distinctions thus indicated have so little definiteness that the words n1arking them are used inter changeably, yet th8re correspond to them doctrines partially unlike one another; which we may here conveniently examine separately, with the view of showing that all their tests of goodness are derivative.

§ 12. It i~ stral1ge that a notion so abstract as that of perfection, 01' a certain ideal completeness of nature, should evel' have been thought one fronl which a systeu1 of guidance can be evolved; as it was in a general way by Plato sud more distinctly by Jonathan Edwardes. Perfection i~ GOOD AND BAD OONDUCT. 33 synonymous with.goodness in the highest degree; and hence ~o define good conduct in terms of perfection, is indirectly to define good conduct in terms of itself. Naturally, therefore, it happens that the notion ofperfectioll like the notion of goodness can be framed only in relation to ends. We allege imperfection of any inani mate t,hing, as a tool, if it lacks some part needful for effectual action, or if some pnrt is so shaped as not to fulfil its purpose in the best rnanner. Perfection is alleged of a watch if it keeps exact time, however plain its case ; and imperfection is alleged of it because of inaccurate tinie-keeping, however beautifully it is ornamented. Though we call things imperfect if we detect in them any injuries or flaws, even when these do not detract from efficiency; yet we do this because they imply that inferior workmanship, or that wear and tear, with. which inefficiency is commonly joined in experience: absence of minor imperfections being habitually associated with absence of. major imperfections.

As applied to living things, the word perfection has the same meaning.. The idea of perfect shape in a race-horse is derived by generalization from those observed traits of race horses which' have usually gone along with attainment of the highest speed; and the idea of perfect constitution in a race-h.orse similarily refers to the endurance which enables him to continue that speed for the longest time. With men, physically considered, it is' the same: we are able to furnish no other test of perfection, than that of complete power in all the organs to fulfil their respective fnnctions. That our conception of perfect balance among the internal parts, and of perfect proportion among the external parts, originate~ thus, is nlade clear by observing that imperfection of any viscus, as lungs, heart, or liver, is ascribed for no· otl1el' reason than inability to meet in full the demands .which the activities of the organism make on it; and on observ ing that the conception of insufficient size, or of too great size, in a limb, is derived from accumulated experiences 34 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

respecting that ratio among the limbs \vbich furthers in the highest degree the performance of all needful actions. And of perfection in mental nature we have no other measure. If imperfection of memory, of judgn1ent, of temper, if; alleged, it is alleged because of inadequacy to the require. ments of life; and to imagine a perfect balance of the intellectual powers and of the emotions, is to imagine that proportion among them which ensures an entire discharge o~ each and every obligation as the occasion calls for it. So that the perfection of man considered as an agent, means the being const.ituted for effecting complete adjust.ment of acts to ends of every kind. And since, as shown above, the conlplete adjustment of acts to ends is that which both secures and constitutes the life that is most evolved, alike in breadth and length; while, as also shown, the justifica tion for whatever increases life is the reception from life of more happiness than misery; it follows that conduciveness to happiness is the ultimate test of perfection in a man's nature. To be fully convinced of this it needs but to observe how the proposition looks when inverted. It needs but to suppose that every approach towards perfection involved greater misery to self, or others, or both, to show by opposi tion that approach to perfection really means approach to that which secures great1er happiness.

§ 13. Pass we now from the view of those who make excel lence of being the standard, to the view of those who make virtuousness of action the standard. I do not here refer to Dl0ralists who, having decided empirically or rationally, ind1Jc tiveiy or deductively, that acts of certain kinds have the character we call virtuous, argue that such acts are to be performed without regard to proximate consequences: thefa have ample justification. But I refer to moralists who l:rrrpposethemselves to have conceptions of virtue as an end, nnderived from any other end-who think that the idea. of vh,tue is not resolvable into simpler ideas.

GOOD AND BAD CONDUCT. 85 This is the doctrine iwhich appears to have been enter tained by Aristotle. I say) appears to have been, because his Btatements are far from consistent with one another. Recog. nizing happiness as the supreme end of human endeavour, it 'would at first sight se8m that he cannot be taken f.tJ typical of those who make virtue the supreme end. Yet he puts himself in this category by seeking to define happinese in terms of virtue, instead of defining virtue i~ terms of happiness. The imperfect separation of words from things, which characterizes Greek speculation in general, seems to have been the cause .of this. In priulitive thought the name and the object named, are associated in such wise that the one is regarded as apart of the other-so much so, that knowing a savage's name is considered by him as having some of his being, and a consequent power to work evil on hinl. This belief in a real connexion between word and thing, continuing through lovrer stages of progreRs, and long surviving in tJle tacit assumption that the meanings of words are intrinsic, pervades the dialogues of Plato, and is traceable even in Aristotle. For otherwise it is not easy to see why he should have so incornpletely dissociated t,ha abstract idea of happinesR from particular forms of happiness. Naturally where the divorcing of words as symbols, frolll things as syll1boliz8d, is imperfect, there 111Ust be difficulty in giving to abstract words a sufficiently abstract meaning. If in the first stages of language the concrete name cannot be separated in thought fron1 the concrete obj(ct it be10ngs to, it is inferable that in the course of forming successively higher grades of abstraot name;;, there will have to be resisted the tendency to interpret each more abstract name in terllls of sorne oue class of the less abstract names it covers. Hence, I think, the fact that Aristotle supposes happiness to be associated with some one order of hUl1lan activities, rat.her than with all orders of hun1an activities. Instead of including in it the pleasurable feelings accompanying actions that 86 THE DATA OF ETIIl(,'S.

constitute mere living, which actions he says man has in common with vegetables; and instead of making it include the mental states which the life of external perception yields, which he says man has in comn10n with anima1s at large; he ex~ludes these from his idea of happiness, and includes in it only the modes of consciousness accompanying rational lifo. Asserting that the proper work of man a consists in the active exercise of the mental capacities conformably to reason;" he concludes that "the supreme good of man will consist in perforrning this work with excellence or virtue: herein he will. obtain happiness." And he finds confirmation for his view in its correspondence with views previously enunciated; saying-a our notion nearly agrees with theirs who place happiness in virtue; for we say that it consists in the action of virtue; that is, not merely in the possession, but in the use."

Now the ilnplied belief that virtue can be defined other~ wise than in ternlS of happiness (for else the proposition is that happiness is to be obtained by actions conducive to happiness) is allied to the Platonic belief that there is an ideal or absolute good, which gives to particular and relative goods their property of goodness; and an argU111ent analogous to that which Aristotle uses against Plato's conception of good, may be used against his own conception of virtue. As with good so with virtue-it is not singular but plural: in Aristotle's own classification, virtue, when treated of at large, is transformed into virtues. Those which he calls virtues, must be so called in consequence of some ~omlnon character that is either intrinsic or extrinsic. We ruay class things together either because they are mado alike by all having in theulselves some peculiarity, as we do vertebrate animals because they all have vertebral columns; or "re may class them together because of some community in their outer relations, as when we group saws, knives, mallets, harrows, under the head of tools. Are the virtues classed as fH&ch because of some intrinsic community of nature? TheIl GOOD AND :BAD CONDUCT. 37 the,,-e Inustbe identifiable a common trait in ail the cardinal virtues which Aristotle specifies-u Courage, Temperance, Liberality, l\fagnanirnity, Magnificence,Meekness, Amiability or Friendliness, Truthfulness, J llstice." What nowis the teait possessed in cornmon by l\1agnificence and l\leekness? and if any such COUlmon trait can be disel;tangled, is it that which also con,st.itutes theess.ential trait in Truthfulness?

The answer mu~t be-No. The virtues, then, not being classed as such becaus~ of an instrinsic community of character, must be classed as s~ch becauseo£something extrinsic; and this something ca~ be nothing else than the happiness which Aristotle says Iconsists in the practice of thern. They are united by their comnlon relation to this result; while they are not united by their inner natures. Perhaps still more clearly lnay the inference be drawn thus :-If virtue is prirnordial and independent, no reason can be given why there should be any correspondence between virtuous conduct andcouduct that is pleasure giving in its total effects on self, or others, or both j and if there is not· a necessary correspondence, it is conceivable that the conduct. classed as virtuous should be pain-giving in its total effects. That we may see the consequence of so conceiving it, let us take the two viitues con sidered as typically such in ancient times and in modern times-courage and chastity. By the hypothesis, then, courage, displayed alike in sel£·,defence and in defence of country, is to be conceived as not only entailing pains incidentally, but as· being necessarily a cause of misery to the individual and to the .State ; while, by implication, the absence of it redounds to personal and general well-being.

Similarly, by the hypothesis, we have to conceive that irregular sexual relations are. directly and indirectly bene· ficial-that adultery is conducive to domestic harmony and the careful rearing of children; while marital relations in proportion as they are persistent, generate discord between husband and wife and entail on their offspring, suffuring, 38 THE DATA. OF ETHICS. disease, and death. Unless it is asserted that courage and chastity could still be thought of as virtues though thus pro ductive of misery, it lTInst be admitted that the conception of virtue cannot be separated from the conception of happiness· producing conrluct; and that as this holds of all the virtues, h~wever otherwise unlike, it is frorn their conduciveness to hnp piness that they come to be classed as virtues. ~ 14. When from those ethical estimates which take perfection of nature, or virtuousness of action, as tests, we pass to those which take for test rectitude of motive, 'we .

approach the intuitional theory of morals; and we may conveniently deal with such estimates by a criticism on this theory. By the intuitional theory I here mean, not that which recognizes as produced by the inherited effects of continued experiences, the feelings of liking and aversion we have to acts of certain kinds ; but I mean the theory which regards such feelings as divinely given, and as independent of results experienced by self or ancestors. "There is therefore," says Hutcheson, ('as each one by close attention and reflection nlay con vince himsel£, a natural and imnlediate determination to approve certain affections, and actions consequent upon them;" and since, in comInon with others of his time, he believes in the special creation of man, and all other beings, this" natural sense of imnlediate excellence" he considers as a supernaturally-derived guide. Though he says that the feelings and acts thus intuitively recogni~~ed as good, (( all agree in one general character, of tending to the happiness of others;" yet he is obliged to conceive this as a pre-or dd.ined correspondence. Nevertheless, it may be shown that conduciveness to happiness, here represented as an incidental trait of the acts which receive these innate moral approvals, if really the test by which these approvals are recognized as moral. The intuitionists place confidence in these verdicts of conscience, simply because they vaguely, if 110t distinctlYJ GOOD AND BAD CONDUCT. 89 perceive them to be consonant with the disclosures of that ultimate test. Observe the proof.

By the hypothesis, the wrongness of murder is known by a moral intuition which the human mind was originally constituted 'to yield; and the hypothesis therefore negatives the adnlission that this sense of its wrongness arises, imme diately or remotely, from the consciousness that murder involves deduction from happiness, directly and indirectlye But if you ask an adherent of this doctrine to contrast his intuition with that of the Fijian, who, considering murderan honourable action, is restless until he has distinguished himself by killing sonle one; and if you inquire of him in what way the civilized intuition is to be justified in opposition to the intuition of the savage; no course is open save that of showing how conformity to the one conduces to well-being, while conformity to the other entails suffering, individual and general. When asked why the moral sense which tells him that it is wrong to take another lnan's goods, should be obeyed rather than the moral sense of a 'rurcoman) \vho proves how meritorious he considers theft to be by making pilgrimages to the tombs of noted robbers to make offerings; the intuitionist can do nothing but urge that, certainly unde"I" conditions like ours, if not also under conditions like those of the Turcolnans, disregard of men's claims to theil~ property not only inflicts immediate misery} but in volves a social state inconsistent with happiness.

Or if, again, there is required from him a justification for his feeling of repugnance to lying, in contrast with the feeling of an Egyptian, who prides himself on skill in lying (even thinking it praiseworthy to deceive without AllY further end than that of practising deception); he can do no more than point to the social prosperity furthered by entire trust between Ulan and man, and the social dis organization that follows universal untruthfnlness-conse quences that are necessarily conducive to agreeable feelings It,nd disagreeable feeling's respectively.

40 THE nATA OF ETHICS. The unavoidable conclusion is, then, that the intuitionist does not, and cannot, ignore the ultimate derivations of right and wrong from pleasure and pain. However much he may be guided, and rightly guided, by the decisions of conscience respecting the characters of acts; he has come to have confidence in these decisions because he perceives, vaguely but positively, that conformity to them furthers the welfare of himself and others, and that disregard of them entails in the long run suffering on all. Require hinl to name any moral-sense judgment by which he knows as right, some kind of act that will bring a surplus of pain, taki ng into account the totals in this life and ill any assumed othe,r life, and you Thud him unable to name one: a fact proving that underneath all these intuitions respecting the' goodness or bat1ness of acts, there lies the fundamental assulnption that acts are good or bad according as their aggregate effects increase men's happiness or increase their misery.

§ 14. It is curious to see how the devil-worship of the savage, 8urviying in various disguises an10ng theci vilized, and leaving as one of its products that asceticism which in many forlns and degrees still prevails widely, is to be found influencing in nlarked ways, nlen who have apparently emancipated themselves, not only from primitive supersti .. tions but frorn more developed superstitions. Views of life and conduct which originated with those who propitiated deified ancestors by self-tortures, enter even still into the ethical theories of many persons who have years since cast away the theology of the past, and suppose themselves to bo no longer influenced by it. In the writings of one 'who rejects dogmatic Chl'istianity toget,her with the Hebrew cult which preceded it, a career of conquest costing tens of thousands of lives, is narrated with a sYlnpathy comparable to that rejoicing which· the Hebrew traditions show us over destruction of enemies in GOOD AND BAD CONDUCT.

the name of God. You may find, too, a delight in contem .. plating the exercise of despotic power, joined with insistance on the saJutariness of a state in which the wills of slaves and citizens, are humbly subject to the wills of masters and rulers-a sentiment also reminding us of that ancient ~ Oriental life which biblical narratives portray. Along with this ,vorship of the strong man-along with this justification of whate-veT force may be needed for carrying out his ambitiuu--along with thi& yearning for a form of society in 'which supremacy of the few is unrestrained and the virtue of tihe lnany consists in obedience to theln; we not unnaturally find repudiation of the ethical theory which takes, in some shape or other, the greatest happiiless as the end of conduct: we not unnaturally find this utilital'ian philosophy designated by the oontemptuous title of "pig-philosophy." And then, serving to show what comprehension there has been of the philosophy so nicknamed,we are told that not happiness but blessedness must be the end.

Obviously, the implication is that blessedness is not a kind of happiness; and this implication at once suggests the question-What mode of feeling is it? If it is a state of consciousness· at all, it is necessarily one of three states painful, indifferent, or pleasurable. Does it leave the possessor at the zero point of sentiency? Then it leave~ him just as he would be if he had not got it. Does it not leave him at the zero point? Then it must leave him below zero or above zero. Each of these possibilities may be conceived under two fC!"IDS. That to which the term blessedness is applied, may be a particular state of consciousness-one among the many states tlat occur; and on this supposition we have to recog nize it as a pleasurable state, an indifferent state, Ol~ a painful state. Otherwise, blessedness is a word not appll~able to a particular state of consciousness, but characterizes the aggre gate of its states; and in this case the average of the aggregate is to be conceived as one in whi~h the pleasurable THE DATA OF ETHICS.

predominates, or one in ~hich the painful predominateo, or one in 'which pleasures and pains exactly cancel Olle another. Let us take in turn these two imaginable applications of tho word. (( Blessed are the Il1cI'ciful;" "Blessed are the peace l)laker~ ;" "Blessed i~ he that consic1ereth the poor;" are sayings which we may fairly take as conveying the accepted ILleenillgof blessedness. "\Vhat now shall we say of one who is, for the time being, blessed in performing an act of mercy? Is his n1ental state pleasurable? If so the hypothesis is abandoned: blessedness is a particular form of happiness. Js the state indifferent or painful? In that case the blessed man is so devoid of synlpathy that relieving another fronl pain, or the fear of pain, leaves hiul either wholly unmoved, or gives him ~n unpleasant emotion. Again, if one who is blessed in 111aking peace receives no gratification from the act, then seeing 111en· injure each other does not affect hin1 at all, or gives him a pleasure which is changed into a pai.n when he prevents the injury. Once luore, to say that the blessedness of one who" considereth the poor" implies no ag'reeable feeling, is to say that his consideration for the poor leaves hin1 without feeling or entails on him a disagreeable feeling. So that if blessedness is a particular mode or con sciousness tenlporarily existing as a concomitant of each kind of beneficent action, those who deny that it is a pleasure, or constituent of happiness, confess thenlselves either not pleased by the welfare of others or displeased by it.

Otherwise understood, blessedness D1USt, as we have seen, refer to the totality of feelings experienced during the life of cne who occupies himself with the actions; the ,vord con notes. This also presents the three possibilities-surplus of pleasures, surplus of pains, equality of the two. If the plc:asurable states are in excess, then the blessed life can be distinguished froill any other pleasurable life only by the relativo aUlount, or the quality, of its pleasures: it is a life which makes happiness of a certain kind and degree its end j GOOD AND· BAD CONDUCT. 43 and the assunlption that blessedness is not a form of happi ness, lapses. If the blessed life is one in which the pleasures and pains received balance one· another, so producing an average that is indifferent; or if it is one in which the pleasures are out-balanced, by the pains; then the blessed life has the character which the pessimist alleges of life at large, and therefore regards it as cursed. Annihilation is best, he 'Will argue; since if an average that is indifferent is the out come of the blessed life, annihilation at once achieves it; and if a surplus of suffering is the outcorne of this. highest kind of life called blessed, still more should life in general be ended.

A. possible rejoinder rnust be named and disposed of. While it is admitted that the particular kind of consciousness accompanying conduct that is blessed, is pleasurable; it may be contended that pursuance of this condu.;;t and receipt of the pleasure, brings by the inlplied self-denial, and per sistent effort, and perhaps bodily injury, a suffering that exceeds it in amount. And it may then be .urged that blessedness, characterized by this excess of aggregate pains over aggregate pleasures, sbould nevertheless be pursued as an end, rather than the happiness constituted by excess of pleasures over pains. But now, defensible though this 'conception of blessedness may be when limited to one indi vidual, or S0111e individuals, it becomes indefensible when extended to all individuals; as it must be if blessedness is taken for the end of conduct. To see this we need but ask for what purpose are these pains in excess of pleasures to be borne. Blessedness being the ideal state for all persons; and the self-sacrifices made by each person in pursuance of this ideal state, having for their end to help all other persons in achieving the like ideal state; it rosults that the blessed though painful state of each, is to be acquired by furthering the like blessed though painful states of others: the blessed consciousness is to be constituted by the con..

templation of their consciousnesses in a condition of average 44 THE DATA OF ETHICS. suffering. Does anyone accept this inference? If not, hi~ rejection of it involves the admission that the nlotive fer bearing pains in performing acts called blessed, is not the obtaining for others like pains of blessedness, but the obtain. ing of pleasures fOl~ others; and that thus pleasure somewherA is the tacitly-implied ultimate end. In brief, then, blessedness has for its necessary condition of existence, illcreased happiness, positive or negative, in sonle consciousness or other; and disappears utterly if we assume that the actions called blessed, are known to cause decrease of happiness in others as well as in the actor. § 15. To make clear the meaning of the general argument set forth in this chapter, its snccessive parts must be briefly summarized. That which in the last chapter we found to be highly evolved conduct, is that which, in this chapter, we find to be what is called good conduct; and the ideal goal to the natural evolution of conduct there recognized,' ·we here recognize as the ideal standard of cond uct ethically con..

sidered. The acts adjusted to ends, which 'while constituting the outer visible life from moment to moment further the con tinuance of life, we saw become, as evolution progresses, better adjusted; until finally they make the life of each individual entire in length and breadth, at the sanle time that they efficiently subserve the rearing of young, and do both these not only without hindering other individuals from doing the like, but while giving aid to them in doing t,he like. And here we see that goodness is asserted of such (~onduct under each of these three aspects. Other things equal, well-adjusted self-conserving acts we call good; other things equal, we call good the acts that are well adjusted for bringing up progeny capable of complete living; and other things equal, we ascribe goodness to acts which further the complete living of others.

GOOD ANDBADCONDUC~ 45 This judging as good, conduct· which conduces to life in each and all, we found to involve the assumption that animate existence is desirable. By the pessimist, conduct which subserves life· cannot consistently be called good: to call it good irnplies some form of optimism. W ~ saw, how ever, that pessinlists and optimists both start with tho postulate that life is a blessing or a curse, according as the average. consciousness accompanying it is pleasurable or painful. And since avowed or implied pessimists, and optimists of one or other shade, taken together constitute all men, it results that this postulate is universally accepted. Whence it follows that if we call good the conduct conducive to life, we can do so only with the implication that it is conducive to a surplus of pleasures over pains. The truth that conduct is considered by us as good or bad, according as its aggregate results, to self or others or both, are pleasurable or painful, we found on examination to be involved in all the current judgments on conduct: the proof being that reversing the applications of the words creates absurdities. And we found. that every other pro posed standard of conduct derives its authority from this standard. Whether perfection of nature is the assigned proper aim, or virtuousness of action, or rectitude of motive, we saw that definition of the perfection, the virtue, the recti tude, inevitably brings us down to happiness experienced in some form, at some time, by some person, as the funda men.tal idea.. Nor could we discover any intelligible con cept.ion of blessedness, save one which implies a raising of consciousness, individual or general, to a happier state j either by mitigating pains or increasing pleasures.

Even with those who judge cf conduct from the religious point of view, rather than from the ethical point of view, it is the same. Men· who seek to propit:ate God by inflicting pains on themselves, or refrain from pleasures to avoid offending him, do so to escape greater ultiluate pains or to get greater ultimate pleasures. If by positive or negative 46 THE DA'rA OF ETHICS. suffering here, they expected to achieve more suffering here after, they 'would not do as they do. That which they now think duty they would not think duty if it promised eternal misery instead of eternal happiness. Nay, if there be any who believe that human beings were created to be unhappy, and that t.hey ought to continue living to display their unhappiness for the satisfaction of their creator, such believers are obliged to use this standard of judgment; for the pleasure of their diabolical god is the elld to bo achieved.

So that no school can avoid taking for the ultimate moral aim a desirable state of feeling called by whatever name gratification, enjoyrnent, happiness. Pleasure somewhere, at some tin1e, to some being or beings, is an inexpugnable elenlent of the conception. It is as much a necessary form of moral intuition as space is a necessary form of intellectual intuition. * It has been remarked, quite truly, that this is a somewhat inconsistent comparison to be made by me; remembering my partial denial of the doc trine that space is a form of intellectual intuition (see Principles of P.~y('holo[JY, § 399). Contending, as I do, that space is a form of the intuitions yielded by touch and vision only, and is not a form of the intuitions which we know as sounds and odours, I ought to have said that happiness is more truly a form of moral intuition than space is a form of intellectual intuition: being, as we see, a universal form of it. .

CHAPTER IV. WAYS OF JUDGING CONDUCT. § 17. Intellectual progress is by no one trait so ade quately characterized, as by development of the idea of causation; since development of this idea involves develop ment of so luany other ideas. Before any way can be made, thought and language must have advanced far enough to render properties or attributes thinkable as such, apart from. objects; which, in low stages of human intelligence, they are not. Again, even the silnplest notion of cause, as we under stand it, can be reached only after many like instances have been grouped into a simple generalization; and through all ascending steps, higher notions of causation imply wider notions of generality. Further, as there must be clustered in the mind, concrete causes of many kinds before there can emerge the conception or cause, apart from particular causes; it follows that progress in abstractness of thought is implied.

Concomitantls, there is implied the recognition of constant relations among phenomena, generating ideas of uniformity of sequence and of coexistence~the idea of natural law. ~rhese advances can go on only as fast as perceptions and resulting thoughts, are made definite by the use of measureSj serving to £amilarize the mind with exact correspondence, truth, certainty. And only when growing science accumulates examples of quantitative relations, foreseen and verified, t.hroughout Q widening range of phenomena, does causation 5 48 THE DATA OF ETHICS. come to be conceived as necessary and universal. So that though all these cardinal conceptions aid one another in developing, we may properly say that the conception of causation especially depends for its .development on the developn1ents of the rest; and therefore is the best measure of intellectual development at large. How slowly, as a consequence of its dependence, the conception of causation evolves, a glance at the evidence shows. We hear with surprise of the savage who, falling down a precipice, ascribes the failure of his foothold to a malicious demon; and we smile at the kindred notion of the ancient Greek, that his death was prevented by a goddess who nnfastened for him the thong of the helmet by which his enemy was dragging him. But daily, without surprise, we hear men who describe themselves as saved from ship wreck by" divine interposition," who speak of having " providentially" missed a train which met with a fatal disaster, and who call it a " mercy" to have escaped injury from a falling chimney-pot-men who, in such ca~es, recognize physical causation no more tha,n do the uncivilized or semi-civilized. The Veddah who thinks that failure to hit an animal with his arrow, resulted from inadequate invocation of an ancestral spirit, and the Christian priest who says prayers over a sick man in the expectation that the course of his disease will so be stayed., differ only in respect of the agent from whom they expect supernatural aid "and the phenomena to be altered by him: the necessary relations among causes and effects are tacitly ignored by the last as much as by the first. Deficient belief in causation is, indeed, exemplified even in those whose discipline has been specially fitted to generate this belief-even in men of science. For a generation after geologists had become uniformitarians in Geology, they remained catastrophists in Biology: while recognizing none but natural agencies in the genesis of the Earth's crust, they ascribed to supernatural agency the genesis of the organisms on its surface. Nay more-among WAYS-OF JUDGING CONDUCT. 49 thOMwho are convinced that liVing things in genera have been evolved· by the continued interaction of forces everywhere operating, there are some who make an excep tion of man; or who, if they admit that his body has been evolved in the same manner as the bodies of othe.r creatures~ allege that his mind has been not. evolved but specially created. If, then, universal and necess~ry causation is only now approaching full recognition, even by those whose investigations are daily re-illustrating it, we may expect to find it very little recognized among men at .large, whose culture has not been calculated to impress them with it; and we may expect to find it least recognized by them in respect of those classes of phenomena amid which, in consequence of their complexity, causation is most difficult to trace-the psychical, the social, the moral.

Why do I here make these reflections on what seems an irrelevant subject? I do it because on studying the various ethical theories, I am struck with the fact that they· are all characterized either by entire absence of the idea of causation, or by inadequate presence of it. Whether theological, political, intuitional, or utilitarian, they all display, if not in the same degree, still, each in a large degree, the defects which result from this lack. We will consider them in the order named. § 18. The school Df morals properly to be considered as the. still-extant representative of the most ancient school, is that which recognizes no other rule of conduct than the . alleged vvill of God. It originates with the 'Savage whose only restraint beyond fear of his fellow man, is fear of an ancestral spirit; and whose notion of moral duty as dis tinguished from his notion of social prudence, :trises from this fear. Here the ethical doctrine and the religious doctrine are identical-have in no degree diffei·entiated.

This primitive form of ethical doctrine, changed only by the gradual dying out multitudinous minor supernatural 50 THE DATA OF ETHICS. agents and acconlpanying development of one universal supernatural agent, survives in great strength down to ourown day. Religion::;creeds, established and dissenting, all embody / the belief that right and wrong are right and wrong simply in virtue of divine enactment. ADd this tacit assumption has passed from systems of theology into systems of morality; or rather, let us say that moral systenls in early stages of developnlent, little Cliffel'entiated from the accompanying theological Rystems, have participated in this assnmption. We see this in the ,yorks of the Stoics, as well as in the works of certain Christian moralists. Anlong recent ones I may instance the Essays on the P1 0 inciples of },tloyality, by Jonathan Dymond, a Quaker, which makes "the authority of the Deity the sole ground of duty, and His conlmunicated will the only ultimate standard. of right and wrong." Nor is it by writers belonging to so relatively unphilosophical a sect only, that this view is held; it is held with a difference by writers belonging to sects contrariwise distinguished.

For these assert that in the absence of belief in a deity, there wonldbe no 1110ral guidance; and this amounts to asserting that moral truths have no other origin than the will of God, which, if not considered as revealed in sacred writings, must be considered as revealed in conscience. This assumption when examined, proves to be suicidal. If there are no other origins for right and wrong than this enunciated or intuited divine will, then, as alleged, were there no knowledge of the divine will, the acts now known as wrong would not be known as wrong. But if 111en did not know such acts to be wrong because contrary to the divine will, and so, in comnlitting them, did not offend by disobe dience; and if they could not otherwise know them to be wrong; then they might commit them indifferently with the nets now classed as right: the results, pra,ctically considered, would be the saUle. In so far as secular lllatters are concerned, there would be no difference between the two; for to say that in the affairs of life, any evils would arise WAYS o.F JUDGING CONDUCT. 61 from continuing to do the acts called wrong and ceasing to do the acts called right, is to say that these produce in themselves certain mischievous consequences and certain beneficial consequences; which is to say there is anotller scnrce for moral rules than the revealed or inferred divine will: they may be established by induction from thesf\ observed consequences.

From this implication I see no escape. It must be either admitted or denied that the acts called good and the acts called bad, naturally conduce, the one to human well-being and the other to human ill-being. Is it admitted? Th~n the admission alTIOuntsto an assertion that the conduciveness is shown by experience; and this involves abandonment of the doctrine that there is no· origin for morals apart from divine injunctions. Is it denied, that acts classed as good and bad differ in their effects? Then it is tacitly affirmed that human affairs would go op just as wen in ignorance of the distinction; and the alleged need for commandments from God disappears. And here we see how entirely wanting is the conception of cause. This notion that such al1d such actions are made respectively good and bad simply by divine injunction, is tantamount 'to the notion that such and such actions have not in the nature of things such and such kinds of effects.

If there is not an unconsciousness of causation there is an ignoring of it. § 19. Following Plato and Aristotle, who make State enactments the sources of right and wrong; and following lIobbes, who holds that there can be neither justice nor injustice till a regularly-constituted coercive power exists to issue and enforce commands; not a few modern t.hinkers hold that there is no other orjgjn for good and bad in conduct than law. And this implies the belief that moral obligation ol'iginates with Acts of Parliament, and can be changed this way or that way by majorities. They ridicule 52 THE DATA OF ETHICS. the idea. that men have any natural rights, and allege tb;:tt rights are wholly results of convention: the necessary implication being that duties are so too. Before considering ·whether this theory coheres with outside truths, let us observe how far it is coherent within itself. In pursuance of his argument that rights and duties (Tiginate with established social arrangements, llobbes says" \Vhere no covenant hath preceded, there hath no right been transferred, and eyery man has right to every thing; and consequently, no action can be unjust.

But when a covenant is made, then to break it is 'LfJnjust; and the definition of INJUS'l.'IOE, is no other than the not perfo/rrnanceof covenant. And whatsoever is not unju-,t, is just . •••Therefore before the names of just and unjust can have place, there must be some coercive power, to compel men equally to the .peItormance of their covenants, by the terror of some punishment, greater th An the benefit they expect by the breach of their covenant."* In this paragraph the essential propositions are :-justice is fulfilment of covenant; fulfiln1ent of covenant implies a power enforcing it: "just and unjust can have no place" unless men are compelled to perform their covenants. But this is to sa.y that nlen cannot perforrn their covenants without conlpulsion. Grant that justice is perforn1ance of covenant. Now suppose it to be performed voluntarily: there is justice. In such case, however, there is justice in the absence of coercion; which is contrary to the hypothesis .. rrhe only con..

ceivable rejoinder is an absurd one :-voluntary perform .. ance of covenant is impossible. Assert this, and the doctrine that right and wrong come into existence with the establish .. ment of sovereignty is defensible. Decline to assert it, and the doctrjne vanishes. From inner incongruities pass now to outer ones. 'rhe justification for his doctrine of absolute civil authority as the source of rules of conduct, Hobbes seeks in the miserio8 entailed by the chronic war between man and nlan which must exist in the absence or society; holding that under any k.ind of govel'nment a better .life is possible than in the state of * LeViathan. ch. xv.

WAYS OF JUDGING CONDUCT. 53 nature. Now whether we accept the gratuitous and baseless theory that men surrendered their liberties to a sovereign power of some kind, with a view to' the pronlised increase of satisfactions; or whether we accept the rational theory, inductively based, that a state of political subordination gradually became established through experience. of the increased satisfactions derived under it; it equally rernains· obvious that the acts of the sovereign power have no other warrant than their subservience to the purpose for' which it canle into existence. The necessities which initiate government, thernselves prescribe the actions of govern ment. If its a~tions do not respond to the necessities, they are unwarranted. 'rhe authority of law is, then, by the hypothesis, derived; altd can never transcend the authority of that fronl which it is derived. If general good, or welfare, or utility, is the supreUle end; and if State-enact ments are justified as means to this supreme' end; then, State-enactnlents have such authority only as arises' from conduciveness to this supreme end. When they are right, it is only because the original authority endorses them; and they are wrong if they do not bear its endorsernent.

That is to say, conduct cannot be made good or bad 'by law; but its goodness or badness is to the last determined by its effects as naturally furthering, or not furthering, the liveEt of citizens. Still more when considered in the concrete, than when considered in the abstract, do the views of Hobbes and his disciples prove to be inconsistent. J aining i1\ the general belief that without such security for life as enables men to go fearlessly about their business, the,.~e can be neither happiness nor prosperity, individual or general, they agree that measures for preventing murder, Inan:31aughber,assault, &c., are requisite; and they advocate this or that penal system as furnishing the best deterrents: so arguing, both in respect of the evils and the rem.edies" that s~ch and such causes will, by the nature of things, produce such and such 54 THM DATA OF ET HIU~. effects. They recognize as inferable aP1'iOTi, the truth that nlen will not lay by property unless they can count with great probability on reaping advantages from it; that consoquently where robbery is unchecked, or where {\ rapacious ruler appropriates whatever earnings his subjects do not effectually hide, production will scarcely exceed iwmediate consumption; and that necessarily there will ·be none of that accumulation of capital required for social development, with all its aids to welfare. In neither ~as~, however, do they perceive that they are tacityassert in!!. the need for certain restraints on conduct as deducible from the necessary conditions to complete life in the social sta.te; and are so making the authority of law derivative and. not original.

If it be said by any belonging to this school, that certain moral obligations to be distinguished as cardinal, must be a.dmitted to have a basis deeper than legislation, and that it is for legislation not to c)'eate bub merely to enforce them if, I say, admitting this, they go on to allege a legislative origin for minor claims and duties; then we have the implication that whereas sonle kinds. of conduct do, in the n~,ture of things, tend to work out certain kinds of results, other kinds ot conduct do not, in the nature ot things, tend to work out certain kinds of results. While of these acts tbe naturally good or bad consequences must be allowed, it m}},y be denied of those ltcts that they have naturally good or bad consequences. Only after asserting this can it be consistently asserted that acts of the last class are made right or wrong by law. For if such acts have any intrinsic tendencies to produce beneficial or mischievous effects, then these intrinsic tendencies furnish the warrant tor legislative requirements or interdicts; and to E'ay that the requirements or interdicts make them right or wrong, is to say that they have no intrinsic tendencies to produce beneficial or IDlschievou3 effects.

Here, then, we have another theory betraying deficient WAYS OF JUDGING CONDUCT. 55 consciousness of causation. An adequate consciousness of causation yields the irresistible belief that fronl the most serious to the most trivial actions of men in society, there must flow consequences which, quite apart fronl legal agency, conduce to well-being or ill-being in greater or smaUer degrees. If tnurders are socially injurious whether forbidden by law or not-if one man's appropriation of another's gains by force, brings special and general evils, whether it is or is not contrary to a ruler's edicts-if non fulfilment of contract, if cheating, if adulteration, work mis chiefs on a community in proportion as they are common, quite irrespective of prohibitions; then, is it· not manifest that the like holds throughout all the details of men's behaviour? Is it not clear that when legislation insists on certain acts which have naturally beneficial effects, and forbids others that have naturally injurious effects, the acts are not made good or bad by legislation; but the legislation derives its authority from the natural effects of the acts? Non-recogni tion of this implies non-recognition of natural causation.

§ 20. Nor is it otherwise with the pure intuitionists, who hold that moral perceptions are innate in the original sense-thinkers whose view is that men have been divinely endowed with moral faculties; not that these have re sulted from inherited· modifications caused by accumulated experiences. To affirm that we know some things to be right and other things to be wrong, by virtue of a supernaturally given conscience; and thus tacitly to affirm that we de not otherwise know right fr~)ll1 wrong; is tacitly to deny anJ natural I elations between acts and results. For if there , exist any such relations, then we may ascertain by induction, or deduction, or both, what these are. And if it be admitted that because or such natural relations, happiness is produced by this kind of conduct, which is therefore to be approved, while misery is produced by that kind of conduct" which is 56 THE DATA. OF ETHICS.

therefore to be condelnned j then it is admitted that the rightness or wrongness of actions are determinable, and must finally be determined, by the goodness or badness or the effects that flow from them; which is contrary to the hypothesis. It may, indeed, be rejoined that effects are deliberatel,f ignored by tihis school; vvhichteaches that courses recognized by moral intuition as right, must be pursued without regard to consequences. "But on inquiry it turns out that the conse quences to be disregarded are particular consequences, and not general consequences. When, for example, it is said that property lost by another ought to be restored irrespec tive of evil to the finder, who possibly may, by restoring it, lose that which would have preserved hinl from starvation, it is meant that in pursuance of the principle, the immediate and special consequences must be "disregarded, not the diffused and remote consequences. By which we are shown that though the theory forbids overt recognition of causa1jion, there is an unavowed recognition of it.

And this in1plies the trait to which I am drawing attention. rrhe conception of natural causation is so imperfectly developed, that there is only an indistinct consciousness that throughout the whole of hl1nlan conduct, necessary relations of causes and effects prevail; and that from them are ultimately derived all moral rules, however much these may be proximately derived from moral intuitions. § 21. Strange to say, even the utilitarian school, which, at first sight, appears to be distinguished from the rest by recognizing natural causation, is, if not so far from complet~ recognition of it, yet very far. Conduct, according to its theory, is to be estimated by observation of results. When, in sufficiently numerous cases,. it has been found that behaviour of this kind works evil while behaviour of that kind works good, these kinds 0f behaviour are to be judged as wrong and right respectively.

'WAYS OF JUDGING CONDUCT. 57 Now though it seems that the origin of moral rules in natural causes, is thus asserted by implication, it is but partially assorted. The implication is simply that we are to ascertain by induction that such and such mischiefs or benefits do go along with such and such acts; and are then to infer that the like relations will hold in future. But acceptance of these generalizations and the inferences from them, does not amount to recognition of causation in the full sense or the word o So long as only Borne relation between cause and effect in conduct is recognized, and not the relation, a complet0ly-scientific form of knowledge has not been reached. At present, utilitarians pay no· attention to this distinction. Even when it i3 pointed out, they· disregard the fact that empirical utilitarianism is but a transitional form to be passed through on the way to rational utilitarianism.

In a letter to 1\11'. Mill, written some sixteen years ago, repudiating the title anti-utilitarian which he had applied to me (a letter subsequently published in Mr. Bain's work on Jj[entctland JYloral Science), I endeavoured to make· clear tho difference above indicated; and I must here· quote certain passages from that letter. The view for which I contend is, that Morality properly so-called-the science of right conduct-has for its object to determine how and 'U.,hy certain modes of conduct are detrimental, and certain others modes beneficial. These good and bad results cannot be accidental, but must be necessar{ consequences of the constitution of things; and I conceive it to be the 'business of Moral Science to deduce, fi'om the laws of life and the conditions of existence, what kinds of action necessarily tend to produce happiness, and what kinds to produce unhappiness. Ha"ing done this, its deductions are to be recogmzed ao Jaws of conduct; and are to be conformed to irrespective of a direct estimation Qf happiness or misery.

l~el'haps an analogy will most clearly 8how my meaning. During its emly stages, planetary Astronomy consisted .of nothing more than accum ulat~d observations respecting the positions and motions of the sun and planets; from which accumulated observations it came by and by to be empirically predic~ed, with an approach to truth, that certain of the heavenly bodie~ wouid have certain positions. at certain times. But the modern science of planetary Astronomy consists of deductions from the law of gravitation-deductions showing why the celestial bodies necessarily occupy certain places at certain times. Now, the kind of relation which thus exists between ancient and 58 THE DATA OF ETHICS. modem Astronomy, is analogous to the kind of relation which, I conreive, exists between the Expendiency-Morality and Moral Science properly so called. And the objection which I have to the current Utilitarianism is, that it recognizes no more developed form of Morality-does not see that it has reached but the initial stage of Moral Science.

Doubtless if utIlitarians are asked. whethe it can be by nlere chance that this kind of action works evil and that works good, they will answer-No: they will adnlit that such sequences are parts of a necessary order among phenomena. But though this truth is beyond question; and though if there are causal relations between acts and their results, rules of conduct can become scientific only when they are deduced from these causal relations; there continues to be entire satisfaction with that form of utilitarianism in which these causal relations are practically ignored. It is supposed that in future, as now, utility is to be determined only by ob.servation of results; and that there is no possibility of knowing by deduction from fundamental principle~, what conduct fjnu~t be detrimental and what conduct must be beneficial. § 22. To make more specific that conception of ethical science here indicll,ted, let me present it under a concrete aspect; beginning with a simple illustration and compli cating this illustration by successive steps.

If, by tying its main artery, we stop m.ost of the blood going to a limb} then, for as long as the limb perfornls its function, those parts which are called into play must be wasted faster than they are repaired: whence eventual disablement. The relation between due receipt of nutritiv~ lnatters through its arteries, and due discharge of its duHoe bjl' the limb, is a part of the physical order. If, instead of cutting off the supply to a particular limb, w~ bleed the p~tient largely, so drafting away the materials needed for repairing not one limb but all limbs, and not limbs only but viscera, there results both a muscular debility and an' enfeeblement of the vital functions. Here, again, cause and WAYS OF JUDGING CONDUCT. 59 'effect are necessarily related. The lllischief th~t results from great depletion, results apart trom any divine' command, or political enactment, or ill.oral intuition. Now advance a step.

Suppose the man to be prevented from taking in enough of the solid and liquid food containing those substances con... tinually abstracted from his blood in repairing his tissues: suppose he has cancer of the cesophagus and cannot swallo~ -what happens? By this indirect depletion, as by direct depletion, he is inevitably made incapable of performing the actions of one in health. In this case, as in the other cases, t'le connexion between cause and effect is one. that cannot be estabiished, or altered, by any authority external to the phenomena themselves. Again, let us say that instead of being stopped after passing his mouth, that which he would swallow is stopped before reaching his mouth; so that day after day the man is required to waste his tissues in getting food, and day after day the food he has got to meet this waste, he is forcibly prevented from eating. As before, the progress towards death by starvation is inevitable-the connexion between acts and effects is independent of any alleged thea ..

logical or political authority. And similarly if,being forced by the whip to labour, no adequate return in food is supplied to hin1, there are equally certain evils, equally indepen .. dent of sacred or secular entilictment. Pass now to those actions more commonly thought of' as the occa.. sions for rules of conduct. Let us assume the luan to be continually robbed of that which was given him "in exchange for his labour, and by which he was to make up for nervo-nluscular expenditure and renew his powers. No less than before is the connexion between conduct and consequence rooted in the constitution of things;. unchange able by State-made law, a.nd not needing establishment by empirical generalization. If the !1ctionby which the man il'l affected is a stage further away from the results, or 'produces results of a less decisive kind, still we see the same basis for morality in the physical order~ Imagine that payment for 60 THE DATA OF "ETHICS.

his services is made partly in bad coin; or that it is delayed beyond the date agreed upon; or that what he buys to eat i:J adulterated with innutritive matt er. Manifestly, by any of these deeds which we condemn as unjust, and which are punishetl by law, there is, as before, an interference with the normal adjustment of physiological repair to physiolo gical waste. Nor is it otherwise when we pass to kinds of conduct still more remotely operative. If he i3 hindered from enforcing his claim-if class-predominance prevents him from proceeding, or if a bribed judge gives a verdict contrary to evidence, or if a witness swears falsely ~ have not these deeds, though they affect him more indirectly, the sanle original cause for their wrongness? Even with actions which work diffused and indefinite mischiefs it is the same. Suppose that the man, instead of being dealt with fraudulently, is calumniated. There is, as before, a hindrance to the carrying on of life-suRtaining a,ctivities; for the loss of character detrimentally affects his business. N or is this all. The mental depression caused partially incapacitates him for energetic activity, and perhaps brings on ill-health. So that maliciously or carelessly pro pagating false statements, tends both to diminish his lifo and to ditninish his ability to 11laintain life. Hence its flagitiousness. Moreover, if we tra~e to their ultimate ramifications the effects wrought by any of these acts which morality called intuitive reprobates-if we ask what results not to the individual himself only, but also to his belongings-if we observe how impoverishulent hinders the rearing of his children, by entailing under-feeding or inade quate clothing, resulting perhaps in the death of some and the constitutional injury of others; we see that by the neces sary connexions of things these acts, besides tending primarily to lower the life of the individual aggressed upon, tend, secondarily, to lower the lives oiall his family, and, thirdly to lower the life of society at large; which is damaged hy \vhatever damages its units ..

WAYS OF JUDGING CONDUCT. 61 A 'more distinct meaning will now be seen in the state ... ment that the utilitarianism which recognizes only the principles of conduct reached by induction, is but preparatory to the· utilitarianism which deduces these principles from .the processes of life as carried on under established· conditions of existence. § 22a. Thus, then, is justified the allegation made at the outset, that, irrespective of their distinctive characters and their special tendencies, all the current methods of ethics have one general defect-they neglect ultimate causal con-_ nexions.. Of conrse I do not mean that they,vholly ignore the natural consequences of action~; but I mean· that they recognize them only incidentally.. They do liot erect into a method the ascertaining of necessary relations between causes hnd effects, and deducing rules of conduct from formulated statements of them.

Every science begins by accumulating observatiolls, and presently generalizes these elupirically; but only when it reaches the Rtage at which its empirical generalizations are included in a rational generalization,- does it become developed science. AstrononlY has already passed through its successive stages: first collections of facts; then inductions from theln; and lastly deducti ve interpretations of these, as corollaries from a universal principle of action among masses in spac:. Accounts of structures and tabulations of strata, grouped and compared, have led gradually to the assigning of various classes of geological changes to igneous and aqueous actions; and it is now tacitly admitted that Heology becomes a science proper, only as fast as such changes· are explained in· terms of those. natural processes which have arisen in the cooling and solidifying Barth, exposed to the Sun's heat and the action of the Moon upon its ocean. 'fhe science of life has been, and is still, exhibiting a like series of stEpS: the evolution of organic forms at large, is being affiliated on physical actions in operation from the 62 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

beginning; and the vital phenonlena each organism presents, are coming to be understood as connected sets ()f changes, in parts fornled of matters that are affected by certain forces and disengage other forces. So is it ,vith mind. Early ideas concerning thought and feeling ignored everything like cause, save in recognizing those effects uf ]Htbit which were forced on men's attention and expressed in proverbs j but there are growing up interpretations of thought and feeling as correlates of the actions and reactions of a. nervous structure, that is influenced by outer changes and works in the body adapted changes; the irnplication being that Psychology becomes a science, as fast as these relations of phenomena are explained as consequences uf ultimate principles. Sociology, too, represented down to recent times only by stray ideas about social organization, scattered through the masses of worthless gossip furnished us by historians, is coming to be recognized by some as also a. science; and such adumbrations of it as have from time to time appeared in the shape of empirical generalizations, a1'e now beginning to aSSUlue the character of generalizations made coherent by derivation from causes lying in human nature placed under given conditions.

Clearly then, Ethics, which is a science dealing with the conduct of associated human beings, regarded under one of its aspects, has to undergo a like transformation; and, at present undeveloped, can be considered a developed science only when it has undergone this transformation. A preparation in the simpler sciences is presupposed. Ethics has a physical aspect; since it treats of human activities which, in comnlon with all expenditures of energy, conform to the law of the persistence of energy: mora I principles nlust conform to physical necessities. It has a biological aspect; since it concerns certain effects, inner and outer, individual and social, of the vital changes going on in the highest type of animal. It has ~ psychological aspect; for its subject-matter is an aggregate of actions WAYS OF JUDGING CONDUCT. 68 that are pron1pted by feelings and guided by intelligence. And it has a sociological aspect; for these actions, some of them directly and all of them indirectly, affect associated beings.

What is the implication? Belonging under one aspect to each of these sciences--physical, biological, psychological, sociological,-it can find its ultimate interpretatiuns only· in those fundamental truths which are common to all of them. Already we have concluded in a general way that conduct at large, including the conduct Ethics deals with, is to be fully understood only as an aspect of evolving life; and now we are brought to this conclusion in a more special way. § 23. Here, then, we have to enter on the consideration of moral phenomena as phenomena·· of evolution; being forced to do. this by finding~ that they forn1 a part of the aggregate of phenomena which evolution has wrought out. If the ~ntire visible universe has been evolved-if the solar system as a whole, the earth as a. part of it, the life in general which the earth bears, as· we11 as that of each individual organism-if the mental phenomena displayed by 'all creatures, up to the highest, in commori with the phenomena presented by aggregates of these highest-if one and all conform to the laws of evolution; then the necessary iInplication is that those phenomena of conduct in these highest creatures with which Morality is concerned, also conform.

The preceding volutnes have prepared the way for dp.aling with morals as thus conceived. Utilizing the conclusious they contain, let us now observe what data are fnrnished by these. Vv'"e will take in succession-the physical viewj the biological vie,,,, the pSJrchologicalview, and the socio~ logical view. 6 CRAPTER Y. THE PHYSICAL VIEW. § 24. Every moment we pass instantly from men'H perceived actions to the motives implied by them; and so are led to formulate these actions in mental ternlS rather than in bodily terms. Thoughts and feelings are referred to when we speak of anyone's deeds with praise or blame; not those outer manifestations which reveal the thoughts and feelings. Hence we become oblivious of the truth that conduct as actually experienced, consists of changes recognized by touch, sight and hearing. This habit of contemplating only the psychical face of < conduct, is so confirmed that an effort is required to con template only the physical face. Undeniable as it is that another's behaviour to us is made up of movements of his body and lilDbs, of his facial mUBcles, and of his vocal apparatus; it yet seems paradoxical to say that these are the only elements of conduct really known by us, while the eleu1ents of conduct which we exclusively think of aa constituting it, are not known but inferred.

Here, however, ignoring for the time being the inferrcJ. elenlents in conduct, we have to deal with the perceived elelnents--we have to observe its traits considered as a. set of combined motions. Taking the evolution point of view, and relnen1bering that 'while an aggregate evolves, not only the matter composing it, but also the motion of that THE PHYSICAL VIEW. 6f., nlatter, passe3 from an indefinite incoherent homogeneity to a definite coherent heterogeneity, we have now to ask whether conduct as it rises to its higher forms, displays in increasing degrees these characters; and whether it does not display them in the greatest degree when it reaches that :highest form \vhichwe call moral. § 25. It will he convenient to deal first with the trait of increa::;;ing coherence. The conduct of lowly-orga:uir.ed creatures is broadly contrasted with the conduct of highly organized creatures, in having its s:uccessive portions feebly connected. The random 1110Vements which an animalcule l11akes, have severally no reference to movements made a ,moment before; nor do they affect in specific ways tho nlovements made immediately after. To-day's wanderings, of a fish in search of· food, though perhaps showing by their adjustments to catching different kinds of prey at different hours, a slightly-determined order, are unrelated to the wanderings of yesterday and to· morrow. But such Ulore developed creatures as birds, show us in the building of nests, the sitting on eggs, the rearing of chicks, and tho aiding of them after they fly, sets of motions which form a depen:dent series, extending over a considerable period.

And on observing the complexity of the acts performed in fetching and fixing the fibres of the nest or in catching and bringing to the young each portion of food, we dis cover in the combined motions, lateral cohesion as well as longitudinal cohesion. Man, even in his lowest state, displays in his conduct far Dlore coherent cornbinations of motions. By the elaborate ulanipulations gone through in making weapons that al'e to serve for the chase next year, or in building canoes and wigwams for permanent uses-by acts of aggression and defence which' are connected with injuries long since received or committed, the sava.ge exhibits an nggregate of motions which.. in some of its parts, holds togethel' 66 THE DATA OFETHICB. over great periods. Moreover, if we consider the many movements implied by the transactions of each day, in. the wood, on the water, in the camp, in the family; we see that this coherent aggregate of movements is composed of many nlino!" aggregates, tJ:1at fl,ra severally coherent within themselves and with one another. In civilized man this trait of developed conduct becomes more conspicuous still. Be his business what it may, its proces13es in volve relatively-numerous dependent motions,; and day by day it is so carried on as to show connexions between present motions and motions long gone by, as well as motions anticipated in the distant future. Besides the many doings, related to one another, which the farmer goes through in looking after his cattle, directing his labourers, keeping an eye on his dairy, buying his imple ments, selling his produce, &c.; the business of getting-his lease involves numerous combined movements on which the movements of subsequent years depend; and in manuring his fields with a view to larger retu~ns, or putting down drains with the like motive, he is performing acts which are parts of a coherent combination relatively extensive.

That the like holds of the shopkeeper, manufacturer, banker, is manifest; and this increased coherence of conduct among the civilized, will strike us even more when we remember how its parts are often continued in a connected arrangement through life, for the purpose of nlaking a fortune, found ... ing a family, gaining a seat in Parliament. Now mark that a greater coherence among its component motions, broadly distinguishes the conduct we call moral from the conduct we call inlmoral. The application of tho word dissolute to the last, and of the word self-restrained to the first, implies this-implies that conduct of the lower kind, constituted of disorderly acts, has its parts relatively loose in their relations with one another; while conduct of the higher kind, habitually following a fixed order, so gaino a characteristic unity and coherence. In prop0t'tioll THE PHYSICAL VIEW. 67 as the conduct is what we call moral, it exhibits com..

paratively settled connexions between antecedents and consequents; for the doing right implies that under given conditions the combined motions constituting. conduct will follow in a way that can be specified. Contrariwise.., in the conduct of one whose principles are not high, the sequenceEl of motions are doubtful. He may pay the money or he Inay not; he may keep his appointment or he may fail; he may . tell the truth or he may lie. The words trustworthiness and untrustworthiness, as used to characterize the two respec tively, sufficiently imply that the actions of the one can be foreknown while those of the other can not; and this implies that the successive movenlents composing the one' bear more oonstant relations to one another than do those com posing the other-are more coherent. § 26. Indefiniteness accompanies incoherence in conduct that is little evolved j and throughout the ascending stages of evolving conduct, there is. an increasingly-definite co ordination o£the illotions constituting it.

Such changes of form as the rudest protozoa show us, are utterly vague-admit of no precise description j and though in higher kinds the movements of the parts are more definable, yet the movement of the whole in respect of direction is inaetermin~te: there is no adjustment of it to this or the other point in space. In such crelenterate animals as polypes, we see the parts moving in ways which lack precision; and in one of the locomotive forms, as a medusa, the course taken, otherwise at rando~, can bo described only as one which carries it towards the bght, where degrees of light and darkness are present. Among annulose creatures the contrast between the track of a worm, tui'>ningthis way or that at hazard, and the definite course taken by a bee in its flight from flower to flower or back to the hive, shows us the same thing: the bee's acts in bail ding cells and feeding larvre further exhibiting pre.

68 THE DATA OF ETHICS. CISlon in the simultaneous movements as well as in thu successive movoments. Though the motions made by a fish in pursuing its prey have considerable definiteness, yet they are of a simple kind, and are in this respect con trasted with the many definite motions of body, head, and limbs gone through by a carnivorcus mammal in the cour~e of waylaying, running do,vn, and seizing a herbivore; and further, the fish shows us none of those definitely adjusted sets of motions which in the mammal subserve the rearing of young. J\tfuch greater definiteness, if not in the combined move ments forming single acts, still in the adjustments of many combined acts to ~arious purposes, characterizes human conduct, even in its lowest stages. In making and. using weapons and in the manoouvrings of savage ,var£are, nUIner· ous movements all precise in their adaptations to proxinla~e ends, are arranged for the achievement of remote end~, with a precision not paralleled among lower creatures.

The lives of civilized men exhibit this trait far nlore conspicuously. Each industrial art exenlplifies the effects of movements which are severally definite; and which are definitely arranged in simultaneous and successive order. Business transactions of every kind are characterized by exact relations between the sets of motions constituting acts, and the purposes fulfilled, in time, place, and quantity. Further, "the daily routine of each person shows us in its periods and anlounts of activity, of rest, of relaxation, a measured arrangement which is not shown us by tIle doings of the wandering savage; who has no fixed times for hunting, sleeping, feeding, or anyone kind of action. Moral conduct· differs from imn10ral conduct in the sarno manner and in a like degree. rrhe conscientious man is exact in all his transactions. He supplies a precise weight for a specified sum; he gives a definite quality ill fulfilment of understanding; he pays the full amount he uargained to do. In times as well as in quantities, his acta THE PHYSICAL VIEW. 69 answer completely to anticipations. If he has made a business contract he is to the day; if an appointment he is to the minute. Similarly iIi respect of truth: his statements correspond accurately with the facts. It is thus too in his family life. He maintains marital relations that are definite in contrast with the relations that result from IJl>each. of the marriage contract; and as a father, fitti1lg his behaviour with care to the nature of each child and to the occasion, he avoids the too much and the too little of praise or blame, reward or penalty. Nor is it otherwise in his miscellaneous acts. rro say that he deals equitably with those he employs, whether they behave well or ill, is to say that he adjusts his acts to their deserts; and to say that he is judicious in his charities, is to say that he portions out his aid with discrimination instead of distributing it indiscriminately to good and bad, as do those who have no adequate sense of th8ir social respOll sibilities.

That progress towards rectitude of conduct is progress towards duly-proportioned conduct, and that duly-pro portioned conduct is relatively definite, we may see from another point of view. One of the traits of conduct we call immoral, is excess; while moderation habitually characterizes moral conduct. Now excesses imply extreme divergences of actions from some medium~ while maintenance of the medium is implied by moderation j whence it follows that actions of. the last kind can be defined more nearly than those of the first. Clearly cop.duct which, being unre strained, runs into great and incalculable oscillations,theroiu differs from re-tl'ained oonduct of which, by iUlplication, the oscillations fall within narrower limitR. And falling within narrower limits necessitates relative definiteness of movements. § 27. That through out the ascending forms of life, along with increasing heterogeneity of structure and function 7 70 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

there goes increasing heterogeneity of COlla nct-increasing diversity in the sets of external motions and combined sets of such Illotions-needs not be shown in detail. Nor need it be shown that becoming relatively great in tho nl0tions constituting the conduct of the uncivilized man, thIs heterogeneity has become still greater in those which the civilized 111an goes through. We may pass at once to that further degree of the like contrast which we see on ascending from the conduct of the imrTIoral to that of the 111oral. Instead of recognizing this contrast, most readers will be inclined to identify a moral life with a life little varied in its activities. But here we conle upon a defect in the current conception of morality. This comparative uniformity in the aggregate of motions, which goes along with morality as commonly conceived, is not only not moral but is the reverse of TIl0r;)l. The better a man fulfils every require ment of life, alike as regards his own body and Inind, as regards the bodies and rninds of those dependent on him, and as regards the bodies and Ininds of his fellow citizens, the n10re varied do his activities become. The more fully he does all these things, the more heterogeneous must be his movements.

One who satisfies personal needs only, goes through, other things equal, less nlultiform processes than one who also administers to the needs of wife and children. Sup posing there are no other differences, the addition of fanl11y relations necessarily renders the actions of the manw ho fulfils the duties of husband and parent, more heterogeneollA than those of the man who has no such duties to fulfil, or, having them, does not fulfil them; and to say that his actions are more heterogeneous is to say that there is a greater heterogeneity in the combined motions he goes through. rrhe like holds of social obligations. These, in proportion as a citjzen duly performs them, cOlnplicate his movements considerably. If he is helpful to inferiors dependent on 1'HE PHYSICAL VIEW. 71 111m, it he takes a part in political agitation, if he aids in diffusing knowledge, he, in each of these ways, adds to his kinds of activity-makes his sets of movements more multiform; so differing from the man who is the slave of one desjre or group of desires.

Though it is unusual to consider as having a mor~l aspect, those activities which culture involves, yet to the few who hold that due exercise of all the higher faculties, intellectual and resthetic, must be included in the conception of com.. plete life, here identified with the ideally moral life, it will be manifest that a further heterogeneity is implied by them. For each of such activities, constituted by that play of these faculties which is eventually added to their life.. subserving uses~ adds to the multiformity of the aggregated " motions. Briefly, then, if the conduct is the best possible on every occasion, it follows that as .the occasions are endlessly varied the acts will be endlessly varied to suit-thehetero .. geneity in the combinations of motions will be ex'treme. § 28. Evolution in conduct considered under its moral aspect, is, like all other evolution, towards equilibrium. I do not mean that it is towards the equilibrium reached at death, though this is, of course, the final state which the evolution of the highest man has in common with all lower evolution; but I mean that it is towards a moving' equili ...

brium. We have seen that nlaintaining life, expressed in physical terms, is maintaining a balanced combination of internal actions in face of external forces tending to overthrow it; and we have seen that advance towards a higher. life, has been an acquirement of ability to maintain the balance for a longer period,by the successive additions of organic appliances which by their actions counteract, more and more fully, the disturbing forces. IIere,. then, we are led to the conclusion that the life called moral is Qne in which 72 THE DATA OF ETHICS. thi& maintAnance of the moving eq~ilibrium reaches cl)m~ plet0ness, ()r approaches lTIOst nearly to completeness. This trath is clearly disclosed on observing how those physiological rhythms which vaguely show themselves when organization begins, become more regular as well as more various in their kinds, as organization advances .. Periodicity is but feebly marked in the actions, inner and outer, of the rudest types. Where life is low there is passive dependence on the accidents o£ the environlnent; and this entails great irregularities in the vital processes.

The taking in of food by a, polype is at intervals now short. now very long, as circumstances determine; and the utilization of it is by a slow dif:persion of the absorbed part· through the tissues, aided only by the irregular move... ments of the creature's body; while such aeration as iR effected is sitnilarly without a trace of rhythnlo Much bigher up we still find very imperfect periodIcities; as in the in ferior molluscs which, though posseRsed of vascular syRtems, have no proper circulation, but nlerely a slow movement of the crude blood, now in one direction through the vessels and then, after a pause, in the opposite direction. Only with well-developed structures do there come a rhythmical pulse and a rhythm of the respiratory actions. And then in birds and mammals, along with great rapidity and regu~ larity in these essential rhythms, and along with a conse ... quently great vital activity and therefore great expenditure, comparative regularity in the rhythm of the alimentary actions is established, as well as in the rhythm of activity and rest; since the rapid waste to which rapid pulsation and respiration are instruinental, necessitates tolerably regular snpplies of nutriment, as well as recurring intervNls of sleep during which repair may overtake waste. And frOln these stages the moving equilibriunl characterized by such inter-dependent rhythms, is continually made better by the counteracting of more and more of .those actions which tend to pertnrb it. Ho is it as we ascend THE PHYSICAL VIEW. 78 from ',Savag.e to civilized and from the lowest among the civilized to the highest. The rhythm of, ~xternal nctions l'equired to maintain the rhythm of internal actions, becomes at once more complicated and more complete; making them into a better moving equilibrium. The irregularities which their conditions of existence entail on primitive men, continually cause wide deviations from the mean state of the moving equilibrium-wide oscillations;. ,vhich imply'imper fection of it for the time being, and bring about its premature overthrow. In 'such civilized men as we call iU·conducted, frequent ~erturbations of the moving equilibrium are caused by those excesses characterizing a career in which the periodicities are much broken; and a COlnmon result is that the rhythm of the internal actions being often deranged, the moving equilibrium, rendered by so much imperfect, is' go~erally shortened in duration.

While one in whom the internal rhythms are best main tained is one by whom the external actions required to fulfil all needs and duties, severally performed on the recur" ring occasions, .conduce to a moving equilibrium that is at once involved and prolonged. Of course the implication is that the man who thus reaches the limit of evolution, exists in a society congruous with his nature-is a. man among men similarly constituted, who are severally in harmony with that social environment which they have formed. rrhis is,indeed, the only possibility. For the production of the highest type of luan, can go o~ only pari passu with the production of the highest type of society. '~rhe implied conditions' are those before described as ,aceompanying the most evolved conduct-conditions under which each can fulfil all his needs and rear the due number of progeny, not only without hindering others from doing the like, but while aiding them in doing the like. And evidently, considered nnder its physical aspect, the conduct of the individual so constituted, and associated with like individuals, is one ~n which all the actions, that is the com bined motions of all kinds .. have become such as duly to 74 THE DATA OF ETHIes.

meet every daily process, every ordinary occurrence, and everJ contingency in his environnlent. Complete life in a complete society is but another name for complete equili .. brium between the coordinated activities of each social unit and those of the aggregate of units. § 29. Even to readers of preceding volumes, and still rnore to other readers, there will seem a strangeness, or even an absurdity, in this presentation of moral conduct in physical terms. It has been needful to rnake it however. If "that redistribution of nlatter and motion constituting evolution goes on in all aggregates, its laws must be fulfilled in the most developed being as in every other thing; and his actions, when decomposed into motions, must exempli(y its laws. This we find that they do. There is an entire correspondence between moral evolution and evolution as physically defined. Conduct as actually known to us in perc,eption and not as interpreted into the accompanying feelings and ideas, consists of combined motions. On ascending through the various grades of animate creatures, we find these combined motions characterized by increasing cohe rence, increasing definiteness considered singly and in their coordinated groups, and increasing heterogeneity; and in advancing frorn lower to higher types of man, as well as in advancing from the less moral to the more moral type of man, these traits of evolving conduct become more marked still. 'Further, we see that the increasing coherence, definiteness, and heterogeneity, of the combined motions, are instrumental to the better maintenance of a moving equilibrium. Where the evolution is small this is very imporfect and soon cut short; with advancing evolution, bringing greater power and intelligence, it becomes more steady and longer continued in face of adverse actions; in the human race at large it is comparatively regular and enduring; and its regularity and enduringness are greateBt in the highest.

CHAPTER VI. THE BIOLOGICAL VIEW. § 30. The truth that the ideally· moral man is one in whom the nloving equilibrium is perfect, or approaches nearest to perfection, beconles, when translated into physio .. logical language, the truth that he is one in whom tho functions of all kinds are duly fulfilled. Each fnnction has some relation, direct or indirect, to the needs of life: tho fact of its existence as a result of evolution, being itself a proof that it has been entailed, immediately or relnotely, by the adjustment of inner actions tp outer actions. Conse... quently, non-fulfilment of it in normal proportion is non ... fulfilment ot a requisite to complete life. If there is detective discharge of the function, the organism expe ... riences some detrimental result ~aused by the inadequacy. If the discharge is in excess, there is entailed a reaction upon the other functions, which in some way diminishes their efficiencies.

It is true that during full vigour, 'V4i1e the momentum of the organic actions is great, the disorder caused by moderate excess or defect of anyone function, soon disappears-the balance is re-established. But it is none the less true that always some disorder results froIn excess or defect, that it influences every function bodily and mental, and that it constitutes a lowering of the life f01 the time being. Beyond the temporary falling short of complete life 76 THE DATA OF ETHICS. implied by undue or inadequate discharge of a function, there is entailed, as an ultimate result, decreased length of life. If SOlne function is habitually performed in excess of the requirement, or in defect of the-requirement; and if, as a consequence, there is an often-repeated perturbation of the functions at large; there results some chronie derangement in the balance of the functions. Necessarily reacting on the structures, and registering in them its accunlulated effects, this derangement works a general deterioration; and when the vital energies begin to decline, the moving equili brium, further from perfection than it would else have been, is sooner overthrown: death is more or less prelTIature.

Hence the moral man is one whose functions-many and varied in their kinds as we have seen-are all discharged in degrees duly adjusted to the conditions of existence. § 31. Strange as the conclusion looks, it is nevertheless a conclusion to be here drawn, that the performance of every function is,in a sense, a nloral obligation. It is usually thought that morality requires us only to restrain such vital activities as, in our present state, are often pushed to excess, or such as conflict with average welfare, special .01" general; but it also requires us to carry on the~e vital activities up to their norma] lilnits. All the animal functions, in C01l1nlon with all the higher functions, have, as thus understood, their irnperati veness. While recognizing the faet that in our state of transition, characterized by very il11perfect adap tation of constitution to conditions, moral obligations of suprenle kinds often necessitate conduct which is physically injurious; we lTIUst also recognize the fact that, considered apart from other effects, it is imn10ral so to treat the body as in any way to diminish the fulness or vigour of its vitality.

Hence results one test of actions. There may in every case be put the questions-Does the action tend to main"

raE BIOLOGICAL VIEW. 77 tellance of complete life for the time being? and does it tend to prolongation of life to its full extent? To answer yes ur 110 to ei.ther· of these questions, is implicitly to class the action a~ right 'or wrong in respect of its immediate bearings, whatever it may be in respect of its remote bearings. The seelning parad0xicalness of this statelnent reRults from the tendency, so difficult of avoidance, to judge a conclusion which pre-snpposes an ideal humanity, by its applicability to humanity as now existing. The foregoing conclusion refers to that highest conduct in which, as we have seen, the evolution of conduct terminates-that con duct in which the making o~ all adjustments of acts to end~ subsm.>vingcomplete individual life, together with all those subserving maintenance of offspring and preparation of them for maturity, not only consist with the making of like adjustments by others, but furthers it. And this con ception of conduct in its ultimate form, implies th~ c0nception .of a nature having such conduct for itr; spon taneous outcome-the product of its norlnal activities.

So understanding the matter, it becomes manifest that under such conditions, any falling short of function, as well as any excess of function, implies deviation from the best conduct or from perfectly moral conduct. § 32. Thus far in treating of conduct from the biological point of view, we have considered its constituent actions under their physiologiual aspects only; leaving out of sight their psychological aspects. We have recognized the bodily changes and have ignored the accompanying ment.al changes. And at first sight it seems needful for us here to do this; since taking. account of states of consciousness, apparently impliesan inclusionof the psychologicalview in the biological view. This is not so however. As was pointed out in the Principles of Psychology (§§ 52, 53) we enter upon psy chology proper, only when we begin to treat of mental 78 THE DA'l'A OF ETHICS. states and their relations, considered as referring to external agents and their relations. While we concern ourselves exclusively with modes of mind aR correlatives of nervous changes, we are treatinp: of ,vhat was there distinguished as oostho-physiology. vVe pass to psychology only when wo considor the correspondence between the connexions among sl1bjective states and the connexions among objective actions. Here, then, without transgressing the limits of our immediate topic, we may deal with feelings and functions in their mutual dependencies.

We cannot omit doing this; because the psychical changes which accolnpany mflJny of the physical changes in the organisnl, are biological factors in two ways. rrhose £eel ings, classed as sensations, which, directly initiated in the bodily £rarnework, go along with certain states of the vital organs and more conspicuously with certain stateB of the external organs, now serve mainly as guides to the per£orlnance of functions but partly as stim nli, and now serve 111ainly as stirnuli but in a srnaller degree as guides. Visual sensations which, as coordinated) enable us to direct our movements, also, if vivid, raise the rate of respiration; while sensations of cold and heat, greatly depressing or raising the vital actions, serve also for l)ur poses of discrin1ination. So, too, the feelings classed as emotions, which are not localizable in the bodilyfrau1ework, act in more general ways, alike as guides and stimuli~ having influences over the performance of functions more potent even than have 1110st sensations. Fear, at the same tinle that it urges flight and evolves the forces spent in it, also affects the heart and the ali111entarycanal; while joy, prompting persistence in the actions bringing it, sin1ul...

taneously exalts the visceral processes. lIenee in treating of conduct under its biological aspect, we are compelled to consider that interaction of feelings and functions, which is essential to animal life in all its more developed forms.

'rilE BIOLOGICA.L VIEW. 79 ~ 33. In the Principles of Psychology, § 124, iL was shown . that necessarily, throughout the animate world at large, (C pains are the correlatives of actions inj urious to' the org:lnism, while pleasures are the correlatives of actions conuucive to its welfare;" since (( it is an inevitable deduc tion from the hypothesis of Evolution, that races of sentient creatures could have come into existence uuder no other conditions." The argument was a.s follows :If we substitute for the word Pleasure the equivalent phrase-a feeling which we seek to bring into consciousness and retain there, and if we substitute for the word Pain the equivalent phrase-a feeling wbich we seek to get out of consciousness and to keep out ; we see at once that, if the states of conscious ness which a creature endeavollrs to maintain are the correlatives of injurious actions, and if the states of consciousness which it endeavours to expel are the correlatives of beneficial actions, it must quiekly dil'fippear through persistence in the iiljurious and avoidance of the beneficial. In other words, those races of beings only can· haye sUr\Tived in which, on the average, ~greeable or desired "feelings went along with activities conducive to the maintenance of life, while disagreeable and habitually-avoided feelings went along with activities directly or inulrectly destructive of life; and there must ever have been, other things equal, the most numerous and long-continued survivals among races in which these adj mtments of feelings to actions were the best, tending ever to bring about perfect atljustment.

Fit connexions between acts and results must establish themsel yes in living things, even before consciousness arises; and after the rise of consciousness these connexioDs can change in no other way than to become better estab lished. At the very outset, life is maintained by persistence in acts which conduce to it, and desistal1ce£rom acts which inlpede it; and whenever sentiency make its appearance· as au accoITJpaniment, its forms must be' such that in the one case the. produced feeling is of a kind that will be sought pleasure, and in the other case is of a kind that will be shnnned-pain. Observe the necessity of these relations as exhi bited in the concrete. \ A plant which envelops a buried bone with a plexus of rootlets, or a potato which directs its blanched shoots towards a grating through which light comes into the cellar, shows us that the. chap.ges which outer agents themselvoR 7 80 ·THE DATA OF E'rHIC8.

set up in its tissues are changes which aid the utilization of these agents. If we ask what would happen if a. plant's roots grew not towards the' place where there was moisture but away from it, or if its leaves, enabled by light t,o assimilate: nevertheless bent themselves towards the dark. uess; we see that death would result in the absence of the existing adjustments. This general relation is still better shown in an insectivorous plant, such as the D'ionrea rnu8cipula, which keeps its trap closed round animal matter but llClt round other nlatter. Here it is manifest that the stimulus ari~ing from the first pal·t of the absorbed substance, itself sets up those actions by which the mass of the sub ... stance is utilized for the plant's benefit. When we pass fronl vegetal organisms to unconscious allinlal organisms, we see a like connexion between proclivity and advantage. On observing how the tentacles of tJ, polype attach themselves to, and begin to close round, n livi.ng creature, or.some animal substance, while they aro indifferent to the touch of other substance j we are sinlilarly shown that dift'usion of some of the nutritive juices into the tentacles, which is an incipient assiulilation, causes the motions effecting prehension. And it is obvious that life would cease were these relations reversed. Nor is it otherwise with this fundamental connexion between contact with food and taking in of food, among con scions creal nres, up to the very highest. ~"asting u substance implies the passage of its molecules through the mucous membrane of the tongue and palate; and this absorption, when it occurs with a snbstance serving for food, is but a commencement of the absorption carried on throughout the alimentary canal. Moreover, the sensation accompanying this absorption, when it is of the kind pro ducod by food, initiates at the place where it is strongest, in front of the pharynx, an automatic act of swallowing, in a nlanner rudely analogous to that in which the stirn ulna of absorption in a polype's tentacles initiates prehension..

TilE BIOLOGICAL VIEW. 81 If from these processes and relations that imply contact between a creature's sur£aceaud the substance it takes in, we turn to .those set up by diffused particles of the substance, constituting to conscious creatures its odour] we meet a kindred general truth. Just as, after contact, some molecules of a mass of food are absorbed by the part touched, and excite the act of prehension; so are absar bed such of its molecules as, spreading through the water, reach the organism; and, being absorbed by it, excite those actions by which contact with the mass is effecte~. If the physical stimulation caused by the dispersed particles is not accompanied by consciousness, still the motor changes set up Dlust conduce to survival of the organism if they are such as end in contact; and there must be relative innutrition and mortality of organisms in which the produced contractions do not bring about this result. Nor can it be questioned that whenever and wherever the physical stimulation has a concomitant sentiency, this must be such as consjsts with, and conduces to, movement towards the nutritive matter: it must be not a repulsive but an attrac tive sentiency. And this which holds with the lowest con sciousness; must hold throughout; as we see it do in all such superior creatures as are drawn to their food by odour.

Besides those movements which cause locomotion. those which effect seizure must no less certainly become thus adjusted The molecular changes caused by absorption of nutritive matter from organic substance in contact, or frorn adjacent o!,ganic substance, initiate motions which are indefinite where the organization is low, and which become more definite with the advance of organizatjon. At the outset, while the undifferentiated proto plasm is· everywhere absorbent and everywhere contractile, the changes of form initiateJ by the physical stimulation of adjacent nutritive matter are vague, and ineffectually adapted to utilization of it; but gradually, along with' the specialization into parts that are contractile and parts that 82 THE DATA OF ETHICS. are absorbent, these motions become better adapted; for necessarily individuals in which they are least adapted dis.. appear faster than those in which they are lTIOSt adapted.

l~ecogl1izjng this Decessity we have here especially to recognize a further necessity. The relation between these stimulations and adjusted contractions rnust he such that increase of the one causes increase of the other; since the directions o£ the discharges being once established, greater stimulation causes greater contraction, and the greater contraction causing c~oser contact with the stimulating agent, causes increase of stimulus and is therehy itself further increased. And now we reach the corollary which more particularly concerDS us. Clearly asfast as an accom panying sentiency arises, this cannot be one that is disagreeable, prompting desistance, but must be one that is agreeable, prompting persistence. The pleasurable sensation must be itself the stimulus to the contraction by which the pleasurable sensation is maintained and increased; or m~st be so bound up with the stimulus that the two increase together. And this relation which we see is directly established in the case of a fundamental function, must be indirectly established with all other functions; since non establishment o£ it in any particular case implies, in so far, unfitness to the conditions of existence.

In two ways then, it is demonstrable that there exists a primordial connexion between pleasure-giving acts and continuance or increase of life, and, by implication, between pain-giving acts and decrease or loss of life. On the one hand, setting out with the lowest living things, we see tJlat the beneficial act and the act which there is a ten dencyto perform, are originally two sides o£ the same j and cannot be disconnected without ratal results. On the other hand, if we contemplate developed creatures RoS now existing, we see that each individual and species is from day to day kept alive by pursuit of the agreeable and avoid· (tHce of the disagreeable.

THE BIOLOGICAL VIEW. 83, Thus approaching the facts from a different side, analysis brings us down to another face of that ultimate truth disclosed by analysis in a preceding chapter. We found it was no more possible to frame ethical. conceptions from which the consciuusness of pleasure, of some kind, at some time, to SOlue being, is absent, than it is possible to frame the conception of an object from which the conscious .. ness. of space is absent. And now we see that this necessity of thought originates in the very nature of sentient existence .. Sentientexjstence can evolve only on condition that pleasure giving acts are life-sustaining acts. § 34. Notwithstanding explanations already made, the naked enunciation of this as an ultimate truth, underlying all est.imations of right and wrong, will in many, if not in most, cause astonishment. Having in view certain bene ficial results that are preceded by disagreeable states of consciousness, such as those comD?-0nly accompanying labour; and having in view the injurious results that follow the receipt of certain gratifications, such as those which excess in drinking produces; the majority tacitly or avowedly believe that the bearing of pains is on the whole benefieial, and that the receipt of pleasures i~ on the whole detriluenta1.

The exceptions so fill their minds as to exc]ude the rule. When asked, they are obliged to admit that the pain~ accompanying wounds, bruises, sprains, are the concomitants of evils, alike to the sufferer and to those around him; and that the anticipations of such pains serve as deterrents from careless or dangerous acts. They cannot deny that thu tortures of burning or scalding, and the miseries which int.ense cold, ~tarvation, and thirst produce, are indissolubly connected with permanent or temporary mischiefs, tending to incapacitate one who bears them for doing things that should be done, either for his own welfare or the welfare of others. The agony of incipient suffocation they are conl" pelled to· recognize as a safeguard to life.. and must allow B4r THE DATA OF ETHICS. that avoidance of it is can duci ve to all that life co,n bring or achieve. N or will they refuse to own that one who is chained in a cold] dalnp, dungeon, in d3Jrkness and silence, is injured in health and efficiency; alike by the positive pains thus inflicted on him and by the accompanying negative pains due to absence of light, of freedom, of companiunship. Conversely, they do Hot doubt that-notwithstanding occasional excesses the pleasure which accompanies the taking of food, goes along with physical benefit; and that the benefit is the greater the keener the satisfaction of appotite. The,Y have no choice but to acknowledge that the inRtincts and sentilnents which so overpovTeringly prompt nlarriag8, and those which find their gratification in the fostering of offspring, work out an immense surplus of benefit after deducting all evils. Nor dare they question that the pleasure taken in accumu lating property, leaves a large balance of advantage, private and public, after making all drawbacks. Yet many and conspicuous as are the caSES in which pleasures and pains, sensational and emotional, serve as incentives to proper acts and deterrents from inlproper acts, these pass unnoticed; and notice is taken only of those cases in which men are directly or indirectly misled by then1. The well-working in essential matters is ignored; and the ill-working in unessential matters is alone recognized.

Is it replied that the more intense pains and pleasures, which have in1mediato reference to bodily needs, guide us rightly; while the weaker pains and pleasures, not imn1ediately connected with the maintenance of life, guide us wrongly? Then the implication is that the system 01 guidanCE) by pleasures and pains, which has answered with all types. of creatures below the human, fails with the human. Or rather, the adnlission being that with mankind it succeeds in so far as fulfilment of certain illlperative wants goes, it fails in respect of wants that are not impera'" tivo. Those who think this are· required, in the first placo, THE BIOLOGICAL VIEW 85 to show us how the line is to be drawn between the two; and then to show· us why the system which succeeds in the lower will not succeed in the higher. § 35. Doubtless, however, after aIr that has been saillJ tl18re will be raised afresh the same difficulty-there will be instanced the mischievous pleasures and the beneficent pains. The drunkard, the gambler, the thief, who seve ...

rally pursue gratifications, will he named in proof that the pursuit of gratifications misleads j while the self-sacrificing relati ve, the worker who perseveres through weariness, the honest man who stints himself to pay his way, will bo named in proof that disagreeable modes of consciousness accompany acts that are really beneficial. But after recalling the fact pointed out in § 20, that this objection does not tell against guidance by pleasures and pains .at large, since it merely ilnplies that special and proxinlate pleasures and pains must be disregarded out of considera tiQn for remote and diffused pleasllres and pains; and after admitting that in. mankind as at present constituted, guidance by proximate pleasures and pains falls through .. out a wide range of cases; I go on to set forth the inter pretation Biology gives of these anomalies, as being not necessary and permanent but incidental and temporary.

Already while showing that among inferior creatures, pleasures and pains have all along guided the conduct by which life has been evolved .and maintained, T have pointed out that since the conditions of existence £01" each species have been occasionally changing, there have been occasionally arising' partial mis-adjustlnents of the feelings to the requirernents, necessitating re-adjustme.nts. This general cause of derangement operating on all sentient beings, has been operating on human beings in a manner unusually decided, persistent, and invalved. It needs but to contrast the mode of life followed by pr;mitive men, wandering-in the forests and living on wild food, with 86 THE DATA OF ETHICB. the mode of life followed by rustics, artisans, traders, and professional men in a civilized community; to see that the constitution, bodily and Inental, well-adjusted to the one is ill. adjusted to the other. It needs but to observe the emotions kept awake in each<¥savage tribe, chronically hostile to neighbouring tribes, and then to observe the emotions 'which peaceful production and exchange bring into play, to see that the two are not only unlike but opposed. And it needs but to note how, during social evolution, the ideas and sentinlents appropriate to the militant activities carried on by coercive cooperation, have been at variance with the ideas and sentinlents' appropriate to the in dustrial activities, carried on by voluntary cooperation; to see that there has ever been within each society, and still continues, a conflict between the two moral natures adjusted to these two unlike modes of life. Manifestly, then, this re-adjustment of constitution to conditions, involving re-adjustment of pleasures and pains for guidance, which all creatures from time to time undergo, has been in the human race during' civilization, .especially difficult; not only because of the greatness of the change from small nomadic groups to vast settled societies, and from predatory habits to peaceful habits; but also because the old life of enlnity between societies bas been luaintained along with the new life of amity within each society. While there coexist two ways of life so radically opposed as the n1ilitant and the industrial, human nature cannot beconle properly adapted to either.

'rhat hence results such failure of guidance by pleasures and pains as is daily exhibited, we discover on observing in ,vhat parts of conduct the failure is most conspicuous . .As above shown, the pleasurable and painful sensations are fairly well adjusted to the peremptory physical requirelllents: the benefits of conforming to the sensations which prompt us in respect of nutrition, respiration, maintenance of tem perature j &co" immensely exceed the incidental evils; and THE BIOLOGICAL VIEW. 8'1 8uch mis-adjustments as occur may be ascribed to the change from the ont-door life of the primitive man to the in-door life which the civilized man is often cornpelled to lead. It is the emotional pleasures and pains which are in so 'con ai<1erablea degree out of adjustment to the needs of lifo as carriE'd on in society; and it is of these that the re-adjust tnent is made, in the way above shown, so tardy because so difficult.

From the biological point of view then, we see that the connexions between pleasure and beneficial action and be tween pain and detriluental action, which arose when sentient existence began, and have continued among animate creatures up to man, are generally displayed in hinl also throughout the lower and more c0111pletely-organized part of his nature; and must be more and more fully displayed throughout the higher part of his nature, as fast as his adaptation to the conditions of social life increases. § 36. Biology has a further judgment to pass on the relations of pleasures and pains to welfare. Beyond the connexions between acts beneficial to the organism and the pleasnres accompanying performance of them, and between acts detriluental to the organism and the pains causing desistance from theIn, there are connexions bet.ween pleasure in general and physiological exaltation, and between pain in general and physiological depression.

Every pleasure increases vitality; every pain decreases vitality. Every pleasure raises the tide of life; every pain lowers the tide of life. Let us consider, first, the pains. By the general mischiefs that result from submission to pains, I do not mean those arising from the diffused effects of local organic lesions, such as follow an aneurism caused by intense effort spite of protesting sensations) or such as follow the varicose veins brought 011 by continued uisregard of fatigue in the legs, or such a~ follow the atrophy set up in muscles that are persistently exerted whet} 88 TilE DATA OF ETHICS. extremely weary; but I mean the general mischiefs caused by t,hat constitutional disturbance which pain forthwith sets up. These are conspicuous when the pains are acute, whether they be sensational or emotional. Bodily agony long borne, produces death by exhaustion. 1'1ore frequently, arresting the action of the heart for a time, it causes that temporary death we call fainting. On other occasions von1iting is a consequence. And where such manifest derangeluents do not result, we still, in the pallor and trembling, trace the general prostration. Beyond the actual loss of life caused by subjection to intense cold, there are depressions of vitality less marked caused by cold les8 extreme-temporary enfeeblement following too long an immersion in icy water; enervation and pining away con sequent on inadequate clothing. Similarly is it with submission to great heat: we have lassitude reaching occasionally to exhaustion; we have, in weak persons, fainting, succeeded by tenlporary debilitation j and in steaming tropical jungles, Europeans contract fevers which when not fatal often entail life-long incapacities. Conside~, again, the evils that follow violent exertion continued in spite of painful feelings-now a fatigue ·which destroys appetite or arrests digestion if food is taken, implying failure of the reparative processes when they are most needed; and now a prostration of the heart, here lasting for a time and there, where the transgression has been repeated day after day, made permanent: reducing the rest of life to a lower level. No less conspicuous are the depressing effects of emotional pains. There are ocoasional cases of death from grief; and in other cases the mental suffering which a calamity causes, like bodily suffering, shows its effects by syncope. Often a piece of bad news is succeeded by sick.

ness; and continued anxiety will produce loss of appetite, per .. petual indigestion, and diminished strength. Excessive fear, whether aroused by physical or moral danger, will, in like manner, arrest for a time the processes of nutrition ; aI~d..

THE BIOLOGICAL VIEW. 89 not unfrequently, in pregnant women brings on miHo& carriage; while, in less extreme cases, the. cold perspiration and unsteady hands indicate a general lowering of the vital activities, entailing partial incapacity of body or nlind or both. How greatly emotional pain deranges the visceral \ actions is shown us by the fact that incessant worry ia not unfrequently followed by jaundice. And here, indeed, the relation between cause and effect happens to ha've been proved by direct experiment. Making such arrangements that the bile-duct of a dQg delivered its producL outside the body, Claude Bernard observed that so long as he petted the dog and kept him in good Rpirits, secretion went on at its normal rate; but on speaking angrily, and for a time so treating him as to produce depres sion, the flow of bile ,vas arrested. Should it be said that evil results of such ki.nds are proved to occur only when the pains, bodily or mental, are great j the. reply is that in healthy persons the inju.rious perturbations caused by small pa,ins, though not easily traced, are still produced; and that in those whose vital powers are much reduced by illness, slight physical irritations and trifling moral annoyances, often cause relapses.

Quite opposite are the constitutional effects of pleasure. It sOInetimes, though rarely, happens that in feeble persons intense pleasure-pleasure that is almost pain-gives a nervous shock that is mischievous; but it does Dot do this in those who are undebilitat~a by voluntary or enforced submission to actions injurious to the organisn1. In the normal order, pleasures, great and small, are stimulants to the processes b.y which life is maintained. Amon.g the sensations lJlay be instanced those produced by bright light. Sunshine is enlivening in comparison with gloonl -even a gleam excites a wave of pleasure; and experiments have shown that sunshine raises the rate of respiration: Iaised respiration being an index of raised vital activities In general. A warmth that ia agreeable in degree favours the 90 THE DATA OF ETHICS. heart's action, and furthers the various functions to whioh this is instrumental. Though those who are in full vigour and fitly clothed, can maintain their temperature in winter, and can digest additional food to make up for the loss of heat, it is otherwise with the feeble; and, as vigour declines, t,he beneficence of warmth becomes conspicuous. That benefits accompany the agreeable sensations produced by fresh. air, and the agreeable sensations that accompany Inuscular action after due rest, and the agreeable sensations caused by rest after exertion, cannot be questioned. Receipt of these pleasures conduces to the maintenance of the body in fit condition for all the purposes of life. More manifest still are the physiological benefits of emotional pleasures. Every power, bodily and mental, is increased by" good spirits;" which is our name for a general emotional satisfaction. The truth that the fundamental vital actions-those of nutrition-are furthere"d by laughter moving conversation, or rather by the pleasurable feeling causing laughter, is one of old standing j and every dyspeptic knows that in exhilarating company, a large and varied dinner including not very digestible things, may be eaten with impunity, and indeed with benefit, while a small, carefully-chosen dinner of simple things, eaten in solitude, will be followed by indigestion. This striking effect ou the alimentary system is accompanied by effects, equally certain though less nlanifest, on the circulation and the respiration. Ag-ain, one who, released from daily labours and anxieties, receives delights from fine scenery or is enlivened by the novelties he sees abroad, Comes back showing by toned-up face and vivacious manner, the greater energy with which he is prepared to pursue his avocation.

IIIvalids especially, on whose narrowed margin of vitality the influence of conditions is most visible, habitually show the benefits derived from agreeable states of feeling. A lively social circle, the call of an old friend, or even rerlloval to a brighter room, will, by the induced cheerfull1ess,l much THE BIOLOGICAL VIEW. 91 improve the physical state. In brief, as every medical man knows, there is no such tonic as happiness. These diffused physiological effects of pleasures and pains) .which are·· joined with the local or special physiolo ... gical effects, are, indeed, obviously inevitable. We have seen (P1~1:nciple8 of Psychology, §§ 123-125) that while craving, or negative pain, accompanies the under-actiy-ity of an organ, and whne positive pain accompanies its over-activity, pleasure accompanies its normal activity. We have seen that by evolution no other relations could be established; since, through all inferior types of creatures) if defect or excess of function produced no disagreeable sentiency, and medium function no agreeable sentiency, there would be nothing to ensure a proportioned performance.· of function.

And as it is one of the laws of nervous action that each stimulus, beyond a direct discharge to the particular organ acted on, indirectly causes a general discharge throughout the nervous system (PTin. of P8Y. §§ 21, 39), it resultR that the rest of the organs, all influenced as they are by the nervous ·systenl, participate in the stilnu lation. So that beyond the aid, nlore slowly shown, which the organs yield to one another through the physiological division of labour, there is the aid, more quickly shown, which mutual excitation gives. While there is a henefitto be presently felt by the whole organism from the due performance of each function, there is .an immediate benefit from the exaltation of its functions at large caused by the accompanying pleasure; and from pains, whether of excess or defect, there also come these double effects, immediate and remote. § 37. Non-recognition of these general truths vitiates Inoral speculation·. at large. From the estimates ot right and wrong habitually fralned, these _physiological effects wrought on the actor by his feelings are entirely omitted It is tacitly assumed that pleasures and pains have no 92 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

reaetions on the body of the recipient, affecting his fitness for the duties of tfe. The only reactions recognized are those on character; respecting which the current supposi tion is, that acceptance of pleasul~es is detrimen~al and submission to pains beneficlal. The notion, remotely descended from the ghost-theory of the savage, that mind and body are independent, has, among its various implica tions, this belief that states of consciousness are in no wise related to bodily states. " You have had your gratifi. cation-it is past; and you are as you ,vere before," says the morrJist to one. And to another he says, "YOil have borne the suffering-it is over; and there the matter ends." Both statements are false. Leaving out of view indirect results, the· direct results are that the one has moved a step away from death and the other has moved a step towards death. Leaving out of view, I say, the indirect results. It is these indirect results, here for the moment left out of view, which the moralist has exclusively in vi~~w: being so occupied by them that he ignores. the. direct results~ The gratification, perhaps purchased at undue cost, perhaps enjoyed when work should hLLve been done, perhaps snatched from the rightful clLimant, is considered only in relation to remote injurious effects, and no set-off is lnade for imme diate beneficial effects. Conversely, from positive and negative pains, borne now in th8 pursuit of some future advantage, now in discharge of responsibilitieo, now in performing a genero:1s act, the distant good is alone dwelt on and the proximate evil ignored. Conseq uences, plea.

snrab13 and painful, experienced by the actor forthwith, are of no importance ; and they becolne of importance only when anticipated as occurring hereafter to the actor or to other persons. And further, future evils borne by the actor are considered of no account if they result from self. denial, and are emphasized only when they result from self-gratification. Obviously, ~stinlates so framed are er1"o"

THE BIOLOGIOAL VIEW. 93 neous; and obviously, the pervading judgments of conduct based on such estimates must be distorted. Mark the anomalies of opinion produced. If, as the sequence of a malady contracted in pursuit of illegitimate gratification, an attack of iritis injures vision, the mischief is to be counted among those entailed by immoral conduct ; but if, regardless of protesting sensations, the eyes are used in study too soon after ophthalmia J a:Qd there follows blindness for years or for life, ent~iling not. only personal unhappiness bub a burden on others, moralists are silent. The broken leg which a drunkard's accident causes, counts among those miseries brought on self and family by intemperance, which form the ground for repro bating it; but if anxiety to fulfil duties prompts the continued use of a sprained knee spite of the pain, and brings on a chronic lanleness involving lack of exercise, consequent ill-health, inefficiency, anxiety, and unhappiness, it is supposed that ethics has no verdict to give in the matter. A student who is plucked because he has spent in amusement the time and money that should have gone in study, is blamed for thus making parents unhappy and preparing for himself a miserable future; but another who, thinkmg exclusively of claims on him, reads· night after night with hot or aching head, and, breaking down, cannot take his . degree, but returns home shattered in health and unable to support himself, is nalued with pity only, as not subject to any moral judg ment j or rather, the moral judgment passed is. ·wholly favourable.

Thus recognizing the evils caused by some·kinds of con duct only, men at large, and moralists as exponents of their beliefs, ignore the suffering and death daily caused nround them by disregard of that guidance which has' established itself in the conrse of evolution. Led by the tacit assumption, common to Pagan stoics and Christian f\scetics, that we are 60 diabolically organized that ple.asureo 94 THE DATA OF ETH ros. are InJurIOUS and pains beneficial, people on all sides yield examples of lives blasted by persisting in actions against which their sensations rebel. Here is one who, drenched to the skin and sitting in a cold wind, pooh-poohs hi~ shiverings and gets rheumatic fever with subsequent heart-disease, which makes worthless the short life remain ing to him. Here is another who, disregarding painful feelings, works too soon after a debilitating illness, and establishes disordered health that lasts for the rest of his days, and makes him useless to himself and others. Now the account is of a youth who, persisting in gymnastic feats spite of scarcely bearable straining, bursts a blood· vessel, and, long laid on the shelf, is permanently danlaged; while now it is of a man in nliddle life who, pushing muscular effort to painful excess, suddenly brings on hernia. In this family is a case of apha.sia, spreading paralysis, and death, caused by eating too little and doing too much; in that, softening of the brain has been brought on by ceaseless mental efforts against which the feelings hourly protested; and ill others, less serious brain-affections have been con tracted by over-study continued regardless of disconl£ort an d the cravings for fresh air and exercise. * Even wjthout accumulating special examples, the truth is forced on us by the visible traits of classes. The careworn man of business too long at his office, the cadaverous barrister poring half the night over his briefs, the feeble factory hands and unhealthy seamstresses passing long hours in bad air, the anremic} Hat-chested school girls} bending over many lessons and forlJidden boisterous play, no less than Sheffield grinders who die of suffocating dust, and peasants crippled with rheumatislll due to exposure} show us the widespread Dliseries caused by persevering in actions repugnant to the sensations and neglecting actions which the sensations prompt. Nay the evidence is still n10re extensive and * I can count up more tha.n a. dozen such cases a.mong thos~ personallJ well known to me.

THE BIOLOGICAL VIEW. conspicuous. What are the puny malformed children, 8lden in poverty-stricken districts, but children whoso appetites for food and desires for warmth have not been adequately satisfied? What are populations stinted in growth and prematurely aged, such as parts of Franca show us, but populations injured by work in excess and food in· defect: the one iinplying positive pain the othel" negative pain? What is the implication of that greate\' mortality which occurs among people who are weakened by privations, unless it is that bodily miseries conduce to fatal illnesses? Or once more, what must we infer from the frightful amount of disease. and death suffered by armies in the field, fed on scanty and bad provisions, lying on damp ground, exposed to extremes of heat and cold, inadequately sheltered from rain, and subj8ct to exhausting efforts; unless it be the terrible mischiefs .caused by continuously subjecting the body to treatment which the feelings protest against?

It matters not to the argument whether the actions entailing such effects are voluntary or involuntary. It matters not from the biological point of view, whether the motives prompting them are high or low. 'fhe vital functions accept no apologies on the ground that neglect of them was unavoidable, or that the reason for neglect was noble. The direct and indirect sufferings caused by nonconforulity to the laws of life, are the same whatever induces the non .. conformity; and cannot be omitted in any rational estimate of conduct. If the purpose of ethical inquiry is to establish rules of right living; and if the rules of right living are those of which the total results, individual and general, direct and indirect, are mo~t conducive to human happiness ~ then it· is absurd to ignore the immediate results and reoognize only the remote results. § <38. Here might be urged the necessity for preluding the study of moral science, by the study of biologicaJ 8 96 THE DATA OF ET HIOB.

science. Here might be dwelt on the error men make in" thinki:t:g they can understand those special phenomena ot human life with which Ethics deals, while paying litt1~ or no attention to the general phenolnena of human lifp.. and while utterly ignoring the phenomena of life ~t large. And doubtless there would be truth in the inference that such acquaintance with the ,vorld of living things as discloses the part which pleasures and pains have played in organic evolution, would help to rectify these one-sided conceptions of moralists. It cannot be held, however, that lack of this know ledge is the sole cause, or the main cause, of their one-sidedness. For facts of the kind above instanced, which, duly attended to, would prevent such distortions of n10ral theory, are facts which i~ needs no biological inquiries to learn, but which are daily thrust before the eyes of all. The truth is, rather, that the general consciousness is so possessed by sentiments and ideas at 'Variance with the conchH~ions necessitated by familiar evi.

dence, that the evidence gets no attention. These adverse sentiments and ideas have several roots. There is the theological root. As before shown, from the worship of cannibal ancestors who delighted in witnessing tortures, there resulted the primitive conception of deities who were propitiated by the bearing of pains, and, con sequently, angered by the receipt of pleasures. Throug'h the religions of the semi-civilized, in which this conception of the divine nature remains conspicuous, it has persisted, in progre~sively ll10dified forms, down to our own times; and still colours the beliefs, both of those who adhere / to the current creed and of those who nominally reject it. There is another root in the primitive and still. sl.:fviving militancy. While social antagonisms continue to generate war, which. conslsts in endeavours to inflict pain and death while submitting to the risks of pain and death, and which neeessarily involves great privations ; it is l1~edful that physical Buffering, whether consi· THE BIOLOGICAL VIEW. 97 ilered in itself or in the evils it bequeath.s, should be thought little of, and that among pleasures recognized as most ,vorthy should be those which victory brings. Nor does partially-developed industrialism fall to furnish a root-. Wi.th social evolution, which implies transition from the lifo of wandering hunters to the life of settled peoples engaged in labour, and which therefore entails activities widely unlike those to which the aboriginal constitution is adapted, there comes an under-exercise of faculties for which the social state affords no scope, and an overtaxing of faculties required for the social state: the one implying denial of certain pleasures and the other submission to certain pains. Hence, along with that growth of population which makes tho struggle for existence intense, bearing of pains and sacdfice of pleasures is daily necessitated.

Now always and everywhere, there arises among men a theory con£ornling' to their practice. The savage nature, originating the conception of a savage deity, evolves a theory of supernatural control sufficiently stringent and cruel to influence his conduct. .With submission to despotic govern .. ment severe enough in its restraints to .keep. in order barbarous natures, there gro\vs up a theory of divine right to rule, and the duty of absolute submission. Where war is made the business of life by the existence of warlike neighbours, virtues which are required for war come to be regarded as supreme virtues; while, contrariwise, when industrialism has grown predominant J the violence and the . deception which warriors glory in come to be held critninal. In like manner, then, th€'~'e arises a tolerable adjustment of the actually-accepted (not the nominally-accepted) theory of right living, to living as it is' daily carried on. If tha life is one that necessitates habitual denial of pleasures and bearing of pains, there grows up an answering ethical system un~er which the receipt of pleasures is tacitly disapproved and the bearing of pains avowedly approved.

The mischiefs entailed by pleasnres in· excess are dwelt 98 THE DATA O.F ETHICS. on, while the benefits which normal pleasures bring aro ignored; and the good' results achieved by submission to pains are fully set forth while the evils are overlooked. 11ut while recognizing the desirableness of, and indeed the necessity for, systerns of ethics adapted, like religious ~ystenls and political systeu1s, to their respective tinles and l-,laces; we have here to regard the first as, like the others, transitional. We must infer that like a purer creed and a better government, a truer ethics belongs to a more advanced social state. Led, it lJ1"iori,to conclude that distortions must exist, we are enabled to recognize as such, the. distortions we find: answering in nature, as these do, to expectation. And there is forced on us the truth that a scientific morality arises only as fast as the one-sided conceptions adapted to transitory conditions, are developed into both ..

sided conceptions. The s9ience of right living has to take account of all consequences in so far as they affect happi ness, personally or socially, directly or indirectly; and by as much as it ignores any class of consequences, by so muell does it fail to be science. § 39. Like the physical view, then, the biological view cor~esponds with the view gained by looking at conduct in general from the standpoint of Evolution. That which was physically defined as a moving equili brium, we define biologically as a balance of functions. The implication of such a balance is that the several fUl1ctionsin their kinds) amounts, and con1binations, are adjusted to the several. activities which maintain and constitute complete life; and to be so adjusted is to have reached the goal towards which the evolution of conduct continually tends. Passing to the feelings whieh accompany the perfol"tn ance of functions, we see that of necessity during the evolution of organic life, pleasures have become the con~ comitants of normal amounts of functions, while pains, 'Positive and negative, haye become the concomitants of THE BIOLOGICAL VIEW. 99 excesses and defects of functions. And though in every species derangements of these relations are often caused hy changes of conditions, they ever re-establish themselves: disappearance of the species being the alternative.

Mankind, inheriting from creatures o£ lower kinds, snob adjustments between feelings and functions as concern fundamental bodily requirements; and daily forced by peremptory feelings to do the things which maintain life and avoid those which bring immediate death; has been subject' to a change of conditions unusually great and involved. '1 1 bis has considerably deranged the guidance by sensations, 'and has deranged in a much greater degree the guidance by emotions. The result is that in ll1any cases pleasures are not connect.ed with actions which must be performed, nor pains with actions which must be avoided, but contrariwise. Several influences have conspired to make men ignore the well-working of th ese relations between feelings and functions, and to observe whatever o£ ill-working is seen in them. Hence, while the evils which some pleasures entail are dilated upon, the benefits habitually accompanying receipt of pleasures a,re unnoticed; at the same titue that the benefits achieved through certain pains are magnified while the inlmense mischiefs which pains bring are lnade little o£."

The ethical theories char3cterizErd by these perversions, are products of" and are appropriate to, the forms of eocial life which the imperfectly-adapted constitutions of men produce. But with the progress of adaptation, bring ing faculties and requirements into harmony, such incon gruities of experience, and consequent distortions of theory, 111USt diminish; until, along with cOluplete adjustment of bunlanityto the social state, will go recognitionof the truths tl:at actions are completely right only when, besides being conducive to future happiness, special and general, they are immediately pleasurable, and that painfulness, not only ultjmate but proximate, is the concomitant of actions which are wrong.

100 THE DATA OF ETHICS. So that from the biological point of view, ethical science becolnes a specification of the conduct of as~wciated men who are severally so constituted tha.t the various self-pre .. serving activities, the acti vitie;;;required for rearing offspring, and those which social welfare demands, are fulfilled in the spontaneous exercise of duly proportioned facu~ties, each yielding when in action its quantum of pleasure; and who are, by consequence, so constituted that excess\or defect in anyone of these actions brings its quantum of pain, imme diate and remote. NOTE TO § 33. In his Physical Ethics, Mr. Alfred Barratt has expressed a view which here calls for notice. Postulating Evolution and its general laws," he refers to certain passages in the Principles oj Psychology (1st Ed. Pt. III. ch. viii. pp. 395, sqq. cf. Pt. IV. ch. iv.) in which I have treated of the relation between irritation and contraction which" marks the dawn of sensitive·life;"

have pointed out that "the primordial tissue must be differently' affected by' contact with nutritive and with innutritive matters "-the two being for aquatic creatures respectively the soluble and the insoluble; and have argued that the contraction by which a protruded part of a rhizopod draws in a fragment of assimilable matter" is caused by a commencing absorption 6f the assimilabl~ matter." Mr. Barratt, holding that consciousness "mnst be considered as an invariable property of animal life, and ultimately, in its elements, of the material universe" (p. 43), regards these responses of animal tissue to stimuli, as implying feeling of one or other kind. "Some kinds of impressed force," he says, "are followed by movements of retraction and withdrawal, others by such as secure a continuance of the impression. These two kinds of contraction are' the phenomena and external marks of pain and pleasure respectively. Hence the tissue acts so as to secure pleasure and avoid pain by a law as truly physical and natui'al as that whereby a needle turns to the pole, or a tree to the light" (p. 52). Now without qaestioning that the raw material of consciousness is present even in undiffer entiated protoplasm, and everywhere exists potentially in that Unknowable Power which, otherwiRe conditioned, is manifested in physical action (Prin. oj Psy. § 272-3), I demur to the conclusion that it at first exists under the forms of pleasure and pain. These, I conceive, arise, as the more special feelings do, by 8 compounding of the ultimate elements of consciousness (Prin. oj Psy.

§§ 60, 61) : being, indeed, general aspects ,of these more special feelings when they reach certain intensities. Considering that even in creatures which have developed nerv<Jussystems, a great part of the vital processes are carried on by unconscious reflex actions" I see no propriety in assuming the existence of what we understand by consciousness in creatUl'es not only devoid of nervous systems but devoid of structures in general. NOTE '1'0 §36. More than once in the Emotions and the Will, Dr. Bain THE BIOLOGICAL VIEW. 101 insists on the connexion between pleasure and exaltation of vitality, and the connexion between pain and depression of vitality. As above shown, I concur in the view taken by him; which is, indeed, put beyond dispute by general experience as well as by the more special experience of medical men. "Vhen, however, from the invigorating and relaxing effects of pleasure and pain respectively, Dr. Bain derives the original tendencies to persist in acts which give pleasure and to desist from those which give pain, I find myself unable to go with him. He-Says-U We snppose movements spontaneously b€gun, and accidentally causing pleausul'e; we then assume that with the pleasule there will be an increase of vital energy, in which increase the fortunate movements will share, and thereby increase the pleasure. Or, on the other hand, we suppose the spontaneous movements to give pain, and assume that, with the pain, there will be a decrease of energy, extending to the move ments that cause the evil, bnd thereby providing a remedy" (3rd Ed. p. 315).

~rhis interpretation, implying that" the fortunate movements" merely shatr6in the effects of augmented vital energy caused by the pleasure, does not setm to mo congruous with observation. The truth appears rather to be that though there is a concomitant general increase. of muscular tone, the muscles specially excited are those which, by their increased contraction, conduce to in~reased pleasure. ConverselYI the implication that desistance from spontaneous move wents which cause pain, is due to a general muscular relaxation shared in by the muscles causing these particular movements, seems to me at variance with the fact that the retractation commonly takes the form not of a passive lapse but of an active withdrz;twal. Further, it may be remarke~ that depressing as pain .eventually is to the system at large, we cannot say thatit at once dept'esses the muscular energies. NQlSimply,asDr. Bain admits, does an acute smart produce spasmodic movements,. but pains of all kinds, both sensational and emotional stimulate the muscles (Essays 1st series p. 360, 1,01' 2nd-ed.Vol. I. p. 211,12). Pain however (and also pleasure when very intense} simultaneously has an inhibitory effect on all the reflex actions; and as the vital functions in general are carried on by reflex actions, this inhibition, increasing with the intensity of the pain, proportionately depresses the vital functions. Arrest of the heart's action and fainting is an extreme result of this inhibition; and the viscera at large feel its effects in degrees proportioned to the degrees of J.lllin. IJain, therefore, while directly causing a discharge of muscular energy as pleasure does, eventually lowers muscular power by lowering those vital processes on which the supply .of energy depends. Hence we cannot, I think, ascribe the prompt desistance from muscular movements causing pain, to decrease in the tlow of energy; for this decrease is felt only after an interval. Conversely, we cannot ascribe the per sistence in a muscular act which yields pleasure to the resulting exaltation of energy ; but must, as indicated in § 33, ascribe it to the establishment of lines of discharge between the place of pleasurable stimulation and those contractile l'tructures which maintain and increase the act causing the stimulation connexions allied with the reflex, into which they pass by insensible gradation& CHAPTER VII.

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL VIEW. § 40. TIle last chapter) in so far as it dealt with feelings in their relations to conduct) recognized only their physio ... logical aspects: their psychological aspects were passed over. In this chapter, conversely, we are not concerned with the constitutional connexions between feelings, as in~ centives or deterrents, and physical benefits to be gained or nlischiefs to be avoided; nor with the reactive effects of feelings on the state of the organism, as fitting or unfitting it for future action. Here we have to consider represented pleasures and pains, sensational and emotional) as consti ... tuting deliberate motives-as forming factors in the can... scious adjustments of acts to ends. § 41. The rudimentary psychical act) not yet differentiated from a physical act) implies an excitation and a motion. In a creature of low type the touch of food excites prehension.

In a somewhat higher creature the odour from nutritiYe matter sets up motion of the body towards the matter. A.nd where rudimentary vision exjsts, sudden obscuration of tight, implying the passage of something large, causes con... vulsive muscular movel1lents which m.ostly carry the body nway from the source of danger. In each of these cases we may distinguish four factors. There is (a), that property of tJhe ex.ternal object which prinlarilyaffects the organismTHE PSYCHOLOGICAL VIEW. 103 the taste, smell, or opacity; and, connected with such property, there is in the external object that character (b), which renderssei~ure of it, or escape fi~onl it, beneficial. Within the organism there is (c),. l/he impression or sensation which the property (a)~ produces, serving as stirnuIus; and there is, connecteu with it, the motor change (d), hy which seizure or escape is effected. Now Psychology is chiefly concerned with the connexioll between tho relation a b, and the relation c· d, under all those forins which they aSSUluein the course of evolution. Each of the factors, and each of the relations, grows 111ore involved as organization advances. Instead of being single, the ideI:ltifying attribute aJ often becornes, in the environment of a superior animal..

a cluster of attributes; such as the size, form, colours, motions, displayed by a distant creature that is c1,angerous. The factor b, with which this combination of attri butes is associated, becurnes the congeries of characters, powers, habits, which constitute it an enemy. Of the subjective factors, c becomes a complicated set of visual sensations coordinated with one anotheI" and with the ideas and feelings established by experience of such enemies, and constituting the nlotive to escape; while d becomes the iutricate, and often prolonged, series of runs, leaps, doubles, dives, &c., made in eluding the enemy. In human life we find the same four outer and inner factors, still more multi£orlu and entangled in their con1positiol1s and connexiol1s. 'rhe entire .assem blage of physical attributes a, presented by an estate that is adverti~ed for sale, passes enullleration; RPd the assembIngo of various utilities, h, going along with! these attributes, is also beyond brief specifica-bion. The perceptions and ideas, likes and dislikes, c, set up by the aspect of the estate, and which, compounded and re-compounded, eventually form the motive for buying it, l11ake a whole too large and complex for description; and the transactions, legal, pecuniary, and other" gone through in making the 104 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

purchase and taking possession, are scarcely less numerous and elaborate. Nor lJ]ust 'vve overlook the fact that as evolution progresses, not only do the factors increase in cOluplexity but also the" relations anlong them. Origi nally, a is directly and simply connected with b, while c is directly and sinlply connected with d. But eventually, tho counexions between a and b, and between e and d, beCOIn8 very indirect and involved. On the one hand, as the first illustration E5hows us, sapidity and nutritiveness are closely bound together; as are also the stimulation caused by the one and the contraction which utilizes the other. But, as we see in the last, illustration; the connexion between the viRible traits of an estate and those characters which COll stitute its value, is at once remote and complicated; while the transition fronl the purchaser's highly-composite lllotive to the numerous actions of sensory and motor organs~ severally intricate, which effect' the purchase, is though an entangled plexus of thoughts and "feelings constituting his decision.

After this explanation will be apprehended a truth otherwise set forth in the P'rinc·iples of Psychology. lVlind consists of feelings and the relations among feelings. By composition of the relations, and ideas of relations, intelli gence arises. By composition of the feelings, and ideas of feelings, emotion arises. And, other things equal, the evolution of either is great in proportion as the con1positioll is great. One of the necessary implicatjol1s is that cognition becoules higher in proportion as it is reuloter from reflex action; while emotion becomes higher in proportion as it is J'emotor from sensation. A.nd now of the various corollaries from this broad view of psychological evolution, let us observe those which concern the 1110tives and actions that are classed as mora] and il1ln1oral. § 42. The mental process by which, in any case) tho THE PSYCHOLOGICAL VIEW. 105 adjustment of acts to ends is effected, and which, under its higher forms, becomes the subject-matter of ethical judgments, is, as above implied, divisible· into the rise of a feeling or feelings constituting the motive, and the thought or thoughts through which the motive is shaped and finally issues in action. The first of these elements, originally an excitement, becomes a, simple sensation; then a compoulid sensation; then a cluster of partially presentative and partially representative sensations, forming ttn incipient emotion; then u, cluster of exclusively ideal or representative sensations, forming an emotion proper; then a cluster of such clusters, forlning a compound emotion; and eventually becon1es a stj Umore involved emotion composed of the ideal forIns of such compound emotions. The other element, beginning with that immediate passage of a single stimulus into a· siIigle motion, called reflex action, presently comes to be a SAt vf associated discharges of stimuli producing associated nl0tions, constituting instinct. Step by step arise more 8n1iftngledcombinations of stimuli, somewhat variable in theirID(ldes of union, leading to complex motions similarly variabJe in their adjustments; whence occasional hesitations in tht1 sensori-motor processes. Presently is reached a stage at which the combined clusters of impressions, not all p",esent together, issue in actions not all simultaneous; implying representation of results, or thought. After ...

wSl/rds follow stages in whlch various thoughts have time to pass before the composite motives produce the appro" lwiate actions. Until at last arise those long delibex:a... tions during which the probabjlities of various consequences are estiu1ated, and the promptings of the correlative feel~ ingsbalanced; ~constituting calm judgment. That under either of its aspects the later forms of this mental process are the higher, ethically considered as well as otherwise considered, will be readily seen. For· froIn the first, complication of sentiency has accom... panied better and more numerous adjustments of acts to L06 THE DATA OF ETHICS. ends, as also has COlllplication of movement, and oompli. cation of the coordinating or intellectual process uniting the two. Whence it follows that the acts characterized by the more complex motives and the more involved thoughts, have all along been of higher authority for guidance.

Some examples will make this clear. Here is an aquatic creature guided by the odour of organic matter towards thiugs serving for food; but a creature which, lacking any other guidFlnce, is at the mercy of larger creatures coming near. Here is another which, also guided to food by odour, possesses rudimentary vision; and so js made to start spasmodically away from a moving body which diffuses this odour, in those cases where it is large enough to produce sudden obscuration of light-usually an enemy. Evidently life will frequently be saved by con £vrming to the later and higher stimulus, instead of to the earlier and lower. Observe at a nlore advanced stage a p3Jrallel conflict. This is a beast which pursues others for prey, and, either lacking experience or prompted by raging hunger, attacks one rnore pow81"ful than itself and gets destroyed. Convel"sely, that is a beast which, prompted by a hunger equally keen, but either by individual experience or effects of inherited experience, made conscious of evil by the aspect of one nlore powerful than itself, is deterred from attacking, and saves its life by subordinating the primary motive, consisting of craving sensations, to the secondary motive, consisting of ideal feelings, distinct or vague. Ascending at once from these exanlples of conduct in aninlals to exalTIples of human conduct) wo shall see that the contrasts between inferior and superior have habitually the same traits. The savage of lowest type devours all the food captured by to-day's chase; and, hungry on the morrow, has perhaps for days to bear the pangs of starvation.' The superior savage, conceiving more vividly the entailed sufferingos if no game is to be found, is deterred by his complex feeling from giving way entirely to his THE PSYCHOLOGICAL VIEW. 107 simple feeling. Similarly are the two contrasted in the inertness which goes along with lack of forethought, and the activity which du.e forethought produces. The primitive ruau, idly inclined, and rul~d by the sensations of the mOIDrnt, will not exert himself until actual pains have to bo cscnped; but the man somewhat advanced, able more dis..

tint~tly to imagine future gratifications and sufferings, iR pr :nnptcd by the thought of these to overCOlue his love of ease: decrease of misery and mortality resulting from this predominance of the representative feelings over the presentative feelings. Without dwelling on the fact that among the civilized, those who lead the life of the senses are contrasted in the same way with those whose lives are largely occupied with pleasures not of a sensual kind, let me point out that there are analogous contrasts between guidance by the less cOlnplex representative feel ings, or lower emotions, and guidance by the more complex representative feelings, or higher emotions. When led by his acquisitiveness...;,.-are-representative feeling which, acting" under due control, conduces to welfare-the thief takes another man's property; his act is determined by certain imagined proximate pleasures. of relatively simple kinds, rather than by less-clearly inlagined possible pains that are more' remote and of relatively involved kinds. But in the conscientious man, there is an adequate restraining motive, still more re-representative in its nature, including not only ideas of punishment, and not only ideas of lost reputation and ruin, but including ideas of the clalllls of tho porson owning the property, and of the pains which loss of it will entail on him: all joined with a general aversio'n to acts injurious to others, which arises from the inherited eflects of experience. And here at the end we S8H, as we saw at the beginning, that guidance hy the more complex: feeling, on the average conduces to welfare more than does guidance by the simpler feeling.

Tho like holds with the intellectual coordinations through lOB THE DATA OF ETHICS. which stirnuli issue in motions. The lowest actions, called reflex, in which an impression made on an afferent nerve causes by discharge through an efferent nerve a contraction, shows us a very limited adjustment of acts to ends: the iUlpression being simple, and the resulting nlotion simple, the internal coordination is also simple. Evidently when there are several senses which can be together affected by an outer object; and when, according' as such object is discriminated as of one or other kind, the movements lllade in response are combined in onp-or other way; the intermediate coordinations are necessarily rnore involved. And evidently each further step in the evolution of intelligence, always instrumental to better sel£:preservation, exhibits this same general trait. The adjustments by which the more involved actions arc made appropriate to the more involved circumstances, imply 11lore intricate, and consequently more deliberate ~nd conscious, coordinations j until, when we come to civilized ll1en., who in their daily business taking into account n~any data and· conditions adjust their proceedings to various consequences, we see that the intellectual actions, becoming of the kind we call judicial, are at once very elaborate and vcry deliberate.

Observe, then, what follows respecting the relative authorities of motives. Throughout the ascent from low cl~eatures up to man, and from the lowest types of nlan up to the highest, sel£-preservation has been increased by the subordination of simple excitations to compound excitations-the subjection of ilnmediate sensations to the idea's of sensations to come-the over-ruling o£ presenta. tive feelings by representative feelings, and of represeuta tive feelings by re-representative feelings. As life has adY'~nced, the accompanying sentiency has become in~ creasingly ideal; and among feelings produced by the compounding of ideas, the highest, and those which have evolved latest, are the re-compounded or doubly ideal. Henc8 THE PSYCHOLOGICAL V1EW. 109 it follows that 3S guides, the feelings bave artthotities proportionate to the degrees in which they are removed by their complexity and their ideality from simple sensa tions and appetites. A further implication is ma~eclear by studying the intellectual sides of these mental·· processes by owhich acts are adjusted to ends.

Where they are low and silnple, these comprehend the guiding only of. ° ilnmediate . acts by immediate sti muli~the entire transaction in each case, lasting but a moment, refers only to a prOXilllate result. But with the development of intelligence and the growing ideality of the motives,the ends to which the acts are adjusted cease to be exclu~ively immediate. The more ideal motives concern ends that are more distant; and with approach to the highest types, present ends become jncrea~ingly sub ordinate to .those future ends which the ideal motives have for their objects. Hence there arises a certain presuulptioll in favour of a motive which refers to a remote good, in comparison with one which refers to a proximate good. § 43. In the last chapter I hinted that besides the sevel'al influences there namoed as fostering the ascetic belief that doing things which are agreeable is detrimental while bearing disagreeable things is beneficial, there remained to be named an influence of deeper origin. This is shadowed forth in the foregoing paragraphs.

For the general truth that guidance hy such simplB pleasures and pains as result from fulfilling or denying bodily desires, is) under one aspect, inferior to guidance by those pleasures and pains which the complex ideal feelings yjeld) has led to the belief that the promptings of bodily desires should be disregarded. Further, the general truth that pursuit of proximate- satisfactions is, under one aspect, infeI'ior to pursuit of ultimate satisfactions, has led totha belief that proxinlate satisfactions must not be valued. In the early stages of pvery science, the generalization~ 110 THE DATA OF ETHICS. reached are not qualified enough. The discriminating state ments of the truths formulated, arise afterwards, by limitation of the undiscrinlinating statenlents. As with bodily vision, which at first appreciates only the broadest traits of objects, Rndso leads to rude classings which developed vision, inlpressible by TI1ino1" differences, has to correct; so with rnental vision in relation to general truths, it happens that at first the inductions, wrongly made all-embracing, have to wait for scepticislU and critical observation to restrict them, by takilJg account of unnoticed differences. Hence, we may expect to find the current ethical conclusions too sweeping. Let us note how, in three ways, these dominant beliefs, alike of professed moralists and of people at large, are made erroneous by lack of qualifications.

In the first place, the authority of the lower feelings as guides is by no means always inferior to the authority of the higher feelings, but iB often superior. Daily occur occasions on which sensations must be obeyed rather than sentiments. Let anyone think of sitting all night naked in a snowstorm, or going a week without food, or letting his head be held under water for ten minutes, and he will see that the pleasures and pains directly related to main tenance of life, may not be wholly subordinated to the pleasures and pains indirectly related to maintenance of life. rr'hough in many cases guidance by the simple feelings rather than by the complex feelings is injurious, in other cases guidance by the complex feelings rather than by the sinlple feelings is fatal; and throughout a wide range of cases their relative authorities as guides are inde terminate. Grant that in a man pursued, the protesting' feelings acconlpanying intense and prolonged effort, must, to preserve life, be over-ruled by the fear of his pursuers; it may yet happen that, persisting till he drops, the resulting exhaustion causes death, though, the pursuit having been abandoned, death would not otherwise have resulted. Grant tbat a widow left in poverty, TIlust deny her appetite that YHE PSYCHOLOGICAL VIEW. 11 t she may give enough food to her children to keep them alive;' yet the denial of her appetite pushed too far, may"

leave them not only entirely without food but without guardianship. Grant that, working his brain unceasingly from dawn till dark, the Ulan in pecuniary difficulties mu~ t disregard rebellious hOflily sensations in obedience to the conscient.ious desire to liquidate the claims on him.; yet he may carry this subjection .0£ simple feelings to complex feelings to the extent of shattering his health, and failing in that end which,with less of this subjection, he :night have achieved. Clearly, then, the subordination of lower feelings must be a conditional subordination. The supre macyofhigher feelings must be a qualified supremacy. In another way does the ge'heralizationordillarily made err by excess. With·· the truth that life .. is high in pro portion as the simple presentative feelings are under the control of the compound representative feelings, it joins, as though .. they.···were corollaries, certain propositions which are not corollaries. The·cnrrent"conception .is, not that the lower must yield to the higher when the two conflict, but that the lower must be disregarded even when there is no conflict. This tendency which the growth of moral ideas has generated, to condemn.o bedience to inferior feelings when superior feelings protest, has begotten a tendency to condemn inferior feelings considered intrinsically. "I really think she does things because she likes to do them," once said to me one lady concerning another: tho form of expression and the 111anner both implying the belief not only that such behaviour isvyrong', but also that everyone must recognize, it as wrong. And there prevails widely a notIon of this kind. In practice, indeed, the notion is very generally inoperative. Though it prot.npts various. incidental asce ticisms, as of those who think it alike manly and salutary to go without a great coat in cold weather, or to persevere through the winter in taking an· out .. o£-door plunge, yet, generaJIy,thepleasurahle feelings accompanying due £ulfil9 112 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

ment of bodily needs, are accepted: accepta.nce being} indeed, sufficiently peremptory. But oblivious of these contradictions in their practice, men commonly betray a vague idea that there is something degrading,. or injurious, or both, in doing that which is agreeable and avoiding that which is disagreeable. "Pleasant but wrong," is a phrase frequently used in a way implying tbat the two are naturally connected. As above hinted, however) such beliefs result from a confused a.pprehension of the general truth that the more compound and representative feelings are, on the average, o£higher authoIity than the simple and presentative feel ings. Apprehended with discrimination, this truth implies that the authority of the simple, ordinarily less than that of the compound but occasionally greater, is habitually to be accepted when the compound do not oppose. In yet a third "ray is this principle of subordination n11sconceived. One of the contrasts between the earlier eV0lved £e~lings and the later-evolved feelings, is that they refer respectively to the mOl'e in1mediate effects of actions and to the more relllote effects; and speaking generally, guidance by that which is near is inferior to guidance by that which is distant. Hence has resulted the belief that, irrespective of their kinds, the pleasures of the present must be sacrificed to the pleasures of the future. We see this in the maxinl often iUlpressed on children when eating their meals) tl)at they should reserve the nicest Jnorsel till the last: the check on ilnprovident yielding to immediate impulse, being here joined with the tacit teaching tl1at the sanle gratification becolues lTIOre valuable as it becomes Inure distant. Such thinking is traceable throughout daily conduct; by no Ineans indeed in all, but in those who are distinguished as prudent and '\Tell regulated in their conduct. Hurrying over his breakfast that he may catch the train, snatching a sandwich in the middle of the day, and eating a late dinner when he is so ,vorn out that he is incapacitated for evening recreation, the man of business THE PSYCHOLOGICAL VIEW. 113 pursues a life in which not only the satisfactions of bodily desires, but also those of higher tastes and feelings, are, as far as may be, disregarded, that distant ends ma,ybe achieved; and yet if you ask what are these distant ends, you find (in ca~es where there are no parental responsibilities) that they are included under the conception of more comfortable . ·\i~ing in time to come. So ingrained is this belief that it is wrong to seek immediate enjoyments and right to seek remote ones only, that you may hear from a busy man who has been on a pleasure excursion, a kind of apology for his conduct. He deprecates the unfavourable judgments of his friends by explaining that the state of his health had com pelled him to take a holiday. Nevertheless, if you sound him with respect to his future, you find that his ambition is by-and-by to retire and devote himself wholly to the relaxa tions which he is now somewhat ashamed of taking.

The general truth disclosed by the study of evolving conduct, sub-human and human, that for the better preser vation of life the primitive, simple, presentative feelings must be controlled by the later-evolved, compound, and repre sentative feelings, has thus COllle,in the course of civilization, to be recognized by men; but necessarily at first in too indiscriminate a way. rhe current conception, wbile it errs by implying that the authority of the higher over the lower is unlimited, errs also by implying -that the rule of the lower must be resisted even when it does not conflict with the rule of the higher, and further errs by implying that a gratification which forms a proper aim if it is remote, forms an improper aim if it is proxirnate. ~ 44, Without explicitly saying so, we· have been here tracing the genesis of the moral consciousness. For un questionably the essential trait in the moral consciou~ness, is the control of some feeling or feelings by some other feeling or feelings.

Among the higher '1nimals we may see, distinctly enough, L14 ~[HE DATA OF ETHICS. the conflict ot feelings and the subjection of simpler to more compound; as when a dog is restrained frout snatching food by fear of the penalties which may come if he yields to his appetite;. or as when he desists from scratch ing ata ho~.0 lest he should lose his lllaster, who has walked on. Here, however, though there is subordination, there is not conscious subordination-there is no introspection l'€Yealing the fact that one feeling has yielded to another. So is it even with human beings when little developed mentally. The pre-social man, wandering about in· families and ruled by such sensations and emotions as are caused by the circumstances of the moment, though occasionaUy subject to conflicts of motives, meets with comparatively few cases in which the advantage of postponing the immediate to tho remote is forced on his attention; nor has he the intelligence requisite for analyzing and generalizing such of these cases as occur. Only as social evolution renders the life morc cOlTIplex, the restraints many and strong, the evils of ilTIpulsiveconduct marked, and the comforts to. be gained by providing for the future tolerably certain, can there conle experiences numerous enough to make familiar the benefit ofsubordinatillg the simpler feelings to the more cOlllplex ones. Only then, too, does the:t;e arise a sufficient intel~ lectual power to nlake an induction from these experiences, followed by a sufficient massing of individual induotions into a public and traditional induction impressed on each generation as it grows up.

And here we are introduced to certain facts of profound signifioance. This oonscious relinquishment of imluediatc Rnd special good to gain distant and general goodJ while it is a cardinal trait of the self-restraint called moral) is also a cardinal trait of self-restraints other than those ca1led moral-the. restraints that originate from fear of the visible ruler, of the invisible ruler, and of society at large. Whenever the individual refrains from doing that which the passing desire prompts, h~5t be should afterwardlS suffer THB PSYCHOLOGICAL VI1CW. 115 legal punishment, or div:~e vengeance, or -pUblic r~pro. batioD,or all of them, he surrenders the near . and definite pleasure rather· than risk the remote and· greater, thongb less definite, pains, which tftking it may· bring on him; and, conversely, when he undergoes some present pain, that he may .reap some probable future pleasure, political, religious, or social. But though all these four' kinds of internal control have the C()lllnOncha,racter that the simplel' and less ideal feelings are consciou~ly over-ruled by the more -complex and ideal feelings j' and though, at first, they are practically co-extensive and undistingnished; yet, in the course of social evolution they differentiate; .and, eventually, the moral· control with its accompanying .conceptions and sentiments, emerges as independent. Let us glance at the leading aspects of the process.

While, as in the rudest groups, neither political nor religious rule exists, the leading check to the immediate satisfaction of each desire as it arises, is consciousness ot the, evils· which the anger of fellow savages may entail) if satisfaction of the desire is obtained at their cost. In this early stage the imagined pains which constitute the governing motive, are those apt to be inflicted by beings of ··like nature, undistinguished in power: the political, religious, and social restraints, are as yet represented only by this mutual dread of vengeance. When special strength) skill, or courage, makes one ofthelU a leader in' hattIe, he necessarily inspires greater fear tha.n any other; and there comes to he a more decided check on such satisfactions of the desires as will .injure or offend him. Gradually as, by habitual war, chieftainship is established J the evils thought of as likely to arise from angering the chief~not· only by aggression upon him but by disobedi ..

ence to him, become distinguishable both. from the smaller evils which other· personal antagonisms cause, and from the more diffused evils thought of as arising from social l'eprobation. That is, political control begins to dif"

116 THE DA'rA OF ETHICS. ferentiate from the more indefinite control of mutual dread. Meanwhile there has been developing the ghost-theory. In all but the rudest groups, the double of a deceas~d man, propitiated at death and afterwards, is conceived as able to injure the survivors. Consequently, as fast as the ghost-theory becomes established and definite, there grows up another kind of check on immediate ~atisfaction of the desires-a check constituted by ideas of the evils which ghosts may inflict if offended; and when political lleadship gets settled, and the ghosts of dead chiefs, thought of as more powerful and more relentless than other ghosts, are especially dreaded, there begins to take shape the forn1 of restraint distinguished as reli. gious. For a long time these three' sets of restraints, with their correlative sanctions, though becoming' sepnrate in consciousness, remain co-extensive; and do so because they mostly refer to one end-success in war.

The duty of blood-revenge is insisted on even while yet nothing to be called social organization exists. As the chief gains predominance, the killing of enemies becolueR a poli tical duty; and as the anger of the dead chief comes to bo dreaded, the killing of enemies becomes a religious d.uty. Loyalty to the ruler while he lives and after he dies, is increasingly shown by holding life at hIS disposal lor purposes of war. The earliest enacted punishments are those for insubordination and for breaehes of observances which ex... press subordination-all of them militant in origin. "''''hile the divine injunctions, originally traditions of the dead king's will, mainly refer to the destruction of peoples with whom he was at enmity; and divine anger or approval are conceived as determined by the degrees in which suhjection to hinl is shown, directly by worship and indirectly by fulfilling these injunctions. The Fijian, who is said on entering the other world to commend himself by narrating his successes iu battle, and who) when alive, is described as sometimes greatly distreRsed if he thinks he has not killed enemies enough t<J THE· PSYCHOLOGICAL VIEW. 117 please lis gods, shows us the result,ing ideas and feelings; and reminds us of kindred ideas and feelings betrayed by ancient races. To all which add that the control of social opinion, besides being directly exercised, as in the earliest stage, by praise of' the brave and blame of the cowardly, comes to be indirectly exercised with a kindred general effect by applause of loyalty to the ruler and piety to the god. So that the three differentiated forms of control which grow up along with militant organi zation and action, while enforcing kindred rebtraints and incentives, also enforce one another j and thoir separate and joint disciplines have the common character that they in...

volve the sacrifice of immediate special benefits to obtain more distant and general benefits. At th; same time there have been developing under the same three sanctions, restraints and incentives of another order, sirnilarly characterized by subordination of the proxi mate to the remote. Joint aggressions upon men outside the society, cannot prosper if there are many aggressions of man on man within the society. War implies cooperation; and cooperation is prevented by antagonisms among those who are to co..:operate. We saw that in the primitive un governed group, the main check on immediate satisfaction of his desires by each man, is the fear of other men's vengeance if they are injur~d by taking the satisfaction; and through early stages of social development, this dread of retaliation continues to be the chief motive to such forbearance as exists. But though long after political authority has become established the taking of per80nal satisfaction for injuries persists, the growth of political authority gradually checks it. The fact that success in war is endangered if his followers fight among themselves, forces itself on the attention of the ruler. He has a strong motive £01" restraining quarrels, and therefore for preventing the aggressiong which cause quarrels; and as his power becomes greater he forbids the aggressions and inflicts punishments for disobedience.: 118 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

Presently, political restraints of this class, like those of the preceding class, are enforced by religious restraints. The sagacious chief, succeeding in war partly because he thus enforces order anlong his followers, leaves behind him (\ tradition of the conlmands he habitually gave. Dread ofhis gll(Jst tends to produce regard for these commands; and they eventually acquire sacredness. With further social evolution come, in like manner, further interdicts, checking aggressions ofless serious kinds; nntil eventually there grows up a body of civil laws. And then in the way shown, arise beliefs concerning the divine disapproval of these minor, as well as of the major, civil offences: ending, occasionally, in a set of religious injunctions harmonizing with, and en 4 forcing, the political injunctions. While sitnultaneously there develops, as before, a social sanction for these rules of internal conduct, strengthening the political and religious sanctions.

But now observe that while these three controls, political, religious, and social, severally lead men to subordinate proximate satisfactions to remote satisfactions; and while they are in this respect like the moral control, which habi tually requires the subjection· of simple presentative feelings to complex representative feelings and postponemen.t of present to future; yet they do not constitute the moral control) but are only preparatory to It-are controls within which the moral control evolves. The cornnland of the political ruler is at first obeyed, not because of its perceived rectitud.e; but simply because it is hif' comUHl.ll d, which there will be a penalty for disobeying. Th a check is llot a mental representation of the evil consequ 3nces which the forbidden act will, in the nature of things, cause; but it is a mental representation of the factitious evil eonse .. quences. Down to our own time we trace in legal phrases} the original doctrine that the aggression of one citizen on another is wrong, and will. be punished, not, so much because of the injury done him, as because of the implied "TIlE PSYCHOLOGICA.L-V'IEW. 119 disregard or the king'swill. Similarly, the sinfulness of breaking a divine injunction was universally atone time, and is still by many, held· to consist· in the disobedience to God, rather than'in the deliberate entailing of injury; and even now it is a common belief that acts are right· only if perfol'medin conscious fulfilulent of the divine will:· nay, are eV8n wrong if otherwise performed. The like holds, too, with that fut,ther control exercised by public opinion.

On listeJ?:ing to the rernarks made respecting conformity to social rules, it is noticeable that breach of them is condemned not· so much because of any essential impropriety· as becauso the world's authority is ignored. How imperfectly the truly moral control is even now differentiated fromtheso controls within which it has been evolving, we see in the fact that the systems of morality criticized at the outset, severally identify. moral control with one or other of them. For moralists of one class derive moral· rules from the com mands ofasupreme political power. Those of another class recognize no other origin for them than· the· revealed divine will. And though men who take social prescription for their guide do not formulate their doctrine, yet the belief, frequently betrayed, that conduct which society permits is not blameworthy, implies that there are those who think right and wrong can be made such by public opinion.

Before taking a further· step we must put together tho results of this analysis. Tho essential truths to be carried with us respecting these three forms of external control to which the social unit is subject, are these:-First, that they ]lave evolved with· the evolution of society, as means ~J Bocialself-preservation, necessary under the conditions; and th~t, by implication, .they are in the main congruous with one another. Second, that the correlative internal restraints generated in the social unit,. are representations of· remoto l'esults· which are incidental rather than necessary-a legal penalty, a· supernatural punishment, a social reprobation. rhird, that these results, simpler and more directlywronght l20 THE DATA OF E'l'HIC~. by personal agencies, can be more vividly conceived thtUl can the results which, in the course of things, actionR naturally entail j and.the conceptions of them are therefort' more potent over undeveloped rninds. Fourth, that as with tbe restraints thus generated is always joined the thought of external coercion, there arises the notion of obligation; which so becomes habitually associated with the surrender of immediate special benefits for the sake of distant and general benefits. Fifth, that the moral control corresponds in large measure ·with the three controls thus originating, in respect of its injunctions j and corresponds, too, in the general nature of the nlental processes producing conformity to those injunctions; but differs in their special nature.

§ 45. ]Tor now we are prepared to see that the restraintR properly distInguished as moral, are unlike these restraints out of which they evolve, and with which they are long confounded, in this-they refer not to the extrinsic effects of actions but to their intrinsic effects. The truly moral deterrent from murder, is not constituted by a representation of hanging as a consequence, or by a representation of tortures in hell as a consequence, or by a representation of the horror and hatred excited in fellow men; but by a representation of the necessary natural results-the inflic tion of death -agony on the victim, the destruction of all his possibilities of happiness, the entailed sufferings to hiR belongings. Neither the thought of imprisonment, nor of divine anger, nor of social disgrace, is that which constitutes the D;l.oral check on theft j but the thought of injury to tho person robbed, joined with a vague consciousness of tlH.l general evils caused by disregard of proprietary rights.

Those who reprobate the adulterer on moral grounds, have their luindsfilled, not with ideas of an action for damages, or of future punishment following the breach of a com ~ mandment, or of loss of reputation; but they are occupied with ideas or unhappiness entailed on the aggrieved wife 01' THE PSYCHOLOGICAL VIEW. 12] husband, the damaged lives of children, and the diffused mischiefs which go along with disregard of the marriage tie. Conversely, the man who is moved by a moral feeling to help another in difficulty, does not picture to himself any reward here or hereafter j but pictures only the better condition he is trying to bring about. One who is morally. prompted to fight against a social evil, has neither material benefit nor popular applause before his mind; but only the mis chiefs he seeks to remove and the increased well-being which will follow their removal. Throughout, then, the moral motive differs from the motives it is associated with in this, that instead of being constituted. by representations of incidental, collateral, non-necessary consequences of acts, it is constituted by representations of consequences which the acts naturally produce. These representations are not all distinct, though some of such are usually present; lrlt they form an assemblage of indistinct representations accumulated by experience of the results of like acts in the life of the individual, superposed on a still more indistinct but voluminous consciousness due to the inherited effects 0f such experiences in progenitors: forming a feeling that is at once massive and vague .

.And now we see why the 1l}oral feelings and corre lative restraints have arisen later than the feelings and restraints that originate froln political, religious, and social authorities; and have so slowly, and even yet so inco.m pletely, disentangled themselves. For only by these lower feelings and restraints could be maintained the conditions nnder which the higher feelings and restraints evolve. It it' thus alike with the self-regarding feelings and with the other-regarding feeling-so The pains which improvidence will bring, and the pleasures to be gained by· storing up things for future use and by labouring to get such things, can be habitually contrasted in thought, only as fast as settled social arrangements make accumulation possible; and that there may arise such settled arrangements, fear o£ 122 THE DATA OD' ETHICS. the seen ruler, of the unseen ruler, and of public opinion..

must come into play. Only after political, religious, and social restraints have produced a stable community, can there be sufficient experience of the pains, positive and negative, sensational and emotional, which crin1es of aggres .. slon .cause, as to generate that moral aversion to them constituted by consciousness of their intrinsically evil results. And more manifest still is it that such a moral ~entiment as that of abstract equity, which is offended not only by material injuries done to Inen but also by political arrangements that place them at a disadvantage, can evolve only after the social stage reached gives familiar experience both of the pains flowing directly fronl injustices and also of those flowing indirectly from the class-privileges which make injustices eaRJ. That the feelings called moral have the na.ture and origin alleged, is further shown by the fact that we assoc~ate the name with them in proportion to the degree in which they have these characters-'-firstly of being re-representative; secondly of being concerned with indirect rat4er than with direct effects, and generally with remote rather than imme diate; and thirdly of referring to effects that are mostly general rather than special. Thus, though we condemn one man for extravagance and approve the economy shown by another man, we do not class their acts as respectively vicious and virtuous: these words are too strong: the present and future results here differ too little in concreteness and ideality to nlake the words fully applicable. Suppose, however, that the extrav8gance necessarily brings distress on wife and children-brings pains diffused over the lives of others as well as of self, and the viciousness of the extravaganee becomes clear. Suppose, further, that prompted by the wish to relieve his family from the misery he has brought Oll them, the spendthrift forges a bill or corl1mits some other fraud. Though, estimated apart, we characterize his over ruling" emotion as moral, and make allowance for him in THE PSYCHOLOGICAL VIEW. 123 consideration of it, yet his action taken as a whole we condemn as immoral: we regard as of superior authority, the feelings which respond to men~s proprietary claims feelings which are re-rApresentative in a higher degroe and refer po more remote diffused consequences. The djfference, habitually recognized". between the relative elevations of justice and generosity, well illustrates this truth. The motive causing a gen.8rous act has reference to e££ectso£ a more concrete, special, andproxi ..

mate kind, than has the motive to do justice; which, beyond the proximate effects, usually thelnselves less concrete than those that generosity contetnplates, includes a consciousness of the distant,· involved, diffused effects of maintaining equitable relations. And. justice we hold to be higher. generosity. Comprehension. of this long argument will be aided by here quoting a further passage from the before-named letter to Mr. Mill, following the passage already quoted from it. c; To make any· position fully understood, it seems needful to add that, corresponding to the fundamental propositions of a developed Moral .. Science, there have been, and still are, developing in the race, certain fundamental moral intuitions; and that, though these moral intuitions are the results of accull).ulated experiences of Utility, gradually· organized and inherited, they have come to be quite independent of c~onscious experience. Just in the same way that. I believe the intuition of space, possessed by any living individual, to have arisen from organized and consolidated experiences of all antecedent individuals who bequeathed to him their slowly-developednervous organizationg ---just as I believe that this intuition, requiring only to be made definite and cOUlpleteby personal experiences, has practically become a form. of thought, apparently quite independent of experience ; so do I believe that the ex· periences of· utility organized and consolidated through all past generations of the human race, h&ve been producing corresponding··nervous modifications, which, by continued transmission and accumulation, have become in us. certain ia.cult~es ofmora,l intuition-certain emotions responding to right and wrong conduct, which have no apparent basis in the individual experiences of utility.

I also hold that just as the space-intuition responds to the exact demonstrations of Geometry, and has its rough conclusions interpreted and verified by them; 80 win moral intuitions respond to the demonstrations of Moral Science, and will have their rough conclusions interpreted and verified by them." rrothis) in passing, I will ~dd only that < the evolution ..

L24 THE DATA OF ETHICS. hJrpothesis thus enables us to reconcile opposed moral theories, as it enables us to reconcile opposed theories of knowledge. For as the doctrine of innate forms of intellectual intuition falls into harmony with the ex perjeritial doctrine, when we recognize the production of intellectual f.aculties by inheritance of effects wrought by experience; so the doctri.ne of innate powers of moral per ception becomes congruous with the utilitarian doctrine, when it is seen that preferences and aversions are rendered organic by inheritance of the effects of pleasurable and painful experiences in progenitors. § 46. One further question has to be answered-How does there arise the feeling of moral obIigation in general? Whence comes the sentiment of duty, considered as distinct from the several sentiments which pro1l1pt temperance, providence, kindness, justice, tl'uthfulness, &c.? The answer is that it is an abstract sentin1ent generated in a manner analogous to that in which abstract ideas are generated.

The idea of each colour had originally entire concreteness given to it by an object possessing the coloo.r; as some of the unmodified names, such as orange and violet, show us. The dissociation of each colour from the object specially associated with it in thought at the outset, went on as fast as the colour came to be associated in thought with objects unlike the first, and unlike one another. The idea of orange was conceived in the abstract more fully in proportion as the various orange-coloured objects remembered, cancelled one another's diverse attributes, and left outstanding their com mon attribute. So is it if we ascend a stage and note how there arises the abstract idea of colour apart from particular colours. Were all things red the conception of colour in the abstract could not exist. Imagine that every object was either red or green, and it is manifest that the Inental habit would be to think of one or other of these two colours in connexion with wnything named. But multiply THE PSYCHOLOGICA.L VIEW. 125 theculours so that thought ranlbles undecidedly among the iieas of them that occur along with any object named, and there results the notion of indeterminate colour -the COillU10U property which objects possess of affecting us by light from their surfaces, as well as by their forms. FOl' evidently the notion of this common property is that which remains constant while imagination is picturing every pos sible variety of colour. It is the uniform trait in all coloured things; that iscolour in the abstract. Words referring to quantity furnish cases of more marked dis sociation of abstract from concrete. Grouping various things as sUlan in cornparison either with those of their kind or with those of other kinds; and similarly grouping some objects as comparatively great; we get the opposite abstract notio"ns of smallnnssand greatness. Applied as these are to innumerable very diverse things -not objects only, but forces, times, numbers, values,-they have become so little connected with concretes, that their abstract meanings are very vague. Further, we must note that an abstract idea thus formed often acquires an illusive independence; as we may perceive in the case of motion, which, dissociated in thought from all particular bodies and velocities and directions, is sOtIletimes referred to as though it could be conceived apart from something rnoving. Now all this holds of the subjective as well as of the objective; and among other states of con sci0usness, holds of the emotions fl,S known by introspection.

By the grouping of those re-representative feelings above described, which, differing among themselves in other respects 'have '3J component in cornn10n; and by the con sequent mutual cancelling of their diverse components ;this COUlmon component is lllade relatively appreciable, and becomes an a1?stract feeling. Thus is produced the senti ment of moral obligation or duty. Let us observe its genesis. We have seen tha~ during the progr~ss of animate existence" the later-evQlved, more compound and more re..

126 THE D~\.TA OF ETHICS. presentative feelings, serving to adjust the conduct to morc; distant and general needs, have all along had an authoL·ity as guides superior to that of the earlier and simpler feelings -excluding cases in which these last are intense. This superior authority, unrecognizable by lower types of croatures which cannot generalize, and little recogl1iz~ble by primitive men, who have, but feeble powers of generalizatiolJ, has become distinctly recognized as civilization and aCCOln· panying mental developnlent have gone on. Accumulated experiences have produced the consciousness that guidanco by feelings which refer to remote and general results, is usually lllore conducive to welfare than guidance by feelings to be immediately gratified. For what is the common character of the feelings that prompt honesty, truthfulness, diligence, providence, &c., which men habitually find to be betterp1'onlpters than the appetites and simple im pulses? They are all complex, re-representative feelings, occupied with the future rather than the present. The idea of authoritativeness has therefore come to be connected with feelings having these traits: the implication being that the lower and simpler feelings are without authority. And this idea of authoritativEness is one element in the abstract con sciousness of duty.

But there is another element-the element of coercive ness. This originates from experience of those several forms of restraint that have, as above described, established thelTIselves in the course of civilization-the political, re ligious, and social. To the effects of punishments iuflicteil by law and public opinion on conduct of certain kinds, J)r. Hain ascribes the feeling of moral obligation. And I agree with him to the extent of thinking that by thelu is generated the sense of compulsion which the consciousness of duty includes, and which the word obligation indicates. The existence of an earlier and deeper element, gene .. rated as above described, is however, I think, implied by t,be fact that certain of the. higher self-regarding THEPSYCHOLOGTCAL VIEW. 127 Feelings, instigating prudence and· economy, havo 0, moral authority in opposition to the simpIer self~regarding feelings: showing that apart from any thought of factitious penalties on improvidence, the feeling constituted by representation of the natural penalties has acquired anacknowledgec1 superiority. But accepting in the main the view that fears of the political and social penalties (to which, I think, the religious must be added) have .generated that· sense of coercivene<ss which goes along with the thought of post poning present to future and personal desires to the claims of others, it here chiefly concerns us to note that this sense of coerciveness becon~es indirectly connected with the feelingsdist.inguished as moraL For since the political, religious, and social restraining motives, are mainly formed of represented future results; and sinee the moral restraining moti ve is mainly formed of represented future results; it - happens that the representations, having much in common, and being often aroused at the same time, the Jear joined with three sets of them becomes, by association, joined with the fourth. 'rhinking of the extrinsic effects of a forbidden act,excites a dread which continues present while the in tl"insiceffects of the act are thought of; and being thus linked with these· intrinsic effects causes a vague sense of moral compulsion. Emerging as the moral motive does but slowly from amidst the political, religious, and social motives, it long participates in that consciousness of sub ordination to some external agency which is joined with them; and only as it becomes distinct and predominant does it lose this aSRociated consciousness-only then docs the feeling of obligation fade.

This remark inlplies the tacit conclusion, which· will be to most very startling, that the sense of duty or moral obli. gation is transitory, and will diminish as fast as moralization increases~ Startling though it is, this conclusion may be satisfactorily defended. Even now· progress towards the implied uhhllate state is traceable. The observation is uCit 10 128 THE DATA OF ETJTrCS. infreqnent that persistence in performing a duty ends in lTIaking it a pleasnre j and this amounts to the adlnission that while at first the motive contains an element of coercion} at last this element of coercion dies out, and the act is performed without any consciousness of being obliged to perfol'lTIit. The contrast between the youth on whom diIi.. gence is enjoined, and the man of business so absorbed in affairs that he cannot be induced to relax, shows us how the doing of work, originally under the consciousness that it ought to be done, nuty eventually cease to have any such accompanying consciousness. Sometimes, indeed, the relation comes to be reversed j and the man of business persists in ,york from pure love of it when told that he ought not.

Nor is it thus with self-regarding feelings only. That the maintaining and protecting of wife by husband often result solely from feelings directly gratified by these actions, with out any thought of ?nust j and that the fostering of children by parents is in many cases made an absorbing occupation without any coercive feeling of ought; are obvious truths which show us that even now, with some of the fundament111 other-regarding duties, the sense of obligation has retreated into the background of the mind. And it is in sorne degree so with other-regarding duties of a higher kind. Conscien tiousness has in many outgrown that stage in which the sense of a compelling power is joined with rectitude of action. The truly honest man, here and there to be found, is not only without thought of legal, religious, or social compulsion, when he discharges an equitable claim on him; but he is without thought of sel£-compulsjon. He does the right thing with a sinlple feeling of satisfaction in doing it; and is, indeed, impatient if anything prevents him from having the satisfaction of doing it.

Evidently, then, with complete adaptation to the social state, that element in the moral consciousness which is ex pressed by the word obligation, will disappear. The higher actions required for the harmonious carrying on of life, THE PSYCHOLOGICAL. VIEW. 129 will be as much ma,tters or course as are those lower actions which the siluple llesiresprompt. In their proper times and places and proportions, the moral sentiments will guide men just as spontaneously and adequately as now do tho sensations. And though, joined with their regulating in .. fluence when this is called for, will exist latent ideas of the evils which nonconformity would bring; these will occupy the mind no more than do ideas of the evils of starvation at the time when a healthy appetite is being satisfied hy a nleal. § 47. This elaborate expositIon, which the extreme com~· plexity ot the 8ubject has necessitated, may have its leading ideasre-stated thus :Symbolizing by a and b, related phenomena in the envi ronment, which in some way concern the welfare of tho organism; and symbolizing by cand d, the impressions, simple or cotnpound, which the organism receives fron1 the one, and tlJe motions, single or combined, by which its acts are adapted to meet the other; we saw that psycho'logy in general is concerned with the connexion between the relation a b and the relation c d. Further, we saw that by impli cation the psychological aspect of Ethics, is that aspect under which the adjustment of c d to a, b, appear,,:, not as an intellectual coordination simply, but as a coordination in which pleasures and pains are alike factors and results.

It was shown that throughout Evolution,' motive a.nd act become more complex, as the adaptation of inner related actions to outer related actions ext~ds in range and variety. Whence followed the corollary that the later-evolved feelings) more representative and' re-repre sentative in their constitution, and rt>£erring to remoter and wider needs, have, on the average, an authority as guides greater than have the earlier and sirnpler feelings. After thus observing that even an inferior creature is ruled by a hierarchy of feelings so constituted that general I 130 THE DATA 0]1 ETHICS. welfare depends on a certaln Sil bordination of lower to higher, we saw that in man, as he passes into the social state, 'there arises the need for sundry additional subordina tions of lower to higher: cooperation being made possible only by them. To the restraints constituted by mental representations of the intrinsic effects of actions, which, in their simpler forms, hav~ been evolving from thB beginning, are added the restraints caused by mental repre sentntions of ext,rinslc effects, in the shape of political) religious, and social penalties.

With the evolution of s~)Ciety, ulade possible by institu tions maintaining order, a~nd associating in men's minds the sense of obligation "7ith prescribed acts and with desistances fronl forbidden acts, there arose opportunities for seeing the bad consequences naturally flowing from the conduct interdicted and the good consequences froIL the conduct required. Hence eventnaUy grew up rnoral aversions and approvals: experience of the intrinsic effects necessaril)T here coming later than experience of the eAtrinsio effects, and therefore producing its results later. The thoughts and feelings constituting theBe mora) aversions and approvals, being aU along closely connected with the thoughts and feelings constituting fears of· political, religious, and social penal ties, necessarily came to participate in the accompanying sense of obligation., The coercive element in the consciousness of duties at large, evolved by converse with external agencies which enforce duties, diffused itself by association through that consciousness orduty, pro perly called III oral, which is occupied with intrinsic results instead of extrinsic results.

But this self-compulsion, whiclLat a relatively-high stage becomes more and more a snbstitute for conlpulsion from without) must itself) at a still higher stflge, practically dis appear. If some action to which the spcc:al motive is insufficient, is performed in obedience to the feeling of moral obligation, the fact proves that the special taculty conTHE PSYCHOLOGICAL VIEW. 131 cerned is llO~ yet equal to its function-has not acquired such strength that the required activity has become its norma] activity, yielding its due amount of pleasure. With complete evolution then, the senseo£ obligation, not ordinarily present in consciousness, will be awakened only on those extra ordinary occftsions that prompt breach of the laws otherwise spontaneously conformed to. And this brings us to the psychological aspect of that conclusion which, in the last chapter, was reached under its biological aspect. The pleasures and pains which the mora] sentiments originate, Will, like bodily pleasures and pains, become incentives and deterrents 80 adjusted in their strengths to the needs, that the moral conduct will he the natnrttl conduct.

OHAPTER VITI. THE SOCIOLOGICAL VJEvV. ~ 48. Not for the human rG,ce only, but for every ruc~, t1l(~re are laws of right living. Given its environment and its structure, and there is for each kind of creature a set of actions adapted in their kinds, amounts, and combi nations, to secure the highest conservation its nature permits. The anilnal, like the man, has needs for food. warmth, activity, rest, and so forth; which must be fulfilled in certain relative degrees to make its life whole. Main tenance of its race implies satisfaction of special desires, sexual and philoprogenitive, in due proportions. Hence there is a supposable £ornlula for the activities of each species, which, could it be drawn out, would constitute a system of morality for that species. But such a system of morality would have little or no reference to the welfare of others than self and offspring. Indifferent to individuals of its own kind, as an inferior creature is, and habitually hostile to inuividuals of other kinds, the formula for its life could take no cognizance of the lives of those with ,vhich it came in contact; or rather, such formula would imply that maintenance of its life was at variance with maintenance of their liYes.

But on ascending from beings of lower kinds to the highest kind of being, man j or, more strictly, un ascending THE SOCIOLOGICAL VIEW. 133 from man in his pre-social stage to man in his social stage; the formula has to include an additional factor. Though not peculiar to human life under its developed form, the presence of this factor is still, in the highest degree, characteristic of it. Though there are inferior species displaying considerable degrees of sociality; and though the formulas for their complete lives would have to take account of the relations arising £l"om union; yet our own species JS,an the whole, to be distinguished as having a formula for complete life which specially recognizes the relations of each individual to others, in presence of whom, and in cooperation with whom, he has to live. This additional factor in the problem of complete living, is, indeed, so important that the necessitated modifications of conduct have come to form a chief part of the code of conduct. Because the inherited desires which directly refer to the maintenance of individual life, are fairly adjusted to the requirements, there has been no lleed to insist on that conformity to them which furthers 8el£ conservation. Conversely, because these desires prompt activities that often conflict with the activities of others; and because the sentirnents responding to other's claims are relatively weak; moral codes emphasize those restraints on conduct which the presence of fellow men entails.

From the sociological point of view, then, Ethic~ becomes nothing else than a definite account of the forms of conduct that are fitted to the associated state) in such wise that the lives o£each and all may be the greatest possible, alike in length and breadth. § 49. But here we are met by a fact which forbids us thus tc put in the foreground the wel£ares of citizens, individually considered, and requires us to put in the foreground the welfare of the society asa whole. The l~fe of the social organism must, as an end, rank above the lives of its units. Th~se two ends are not harmonious at the outsell; 184 i-HE DATA OF ETHICS. and though the tendency is towards harmonization of them, they are still partially conflicting. As .fast as the social state establishes itself, the pre servation of the society becomes a means of pre~erving its units. Living together arose because, on the average, it rfoved more advantageous to each than living apart; and this implies that maintenance of combination is maintenance of the conditions to more satisfactory living than the com· bined persons would otherwise have. Hence, social self..

preservation becomes a proximate aim taking precedence of the ultimate aim, individ!lal self-presel:'vation. This subordination of personal to social welfare is, how ever, contingent: it depends on the presence or antagonistic societies. So long as the existence of a community is endangered by the actions of communities around, it must rem~~in true that the interests of individuals Inust be sacri ficed to the interests or the community, as far as is needful for the community's salvation. But if this is manirest, it is, by implication, manifest, that when social antagonisms cease, this need ror sacrifice of private claims to public claims ceases also; or rather, there cease to be any public claims at variance with private claims. All along, furtherance of indi vidual lives has been the ultimate end; and if this ultimate end has been postponed to the proximate end or preserving the community's life, it has been so only because this proxi mate-end was instrumental to the ultiulate end. When the aggregate is no longer in danger, the final object or pursuit, the welfare of the units, no longer needing to be postponed, becomes the immediate object of pursuit.

Consequently, unlike sets of conclusions respecting hUIllall conduct emerge, according as we are concerned with a sthte of habitual or occasional war, or are concerned with a state of permanent and general peace. Let us glance at those alternative states and the alternative implications. §50. At present the individual man has to carryon his THE· SOCIOLOGICAL VIEW. 185 life·with due regard to the lives of others belonging to the same society ; whae he is sometimes called on to be regardless of the lives of those belonging to. other. societies. The same mental constitution having. to fulfil both these requirements, is necessarily incongruous; and the correlative conduct, adjusted first to the one need and then to the other, cannot be brought within any consistent ethical system. IIate and destroy your fellow man, is now the command; Rnd then t.he command is, love a~d aid your fellow man. Use every means to deceive, says the one code of conduct; while the other code RayS, be truthful in word and deed. Seize what property you can and burn all you cannot takeaway, are injunctions which the religion of enmity countenances; while by the religion of amity, theft and arson are con demned as crimes. And as conduct has to ben1ade up of parts thus at variance with one another, the theory of conduct remains confused. There coexists a kindred irreconcilability between the sentirnents answering to the forms of cooperation required for militancy and industrialism respectively. While social antagonisms are habitual, and while, for efficient action against other societies, there needs great subordination to men who command, the virtue of loyalty and the duty of implicit obedience have .to be insisted on: disregard of the ruler's will is punished with death. But when war ceases to be chronic, and growing industrialism habituates men to maintaining their own claims while respecting the claims of others, loyalty becomes less profound,the authority of the .ruler is questioned Of.

denied inrespecb of various private actions and beliefs. State-dictation is in many directions successfully defied, and the political independence of the citizen comes to bo regarded as a claim which it is virtuous to lllaintain and vicious to yield up. Necessarily during the transition, these opposite sentiments are incongruously mingled. So is it, too, with domestic institutions under the two reg{Jncs. Whilo the first is dominant .. ownership of a slave is honour ..

136 THE DATA 0' ETHICS. able, and in the slave submission is praiseworthy; but as the last grows dominant, slave-owning becomes a crime and servile obedience excites contempt. Nor is it otherwise in the £aTuily. The subjection of women to men, complete while war is habitual but qualified as fast as peaceful occupa tions replace it, COlnes eventually to be thought wrong; and equality beIore the law is asserted. A.t the same time the opinion concerning paternal power changes. The once unquestioned right of the father to take his children's lives is denied; and the duty of absolute submission to him, long insisted Oll, is changed into the duty of obedience within reasonable lilnits. Were the ratio between the life of antagonism with alien societies, and the life of peaceful cooperation within each Eociety,a constant ratio, some permanent compromise between the conflicting rules of conduct appropriate to the two lives - might be reached. But since this ratio is a variable one, the compromise can never be more than temporary. Ever the tendency is towards congruity betwe8n beliefs and requirements. Either the social arrangements are gradually changed until they come into harmony with prevailing ideas and sentiments; or, if surrounding conditions prevent change in the social arrangements, the necessitated habits of life n10dify the prevailing ideas and sentiments to the requisite extent. Hence, for each kind and degree of socj~l evolution determined by external conflict and internal friendship, there is an appropriate compromise between the moral code of enmity and the moral code of amity: not, indeed, a definable, consistent compromise, but a com ~ promise fairly well understood.

This compromise, vague, ambjguous, illogical, though it may be, is nevertheless for the time being authoritative. }'or if1 as above shown, the welfare of the society must take precedence of the wel£ares of its component individuals, during those stages in which the individuals have to preserve themselves by preserving their society; then '1'IIB SOCIOLOGICAL VIEW. 137 snch temporary compromise between the two cod~s of con.. duct as duly regards external defence, while favouring internal cooperation to the greatest extent practicable, subserves the maintenance of life in the highest degree; and thus gains the ultinlate sanction. So that the perplexed and inconsistent moralities of which each society and each age el10ws us a more or less different one, are sevel-ally justified as being approxirnately the best under the circumstances. But such moralities are, by their definitions, shown to be long to incomplete conduct; not to conduct that is fully evolved. We saw that the adjustments of acts to ends which, while constituting the extern&l manifestations of life conduce to the continuance of life, have been rising to a c~rtain i<1eal form now approached by the civilized man. But this form is not reached so long aR there continue aggressions of one society upon another. Whether the hindrances to COIIl plete living result frotn the trespasses of fellow-citizens, or from the trespasses of aliens, matters not: if they occur there does not yet exist the state defined. The limit to the evolu tion of conduct is arrived at by the members of each society only when, being arrived at by members of other societies also} the causes of international antagonism end simulta ..

neously with the causes of antagonism between individuals. And now having from the sociological point of yievr recognized the need for, and authority of, these changing systems of ethics, proper to chan ging ratios between war like activities and peaceful activities, we have, from the san1e point of view, to consider the system of ethics proper to the state in which peaceful activities are undisturbed. § 51. If, excluding all thought of dangers or hilldranccd from ca.uses externaL to a society, we set ourselves to specify those conditions under which the life of each person, and therefore of the aggregate, may be the greatest possible; ,ve come upon certain sin]ple ones which, as here stated J Q.8sume the form of truisms. ...

138 THE DATA OF ETHICS. For, as we have seen, the definition of that highest life accompanying completely-evolved conduct, itself excludes all acts of aggression-not only murder, assault, robbery and the major offences generally, but nlinor offences, such as libel) injury to property and so forth. While directly deducting from individual life, these indirectly cause pert ur bations of social life. Trespasses against others rouse anta gonisms in them; and if these are numerous the group loses eoherence. Hence, whether the integrity of the group itself is considered as the end; or whether the end con sidered is the benefit ultimately secured to its units by maintaining lts integrity; or whether the immediate benefit of it~ units taken separately, is considered the end; the· implication. is the same: such acts aro at variance with achieveu1ent of the end That these inferences are self. evident and trite (as indeed the first inforences drawn from ·the data of every science that reaches the deductive stage naturally are) must not make us pass lightly over the all important fact that, from the sociological point of view, the leading moral laws are seen to follow as corollari8s from the definition of complete life carried on under social conditions.

Respect for these primary moral laws is not enough, however. Associated men pursuing their several lives without injuring one another but without helping one another, reap no advantages from association beyond those of companionship. If, while ther~ is no cooperation fur defensive purposes (which is here excluded by the hypothesis) there is also no cooperation for satisfying wants, the social state loses its 1 4 aison d'etre-almost, if nut entirely. There are, indeed, people who live in a ccndition little removed from this; ·as the Esquilnaux. But though these, exhibiting none of the cooperation necessitated by war, which is unknown to them, lead lives such that each family is substantially independent of others, occasional cooperation occurs. And, indeed, that fami]ie~ THE SOCIOLOGICAL VIEW. 189 should liv~ in company without ever yielding mutual aid, is scarcely conceivable. Nevertheless, whether actually existing or only approached, we must here recognize as hypothetically possible, a state in which these primary moral laws alone are conformed to; for the purpose of observing, in their uncomplicated forms, what are the negative conditions to harmonious social life. Whe ther the members of a social group do or do not co-operate, certain limitations to their individual activities are necessi.

tated by their association; and· after recognizing these ItS arising in the absence of co.;.operation,we shall be the better prepared to understand how conformity to them is effected when cooperation begins. § 52. For whether men live together in quite independent ways, careful only to avoidaggressing ; or whether, advancing fronl passive association to active association, they co~ operate; their conduct must be such· that the achievement of ends by each shall at least not be hindered. And it becomes obvious that when they co-operate, there must not only· be· no resulting hindrance but there must be facilitation ; since in the absence of facilitation there can be no motive to co-operate. What shape, then, must the mutual restraint.s take when eo-operation begins? or rather: 'What, in addition to the primary mutual restraints already specifi.ed, are those secondary mutual restraints required to m.ake cooperation possible?

One who, living in an isolated way, expends effort ill pursuit 6f an end, gets compensation for the effort· by secur ing the end; and so achieves satisfaction. If he expends . theelfort without achieving the end, there results dissatis ... faction. The satisfaction. and the dissatisfaction, are mea"4 8ureso£ success and failure in life-sustaining acts; sinea that which is achieved· by effort is something which directly oi-indirecHy furthers life, and so pays for the cost of the effi)rti while if the effort fails there is nothing to pay for the 140 THE DATA OF ETHICS. cost of it, Hnd so much life is wasted. What must result from this when men's efforts are joined f The reply will be made clearer if we take the successive forms of cooperation in the order of ascending complexity. We may distinguish as homogeneous cooperation, (1), that in whichlike eflcrts are joined for like ends that are simultaneously enjoyed . .As cooperation that is not completely homogelieous, we luay di3tinguish, (2), that in which like efforts are joined for like ends that are not simultaneously enjoyed. A cooperation of which the heterogeneity is more distinct is, (3), that in which unlike efforts are joined for like ends. And lastly COlnes the decidedly heterogenoous cooperation, (4), that in which unlike efforts are joined for unlike ends.

The sin1ple:stand earliest of these, in which men's pow'ers" similar in kind and degree, are united in pursuit of a benefit which, when obtained, they all participate in, is most farni liarly exemplified in the catching of game by prirnitive 111en : this simplest and earliest form of industrial cooperation being also that which is least differentiated from militant co... operation; for the co-operators are the same, and the pro cesses, both destructive of life, are carried on in a:!1alogous ways. The condition under which such cooperation may be successfully carried on, is that the co-operators shar share alike in the produce. Each thus being enabled to repay himself in food for the expended effort, and being further enabled to achieve other such desired ends as main ... tenance of family, obtains satisfaction: there is no aggression of one on another, and the cooperation is harmonious. Of course the divided produce can be but roughly propnrtioneJ.

to the several efforts joined in obtaining it; but there i3 actually among savages, as we see that for harmonious co· operation there must be, a recognition of the principle that offorts when combined shall severally bring equivalent bene fits, as they would do if they were separate. Moreover, beyond the taking equal shares in return for labours that ure approximately equal) there is generally an attempt !

THE SOCIOLOGICAL VIEW. 141 at proportioning benefit to achievement, by assigning SOlne~ thing extra, in the shape of the best part or the trophy, to the actual slayer of the game. And obviously, if there is a wide departure from this system of shari~g benefits when there has been a sharing of efforts, the cooperation will cease. Individual hunters will prefer, to do the best they can for. themselves· separately. Passing from this simplest case of cooperation to a case not quite so simple-a case in which the homogeneity is incomplete-let us ask how a member of the group may be . led without dissatisfaction to expend effort in achieving a benefit which, when achieved, is enjoyed exclusively hy another? Clearly he may do this on condition th~t the other shall afterwards expend a like effort, the beneficial result of which shall be 'similarly rendered up by him in return. ThiR exchange of equivalents of effort is the form which social co operation take~ while yet there is little or no division of labour save that between the sexes. For example, the Bodo and Dhimals " mutually assist each other for the nonce} as well in constructing their houses as in clearing their plots for culti vation." And this principle-I will help you if you will help me-common in simple communities where the occupa tions are alike in kind, and occasionally acted upon in moro advanced communities, is one under which the relation between effort and benefit, 110 longer directly maintained, iB maintained indirectly. For whereas when men's activities are carried on separately, or are joined in the way exelllplified above, effort is immediately paid for bJ benefit, in this form of cooperation the benefit achieved by effort i~ exchanged for a like benefit to be afterwards received whell asked for. And in this case as in the preceding case, co...

operation can be maintained only by fulfilment of the tacit agreements. For if they are habitually not fulfilled, there will common~y b~ refusal to give aid when asked; and each man will be left to do the best he can by himself. All those n.dYantages to be gained by union of efforts in doing J42 THE DATA OF "ETHICS. things that are beyond the powers of the single iumvidual, will be unachievable. At the outset, then, fulfilment of contracts that are implied if not expressed, becomes a. eondition to social cooperation; and therefore to social development. From these simple forms of cooperation in which the labours men carryon are of like kinds, let us turn to the more complex forms in which they carryon labours of unlike kinds. Where men mutually aid in building huts or felling trees, the number of days' work now given by one to another, is readily balanced by an equal number of days' work afterwards given by the other to him. And no esti rnation of the relative values of the labours being required, a definite understanding js little needed. But when divislrJn of labour arises-when there come transactions betwuen one who makes weapons and another who dresses skins for cluthing, or between a grower of roots and a catcher of fish -neither the relative amounts nor the relative qualities of their labours admit of easy measure; and with the DJultiplication of businesses, implying numerous kinds of skill and power, there ceases to be anything like manifest equivalence between either the bodily and mental efforts set against one another, or between their products. Hence the arrangement cannot now be taken for granted, as while the things exchanged are like in kind: it has to be stated. If .A. allows B to appropriate a product of his special skill, on condition that he is allowed to appropriate a different pro duct of B's special skill, it results that as equivalence of the two products cannot be determined by direct comparison oi their quantities and qualities, there must be a distinct understanding as to how much of the one may be taken in consideration of so mueh of the oUler.

Only under voluntary agreement, then, no longer tacit 'lild vague but overt and definite, can 9 cooperation be 'larmoniously ca.rried on when division of labour becomes established. And as in the simplest cooperation, where like 1'IIE SOCIOLOGICAL VIEW. 143 efforts are joined to secure a common good, the dissatisfac tion caused in those who, havin g expended their labours. do not get their shares or the good, prompts theln to ceaSA cooperating;· as in the· more advanced cooperation, achieved by exchanging equal labours of like kind expended at different times, aversion to. co-operate is generated if the expected equivalent of labour is not rendered; so in this developed cooperation, the failure of either to sur render to the other that which was avowedly recognized as of like value with thela bour or product given, tends to prevent cooperation by exciting discontent with its results.

And evidently, while antagonisms thus caused impede the , lives of the units, the life of t~e aggregate is endangered by dinlinished cohesion. §53. Beyond these comparatively direct mischiefs, special and general, there have to be noted indireQt mis chiefs. As· already implied by the reasoning in the last paragraph, not only social integration but also social differen tiation, is hindered by breach of contract. In Part II of the P1'1~nclple8 of Sociology, it was shown that the fundamental principles of ·organization are the same for an individual organism and for a social organism; because both consist of mutually-dependen t parts. In the one case as in the other, the assumption of unlike activities by the component members, is possible only on condition that they· severally benefit in due degrees by one another's activities. That we may the better see what are the impli cations in respect of social structures, let us first note the iUlplicatjons in respect of individual structures.

The welfare of a living .body implies an approximate equilibrium between waste and repair. If the activities involve an expenditure not made good by nutrition, dwindling follows. If the tissues are enabled to take up fi~om the blood enriched by food, fit substances enough to replace those used up ineffortR made, the weight may be maintained. A.nd if the g-ain exceeds the loss, growth. 11 l44 THE DATA OF ET Hreef. results. That which is true of the whole in its relations to the external world, is no less true of the parts in their relations to one another. Each organ, like the entire organism, is wasted by performing its function, and haA to restore itself fron1 the materials brought to it. li the quantity of materials furnished by the joint agency of the other organs is deficient, the particular organ dwindles. If they are sufficient) it can maintain its integrity. If they are in excess, it is enabled to increase. To say that this arrangement constitutes the physiological contract, is to use a metaphor which, though not true in aspect is true in essence. For the relations of structures are actually such that, by the help of a' central regulative system, each.

organ is supplied with blood in proportion to the work it does. As was pointed out (P'f'inciples of Soc'iology,§ 254) well-developed animals are so constituted that each muscln or viscus, when called into action, sends to the vaso-motor centres through certain nerve-fibres, an impulse caused by itd action; whereupon through other nerve-fibres, there comes an impulse causing dilatation of its blood-vessels. That is to say, all other parts of the organism when they jointly require it to labour, forthwith begin to pay it in blood. During the ordinary state or phy~iological equilibrium, the loss and the gain balance, and the organ does not sensibly change. If the amount or its function is increased within such moderate limits that the local blood-vessels can bring adequately-increased supplies, the organ grows: beyond replacing its losses by its gains, it nlakes a profit on its extra transactions; so being enabled by extra structures to meet extra demands. But if the demands nlade on it hecorne so great that the supply of materials cannot keep pace with the expenditure, either because the local blood-vessels are not large enough or for any other reason; then the organ begins to decrease from excess of waste over repair: there sets in what is known as atrophy. Now since each of the organs has thus to be paid in nntrin1ent for jts services by the rest; it follows that the due balancing of their THE SOCIOLOGICAL VIlnW. 145 respet.,ti~e claims and payments is requisite, directly' for the welfare of each organ, and indirectly for the welfare of the organism. For in a whole formed of mutually-dependent parts J anything which prevents due performance of its duty by one part reacts injuriously on all the parts.

With change' of terms these statements and inferences bold of a society. That social division of labour which parallels in so many other respects the physiological division ,of labour j parallels it in this respect' also. As was shown at large in the PTinciples of Sociology, Part II, each order of functionaries and each group of pro ducers, severally performing s()me action or making some .article not for direct satisfaction of their own needs but for satisfaction of the needs of fellow-citizens in general, otherwise occupied,can continue to do this only so long as the. expenditures of effort and returns of' profit are approximately equivalent. Social organs like individual organs remain stationary if there come to them llornlal propol'tions of the commodities produced by the .society as a whole. If because the demands made on an industry or profession" are unusually great, those engaged in' it make excessive profits, more citizens .flock to it and the social structure constituted by its members gro,vs; while decrease of the demands and therefore of the profits, either leads its members· to choose other careers or stops' the accessions needful to ~replace those who die, and the structure dwindles.

'rhus is maintai.ned that proportion among the powers of the' component parts which is most conducive to the welfare of the whole. And now mark that the primary condition to achieve. ment of this result is fulfilment of contract. If from the members of any part payment is frequently withheld, or falls short of the proluised amount, then, through ruin of some and aband onment. of the occupation by others, t~e part dit121nishes; and if it was before not more than 146 THE DATA OF ETHICS. competent to its duty, it now beconles incompetent, and tIle society suffers. Or if social needs throw on some part great increase of function, and the members of it are enabled to get for their services unusually high prices; fulfilment of the agreements to give theul these high prices, is the only way of drawing to the part such additional Dumber of members as' will make it equal to the augmented demands. For citizens will not come to it if they find the high prices agreed upon are not paid.

Briefly, then, the universal basis of 'co-opel'ation is the proportioning of benefits received to services rendered, Without this there can be no physiological divisiono£ labour; without this there can be no sociological division of labour. .A.nd since division of labour, physiological or sociological, profits the whole a.nd each part; it results that on mainte nance of the arrangenlents necessary to it, depend both special and general welfare. In a society such arrangements are maintained only if bargains, overt or tacit, are carried out. So that beyond the primary requirement to harmonious coexistence in a society, that its units shall not directly aggress on one another; there comes this secondary require ment, that they shall not indirectly aggress by breaking agreements. ~ 54. But now we have to recognize the fact that complete fulfilment of these conditions, original and derived, is not enough. Social cooperation may be such that no one is impeded in the obtainrnent of the normal return for effort, but contrariwise is aided by equitable exchange 0'£ services; and yet much may remain to be achieved.

f}'here is a theoretically-possible form of society, pure~y industrial in its activitieR, which, though approaching nearer to the moral ideal in its code of conduct than any society not purely industrial, does not fully reach it. For while industrialism requires the life of each citizen to be such that it may be carried on without direct or THE SOCIOLOGICAL VIEW. 147 indirect aggressions on .other citizens, it does not require his life to be such that it shall directly further the lives of other' citizens. It is nota necessary implication of industrialism, as thus far defined, that each, beyond the benefits given and received by exchange of services, shall give and receive other benefits. A society is conceivable formed of men leading perfectly inoffensive lives, seru pulouslyfulfilling their contracts, and efficiently rearing their offspring, who yet, yielding to one· another no advantages beyond those agreed upon, fall short of that highest degree of life which the gratuitous rendering of services makes possible. Daily experiences prove tha~ every one would suffer many evils and lose many goods, did none give him unpaid assistance. The life of each would be more or less damaged had he to meet all contingencies single handed. Further, if no one did for his fellows anything more than was required by strict performance of contract, private interests would suffer from the absence of attention to public interests. The limit of evolution of conduct is consequently not reached, until, beyond avoidance of direct and indirect injuries to others, there are -spontaneous efforts to further the welfare of others.

It may be shown that the form of' nature which thus to justice adds beneficenc~, it6 one which adaptation to the social state produces. The social man has not reached that harmonization of constitution with con ditions forming the limit of evolution, so long as there remains space for the growth of faculties which, by their .exercise, bring positive benefit to others and satisfaction to self. If the presence of fellow-men, while putting certain limits to each man's sphere of activity, opens certain other spheres of activity in which feelings while achieving their gratifications, do not diminish" but add to the gratifi cations of others, then-such spheres will inevitably be occupied. Recognition of this truth does not, however, call on us to qualify greatly that conception of the industrial 148 THE DATA OF ETHICS. state above set forth; since sympathy is the root of both justice and beneficence.

§ 55. Thus the sociological view of Ethics supplements the physical, the biological, and the psychological views, 'by disclosing those conditions under which only associated activities can be so carried on, that the complete living of each consists with, and conduces to) the complete living of all. At first the welfare of social groups, habitually in antagonism with other such groups, takes precedence. of individual welfare; and the rules of conduct which are authoritative for the time being, involve incompleteness of individual life that the general life may be Inaintained. At the same time the rules have to enforce the claims of iudi vidual life as far as may be; since on the welfare of the units the welfare of the aggregate largely depends. In proportion as societies endanger one another less, the need for subordinating individual lives to the general life, decreases; and with approach to a' peaceful state, the general life, having from the beginning had furtherance of individual lives as its ultimate purpose, comes to have this as its proximate purpose.

During the transitional stages there are necessitated suc cessive compromises between the moral code which asserts the claims of the society V81'8~iS those of the individual, and the moral code which asserts the claims of the indivi dual versus those of the society. And evidently each such compromise, though for the time being authoritative, admits of no consistent or definite expression. But gradually as war declines-gradually as the compulsory cooperation needful in dealing with external enen1ies becollles unnecessa.ry, and leaves behind the voluntary cooperation which effectually achieves internal sustenta.tion; there grows increasingly clear the code of conduct which voluntary co operation implies. And this final permanent code alone admits THE SOCIOLOGICAL VIEW. 149 of bt)ing definitely formulated, and so constituting ethics as a science in contrast with empirical ethics. , The leading traits of a code under which complete living through voluntary cooperation is secured, may be simply stated. The fundamental requirement is that the life sustaining actions of each shall severally b ring him the amounts and kinds of allvantage naturally achieved by them; and this implies firstly that he shall suffer no direct aggressions 011 his person or property, and secondly that he shall suffer no indirect aggressions by breach of contract. Observance of these negative conditions to volun tary co~operationhaving facilitated life to the greatest extent by exchange of services under agreement, life is to be further facilitated by exchange of services beyond agreement: the highest life being reached only when, besides helping to complete one another's lives by specified reciprocities of aid,.

men ot.herwise help to complete one another'A lives.

OIIAPTER IX. CRITICISMS AND EXPLANATIONS. § 56. Comparisons of the foregoing chapters with one another, suggest sundry questions which must be answered partially, if not completely, before anything can be done towards reducing ethical principles from abstract forms to concrete forms. We have seen that to admit the desirableness of conscious existence, is to admit that conduct should be such as will produce a consciousness which is desirable-a· consciousness which is as much pleasurable and as little painful as may be. We have also seen that this necessary implication corre sponds with the apriori inference, that the evolution of life has been made possible only by the establishment of connexions between pleasures and beneficial actions and between pains and detrimental actions. But the general conclusion reached in both of these ways, though it covers the area within which our special conclusions n1ust fall, does not help us to reach those special conclusions.

Were pleasuros all of one kind, differing only in degree; were pains all of one kind, differing only in degree; and could pleasures be measured against pains with definite results; the problelns of conduct would be greatly SilU plified. Were the pleasures and pains serving as incen tives and deterrents, simultaneously present to consciousness with like vividness, or were they all imn1ediately irnpending, 01' were they ~ll equi-distant in time; the problems would CRITICISMS AND EXPLANATIONS. be further simplified. And they would be still further simplified if the pleasures and pains were exclusively those of the· actor. But both the desirable and the undesirable feelings are of various kinds, making quantitative com parisons difficult; some are present. and some are future, increasing the difficulty of quantitative comparison; some are entailed" on self and some are entailed 'on others; agaiu increasing the difficulty. So that the guidance yielded by the primary principle reached, is of little service unless supplemented by the guidance of secondary principles.

Already, in recognizing the needful subordination of presentative feelings to representative feelings, and the implied postponement of present to future throughout a wide range of cases, some approach to,vards a secondary principle of guidance has been made. Already, too, in recognizing the lilnitations which men's associated state puts to their actions, with the implied need for restraining feelings of some kinds by feelings of other kinds, we have come in sight of another secondary principle of guidance. Still, there remains much to be decided respecting the relative claims of these guiding principles, general and special. Some elucidation of the questions involved, will be obtained by here discussing certain views and arguments set forth by past and present moralists. § 57. Using the name hedonisln for that ethical theory which makes happiness the end of action; and distil1gllish il1g hedonism into the two kinds, egoistic and universalistio J according as the happiness sought is that of the actor himself or is that 01 all, Mr. Sidgwick alleges Its implied belief to be that pleasures and pains are commensurable.

In his criticism on (empirical)egoistio hedonism he says:"The fundamental assumption of Hedonism, clearly st.ated, is that all feelings .considered merely 3S feelings can be arranged· i.n a certain scale 01 desirability, so that the desirability or pleasantness of each bears a definiti ratio 1.0 that of all the others."-Methods oj Ethics, 2nd ed. p. 115.

152 rHE DATA OF ETHICS. A.nd asserting this to be its assulTIption, he proceeds to point out difficulties in the way of .the hedonistio calculation; apparently for the purpose of implying that these difficulties tell against t.he hedonistic theory. Now though it may be shown that by naming the intensity, the duration, the certainty, and the proxiluity, of a pl~asure or a pain, as traits entering into the estimation of its relative value, Bentham has committed himself to the specified assumption; and though it is perhaps reasonably taken for granted that hedonism as represented by him, is identical with hedonism at large; yet it seems to TIle that the hedonist, en1pirical or other, is not necessarily comrnitted to this assulTIption. That the greatest surplus of pleasures over pains ought to be the end of action, is a belief which he may still consistently hold after admitting that the valuations of pleasures and pains are commonly vague and often erroneous. He may say that though indefinite things do not admit, of definite measurements, yet approxi mately true estin1ates of their relative values may be made when they differ considerably; and he may furthel-say that even when their relative values are not deterluinable, it :temain~ true that the most valuable should be chosen. Let us listen to him.

" A debtor who cannot pay me, offers to compound for his debt by making over one of sundry things he possesse~ a diamond ornament, a silver vase, a picture, a carriage. Other questions being set aside, I assert it to be my pecu .. niary interest to choose the most valuable of these; but I cannot say which is the most valuable. Does the pro position that it is my pecuniary interest to choose the most valuable therefore beconle doubtful? lYIust I not choose as well as I can j and if I choose wrongly must I give up my ground of <.ihr)ice? Mlist I infer that in matters of business I may not ~v:t on the principle that, other things equal, the more profit3.ble transaction is to be preferred; because in many c~8r;s I cannot say which is the more profitable J CRITICISMS AND EXFLANATIONS. 153 and· have often chosen the less profitable? Because 1 believe that of many dangerous courses I ought to take the least· dangerous, do I make 'the fundamental assumption' that courses· can be arranged according to a scale· or dangerousness j and must I abandon ml belief if I cannot so arrange t,hem? If I am not by consistency bound. to do this, then I am no n10re by consistency bound to give up the principle that the greatest surplus of pleasures over pains should be the end of action, because the 'commen surability of pleasures and pains' cannot be asserted."

At the close of his chapters on empirical hedonism, Mr. Sidgwick himself says he does "not think that the cummon experience of mankind, impartially examined, really sustains the view that Egoistic Hedonism is necessarily suicidal;" adding, however, that the "uncertainty of hedon istic calculation cannot be denied to have great weight." But here the fundamental assumption of hedonism, that happiness is the end of action, is .still· supposed to involve the assumption that "feelings can be arranged in a certain scale of desirability." This we have seen it does not: its fundamental assumption is in no degree invalidated by proof that such arrangement of therll is impracticable. To ltfr. Sidgwick's argument there is the further objection, no·· less serious, that to whatever degree it tells against egoistic hedonism, it tells in a greater degree against universalistic hedonism, or utilitarianism. He admits that it tells as much ; saying "whatever weight is to be attached to the objections brought against this assumption [the com· mensurability 6f pleasures and pains] must of course tell against the present method."· Not only·does it tell, but it tells in a double way. I do not mean merely that, as be points out, the assumption becomes greatly conlplicated if we take all sentient beings into account} and if we include posterity' along with . existing individuals. I IDf3an that, taking as the end to be achieved the greatest happiness of ~he existing individuals forming a single community) the set 154 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

of difficulties standing in the way of egoistic hedonism, is compounded with another set of difficulties no less great, when we pass from it to universalistic hedonism. For if the dictates of universalistic hedonism are to be fulfilled, it must be under the guidance of individual judgments, or of corporate judgments, or of both. Now any one of such judgments issuing from a single mind, or from any aggregate of minds, necessarily eUlbodies conclusions respecting the happinesses of other persons; few of them known, and the great mass never seen. All these persons have natures differing in countless ways and degrees from the natures of those who form the judglnents; and the happinesses of which they are severally capable differ from one another, and differ from the happinesses of those who form the judg ments. Consequently, if against the method of egoistic hedonism there is the objection that a, man's own pleasures and pains, unlike in their kinds, intensities, and times of occurrence, are incornmensurable; then against the method of universalistic hedonism it may be urged that to the in commensurability of each judge's own .pleasures and pains (which he must use as standards) has now to be added the much more decided incommensurability of the pleasures and pains which he conceives to be experienced by innumerable other persons, all differently constituted from himself and from one another.

Nay more-there is a triple set of difficulties in the way of un,iversalistic hedonis111. To the double indeterminateness of the end has to be added the indeterminateness of the nleans. If hedonisln, egoistic or universalistic, is to pass from dead theory into living practice, acts of one or other kind must be decided on to achieve proposed objects; and in estimating the two methods we have to consider how far the fitness of the acts respectively required can be judged. If, in pursuing his own ends, the individual is liable to be led by erroneous opinions to adjust his acts wrongly, much more liable is he to be led by erroneous opinions to CRITICISMS AND. EXPLANATIONS. 155 adjust wrongly more complex acts to the more con1plex ends constituted by other 111en' ~ wel£ares. It is so if he operates singly to benefit a few others; and it is still more so if he cooperates .with Inany to benefit all. Making general happiness the immediate object of pursuit, iruplies numerous and complicated instrumentalities officered by thousands of nnseen and unlike persons, and working on millions of other persons unseen and unlike. :Even the few factors in this inl111ense aggregate of appliances and processes whiGh are known, are very imperfectly known; and the great mass of them are unknown. So that even supposing valuation of pleasures and pains for the community at large ismore practicable than, or even as practicable as, valuation of his own pleasures and pains by the individual; yet the ruling of conduct with a vie·w to the one end is far more difficult than the ruling of it with a view to the other. Hence if the nlethod of egoistic hedonism is unsatisfactory, far more un satisfactory for the same and kindred reasons, is the method of universalistic hedonism, or utilitarianism.

And here we conle in sight of the conclusion which it has been the purpose of the foregoing criticism to bring into view. The objection made to the hedonistic nlethod contains a trnth, but includes with it an untruth. For while the proposition that happiness, whether individual or genoral, is the end of action, is not invalidated by proof that i.t cannot tinder either form be estimated by measurement of its cOlllponents; yet it may be admit,ted that guidance jn the pursuit of happiness by a mere balancing of pleasures and pains, is, if partiaJly practicable throughout a certain range of conduct, futile throughout a much wider range. It is quite consistent to assert that happiness is the ultimate aim of action, and at· the same time to deny that it can be reached by making. it the immediate aim. I go with ]\{r. Sidgwick as far as the conclusion that "we must at least admit the desirability of confirming or correcting the results of auch comparisons [of pleaEures and pains] by any other J56 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

method upon which we may find reason to rely j" and I then go further, and say that throughout a large part of conduct guidance by such comparisons is to be entirely set aside and replaced by other guidance. § 58. The antithesis here insisted upon between the hedonistic end considered in the abstract, and the method which current hedunisln, whether egoistic or universalistic, associates with that end; and the joining acceptance of the one with rejection of the other; commits us to an overt discussion of these two cardinal elements of ethical theory. I may conveniently initiate this discussion by criticizing another of Mr. Sidgwick's criticisuls on the method of hedonism. Though we can give no account of those siulple pleasures which the seuses yield, because they are undecomposable, yet we distinctly know their characters as states of consciousness. Conversely, the complex pleasures formed by compounding and re-compounding the ideas of silTIple pleasures, though theoretically resolvable into their components, are not easy to resolve; and in proportion as they are heterogeneous in composition, the difficulty of framing intelligible conceptions of them increases. This is especially the case with the pleasures which accompany our sports. Treating of these, along with the pleasures of pursuit in general, for the purpose of showing that (( in order to get them one must forget them," Mr. Sidgwick remarks:"A man who maintains throughout an epicurean mood, fixing his aim on his own pleasure, does not catch the full spirit of the chase; his eagerness never gets just the sharpness of edge which imparts to the pleasure its highest zest and flavour. Here comes into view what we may call the fundamental para.dox of Hedonism, that the impulse towards pleasure, if too predominant.

defeats its own aim. This effect is not visible, or at any rate is scarcely visible, in the case of passive sensual pleasures. But of our active enjoyments gene rally, whether the activities on which they attend are classed as' bodily' or as , intellectual' (as well as of many emotional pleasures). it may certainly be said t.hat we cannot attain them, at least in their best form, so long as we concentrate our aim on them."-Methods of Efl1Jics, 2nd ed.p. 41. Now I think we shall not regard this truth as paradoxical CRITICISMS AND EXPIJAl\ATIONS 157 after we have duly analyzed. the pleasur~ of pursuit. The chief components of -this pleasure .are ;-first, a renewed consciousness of personal efficiency (made vivid by actual success and partially excited by impending success) which consciousness of personal efficiency, connected in expe rience with achieved ends of every kind, arouses a vaguo but massive consciousness of resulting gratifiyations; and, second, a representation of the applause which recognition of this efficiency by others has before brought, and will again bring. Games of skill show us this clearly. Con sidered as an end in itself, the good cannon which a billiard player makes yields no pleasure. Whence then does the plea~ure of making it arise? Partly from the fresh proof of capability which the player gives to himself, and p:u"tly from the •imagined admiration of those who witness the proof of his capability: the last being the chief, since he soon tires of making cannons in the absence of witnesses.

When from games which, yielding the pleasures of success, ~Tield no pleasure derived from the end considered intrinsi. cally, we pass to sports in which the end has intrinsic value as a· source of pleasure, we see substantially the sanle thing. Though the bird which the sportsman brings down is useful as food, yet his satisfaction arises mainly from having made a good shot, and from having added to the bag which will presently bring praise of his .skill. The gratification of self-esteem he immediatel.r experiences; and the gratification of receiving applause he experiences, if nof immediately and in full degree, yet by representation; for the ideal pleasure is nothing else than a faint revival of tho real· pleasure. 'rhese two kinds of agreeable excitetnel1t present in the sportsman during the chase, constitute the mass of the desires stimulating him to continue it; for aU desires are nascent forms of the feelings to be obtained by the efforts they prompt. And though while seeking more birds these representative feelings are not so vividly excited as by success just achieved, yet they are excited' b1 158 Tn E DATA Oli' ETHICS.

imaginations of fl;rtber successes; and so make enjoyable the activities constituting the pursuit. Recognizing, then, the truth that the pleasures of pursuit are much more those derived froIn the efficient use o£ Dleans than those derived from the end itself, we see that" the fundaruental paradox of hedonisln" disappears. These ren1arks concerning end and means, and the pleasure accompanying nse o£ the n1eans as added to the pleasure derived fronl the end, I have made £01" the purpose of drawing attention to a fact of profound significance. During evolution there has been a. superposing of new and more con1plex sets of means upon older and simpler sets o£ means; and a superposing of the pleasures accompanying the JIses of these successive sets of Ineans; with the result that each of these pleasures has itself eventually becolue an end. Webegin with a simple animal which, without ancillary appliances, swallows such food as accident brings in its way j and so, as we may assume, stills some kind or craving.

Here we have the primary end or llutrition with its accorn panying satisfaction, in their simple forms. We pass to higher types having jaws for seizing and biting-jaws which thus, by their actions, facilitate achievement of the primary end. On observing animals furnished with these organs, we get evidence that the use of them becomes in itself pleasurable irrespective of the end: instance a squirrel, which, apart from food to be so obtained, delights in nibbling every'thing it gets hold or. Turning from jaws to limbs we see that these, serving SaIne creatures for pursuit and others for escape, similarly yield gratification by their exercise; as in lamhg which skip and horses which prance. Haw the combinad use or limbs and jaws, originally subserving the satisfaction of appetite, grows to be in itself pleasurable, is daily illustrated in the playing of dogs. For that throwing down and worrying which, when prey is caught, precedes eating, is, in their mimic fights, carried by each as far as he dares. Coming to means still more remote from the end.

CRITICISMS AND EXPLANATIONS. 159 namely, those .by which creatures chased are caught, we are again shown by dogs that when no creature iscaug~t there is still a gratification in the act of catching. The eagerness with 'which a dog runs after stones, or dances and barks in anticipation of jumping into the water after a stick, proves that apart from the satisfaction of appetite, and apart even from the satisfaction of killing prey, there is a satisfaction in the successful pursuit ot a moving object. Throughout, then, we see that the pleasure attend ant on the use ot means to achieve an end, itself becomes an end. Now if we contemplate these as phenomena of conduct in general, some facts worthy of note may be discerned-facts which, if we appreciate their significance, will aid us in developing our ethical conceptions. 011e of them is that among the successive sets of means, the later are the lnore remote from the primary end; are, as CQ ordinating .earlier and simpler means, the more complex; and are accompanied by .feelings which are nlore repre sentative. Another fact is that each set of mean~, with its accornpanying satisfactions, eventually becomes in its turn dependent on one originating later than itself.

Before the g"ullet swallows, the jaws must lay hold; before the jaws tear out and bring within the grasp of the gullet a piece fit fol" swallowing, there must be that cooperation of limbs and senses required for killing the prey; before this cooperation can take place, there needs the much longer cooperation constituting the chase; and even before this there must be persistent activities of limbs, eyes, anc1 nose, in seeking prey. The pleasure attending each set of acts, while making possible the pleasure attending the set of acts which follows, is joined with a representation of this subsequent set of acts and its pleasure, and of the others which succeed in order; so that along with the feeling3 accompanying the search for prey, are partially aroused the feelings accompanying the actual chase.. the actual do12 160 THE DA.TA. OF ETHICS. strnction, the actual devouring, and tIle eventual satisfaction of appetite. A third fact is that the use of each set of means in due order, constitutes an obligation. Mainte nance of its life being regarded as the end of its conduct, the creature is obliged to use in succession the means of finding prey, the means of catching prey, the means of killing prey, the means of devouring prey. Lastly, it follows that though the assuaging of hunger, directly associated with sustentation, remains to the last the ultimate end; yet the successful use of each set of nleans in its turn is the proximate end-the end which takes temporary precedence in authoritativeness.

§ 59. The relations between means and ends thus traced throughout the earlier stages of evolving conduct, are traceable throughout later stages; and hold true of h~man conduct, up even to its highest forms. As fast as, for the better Inaintenance of ll£e, the simpler sets of means and the pleasures accompanying the uses of them, conle to be supplemented by the more complex sets of means and their pleasures, these begin to take precedence in time and in .imperativeness. fro use effectually each nlore complex set of nleans becomes the proximate end, and the accom panying feeling becomes the ilnmediate gratification sought j though there maybe, and habitually is, an associated conscious. ness of the remoter ends and remoter gratifications to be obtained. An example will make clear the parallelism. Absorbed in his business the trader, if asked what is his main end, will say-making money. He readily grants that aehievement of this end is desired by him in furtherance vf ends beyond it. He knows that in directly seeking money he is indirectly seeking food, clothes, house-room, and the comforts of life for self and family. But while admitting that money is but a means to these ends, he urges that the money getting actions precede in order of time and obligation, the .various actions and concomitant pleasures subserved by CRITICISMS AND EXPLANATrONS. 161 tbem; and he testifies to the fact that making money has becon1e itself an end, and success in it a source of satis faction, apart from these more distant ends. Again, on observing more closely the trader's proceedings, we find that though to the end of living comfortably he gets money, and though to the elld of getting money he buys and sells at a pro£t, which so becomes a means more immediately pursued, yet he is chiefly occupied with means still more remote from ultimate ends, and in relation to which even the selling at a profit brcomes an end. ]'01" leaving to subor dinates the actual measuring out of goods and receiving of proceeds, he busies himself mainly with his general affairs inquiries concerning markets, judgments of future. prices, calculations, negotiations, correspondence: the anxiety from hour to hour being to do well each one of these thing~ indirectly conducive to the making. of profits. And these ends precede in time and obligation the effecting of profitable sales, just as the effecting of profitable sales precedes the end of money-making, and just as the end of money-making precedes the end of satisfactory living. Ilis book.

keeping best exemplifies the principle at large. Entries to the debtor or creditor sides are being .made all through the day; the items are ciassified and arranged in such way that at a monlent's notice the state of each account may·be ascertained; and then, from tiule to time, the books are fbalanced, and it is required that the result shall come right to a penny: satisfaction following proved correctness~ and annoyance being caused by error. If you ask why all this elaborate process, so remote £l'om the actual getting of money, and still more remote from the enjoyments of life, the answer is that keeping accounts correctly is fulfilling a condition to the end of money-making, and becomes in itself a proxinlate end-a duty to be discharged, that there may be discharged the duty of getting an income, that there may be discharged the duty of maintaining selfJ wife, and children.

Lb~ TilE DATA OF ETHICS. Approaching as we here do to moral obligation, are we not shown its relations to c~nduct at large? Is it not clear that observance of Inoral prineiples is fulfihnent of certain general conditions to the sllccessful carrying on / of special actl"ities? That the trader may prosper, he must not only keep his books correctly, but must pay those he employs according to agreement, and must nleet his engagements with creditors. May we not say, then, that conformity to the second and third of these requirements is, like conformity to the first, an indirect means to effectual use of the more direct means of achieving welfare? May we not say, too~ that as the use of each more indirect means in due order becomes itself an end, and a source of gratifica-_ tion; so, eventually, becomes the use of this most indirect means? And may we not infer that though conformity to moral requirements precedes in imperativeness conformity to other requirelnents; yet that this imperativeness a:-~ses from the fact that fulfilment of the other requirements, by self or others or both, is thus furthered?

§ 60. This question brings us rounel to another side of tIle issue before raised. When alleging that empirical utili tarianism is but introductory to rational utilitarianism, I pointed out that the last does not. take welfare for its im mediate object of pursuit, but takes for its immediate object of pursuit conformity to certain principles which, in the nature. of things, causally determine welfare. And now we see that this amounts to recognition of that law, traceable throughout the evolution of conduct in general, that each later and. higher order of means takes precedence in time and authori. tativeness of each earlier and lower order of means. The contrast between the ethical methods thus distinguished, made tolerably clear by the above illustrations, will be made still clearer by contemplating the two as put in oppo'sition by the leading exponent of empirical utilitarianism. Treat.

ing of legislative aims, Bentham writes:CRITICISMS AND EXPLANATION8. 163 ,. But justice, what is it that we are to· understand by justice ~ and why not bappiness but justice? Wh~t happiness is, every man knows, because, what pleasure is, every man knows, and what pain is, every man knows. .But what justice is,-this is what on every occasion is the suhject-matter of dispute. Be the meaning of the •word justice what it will, what regard is it entitled to otherwise than as a means of happiness."* IJet U'S first consider the assertion here made respecting tbe rel \ative intelligibilities of these two ends; and let us afterwards consider what is implied by the choice of happiness instead of justice. Bentham's positive assertion that "what happiness is every man knows, becanse, what pleasure is, every man knows," is met by countera~sertions equally positive . ." Who can tell," asks Plato, "what pleasure really is, or know it in its essence, except the philosopher, who alone is conversant with realities."t Aristotle, too, after com menting on the different opinions held by the vulgar, by the poljtical, by the contemplative, says of happiness that "to some it seems to be virtue, to others prudence, and to others a kind of wisdom: to some again,these, or some one of these, with pleasure, or at least, not without pleasure; others again include external prosperity."i And Aristotle, like Plato, comes to the remarkable conclusion that the pleasures of the· intellect, reache9. by the contemplative life, constitute the highest happiness! § How disagreements concerning the nature of happiness and the relative values of pleasures, thus exhibited in ancient times, continue down to modern times, is shown in Mr. Sidgwick's discussion of egoistic hedonism, above comn1ented upon. Further, as was pointed out before, tho indefiniteness attending the estimations of pleasures and pains, which stands in the way of egoistic hedonism as ordinarily conceived, is immensely increased on passing to universalistic hedonism as ordinarily conceived; since its * Constitutional Code, chap. xvi, Supreme Legislative-Section vi, Om.ni competence.

t Republic, Bk. ix. ; Nicomachean Ethics, Bk. i. chap. 8. § Bk. x, chap. 7 104 THE DATA OF ETHICS. theory implies that the imagined pleasures and pains of others are to be estimated by the help of these pleasures and pains of self, already so difficult to estinlate. And that anyone after observing the various pursuits into which some eagerly enter but which others shun, and after listening to the different opinions concerning the likeableness of this or that occupation or amusement, expressed at every table, ~hould assert that the nature of happiness can be fully agreed upon, so as to render it a fit end for direct legislative action, is surprising. The accompanying proposition that justice is unin telligible as an end, is no less surprising. Though primitive nlen have no words for either happiness or justice; yet even among them an approach to the conception of justice is traceable. The law of retaliation, requiring that a death inflicted by one tribe on another, shall be balanced by the death either of the nlurderer or SOlne member of his tribe, shows us in a vague ~hape that notion of equal ness of treatment which forlns an essential element in it. When we come to early races who have given their thoughts and feelings literary form, we find this conception of justice, as involving equalness of action, becoming distinct. Among the Jews, David expressed in words this association of ideas when, prnying to God to "hear the right," he said-" Let nlY sentence come forth from thy presence; let thine eyes behold the things that are equal ;"

as also, among early Christians, did Paul when to the Colos.. sians he wrote-" Masters, give unto yo~r servants that which is just and equal." Commenting on the different meanings of justice, Aristotle concludes that "the just will therefore Le the lawful and the equal; and the unjust the unlawful lind the unequal. But since the unj ust man is also one who takes more than his share," &c. And that justice was simi larly conceived by the Romans they proved by including undex-it such meanings as exact, proportionate, irnpartial, severally implying fairness of division; and still better CRITICISMS AND EXPLANATIONS. 165 by identification of it with "equity, which is a derivative of cequus: the word requus itself having for one of its meanings just or impartial. This coincidence of view arnong ancient peoples respecting the nature of justice, has extended to modern peoples; who by a general agreement in certain cardinal principles which their systems of law embody, forbidding direct aggressions, which are forms of unequal actions, and forbidding indirect aggressions by breaches of contract, which are other forms of unequal actions, one and all show us the identification of justice with equalness. Bentham, then, is wrong when he says "But what jusLice is,-this is what on every occasion is the subject-matter of dispute." He is more wrong, indeed, t,han has thus far appeared. For, in the first place, he misrepresents utterly by ignoring the fact that in ninety-nine out of every hundred daily transactions between men, no dispute about justice arises; but the business done is recognized on both sides as justly done.

And in the second place if, with respect to the hundredth transaction there is a dispute, the subject matter of it is not (( what justice is," for it is admitted to be equity or equalness; hut the subject matter of dispute always is what, under these particular circumstances, constitutes equalness ?-a widely different question. It is not then self-evident" as Bentham allege~, that happiness is an intelligible end while justice is not; but, contrariwise, examination makes evident the greater in telligibility of justice as an end. And analysis shows why it is the more intelligible. For justice, or equity, or equal ness, is concerned exclusively with quantity under stated condit,ions j whereas happiness is concerned with both q~lantity and quaUty under conditions not stated. When, as . in case of theft, a benefit is taken while no equivalent benefit is yielded-when, as in case of adulterated goods bought or base coin paid, that which is agreed to be given in exchange as of equal value is not given, but some166 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

thing of less value-when, as in case of broken contract, the obligation on one side has been discharged while there has been no discharge, or il1.COlllpletedischarge, of the obligation on the other; we. see that, the circumstances being spec1"jiedJ the injustice complained of refers to the relative alnounts of actions, or products, or benefits, the natures of which are recognized only so far as is needful for saying whether as fJnuch has been given, or done, or allowed, by each concerned, as was implied by tacit or overt understand ing to be an eq~tivalent. But when the end proposed is happiness, the circumstances fJoem,aining unspecified, the problem is that of estimating both quantities and qualities, unhelped by any such definite measures as acts of exchange imply, or as contracts imply, or as are implied by the differences between the doings of one aggressing and one aggressed upon. The mere fact that Bentham himself includes as elements in the estimation of each pleasure or pain, its intensity, duration, certainty, and proximity, suffices to show how difficult is this problem. And when it is remembered that all pleasures and pains, not felt in particular cases only but in the aggregate of cases, and severally regarded under these four al.lpects, have to be compared with one another and their 1'e]a tive values deter~ mined, simply by introspection; it will be manifest both that the problem is complicated by the addition of indefinite judgments of qualities to indefinite measures of quantities, and that it is further complicated by the multitudinous ness of these vague estimations to be gone through and summed up.

But now passing over this assertion of Bentham that happiness is a more intelligible end than justice, which 'we find to be the reverse of truth, let us Dote the several implications of the doctrine that the supreme legislative body ought to make the greatest happiness of the greatest number its immediate aim. It implies, in the first place, that happiness may be CRITICISMS AND EXPLANATIONS. 167 eompassed by metllods framed directly for the purpose, without any previous inquiry respecting the conditions that must be fulfilled; and this presupposes a belief that there are no such conditions. For if there are any conditions without fulfilment of which happiness cannot be compassed, then the first step nlust be' to ascertain these conditions with a view to fulfilling them; and to admit this is to admit that not happiness itself must be the immediate end, but fulfilment of the conditions to its attainment must be the immediate end. The alternatives are simple :-Either the achievement of happiness is not conditional, in which nase one mode of action is as good as another,or it is condit/ionaI, in which case the required mode of action must be the direct aim and not the happiness to be achieved by it.

Assuming it conceded, as it will be, that there exist conditions which must be fulfilled before happiness can be attained, let us next ask what is ill1pliedby proposing modes of so controlling conduct as to further happiness, without previously inquiring whether any such modes are already known? The implication is that human intelligence throughout the past, operating on experiences, has failed to discover any such modes; whereas present human intelligence may be expected forthwith to discover them. Unless this be asserted, it·must be admitted that certain con ditions tu the achievement of happiness have already been partially, if not wholly, ascertained; and if so, our first business should be to look fDr them. Having found them, our rational course is to bring existing intelligence to bear on these products of past intelligence, with the expectation that it will verify the substance of them while possibly correcting the form. But to suppose that no regulative principles for the conduct of associated human beings have thus far been established, and that they are now to be established de novo, is to snppose that man as he is differs from man as he was in an incredible degree • .Beyond ignoring the probability, or rather the certainty, 168 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

th.at past experience generalized by past intelligence, must by this time have disclosed partially, if not wholly, some of the essential conditions to the achievement of happiness, B6.ntham's proposition ignores the formulated know ledge of them actually existing. For whence come the conception of justice and the answering sentiment. He will scarcely say that they are meaningless, although his pro.position implies as much; and if he admits that they have mean ings, he must choose between two alternatives either of which is fatal to his hypothesis. Are they supernaturally caused modes of thinking and feeling, tending to make men fulfil the conditions to happiness? If so their authority is peremptory. Are they modes of thinking and feeling naturally caused in men by experience of these condi tions? If so, their authority is no less peremptory. Not only, then, does Bentham fail to infer that certain prin cipleo of guidance must by this time have been ascertained, but he refuses to recognize these principles as actually reached and present to him.

And then after all, he tacitly admits that which he overtly denies, by saying that-" Be the meaning of the word justice what it will, what regard is it entitled to otherwise than as a means to happiness?" For if justice is a means having happiness as its end, then justice must take prece dence of happiness, as every other means takes precedenc~ of every other end. Bentham's own elaborate polity is a means having happiness as its end, as justice is, by his own admission, a means having happiness as an end. If, then, we may properly skip justice, and go directly to the end happiness, we may properly skip Bentham's polity, aud go directly to the end happiness. In short, we are led to the remarkable conclusion that in all cases we must contemplate exclusively the end and must disregard the means. ~ 61 This relation of enc1s to means, underlying all ethical CRITICISMS AND EXPLANATIONS • 169 .8peculation, will be further eluoidated if l\-·C JOln with some of the above conclusions, certain cOllcJnsions drawn in the last chapter. We shall see that while greatest hap ..

piness may vary widely in societies which, though ideally constituted, are subject to unlike physical circumstances, certain fundamental conditions to thE: achievement of this grL\'.1testhappiness, are common to' ali such societies. Given a people inhabiting a tract which makes nomadic habits necessary, and the happiness of each individual will be greatest when his nature is so moulded to the require ments of his life, that all his faculties find their due activities in daily driv!ng and tending cattle, milking, migrating, and so forth. The members of a community otherwise similar, which· is permanently settled, will severally achieve their greatest bappiness when their natures have become such that a fixed habitat, and the occupations necessitated by it, supply the spheres in which each instinct and emotion is exercised and brings the concomitant pleasure. The citizens of a larg~ nation industrially organized, have reached their possible ideal of happiness, when the producing, distributing, and other activities, are such in their kinds and amounts, that each citjzen finds in them a place for all his energies and aptitudes, while he obtains the means of satisfying all his desires.

Once more we may recognize as not only possible but pro bable, the eventual existence of a community, also industrial, the members of which, having natures similarly responding to these requirements, are also characterized by dominant rosthetic faculties, and achieve complete happiness only when a large part of life is filled with resthetic activities. Evidently these different types of men, with their different standards of happiness, each finding the possibility of that happiness in his own society, would not find it if transferred to any of the other societies. Evidently though they might have in common such kinds of happiness as accompany the satisfaction of vital needs) they would not have in commOll sundry other kinds of happiness.

170 THE DATA OF ETHICS. But now mark tllat while, to achieve greatest h&'ppines~ in each of such societ,ies, the special conditions to be fulfilled must differ froul those to be fulfilled iu the other societies, certain general conditions must be fulfilled in all the societies. IIarlllonious cooperation, by which alone in any of them the greatest happiness can be attained, is, as we saw, made possible only by respect for one another's claims: there must be neither those direct aggressions which we class as crimes against person and property, nor must there be those indirect aggressions constituted by breaches of con tracts. So that ITlaintenance of equitable relations between men, is the condition to attainment of greatest happiness in all societies; however much the greatest happiness attainable in each may differ in nature, or amount~ or both. And here a physical analogy may fitly be used to give the greatest definiteness to this cardinal truth. A mass of matter of whatever kind, Inaintains its state of internal equilibrium, so long as its component particles severally stan~ towards their neighbours in equi-distant positions. Accept ing the conclusions of modern physicists, which imply that each ulolecule moves rhythn1ically, then a balanced state· implies that each performs its movements within 8 space bounded by the like spaces required for the move ments of those around. If the molecules have been so aggregated that the oscillations of some are more restrained than the oscillations of others, there is a proportionate insta.bility. If the nUInber of" them thus unduly restrained is considerable, the instability is such that the cohesion in some part is liable to fail, and a crack re.sults. If the excesses of restraint are great and ill ultitudinous, a trifling disturbance causes the mass to break up into smaH fragments. '1'0 which add that the recognized remedy for this unstable state, is an exposure to such physical condition (ordinarily high ternperature) as enables the molecules so to change their relative positions that their mutual restraints become equal on all sides. And now observe that this holds what"

CRITICIS:M:SAND EXPLANATIONS. 171 ever be the n~tures of the molecules. They may be simple ; they may be compound ; they may be .composed of this 01' that matter in this or that way. In other words, the special activities of each molecule, constituted by the relative move ments of its units, may be various in their kinds ~nd degrees; and yet, be they what they may, it remains true that to preserve internal equilibrium throughout the mass of mole.. cules,· the 'mutual limitations of their activities must be everywhere alike. And this is the 'above-described pre-requisite to social equilibrium, whatever the special natures of the associated persons. Assun1ing that within each society such persons 'are of the same type, needing for the fulfilment of their several lives kindred activities, and though these activities may/be of one kind in one· society and of another kind in another, so admitting of indefinite variation, this condition to social equilibrium does not admit of variation. It must be fulfilled be£orecomplete life, that is greatest happiness, can be attained in any society; be the particular quality of that life, or that happiness, what it may. * § 62. After thus observing how means and ends in conduct stand to one another, and how there emerge certain Con clusions respecting their relative claims, we may see a way to reconcile sundry conflicting e~hical theories. These severally eUlbody portions of the truth; and simply require combining in proper order to embody the whole truth.

The theological theory contains a part. If for the divine will, supposed to be supernaturally revealed, we substitute th.e naturally-revealed end towards which the Power mani. fested throughout Evolution works; .then, since Evolution has been, and is still, working. towards the highest life, it follows that conforming to those principles by which the. highest life is achieved, is furthering that end. The doctrine * This nni versaI reqnirement it was which I had in view when choosing fOl my first work, published in 1850, the title BociaZ Statics.

1'72 THE DA.TA. OF ETHICS. that perfection or excellence of nature should be the object of pursuit, is in one sense trne; for it tacitly recognizes that ideal form of being which the highest life implies, and to which Evolution tends. There is a truth, also, in the doc trine that virtue nlust be the aim; for this is another form of the doctrine that the aim must be to fulfil the conditions to achievement of the highest life. 'rhat the intuitions of a moral faculty should guide our conduct, is a proposition in which a truth is contained; for these intuitions are the slowly organized results of experiences received by the race while living in presence of these conditions. And that happiness is the supreme end is beyond ques tion true; for this is the concoillitant of that highest life which every theory of moral guidance has distinctly or vaguely in view. So understanding their relative positions, those ethical systems which make virtue, right, obligation, the cardinal ainls, are seen to be complementary to those ethical systems which make welfare, pleasure, happiness, the cardinal aims.

Though the moral sentiments generated in civilized men by daily contact with social conditions and gradual adaptation to them, are indispensable as incentives and deterrents; and though the intuitions corresponding to these senti ments, have, in virtue of their origin, a general authority to be reverently recognized; yet the sympathies and antipathies hence originating, together with the intellectual expressions of them, are, in their pl~imitive forms, necessarily vague. To n1ake guidance by them adequate to all requirements, their dictates have to be interpreted and made definite by ~;cience; to which end there nlust be analysis of those conditions to complete living which they respond to, and from converse with which they have arisen. And such analysis necessitates the recognition of happiness for each and all, as the end to be achieved by fulfilment of these conditions. Hence, recognizing in due degrees all the various ethica'1 theories, conduct in its highest form will take as guides.

CRITICISMS AND EXPLANATIONS. 173 innate perceptions of right duly enlightened and made precise by· an analytic intelligence; while conscious that these guides are proxinlately supreme solely because they lead to the ultimately supreme end, happiness special and general.

THE RELATIVITY OF PAINS AND PLEASURES. § 63. .Ii. truth of cardinal importance as a datum of EthiCS, which was incidentally referred to in the last chapter, must bere be set forth at full length. I mean tIle truth that not only men of different races, but also different men of the same race, and even the saIne men at different periods of life, have different standards of happiness. Though there is some recognition of this by lTIoralists, the recognition is inadequate; and the far reaching conclusions to be drawn when the 'relativity of happiness is fully recognized, are scarcely suspected. It is a belief universal in early life-a 'belief which in most people is but partially corrected in lat.er lire, and in very few wholly dissipated-that there is something intrinsic in the pleasantness of certain things, while ~her things are intr~nsicany unpleasant. The error is analogous to, and closely allied with, the error crude realisni makes. Just as to the uncultured mind it appears self.

evident that the sweetness of sugar is inherent in sugar, that sound as we perceive it is sound as it exists in the external vvorld, and that the warmth from a fire is in itsoJf what it seems; so does it appear self-evident that the sweetness of sugf:Lr is necessarily grateful, that there is in a beautiful sound sonlething that must be beautiful to all creatures J and that the agreeable feeling produced THE RELATIVITY OF PA1NS AND PLEASURES. 1'75 . by warmth is a feeling which every other consciousness must find agreeable. But as criticism proves the one set of conclusions to he wrong, so does it prove to be wrong the other set. Not only are the qualities of external things as intel .. lectually apprehended by us, relative to our own organisms; bllt the pleasurableness or painfulness of the feelings which we associate with such qualities, are also relative to our own organisnls.'rheyare so In a double sense-they are rela tive to its structul~es, and they are relati va to the states of its structures.

'rhat we may not rest in a, mere nominal acceptance of these general truths, but may so appreciate them as to see their full bearings on ethical theory, we must here glance at them as exelTIplified by anin1ate creatures at large. For after contemplating the wide divergences of ~ sentiency accompanying the wide divergences of orgal1iza tionwhich evolution in general has brought about, we shall be enabled the better to see the divergences of sen tiency to be expected froIn the fUl'bher evolution of htunanity. § 64.. Because they can be most quickly disposed of, let us first deal with pains: a further reason for first dealing with pains heing that we may thllS forthwith recognize, and then leave out of consideration, those sentient states the qualities of which nlaybe regarded as absolute rather than relative. The painfulneBs of the feelings .. produced by forces which tend to destroy organic structures" wholly or in part, is of course common to all creatures capable of feeling. We saw it to be inevitable that during evolution there must every where be established such cOl1l1exions between external aetions and the modes of consciousness they cause, that the injurious ones are accompanied by disagreeable feelings ttnd the benefic~al ones by agreeable feelings. Consequently, pressures or strains which tear or bruise, and heats which burn or scald, being in all cases partially or wholly destl'uc"

18 J76 THE nA'f A OF ETH LeB. tive, are in all cases painful. But even here the relativity of the feelings may in one sense be asserted. For the effect of a force of given quantity or intensity, varies partly with the size and partly with the structure of the creature exposed to it. The weight which is scarcely felt by a large animal crushes a sInall one; the blow which breaks the limb of a mouse produces little effect on a horse; the weapon which lacerates a horse leaves a rhinoceros 11llinjured. And with these differences of injuriousness doubt less go differences of feeling. Merely glancing at the illustrations of this truth furnished by sentient beings in general, let us consider the illustrations mankind furnish. Comparisons of robust labouring lTIen with women or children, show us that degrees of meehanical stress which the first bear with impunity, produce on the others injuries and accompanying pains. The blistering of a tender skin by an amount of friction ,vhich does not even redden a coarse one, or the bursting of superficial bluod vessels, and consequent discolouration, caused in a person of lax tissues by a blow which leaves in well-toned tissues no trace, will sufficiently exemplify this contrast. Not only, however, are the pains due to violent incident forces, relative to the characters or constitutional qualities of the parts directly affected, but they are relative in equally marked ways, or even in more marked ways, to the characters of the nervous structures. The common assumption is that 8qual bodily injuries excite equal pains. But this is a mistake.

Pulling out a tooth or cutting off a limb, gives to different perRons widely different alnounts of suffering: not the endurance only, but the feeling to be endured, varies greatly; and the variation largely depends on the degree of nervous development. This is well shown by the great insensi bility of idiots-blows, cuts, and extremes of heat and cold, being borne by them with indifference. * The relation thus shown in the nlost marked manner where the development .. On Idioc'IJ and Im'bec'ility,by William W. Ireland, M.D., p. 255..6.

THE RELATIVITY OF PAINS AND PLEASURES. ] 77 of the central nervous system is abnol'mally low, is shown in a less marked manner where the development of the central nervous system is normally low; namely, among inferior races of men. Many travellers have commented on the strange callousness Shown by savages who have been mangled in battle or by accident; and surgeons in India say that wounds and operations are better borne by natives tl1an by Europeans. Further, there comes the converse fact that among the higher types of men, larger brained and nlore sensitive to pain than the lower, the most sensitive are those whose nervous developments, as shown by their mental powers, are the highest: part of the evidence being the relative intolerance o£ disagreeable sensations common al110ng men of genius, *and the general irritability characteristic of them. That pain is relative not to structures only, but to their states as ,vell, is also mani~est - more manifest indeed.

The sensibility of an external part depends on its telu perature. Cool it below a certain point and it becolues, as we say, numb; and if by ether-spray it is made very cold, it may be cut without any feeling being produced. Oon versely, heat the part so that its blood-vessels dilate, and the pain "rhich any injury or irritation causes is greater than usual. How largely the production of pain depends on the condition of the part affected, we see in the extreme tenderness of an inflamed surface-a tenderness such that a slight. touch causes shrinking, and such that rays from the fire which ordinarily would be indifferent become intolerable. Similarly with the specia1 senses. A light which eyes that are in good order 'bear without dis agreeable feeling, cannot be borne by inflamed eyes. And beyond the local state, the state of the system as a whole, and the state of the nervous centres, are both factors.

Those enfeebled by illness are distressed by noises which those in health bear with equanimity; and men with over• F01' instances see FortniuhtZy Review, Vol. XXIV (New Series), p. 712.

178 THE DATA OF ETHICS. wrought brains are irritated in unusual degrees by annoyances, both physical and nlora.l. Jj"urther, the temporary condition known as exhaustion enters into the relation. Limbs over-worn by prolonged exertion, cannot without aching perform acts which would at other times cause no appreciable feeling. A.fter reading continuously for very many hours, even strong eyes begin to smart. And noises that can be listened to for a short tinle with indifference, become, if there is no cessation, causes of suffering. So that though there-is absoluteness in the relation between positive pains and actions that are positively in jurious, in so far that wherever there is sentiency it exists j yet even here partial relativity may he asserted. For there is no fixed relation between the acting force and the pro duced feeling. The amount of feeling varies with the size of the organism, with the character of its outer structures, with the character of its nervous system; and also with the temporary states of the part affected, of the body at large, and of the nervous centres.

§ 65. The relativity of pleasures is far more conspicuous; and the illustrations of it furnished by the sentient world at large are innumerable. It needs but to glance round at the various things ",~hich different creatures are prompted by their desires to eat and are gratified in eating-flesh for predaceous animals, grass for the herbivora, worU1S for the mole, flies for the swallow, seeds for the finch, honey for the bee, a decaying car case for the maggot-to be reminded that the tastes for foods are relative to the structures of the creatures. A.nd t.his truth, made conspicuous by a survey vf animals in general, is forced on our attention even by a survey of different races of men. Here hUlnan flesh is abhorred, and there regarded as the greatest delicacy; in this country roots are allowed to putrefy before they are eaten, and in that the taint of decay produces disgust j the whale's THE RELATIVITY OF PAINS AND PLEASURES. 179 blubber which one race devours with avidity, will in another by its very odour produce nausea. Nay, without looking abroad we may, in the common saying that "one man's meat is another man's poison," see the general admission that members of the same society so far differ, that a ta:5te w 11ich is to these pleasurable is to those displeasurable. So is it with the other senses. Assafretida which by us is singled out as typical of the disgusting in odour, ranks among the Esthonians as a favourite perfume; and even those around us vary so far in their likings that the scents of flowers grateful to some are repugnant to others .

.Analogous differences in the preferences for colours, we daily hear expressed. And in a greater or less degree the like holds with all sensations, down even to those of touch: the feeling yielded by velvet, which is to most agreeable; setting the teeth on edge in SOUle. It needs/ but to name appetite and satiety to suggest multitudinous facts showing that pleasures are relative not only to the organic structures but also to their states. The food which yields keen gratification when there is great hunger ceases to be grateful when hunger is satisfied; and if then forced on the eater is rejected with aversion. So, too, a particular kind ·of food, seeming when first tasted so delicious that daily repetition would be a source of endless enjoyn1.ent,becomes, in a few days, not only unenjoyable but repugnant. Brilliant colours which, falling on unaccustomed eyes give delight, pall on the sense if long looked at; and there is relief in getting away from the inlpressions they yield. Sounds sweet in themselves and sweet in their com binations, which yield to unfatigued ears intense pleasure, become, at the end of a long concert, not oil1y wearisome but, if there is no escape from them, causes of irritation.

The like holds down even to such sinlple sensations as those of heat and cold. The :fire so delightful on a winter's day is, in hot weather, oppressive; and pleasure is then taken in the ~old water from which, in winter, there would be 180 THE DATA OF ETHIC:!. shrinking. Indeed, experiences lasting over but a few moments snffice to show how relative to the states of the structures are pleasurable. sensations of these kinds; for it is observable that on dipping the cold band into hot water, the agreeable feeling gradually diminishes as the hand warms. r.I'hese few instances will carry home tbe truth, manifest enough to all who observe, that the receipt of each agreeable sensation depends primarily on the existence of a strncture which is called into play; and, secondarily, on the condition of that structure, as fitting it or unfitting it for activity. § 66. The truth that ell1otional pleasures are made possible, . partly by the existence of correlative structures and partly by the states of those structures, is equally undeniable.

Observe the animal which, leading a life demanding soli tary habits, has an adapted organization, and it gives no sign of need for the presence of its kind. Observe, con versely, a gregarious animal separated from the herd, and ~70n SEa marks of unhappiness while the separation continues, and equaHy distinct marks of joy on joining its conl panions. In the one case there is no nervous structure which finds its sphere of action in the gregarious state; and in the other case such a structure exists. As was Implied by instances cited in the la5t chapter for another purpose, animals leading lives involving particular kinds of activities, have become so constituted that pnrsuance of those activities, exercising the correlative structures, yields the associated pleasures. Beasts of prey confined. in dens, show us by their pacings from side to side the endeavour to obtain, as well as they can, the satisfactions that accompany roanling about in their natural habitats; and that gratification in the expenditure of their loco motive energies shown us by porpoises playing round a vessel, is shown us by the similarly-unceasing excursions froIII end to end of its cell which a captured porpoise 'rHE RELATIVITY OF PAINS AND PLEASURES. 181 makes. The perpetual hoppings of the canary from bar to bar of its cage, and the ceaseless use of claws and bil~ in climbing about its perch by the parrot} are other activities which, severally related to the needs of the species, have severally thenlselves become sources of agreeable feelings.

Still more clearly are we shown by the efforts which t\ caged beaver makes to build with such stieks and pieces of wood as are at hand, how dominant in its nature has become the building instinct; and how,apart from any advantage gained, its gets gratification by repeating, as well as it can, the processes of construction it is organized to car-'y on. The cat which, lacking something to tear with her claws, pulls at t.he mat with them, the confined· giraffe which, in default of branches to lay hold of wears out the upper angles of the doors to its house by continually grasping them with its prehensile tongue} the rhinoceros which, having no enemy to fight, ploughs up the ground with his horn, all yield us analogous evidence. Clearly, these various actions performed by these various creatures. are not intrinsically pleasurable; for they differ more or less in each species and are often utterly unlike. The pleasurableness is simply in the exercise of nervo-muscular structures adapted to the performance of the actions .

. Though races of men are contrasted with one another so much less than genera and orders of aninlals are, yet, as,we saw in the last chapter, along with visible differences there go invisible differences, with acconlpanying likings for different modes of life. Among some, as the 1\1antras, the love of unrestrained action and the disregard of companion .. s} ip, are such that they separate if they quarrel, and henee liv·e scatteredj while among others} as the Darnaras} there is little tendency to rosist} bub instead, au s,dmiration £01" .anyone who assumes power over them. Already when exemplifYing the indefiniteness of happiness as an end of . action, I have referred to the unlike ideals of life pursued by the nomadic and the settled, the warlike and the peaceful, 182 THE DATA OF ETHICS. - unlike ideals which imply unlikenesses of nervous structures caused by the inherited effects of unlike habits accunlulating through generations. These contrasts, various in their kinds and degrees anlong the various types of rnankind, everyone can supplement by analogous contrasts observable among those around. The occupations sonlE1 rlelight in are to those otherwise constituted intolerable; and men's hobbies, severally appearing to themselves quite natural, often appear to their friends ludicrous and almost insane: facts which alone might make us see that the pleasurableness of actions of this or that kind, is due not to anything in the natures of the actions but to the existence of faculties which find exercise in them.

It must be added that each pleasurable emotion) like each pleasurable sensation, is relative not only to a certain structure but also to the state of that structure. The parts called into action must have had proper rest-must be in a condition fit for action; not in the condition which prolonged action produces. Be the order of emotion what it may, an unbroken continuity in the receipt of it eventually brings satiety. The pleasurable consciousness becomes less and less vivid, and there arises the need for a temporary cessation during which the parts that have been active may recover their fitness for activity; and during which also, the activities of other parts and receipt of the accompanying emotions may find due place. § 67. I have insisted on tl1ese general truths with perhaps needless iteration, to prepare the reader for more fully recognizing a corollary that is practically ignored.

Abundant and clear as is the evidence, and forced though it is daily on everyone's attention, the conclusions respecting life and conduct which should be drawn, are not drawn; and so fuuch at variance are these conclusions with current beliefs, that enunciation of them JaUS2S a stare of incre .. dulity. Pervaded as all past thinking has been, and as THE RELATIVITY OF PAINS AND PLEASURES. ] e3 most present thinking is, by the assumption that the nature of ,every creature has been specially created for it, ahd that human nature, also specially created, is, like other natures, fixed-pervaded too as this thinking has been, and is, by the allied assumption that the agreeableness of certain actions depends on theil-essential qualities, wllile other actions are by their essential qualities made disagreeable; it is difficult to obtain a hearing for the doctrine that the kinds of action which are now pleasurable will, under conditions requiring the change, cea.se to be pleasurable, while other kinds of action will become pleasurable. Even those who accept the doctrine of Evolution mostly hear with scepticism, or at best with nominal faith, the in ferences to be drawn from it respecting the humanity of the future. .

. And yet as sho'wn in myriac1s of instances indicated by the few above given, those natural processes which have produced n1ultitudinous forms of structure adapted to multitudinol1s forms of activity, have simultaneously made these forms of activity pleasurable. And the inevitable implication is that within the limits imposed by physical laws, there will be evolved, in adaptation to any new sets of conditions that may be established, appropriate structures of which the functions will yield their respective gratifications. When we have got rid of the tendency to think that certain modes of activity are necessarily pleasurable because they give us pleasure, and. that other nlodes which do not please us are necessarily unpleasing; we shall see that the re-moulding of human nature into fitness for the require. ments of social life, must oventually make all needful activiti2S pleasu,rable, while it n1akes displeasurable all activities ali va.ria.nce with these requirements. When we have come fully to recognize the truth that th ere is nothing intrinsically more gratifying in the efforts by which wild animals are caught, than in the efforts expended in rearIng 184 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

plants, and that the combined actions of muscles and senses in rowing a boat are not by their essential natures more productive of agreeable feeling than those gone through in reaping corn, but tl1at everything depends on the cooperating enl0tions, which at present are more in accordance with the one than with the other; we shall infer that along with decrease of those emotions for which the social state affords little or no scope, and increase of these which it persistently exerci.ses, the things now done with dislike from a sense of obligation will be done with imme diate liking, and the things desisted £ron1 as a matter of duty will be desisted from because they are repugnant. This co:nclusion, alien to popular beliefs and in ethical speculation habitually ignored, or at most recognized but partially and occasionally, will be thought by the majority so improbable that I must give further justification of it: enforcing t.he a priori argunlent by an a posteriori one.

Small as is the attention given to the fact, yet is the fact conspicuous that the corollary above drawn from the doctrine of Evolution at large, coincides with the corollary which past and present changes in human nature force on us. The leading contrasts of character bet\veen savage and civilized, are just those contrasts to be expected from the proces~ of adaptation. The life of the prin1itive man is passed mainly in the pursuit of beasts, birds, and fish, which yields him a gratifying excitement; but though to the civilized man the chase gives gratification, this is neither so persistent nor so general. There are among us keen sportsll1en; but th~re are Ihany to whom shooting and fishing soon bec0me weari. some; and there are not a few to whom they are altogether Indifferent or even distast,eful. Conversely, the power of continued application which in the prin1itive man is very small, has among ourselves become consider~ble. It is true that most are coerced into industry by necessity; but there are sprinkled throughout society mell to whom THERELA'l'IVITY OF PAINS AND PLEASURES. 18'5 active occupation is a need-men who are restless when away from business and miserable when they eventually give it up j men to whom this or that line of investigation is so attractive, that they devote then1selves to it day after day, year after year; men who are so deeply interested in public affairs that they pass lives of labour in achie"Ving political ends they think advai:ttageous, hardly giving them ..

selves the rest necessary for health. Yet again, and still more st,riki~ly) does the changebecolne nlanifest 'whon we compare undeveloped with developed humanity in respect of the conduct prompted by £ello\v feeling. Cruelty rather than kindness is characteristic of the savage, and is in many cases a source of marked gratification to him; but though among the civilized are some in whom this trait of the savage survives, yet a love of inflicting pain is not general, and besides numbers who show benevolence, there are those who devote their whole time and 111uch of their money to philanthropic ends, without thought of reward either here or hereafter. Clearly these major, along with many minor, changes of nature, conforn1 to the law set forth. Activities appropriate to their needs which give pleasures to savages have ceased to be pleasurable to many of the civilized; while the civilized have acquired capacities for other appropriate activities anu accompanying pleasures ,vhich savages had no capacities for.

Now, not only is it rational to infer that changes like those which have been going on during civilization, will continue to go on, but it is irrational to do·otherwise. Not he who believes that adaptation ,vill increase is ahsurd, but he who doubts that it will increase is absurd. Lack of faith in such further evolution of humanity as shall harmonize,its nature with its conditions, adds but another to the countless illus trations of inadequate consciousness of causation. One who, leaving behind both primitive dogmas and primitive ways of looking at things, has, while accepting scientific conclu tJions acquired those habits of thought which science 186 THE DATA OF ETHICS. generates, will regard the conclu~ion above dra,vn as inevitable. fIe will find it impossible to believe that the processes which have heretofore so moulded all beings to the requirements of their lives that they get satisfactions in fulfilling them., will not hereafter continue so moulding them. lIe will infer that th.e type of nature to which t.he highest social life affords a sphere such that every faculty has its due amount, and no more than the due amount, of function and accompanying gratification, is the type of nature towards which progress cannot cease till it is reached. Pleasure being producible by the exercise of any structure which is adjusted to its special end, he will see the necessary implication to be that, supposing it con sistent with maintenance of life, there is no kind of activity which will not become a source of pleasure if continued; and that therefore pleasure will eventually accompany every mode of action demanded by social conditions.

This corollary I here emphasize because it ,yin presently play an important part in the ro:-gument.

CHAPTER XI. EGOISM VERSUS ALTRUISM. § 68. If insistence on them tends to unsettle establishtni a;ystems of belief, self-evident truths are by nlost people silently passed over; or else there is a tacit refusal to draw from them the most obvious inferences. Of self-evident truths so dealt with, the one which here concerns us is that a creature must live before it can act. From this it is a corollary that the acts by which each maintains his own life nlust, speaking generally, precede in imperativeness all other acts of which he is capable. For if it be asserted that these other acts Ulust precede in imperativeness tIle acts which maintain li£e; and if this, accepted as a general law of conduct, is conformed to by aU; then by postponin g the a<?ts which maintain life to the other acts which life makes possible, all must lose their lives. That is to say, Ethics has to recognize the truth, recognized in unethical thought, that egoism comes befor\) altruism. The acts required for oontinued self-preservation, including the enjoyment of benefits achieved by such act~, are the first requisites to universal welfare. Unless each duly cares for himself, his care for all others' is ended by death; and if each thus dies, there remain no others to be cared for.

This permanent supremacy of egoism. over altruism, made 188 THE DATA OF ETHICS. manifest by contenlplating existing life, is further made nlanifest by contemplating life in course of evolution. § 69. Those who have followed with assent the recent course of thought, do not need telling that throughout past eras, tIle life, vast in alnount and varied in kind, which has overspread the Earth, has progressed in subordination to the law that every individual shall gain by whatever aptitude it has for fulfilling the conditions to its existence. The uniform principle has been that better adaptation shall bring greater benefit; which greater benefit, while increasing the prosperity of the better adapted, shall increase also its ability to leave offspring inheriting more or less its better adapta tion. And, by implication, the uniform principle has been that the ill-adapted, disadvantaged in the struggle for existence, shall bear the consequent evils: either dis appearing when its inlperfections are extreme, or else rearing fewer offspring, which, inheriting its inlperfections, tend to dwindle away in postyrity.

It has been thus with innate superiorities; it has been thus also with acquired ones. All along the law has been that increased function brings increased power; and that there fore such extra activities as aid welfare in any ulember of a race" produce in its structures greater ability to carryon such extra activities: the derived advantages being enjoyed by it to the heightening and lengthening of its life. Con versely, as lessened function ends in lessened structure, the dwindling of unused faculties has ever entailed loss of power to achieve the correlative ends: the result of inado ... quate fulfilment of the ends being diminished ability to nlaintain life. And by inheritance, such functionally-pro duced modifications have respectively furthered or hindered survi val in posterity. As already said, the law that each creature shall take the benefits and the evils of its own nature, be they those derived from ancestry or those due to self-produced EGOISM VERSUS ALTRUISM. 189 modifications, has been the law under which life has evolved thus far; and it Dlust continu~ to be the law however much further life may evolve. Whatever qualifications this natural course of action may now or hereafter undergo, are qualifications that cannot, without fatal results, essentially change it. Any arrangements which in a considerable degree prevent superiority from profiting by the rewards of superiority, or shield inferiority from the evils it entails-any arrangements which tend to make it as well to be inferior as to be superior; are arrangements dianletrically opposed to the progress of organization and the reaching of a higher life.

But to say that each individual shall reap the benefits brought to him by his own powers, "inherited and acquired, is to enunciate egoism u.s an ultimate principle of conduct. It is to say that egoistic claillls must take precedence of altruistic claims. § 70. Under its biological aspect. this proposition cannot be contested by those who agree in the doctrine of Evolution; but probably they will not at once allo\v that· admission of it under its ethical aspect is equally unavoidable. While, as respects development of life, the well-working of the universal principle described is sufficiently manifest; the well-workilig of it as respects increase of happiness may not be seen at once. But the two cannot be disjoined. Incapacity of every kind ando£ whatever degree, causes unhappiness directly· and indirectly-directly by the pain consequent on the overtaxing of inadequate faculty, and indirectly by the non-fulfilment, or ilnperfect fulfilment, of certain conditions to welfare. Conversely, capacity of every kind sufficient for the requirement, conduces to happiness irnn1ediately and remotely-immediately by the pleasure accompanying the normal exercise of each power that is up to its \vork, and remotely by the pleasul'es which are furthered by the ends achieved. A creature that is L90 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

weak or slow of foot, and so gets food only by exhausting efforts or escapes enemies with difficulty, suffers the pains of over-strained powers, of unsatisfied appetites, of distressed emotion s; while the stron g and swift creature of the same species delights in its efficient activities, gains Dlore fully the satisfactions yielded by food as well as the renewed vivacity this gives, and has to bear fewer and smaller pains in defending itself against foes or escaping from them. Similarly with duller and keener senses, or higher and lower degrees of sagacity. rrhe mentally-inferior individual of any race suffers negative and positive miseries; while the mentally-superior individual receives negative and positive gratifications. Inevitably, then, this law in conformity with which each membor of a species takes the consequences of its own nature; and in virtue of which the progeny of each member, participating in its nature, also takes such con sequences; is one that tends ever to raise the aggregate happiness of the species, by furthering the multiplication of the happier and hindering that of the less happy.

All this is true of human beings as of other beings. The conclusion forced on us is that the pursuit of individual happiness within those limits prescribed by social conditions, is the first requisite to the attainment of the greatest general happiness. To see this it needs but to contrast one whose self-regard has maintained bodily well-being, with one whose regardlessness of self has brought its natural results; and then to ask what nlust be the contrast between two societies formed of two such kinds of individuals. Bounding out of bed after an unbroken sleep, singing or whistling as he dresses, coming down with beaming face ready to laugh on' the smallest provocation, the healthy finn' of high powers, conscious of past successes and by his energy, quickness, resource, made confident of the future, enters on the day's business not with repugnance but with gladness j and from hour to hour experiencing satisfac tions from work effectually done, comes home with an EGOISM VERSUS ALTRUISM. 191 abundant surplus of energy remaining for hours of relaxa ..

tion. Far otherwise is it with one who is enfeebled by great neglect of self. Already deficient, his energies are made 'more deficient by constant endeavours to executo tasks that prove beyond his strength, and by the resulting discouragement. Besides the depressing consciousness of the immediate future, there is the depressing con sciousness of the remoter future, with its probability of accumulated difficulties and dinlinished ability to meet them. Hours of leisure which, rightly passed, bring pleasures that raise the tide of life and renew the powers of work, cannot be utilized: there is not vigour enough for enjoyments involving action, and lack of spirits prevents pflssive enjoyments fronl being entered upon with zest. In brief, life becomes a burden. N ow if, as must be admitted, in a con1munity composed of individuals like the first the happiness will be relatively great, while in one composed of individuals like the last there will he relatively little happiness, or rather much nlisery; it must be admitted that conduct causing the one result is good and conduct causing the other is bad.

But diminutions of general happiness are produced by inadeq nate egoism in several other ways. These we will snccessively glance at. § 71. If there were no proofs of heredity-if. it were the rule that the strong are usually begotten by the weak while the weak usually descend fronl the strong, that viva cious children form the families of melancholy parents while fath,ers and mothers with overflowing spirits n10stly havo dun progeny, that from stolid peasants there ordiuariJy come sons of high intelligence while the sons of the cultured are cOlnmonly fit for nothing but following _the plough-if there we~e no translnission of gout, scrofula, insanity, and did the diseased habitually give birth to the healthy and the healthy to the diseased, writers on Ethics 14: 192 THE DArA OF ETHICS. might be justified in ignoring those effects of conduct which al~e felt by posterity thJ~ough the natures they inherit.

As it is, however, the current ideas concerning the relative claiuls of egoism and altruism are vitiated by the omission of this aU-important factor. For if health, strength und capacity, are usually transmitted; and if disease, feeblauess, stupidity; generally reappear in descendants; then a rational altruism requires insistance on that egoislll which is shown by receipt of the satisfactions accompanying preservation of body and mind in the best state. The necessary implication is that blessings are provided for offspring by due self-regard, while disregard of self carried too far provides curses. When, indeed, we renlember how commonly it is renlal·ked that high health and overflowing spirits render any lot in life tolerable, while chronic aihnents make gloonlY a life most favourably circum .. st~nced, it beconles amazing that both the world at large and writers who Inake conduct their study, should ignore the terrible evils which disregard of personal well..

being inflicts on the unborn, and the~ncalclllable good laid up for the unborn by attention to personal well. being. Of all bequests of parellts to children the most valuable is a sound constitution. Though a man's body is not a property that caube inherited, yet his constitution may fi61y be compal'ed to an entailed estate; and if he rightly understands his duty to posterity, he will see that he .is bound to pass on that estate uninjured if not improved. To say this is to say that he must be egoistic to the extent of satisfying all those desires associated with tho dne performance of functions. Nay" it is to say more. It is to say that he lTIUSt seek in due amounts the various pleasures which life offers. For beyond the effect these have in raising the tide of life and maintaining constitll" tional vigour; there is the effect they ,have in preserving and increasing a capacity for receiving enjoyment. Endowed with abundant energjes a,nd various tastes, sonle can ge1 EGOISM 'VERSUS ALTRUISM. 193 gratifications of many kinds on opportunities hourly occur ring; while others are so inert" and so uninterested in things around, that they cannot even take the trouble to amuse them.

selves. And unless heredity be denied, the inference must be that due acceptance of the miscellaneous pleasures life offers, oonduces to the capacity for enjoyment in posterity; and that persistence in dull monotonous lives by parents, diminishes the ability of their descendants to make the best. of what gratifications fall to them. ~ 72. Beyond the decrease of general happiness which results in this indirect way if egoism is unduly subordinated, there' is a decrease of general happiness which results in a direct way. He who carries self-regard far enough to keep himself in good health and high spirits, in the first place thereby becomes an immediate source of happiness to those around, and in the second place maintains the ability to increase their happiness by altruistic actions. But one whose bodily vigour and mental health are under mined by' seH-sacrifice carried too far, in the first place becomes to those around a cause of depression, and in the second place renders himself incapable, or less capable, of actively furthering their welfare.

In estimating conduct we must remember that there are those who by their joyousness beget joy in others, and that there are those who by their melancholy cast a gloom on every circle they enter. And we must remember that by (Jisplay of overflowing happiness a nlan of the one kind may add to the happiness of others more than by positive.·efforts to benefit them; and that a, man of the other kind nlay decrease their happiness more by his presence thaE he increases it by his actions. Full of vivacity, the one is ever welcome. For his wife he has smiles and jocose speeches; for his children stores of fun and play; for his friends pleasant talk interspersed with the sallies of wit that come from buoyancy. Contrariwise, the other is shunned.

194 THE DATA OF ETHICS. The irritability resulting now from ailments, noW' from failures caused by feebleness, his family has daily to bear. Lacking adequate energy for joining in them., he has at best but a tepid interest in the amusements of his children; and he is called a wet blanket by his friends. Little account as our ethical reasonings take note of it, yet is the fact obvious that since happiness and misery are infectious, such regard for self as conduces to health and high spirits is a benefaction to others, and such disregard of self as brings on suffering, bodily or mental, is a malefaction to others. The duty of making one's self agreeable by seeming to be pleased, is, indeed, often urged; and thus to gratify friends is applauded so long as self-sacrificing effort is implied. But though display of real happiness I gratifies friends far more than display of sham happiness, and has no dra,vback in the shape either of hypocrisy or strain, yet it is not thought a duty to fulfil the conditions which favour the display of real happine~s. Nevertheless, if quantity of happiness produced is to be the measure, the last is more imperative than the first.

And then, as above indicated,beyond this primary series of effects produced on others there is a secondary series of effects. The adequately egoistic individual retains those powers which make altruistic activities possible. The indi vidual who is inadequately egoistic, loses more or less of his ability to be altruistic. The truth of the one proposition is self-evident; and the truth of the other is daily forced on ns by examples. Note a few of them. Here is a mother who, brought up in the insane fashion usual among the cultivated, has a physique not strong enough for suckling her infant, but who, kno"ring that its natural food is the best, and anxious for· its welfare, continues to give it milk for a longer time than her system will bear. Eventually the accu.. lnulating reaction tells. There comes exhaustion running, it may be, into illness caused by depletion; occasionallyend ing in death, and often entailing chronic weakness. She EGOISM VERSUS ALT~UIS:M. 195 b~comes, perhaps for a time, perhaps permanently, incapable of carrying on household affairs ; her other children suffer from the loss of maternal attention; and where the incomo is small, payments for nurse and doctor tell injuriously OIl the whole family. Instance, again, what not unfre.

quently happens with the father. Similarly prompted by a high sense of obligation, and misled by Current mOI'a} theories into the notion that self-denial may rightly be carried to any extent, he daily continues his office-work for long hours regardless of hot head and cold feet; and debars himself from social pleasures, for which he thinks he can afford neither time nor money. What comes of this entirely . unegoistic course? Eventually a sudden collapse, sleepless. ness, inability to work. That rest which he would not give himself when his sensations prompted, he has now to take in long measure. The extra earnings laid by for the benefit of his family, are quickly swept away by costly journeys in aid of recovery, and by the many expenses which illness entails. Instead of increased ability to do his duty by his offspring, there comes now inability. Life.long evils on them replace hoped-for goods. And so is it, too, with the social effects of inadequate egoism. All grades furnish examples of the mischiefs, positive and negative, inflicted on society by excessive neglect of self. Now the case is that of a labourer who, conscientiously continuing his work under a broiling sun, spite of violent protest from bis feelings, dies of sunstroke j and leaves his family a burden to the parish. Now the case is that of a clerk whose eyes permanently fail from over-straining, or who, daily writing for hours after his £ngers are painfully cramped, is attacked wilh (( scrivener's palsy.." and, unable to write at all, sinks with aged parents into poverty which friends are called on to mitigate. And now the case is that of a man devoted \ to public ends who, shattering his health by ceaseless appli cation, fails to achieve all he might have achieved by a more 196 TH.&! DATA OF ETHICS.

reasonable apportionment of his time bet"ween labour on behalf of others and ministration to his own needs. § 73. In one further way is the undue subordination of egoism to altruism injurious. Both directly and indirectly unselfishness pushed to excess generates selfishness. Consider first the immediate effects. That one D1an may yield up to another a gratification, it is needful that the other shall accept it; and where the 'gratification is of a kind to which their respective claims are equal, or which is no more required by the one than by the other, acceptance implies a readiness to get gratification at another's cost. The circumstances and needs of the two being alike, the transaction involves as much culture of egoislll in the last as it involves culture of altruism in the first. It is true that not unfrequently, difference between their means or difference between their appetites for a p leasure which the one has had often and the other rarely, divests the accept ance of this character; and it is .true that in other cases the benefactor manifestly takes so ll1uch pleasure in giving pleasure, that the sacrifice is partial, and the receptjon of it not wholly selfish. But to see the effect above indicated ,ve must exclude such inequalities, alld consider what happens where wants are approximately alike and where the sacri fices, not reciprocated at intervals, are perpetually on one side. So restricting the inquiry all can nanle instances verifying the alleged result. Everyone can remember circles in which the daily surrender of benefits by the gene} rous to the greedy, has caused increase of greediness; until there has been produced an unscrupulous egoism intolerallls to all around. There are obvious socjal effects of kinch'cd nature. Most thinking people now recognize the dernorali zation caused by indiscriminate charity. They see ho,v in the mendicant there is, besides destruction of the llormal relation between labour expended aud benefit obtained) EGOIS){ V~RSUS ALTRUISM. 197 a ge!lt~sis of the expectation that others shall minister to his needs; showing itself sometimes in the venting of curses on those 'who refuse.

Next consider the remote results. When the egoistic clainls are so llluch subordinated to the altruistic as to produce physicalll1ischief, the tendency is towards a relative decrease in the number of the altruistic, and therefore an. increased· predominance of the egoistic. Pushed to extremes, sacrifice of self for the benefit of others, leads occasionally to death before the ord}nary period of marriage; leads sometimes to abstention from marriage,. as in sisters of charity; leads sonletirnes to an ill-health or a loss of attrac tiveness which prevents marriage; leads sonletimes to non acquirement of the pecuniary means noedeu £01' .marriage ; and in all these cases, therefore, the unusually altruistic leave no descendants. Where thepostponementt or personal welfare to the welfare of others has not been carried so far as to prevent nHtrriago, it yet not un£req uently occurs that the physical degradation resulting £romyears of self-neglect causes infel'·tility; so that again the most altruistically natured leave no like-natured posterity. And then in less marked and more numerous cases, the resulting enfeeble ment shows itself by the production of relatively weak off spl·ing; of 'whOln some die early, \vhile the rest are less likely than usual to transmit the parental type to future generations. Inevitably, then, by this dying out of the especially unegoistic, there is prevented that desirable mitiga tion of egoism in the average nature which would else have taken place. Such disregard of self as brings down bodily vigour below the norn1al level, eventually produces in the society a counterbalancing excess of regard for self.

~ 74. That egoism precedes altruism in order of impera .. tiveness, is thus clearly shown. The acts which make continued life possible, nUlst, on the average, be 'more peremptory than all those other acts which life makes 198 THE DATA OF ETHICS. possible; including the acts which benefit others. Turning from life as existing to life as evolving, we are equally shown this. Sentient beings have progressed from low to high types, under the law that the superior shall profit by their suporiority and the inferior shall suffer from their inferiority. Conforn1ity to this law has been, and is still, needful, not 'only for the continuance of life but £0r the increase of happi .. DeBs; since the superior are those having faculties better adjusted to the requirenlents-faculties, therefore, which bring in t/heir exercise greater pleasure and less pain. More special considerations join these more general ones in showing us this truth. Suc.:h egoism as preserves a vivacious mind in a vigorous body furthers the happiness o£ descendants, whose inherited constitutions make the labours of life easy and its pleasures keen; while, conversely, unhappiness is entailed on posterity by those who bequeath bhem constitutions injured by self-neglect. Again, the ';ndividual whose well-conserved life shows itself in over· .flowing spirits, becon1es, by his mere existence, a source of pleasure to all around; while the depression which com monly accolnpanies ill-health diffuses itself through family :lnd among friends. A further contrast is that whereas one who has been duly regardful of Bel£ retains the power of being helpful to others, thel'e results from self-abnegation in excess, not only an inability to help others but the inflic tion of positive burdens on thern. Lastly, we come upon the truth that undue altruism increases egoism; both directly in contemporaries 81Dd indirectly in posterity.

And now observe that though the general conclusion enforced by these speci3,l conclusions, is at variance with nominally-accepted beliefs, it is not at variance with actually .. Accepted beliefs. While opposed. to the doctrine which 'men are taught should be acted upon, it is in harmony with the doctrine which they do act upon and dimly see must be acted upon. For on11tting such abnOr111alitiesof conduct as are instanced above, everyone, alike by deed and word, EGOISll VERSUS ALTRUISM. 199 hnpli~s that in the business of life personal welfare is tIle primary consideration. The labourer looking for wages in return for work done, no less than the merchant who sells gvods at a profit, the doctor who expects fees for advice, the priest who calls the scene of his ministrations (( a living/' assumes as beyond question the truth that selfishness, carried to the extent of enforcing his claims and enjoying the returns his efforts bring, is not only legitimate but essential. Even persons who avow a contrary conviction prove by their acts that it is inoperative. Those who repeat with emphasis the maxim -" Love your neighbour as yourself,"

do not render up what they possess so as to satisfy the desires of all as much as they satisfy their own desires. Nor do those whose extreme maxim is-" I.Jive for others," differ appreciably from people around in their' regards for personal welfare, or fail to appropriate their shares of life's pleasures. In short, that which is above set forth as the belief to which scientific ethics leads us, is that 1vhich men do really believe, as distinguished from that which they believe they believe. . Finally it may be remarked that a rational egoism, so fa] from irnplying a more egoistic human nature, is consistent with a human nature that is less egoistic. For excesses in one direction do not prevent excesses in the opposite direc tion; but rather, extreme deviations from the mean on one side lead"to extreme deviations on the other side. A society in which the most exalted principles of self-sacrifice for the benefit of neighbours are· enunciated, may be a society in which unscrupulous sacrifice of alien fellow-creatures is not only tolerated but applauded. Along with professed anxiety to spread these exalted principles among heathen@, there may go the deliberate fastening of a quarrel upon them with a view to annexing their territory. Men who every Sunday have listened approvingly to injunctions carrying the regard for other men to an impracticable extent, may yet hire themselves out to slay, at the word 200 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

of command, any people in any part of the world, utterly indifferent to the right or wrong of the u1atter fought about. And as in these cases transcendent altruism in theory co exists with brutal egoism in practice, so, conversely, a more qualified altruism may have for its concomitant a groa tly moderated egoism. For asserting the due claims of self, is, by implication, drawing a limit beyond which the claims al~e undue; and is, by consequence, bringing intJO greater clearness the claims of others.

OHAPTER XII. ALTRUISM VERSUS EGOISM. § 75. If we define altruism as being all action which, ill the normal course of things, benefits others instead of benefiting .se1£, then, from the dawn of life, altruism has been no less essential than egoism. Though primarily it is dependent on egoism, yet secondarily egoism is dependent on it. Under altruism in this comprehensive sense, I take in the acts by which offspring are preserved and the species maintained. }Ioreover, among these acts must be included not such only as are accompanied by consciousness, but. also such as conduce to the we1£are of offspring without mental representation of the welfare-acts of automatic altruism as we may call them. Nor· must there be left. out those lowest altrnistic acts which subserve race-mainten ance without implying even automatic nervous processes -acts not in the remotest sense psychical, but in Q literal sense physical. Whatever action, unconscious or conscious, involves expenditure of individual life to the end of increasing life in other individuals, is unquestionably altruistic in a sense, if not in the usual sense; and it is here needful to understand it in this sense that we may see how conscious altruism grows out of unconscious altruism.

The simplest beings-habitually multiply by spontaneous 202 'l'HE DATA OF ETHICS. fission. Physical altruism of the lowest kind, differentiating from physical egoism, may in this case be considered as not yet independent of it. For since the two halves which before fission constituted the individual, do not on dividing disappear, we must say that though the individuality of the parent infusorium or other protozoon is lost in ceasing to be single, yet the old individual continues to exist in each of the new individuals. When, however, as happens generally with these smallest animals, an interval of qules cence ends in the breaking up of the whole body into minute parts, each of which is the gerlTI of a young one, we see the parent entirely sacrificed in forming progeny. Here might be described how among creatures of higher grades, by fission or gemmation, parents bequeath parts of their bodies, more or less organized, to form offspring at the cost of their own individualities. Numerous examples might also be given of the ways in 'which the development of ova is carried to the extent of Inaking the parental bodJ little more than a receptacle for them: the implication being that the accumulations of nutrinlent which parental activities have laid up, are disposed of for the benefit of posterity.

And then might be dwelt on the lTIultibudinous cases where, as generally throughout the insect-world, maturity having been reached and a new generation provided for, life ends: death follows the sacrifices made for progeny. But leaving these lower types in which the altruism is physical only, or in which it is physical and automatically psychical only, let us ascend to those in which it is also, to a considerable degree, conscious. Though in birds and ll1ammals such parental activities as al"e guided by instinct, are accompanied by either no representations or but vaguo representations of the benofits which the young receive j yet there are also in them actions which we may class as altruistic in the higher sense. The agitation whieh creatures of these classes show when their young are in dnnger, joined often with efforts on their behalf, as well as the grief dis..

ALTRUISM VERSUS EGOISM. 203 played after loss of their young, make it manifest that in them parental altruism has a concomitant' of emotion. Those who understand by altruiSlTI only the 90nscious sacrifice of self to others among human beings, will think it strange, or even absurd, to extend its meaning so widely. But the justification for doing this is greater than has thus far appeared. I do not mean merely that in tho course of evolution, there has been a progress through infinitesimal gradations from purely phys~cal and Inconscious sacrifices of the individual for the welfare of the species, up to sacrifice~ consciously made. I mean that from first to last the sacri. fices are, when reduced to their lowest ternls, of the same essential nature: to the last, as at first, there is involved a loss of bodily substance. When a part of the parental body is detached in the shape of gemmule, or egg, or fcetus, the material sacrifice is conspicuous; and when the. mother yields milk by absorbing which the young one graws, it' cannot be questioned that there is also a material sacrifice.

But though a material sacrifice is not manifest when the young are benefited by activities on their behalf; yet, as no effort can be made without an equivalent waste of tissue, -and as the bodll y loss is proportionate to the expenditure that takes plaCE without reimbursement in food consumed, it follows that efforts made in fostering offspring do ~eally represent a part of the parental substance; which is now given indirectly instead of directly. Self-sacrifice, then, is no less primordial than self-preser l'ation. Being in its simple physical form absolutely neces sary for the continuance of life from the beginning; and being extended under its automatic form, as indispensablo to maintenance of race in types considerably advanced; and being developed to' its semi-conscious and conscious forms, clong with the continued and. complicated attendance by which the offspring of superior creatures are brought to olaturity; altruism has been' evolving simultaneously 'with egoism. As was pointed out in an eaJ~ly chapter; the 204 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

same superiorities which have enabled the individual t~J preserve itself better, have enabled it better to preserve the individuals derived froin it; and each higher species, using its iluproved faculties prinlarily for egoistic benefit, has spread in proportion as it has used them secondarily for n]truisti~ benefit. Tho imperativeness of altruism as thus understood, is, indeed"no less than the ilnperativeness or egoisni ,vas shown to be in the last chapter. For while, on the one hanel, a falling short of norinal egoistic acts entails enfeeblement or loss of life, and therefore loss of ability to pertorn1 altru istic acts; on the other hand, such defect ot altruistic acts as causes death of offspring or inadequate development of them, involves disappearance from future generations of the nature that is not altruistic enough-so decreasing the average egolsln. In short, every species is continually 'purifying itself trOITI the unduly egoistic individuals, while there are being lost to it the unduly altrulstic individuals.

§ 76. As there has been an advance by degrees £eom nnconscious parental altruism to conscious parental altruism of the highest kind, so has there been an advance by degrees from the altruism or the falnlly to social altrllisn1. A fact to be first noted is that only where altruistic rela tions in the domestic group have reached highly-developed forms, do there arise conditions making possible full deve lopment of altruistic relations in the political group. Tribes in which promiscuity prevails or in ,,,hlch tho marital relations are transitory, and tribes in which poly andry entails in another way indefinite relationships, aro incapable of 111uch organization. Nor do peoples who are habitually polygamous, show themselv·es able to take on those high forms of social cooperation which demand due subordination of self to others. Only where monogamic marriage has become general and eventually universal only where there have consequently been establisl10d tbe ALTRUISM VERSUS EGOISM. 205 closest tIes of blood-only .where family altruism bas been IllOst fostered, has social altruism become conspicuous. It needs but to recall the compound forms of the Aryan family fiS described by Sir Henry Maine and other~, to see that family feeling, first extending itself to the gens and tho tribe, and afterwards to th~ society fornled of rehtted tdbes, prepared the way for fellow feeling an10ng citizens not . of the sanle ~tock.

Recognizing this natural transition, we are here chiefly concerned to observe that throughout the latter stages of the progress, as throughout the former, increase of egoistic satisfactions has depended on growth of regard for the satisfactions of others. On contemplating a line of succes sive' parents and offspring, ,ve see. that each, enabled while young to live by the sacrifices predecessors make for it, itself makes, ,vhen adult, equivalent sacrifices lor successors; and that in default of this general balancing of benefits received by benefits given, the line dies out. Similarly, it is manifest that in a society each generation of nlembers, indebted fbI' such benefits as· social organization yields them to pre ceding generations, ,vho have by their sacrifices elaborated this organization, are called on to make for succeeding generations such kindred sacrifices as shall at least main tain this organizati9n) if they do not i~l1prove it : the alter native being decay and eventual dissolution of· the. society, inlplying gradual decrease in the egoistic satisfactions of its menlbers.

And now we are prepared to consider the several ways in 'which, under social conditions, personal welfare depends on clue regard for the welfare of others. Already the cOllclu.., siGns to be dra,vn have been foreshadowed. As in the chapter on the biological view were impli~d the inferences definitely set forth in the last chapter; so in the chapter on the sociological view were hnplied the inferences to be definitely set forth here. Sundry of these are trite enough; 206 THE DATA OF ETHICS. but they 111ust neverthelesR be specified, since the statement would be incomplete without them. § 77. First to be dealt with comes that negative altruism implied by such curbing of the egoistic impulses as prevents direct aggression. A s before shown; if men instead of living separately are to unite for defence or for other purposes, they must seve rany reap more good than evil from the union. On the average, each must lose less from the antagonisms of those with whom he is associated, than he gains by the association.

At the outset, therefore, that increase of egoistic satisfactions which the social state brings, can be purchased only by altruism sufficient to cause some recognition of others' claims: if not a VOluntary recognition, still, a compulsory recognition. While the recognition is but of that lowest kind due to dread of retaliation, or of prescribed punishment, the egoistic gain from association is small j and it becomes considerable only as the recognition becomes voluntary that is, more altruistic. Where, as anlong some of the wild Australians, there exists no limit to the right of the strongest, and the men fight to get possession of W0111en while the wives of one man fight alnong thenlRel\'8S about him, the pursuit of egoistic satisfactions is greatly inlpeded. Besides the bodily pain occasionally given to each by conflict, and the more or less of subsequent inability to achieve personal ends, there is the waste of energy entailed in nlaintaining re~diness for self.de£ence, and there is thA accompanying occupation of consciousness by emotions that are on the average of cases disagreeable. l\10reover, the primary end of safety in presence of external foes is ill.

attained in proportion as there are internal animosities; such furtherance of satisfactions as industrial cooperation brings cannot be had j and there is little motive to labQur AL'l'l{UISM VERSUS EGOISM. 207 for extra benefits "when the products of labour are insecure.. And from this early stage to' comparatively lat~ stages, we may trace in the wearing of arms, in the carr)Ting on of family feuds, and in the taking of daily pr~cautions for safety, the ways in which the egoistic satisfactions of each are dinlinished by deficiency of that altruism which checks overt injury of others. The private interests of the individual are on the average better subserved, not only in proportion as he himself refrains from direct aggression, .but also, on the average, in proportion as he succeeds in diminishing the aggressions of his fellows on one another. The prevalence of antagonisnls among those around, impedes the activities carried on by each in pursuit of satisfactions; and by causing disorder makes the· heneficial results of activities more doubtful.

Hence, each profits egoistically from the growth of an altruism which leads each to aid in preventiu8' or diminishing others' violence. The like holds when we pass to that altruism which restrains the undue egoism displayed in breaches of contract. General acceptance of the maxim that honesty is the best policy, implies general experience that grati fication of the self-regarding feelings is eventually fur thered .by such checking of them as maintains equitable dealings. And here, as before, each is personally interested in securing good treatment of his fellows by one another. For in countless ways evils are entailed on each by the prevalence of fraudulent transactions. As everyone knows, the larger the number of a shopkeeper's bills left unpaid by some customers, the higher must be the prices which other customers pay. The more manufacturers lose by defective raw materials or by carelessness of workmen, the more must they charge for their fabrics to buyers. The less trustworthy people are, the higher rises the rate of interest, the larger becomes the amount of capital hoarded, the greater are the impediments to industry. The further 15 208 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

traders and people in general go beyond their nleans, and hypothecate the property of others in speculation, the more serious are those cOlTImercial panics which bring disasters on multitudes and injuriously affect all. This introduces us to yet a third way in which such per.. aonal welfare as results from the proportioning of benefitB gained to labours given, depends on the making of certain sacrifices for social welfare. The man who, expending his energies wholly on private affairs refuses to· take trouble about public affairs, pI nming himself on his wisdolll in minding his own business, is blind to the fact that his own business is made possible 011ly by maintenance or a healthy social state, and that he loses all round by defective governmental arrangements. Where there are many like minded with himsel£-where, as a consequence, offices come to be filled by political adventurers and opinion is swayed by demagogues-where bribery vitiates the ac1nlinistratioll of the law and makes fraudulent State-transactions habitual; heavy penalties fan on the cornn1unity at large, and, among others, on those who have thus done everything for seH and nothing ror society. Their investlnents are insecure; recovery of their debts is difficult; and even their lives are less safe than they would otherwise have been.

S6 that on such altruistic actions as are implied, firstly in being just, secondly in seeing justice done between others, and thirdly in upholding and improving the agencies by which justice is administered, depend, in large llleasnre, the egoistic satisfactions of each. § 78. But the identification of personal advantage with the advantage of fellow-citizens is much wider than this. In various other ways the well-being of each rises and falls with the well-being of all. A weak man left to provid'e for his own wants, suffers by getting smaller amounts of food and other necessaries than he might get were he stronger. In a community formed 01 ALTRUISM VERSUS EGOISM. 20~ weak_men, who divide their labours and exchange the. pro· ducts, all suffer evils from the -weakness of. their fellows. The quantity of each kind of product is made deficient· by the deficiency of labouring power; and. the share each gAts for such .share of his own product· as he can afford to give, is relatively small. Just as· the maintenance of paupers" hospital patients, inmates of· asylums, and others who consume but do not produce, leaves_to be divided among prod~cers a smaller stock of commodities than would exist were· there no incapables; so must there be left a slnaller stock of commodities to he divided, the greater the number of inefficient producers, or the greater the average deficiency of producing power. Hence, .whatever decreases the strength of men in general restricts the gratifications of each by making the means to them dearer.

More directly} and more. obviously, does the bodily well being of his fellows 'concern hill; for their bodily ill-being, when it takes certain. shapes, is apt to bring simila.r bodily ill-being on him. If he is not himself attacked 'by cholera, or small-pox, or tJPhus, when it invades his neighbourhood, he often suffers apenaltythroagh his belongings. Under conditions spreading it, his wife catches diphtheria, or his servant is laid up with scarlet fever, or his children take now this and now that infectious disorder. .Addtogether the immediate and remote evils brought on hirn year after year by epidemics, and it becomes manifest that his egoistic satisfactions are greatly furthered by such ~ltruistic activities as render disease less prevalent. With the mental,as well as with the boajly,statesoffellow~ citizens, his enjoyments are in multitudinous ways bound up. Stupidity like weakness raises the cost. of commodities Where farlning is unimproved, the priuesof food are higher than they would else be; where antiquated routine maintains \tself in traCIe,the needless expense of distribution weighs on all j where there is no inventiveness, everyone loses the bene ..

fits which improved appliances diffuse. Other than economio 210 THE DATA OF ETHICS. evils come .from the average unintelligence-periodicallj through the manias and panics that arise because traders rush in herds all to buy or all to sell j and habitually through the mal-administration of justice, which people and rulers alike diRregard while pursuing this or that legislative ·will-o'. the-wisp. Closer and clearer is the dependence of his personal satisfactions on others' mental states, which each experiences in his household. Unpunct.uality and want of system are perpetual sources of annoyance. The unskil£ulness of the cook causes frequent vexation and occasional indigestion. Lack of forethought in the housemaid leads to a fall over a bucket in a dark passage. And inattention to a luessage or forgetfulness in delivering it, entails failure in an important engagement. Each~ therefore, benefits egoistically by such altruism as aids in raising the average intelligence.

I . do not mean such altruism as taxes ratepayers that children's minds may be filled with dates, and names, and gossip about kings, and narratives of battles, and other useless information, no amonnt of which will make them capable workers or good citizens j but I mean such altruism 9,8 helps to spread a knowledge of the nature of things and to cultivate the power of applying that knowledge. Yet again, each has a private interest in public morals and profits by improving them. Not in large ways only, by aggressions and breaches of contract, by adulterations and short measures, does each suffer from the general uncon~cientlOusness; but in more numerous small ways. Now it is through the untruthfulness of one who gives. a good character to a bad servant j now it is by the reckless ness of a laundress who, using bleaching agents to save trouble in washing, destroys his linen; now it is. by' the acted falsehood of railway passengers who, by dispersed coats, make him believe that all the seats in a compart ment are taken when they are· not. Yesterday the illness of his child due to foul gases, led to the discovery of a drain that had become choked because it was ill-made · ALTl{UISl\{ VERSUS EGOISM. 211 by a dishonest builder under supervision of a careless or bribed surveyor. To-day vvorkluenemployed to rectify it bring on him cost and inconvenience by dawdling; and their low standard of work, determined by the unionist principle that the better workers must not d~scredit the worse by exceeding them in efficiency, he may trace to tihe immoral belief that the unworthy should fare as well a8 the worthy. To-morrow it turns out that business for the plunlber has been provided by damage which the bricklayers have done.

Thus the improvement of others, physically, intellectually, and morally, personally concerns each; since their imper-_ fections tell in raising the cost of all the commodities he buys, in increasing the taxes and rates he pays, and in the losses of time, trouble, and money, daily brought on him by others' carelessness, stupidity, or unconscientiousness. § 79. Very obvious are certain more immediate connexions between personal welfare and ministration to the welfare of those around. The evils snfferec1by those whose behaviour is unsympathetic, 'and the benefits to self which unselfish conduct brings, show these. That anyone should have formulated his experience by saying that the conditions to success are a hard heart and a sound digestion, is marvellous considering the many proofs that success, even of a material kind, greatly depending as it does on the good offices of others, is furthered by whatever creates goodwill in others. The contrast between the pros perity of those who to but moderate abilities join natures which beget friendships by their kindliness, and the adver sity of those who) though possessed of superior faculties and greater acquirements, arouse dislikes by their hardness or indifference, should force upon all the truth that egoistic enjoyments are aided by altruistic actions.

1'his increase of personal benefit achieved by benefiting others, is but partially achieved where a selfiRh motive 212 THE DATA OF ETHICS. prompts the seemingly-unselfish act: it is fully aehieved. only where the act is really unselfish. Though services rendered with the view of sonle time profiting by recipro cated services, answer to a certain extent; yet, ordinarily, they answe~ only to the extent of bringing equivalents of reciprocated services. Those which bring more than equi valents are those not prompted by any thoughts of equivalents. For obviously it is the spontaneous outflow of good nature, not in the larger acts of life only but in all its details, which generates in those around the attachments prompting unstinted benevolence. Besides furthering prosperity, other-regarding actions conduce to self-regarding gratifications by generating a genial envirollluent. "Vith the sYlnpathetic being everyone feels more sympathy than with others. All conduct them selves with 1110re than usual amiability to a person who hourly discloses a lovable nature. Such a one is p~actically surrounded by a world of better people than one who is less attractive. If we contrast the state of a man possessing· all the material means to happiness, but isolated by his· absolute egoism, with the state of an altruistio man relatively poor in means but rich in friends, we may see that variou~ gratifications not to be purchased by money, come in abundance to the last and are inaccessible to the first.

While, then, there is one kind of other-regarding action, furthering the prosperity of fellow-citizens at large, which adluits of being deliberately pursued from motives that are remotely seH-regarding-the conviction being that personal well-being depends in large measure on the well-being of society-there is an additional kind of other-regarding action having in it no element of conscious self-regard, which nevertheless conduces greatly to egoistic satisfactions. §80. Yet other modes exist in which egoism unqualified by altruislnhabitually fails. It diminishes the totalit,y of egoistic ALTRUISM VERSUS EGOISM. 2]3 pleasure by diminishing in .several directions the capacity for pleasure. Self-gratifications, considered separately or in the aggre gate, lose their intensities by thab too great persistence in them which results if they are mage the exclusive oQjects of pllfnuib. The law that function entails waste, and that faclllti3s yielding pleasure by their action cannot act inces sa,utly without exhaustion and accompanying-satiety, has the implication that intervals during which altruistic acti vities absorb the energies, are intervals during which the capacity for egoistic pleasure is recovering its full degree.

The sensitiveness to purely personal enjoyments is main tained at a higher pitch by those who minister to the enjoy ments of others, than it is by those who devote themselves wholly to personal enjoyments. This which is manifest even while the tide of li£eis high, becolnes still more manifest as life ebbs. It is in maturity and old age that we especially see how, as egoistic plea sures grow faint, altruistic actions conle in to revive them in new forms. The contrast between the child's delight. in the novelties daily revealed, and the indifference which comes as the world around grows fanliliar, until in adult life there remain comparatively few things that are greatly enjoyed, draws from all the reflection that as years go by pleasures pall. And to those who think, it becomes clear that only through syrrlpathy can pleasures be indirectly gained from things that have ceased to yield pleasures directly. In the gratifications derived by pa,rents from the gratifications of their offspring, this is conspicuously shown.

Trite as is the remark that men live afresh in their children, it is needful here to set it down as relninding us of the way in which, as the egoistic satisfactions in life fade, altruisnl lenewsthem whilejt transfig1.lresthem. We are thus· introduced to a more general consideration -the egoistic aspect ofaltruist.ic pleasure. Not" indeed.

214 THE DATA OF ETHICS. that this is the place for discussing the question whether the egoistic element can be excluded from altruism; nor is it the place for distingushing between the altruislL which is pursued with a foresight of the pleaa.urable ~eeling to be achieved t.hrough it, and the altruislu which) though it achieves this pleasurable feeling, does not make pursuit of it a motive. Here we are concerned with the fact that, whether knowingly or unknowingly gained, the state of mind accompanying altruistic action, being a pleasurable state, is to be counted in the sum of pleasures which the individual can receive; and in this sense cannot be other than egoistic. That we must so regard it is proved on observing that this pleasure, like pleaEures in general, conduces to the physical prosperity of the ego. As every other agreeable emotion raises tho tide of life, so does the agreeable emotion which accornpanies a benevolent deed. As it cannot be denied that the pain caused by the sight of suffering, depresses the vital functions-sometinles even to the extent of arresting the heart's action, as in one who faints OIl seeing a surgical operation;· so neither can it be denied that the joy felt in witnessing others' joy exalts the vital functions. Hence, however much we ma,Y hesitate t~ class altruistic pleasure as a higher kind of egoistic pleasure, ~~ are obliged to recognize the fact that its imulediate effects in augmenting life and so furthering personal well-being, are like those of pleasures that are directly egoistic. And the corollary drawn must be that pure egoism is, even in its immediate results, less successfully egoistic than is the egoism duly qualified by altruism, which, besides achieving additional pleasures, achieves also, through raised vitalitYJ a greater capacity for pleasures in general.

That the range of oosthetic gratifications is wider for the altruistic nature than for the egoistic nature, is also a truth not to be overlooked. The joys and sorrows of human beings form a chief element in the subject-rnatter of art 1 ALTRUISM VERSUS EGOl6!M. 215 and QvidentIy the pleasures which art gives increase as the fellow-feeling with these joys and sorrows strengthens. If we contrast early poetry occupied mainly with war and gratifying the savage instincts by descriptions of bloody victories, with the poetry of modern times} in which the sanguinary forms but a small part while a large part, dealing· with the gentler affections, enlists the feelings of readers on behalf of the weak; we are shown that with the development of a more altruistio nature, there has been opened a sphere of enjoyment inaccessible to the callous egoism of barbarous times. So, too, between the fiction of the past and the fiction of the present, there is the difference that while the one was almost exclusively occupied with the doings of the ruling classes, and found· its plots in their antagonisms and deeds of violence, the other, chiefly taking stories of peaceful life for its subjects, and to a considerable extent the life of the humbler classes, discloses a new world of interest in the everyday pleasures and pains of ordinary people. .A. like contrast exis-ts between early and late forms of plastic art. When not representing acts of worship, the wall-sculptures and wall-paintings of the Assyrians and Egyptians, or the decorations of temples among the Greeks, represented deeds of conquest; whereas in modern times, while the works which glorify destructive activities are less numerous, there are an increasing number of works gratifying to the kindlier sentiments of spectators. To see that those who care nothing about the feelings of other beings are, by implication, shut out from a wide range. of resthetic pleasures, it needs but to ask whether men ,vho delight in dog-fights may be expected to appreciate Beethoven's Adelaida, or whether Tennyson's In Mm11loria1n would greatly move a gang of convicts.

§ 81. From the dawn of life, then, egoism has been dependent upon altruism as altruism has been dependent 216 THE DATA OF ETHICS. upon egoism; and in the course of evolution the reciprocal services of the two have been increasing. The physical and unconscious self-sacrifice of parents to form offspring, which the lowest living things display frum hour to hour, shows us in its primitive form the altruism ,,-hich nlakes possible the egoism of individual life and growth. As we .ascend· to higher grades of creatures) this parental altruism becomes a direct yielding up of only part of the body, joined with an increasing contribution from the remainder in the shape· of tissue wasted in efforts made OIl behalf of progeny. This indirect sacrifice of substance, replacing more and nlore' the direct sacrifice as parental ftltruism becomes higher, continues to the last to represent also altruism which is other than parental; since this, too, implies loss of substance in making efforts that do not bring their return in personal aggrandisement.

After noting how among nlankind parental altruism and family altruism pass into social altruism, we observed that a society, like a species, survives only on condition that each generation of its Inenlbers shall yield to the next, benefits equivalent to those it has received from the last. And this implies that care for the family must be supplemented by care for the society. Fulness of egoistic satisfactions in the associated state, depeuding primarily on maintenance of the nornlal relation between efforts expended and benefits obtained, which underlies all life, implies an altruism which both prompts equitable conduct ,and pronlpts the enforcing of equity. 'rhe well-being of each is involved with the well-being of 'all in sundry other ways. Whatever conduces to their vigour concerns him; for it diminishes the cost of everything he buys. Whatever conduces to their freedom from disease concerns him j for it diminishes his own liability to disease.

Whatever raises their intelligence concerns him; for incon veniences are daily entailed on him by others' ignorance or ALTRUISM VE RHUS EGOISM. 2]7 fony. Whatever l~aises their moral characters concerns him; for at every turn he suffers from the average unCOll .. scientiousness. Much more directly do his egoistic satisfactions depend on those altruistic activities which enlist the sympathies of. others. By alienating those around, selfishnesses loses the unbought aid, they can render; shuts out a wide range of social enjoyments; and fails to receive those exaltations of pleasure and mitigations o£pain, which come from men's fellow-feeling with those they like. Lastly, undue egoism defeats itself by bringing on an incapacity £01' happiness. Purely egoistic gratifications are rendered less keen by satiety, even in the earlier part 61 life, and almost disappear in the later; the less satiating gratifications of' altruism are luissed 'throughout life, 'and especially in that latter part when they largely replace egoistic gratifications ; and there is a lack of susceptibility to oosthetic pl~asures of the higher orders.

An indication must be added of the truth, scarcely at all recognized, that this dependence of egoism upon altruism ranges beyond the limits of each society, and tends ever towards universality. That within each society it becomes greater as social evolution, implying increase of mutual dependence, progresses, needs not be shown; and it is a coroll~ry that as fast as the dependence of societies on one another is increased by cOIDDlercialint8rcourse, the internal welfare of each becomes a matter of concern to the others. That the impoverishment of any country, diminishing both its producing and consuming powers, tells detrimentally on the peo"ple of countries trading with it, is a conlmonplace _ of political economy. Moreover, we have had of late years, abundant experience o£"the industrial derangements through which distress is brought on nations not imUlediately con cerned, by wars between other nations. And if each community has the egoistic satisfactions of its members 218 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

diminished by aggressions of neighbouring coulmunities on one another, still more does it have theul dinlinished by its own aggressions. One who marks ho\v, in various parts of the world, the unscrupulous greed of conquest cloaked by pretences of spreading the blessings of British rule and British religion, is now reacting to the inl111ense detriment of the industrial classes at horne, alike by increasing expendi. ture and paralyzing trade, may see that these industrial classes, absorbed in questions about capital and labour, and thinking themselves unconcerned in our doings abroad, are suffering from lack of that wide-reaching altruism which should insist on just dealings with other peoples, civilized or savage. And he may also see that beyond these immediate evils, they will for a generation to come suffer the evils that must flow from resuscitating the type of social organization which aggressive activities produce, and from the lowexed moral tone which is its a{\..(}ompaniment.

OHAPTER XIII. THIAL AND COMPROMISE. § 82. In the foregoing two chapters the case on bebalf of Egoism and the case on behalf of Altruism have been stated. The two conflict; and we have now to consider what verdict ought to be given. If the opposed statements are severally valid, or even if each of them is valid in part, the inference must be that pure egoism and pure altruisul are both illegitimate. If the maxim-" Live for self," is wrong, so also is the maxirn "Live for others." Henoe a compromise is the only possibility. This conclusion, though already seeming unavoidable, I do not here set down as proved. The purpose of this chapter is to justify it in full; and I enunciate it at the outset because the arguments used will be better understood, if ( the conclusion to which they converge is in the reader's view. How shall we so conduct the discussion as most clearly to bring out this necessity for a comprolnise ? Perhaps the best way will be that of stating one of the two claims in its extreme form, and observing the implied absurdities.

To deal thus with the principle of pure selfishness, would be to waste space. Everyone sees that an unchecked satisfaction of personal desires from moment to moment, in absolute disregard of all other beings, would cause universal conflict and soc;ial dissolution. The principle of pnre unsel.

220 THE DATA OF ETHICS. fishness, less obviously mischievous, may therefore better be chosen. There are two aspects under which the doctrine that others' happiness is the true ethical aim presents itself. The" others'" may be conceived personally, as individuals with whom we sta.nd in direct relations; or they may be conceived impersonally, as constituting the c01umunity. In so far as the self-abnegation implied by pure altruism is concerned, it matters not in which sense" others" is used. But criticisln will be facilitated by distinguishing between these two forms of it. We will take the last form first. ~ 83. This commits us to an exalnination of "the greatest happiness principle," as enunciated by Benthaln and his followers. The doctrine that "·the general happiness" ought to be the object of pursuit, is not, indeed, overtly iden tified with pure altruism. But as, if general happiness is the proper end of action, the individual actor must regard his own share of it simply as a unit in the aggregate, no more to be valued by him than any other unit, it results that since this unit is almost infinitesimal in comparison with the aggregate, his action, if directed exclusively to achievement of general happiness, is, if not absolutely altruistic, as nearly so as may be. Hence the theory which makes general happiness the iUlnlediate object of pursuit, may rightly be taken as one form of the pure altruism to be here criticized.

Both as justifying this interpretation and as furnishing a definite proposition with which to deal, let me set )ut hy quoting a passage from Mr, Mill's Ut'iUtaTian·isrn. U The Greatest-Happiness Principle," he says, "is a mere form of words without rational signification, unless one person's happiness, supposed equal in degree (with the proper allowance made for kind), is counted for exactly as much as another's. Those conditions being supplied, Bentham's dictum) 'everybody to C0unt for one, nobody for more than one,' :might be written under the principle of utility as an explanatory commentary" (p. 91.) Now though the meaning of "greatest happiness" as au TRIAL AND COMPROMISE. 221 end,ishere to a certain degree defined, the need for further definition is felt the moment we attempt to decide on ways of regulating conduct so as to attain the end. The first question which arises is-J\tfust we regard this" greatest happiness principle" as a principle of guidance' for the cOlnmunity in its corporate capacity, or as a principle ot guidance for its members separately considered, or both?

It the reply is that the principle must be taken as a guide for governnlental action rather than for individual action, we are at once met by the inquiry,-What is to be the guide for individual action? If individual action is not to be regulated solely for the purpose of achieving" the greatest happiness of the greatest number," some other principle of regulation for individual action is required j' and "the greatest happiness principle" fails to furnish the . needful ethical standard. Should' it be rejoined that the individual in his capacity of political unit, is to take further ance of general happiness as his end, giving his vote or otherwise acting on the legislature with a view to this end, and Fhat in so far· guidance is supplied to him, there· comes the further inquiry---Whenceis to come guidance for the remainder of individual conduct, c'onstituting by far the greater part of it? If this private part of individual conduct is not to have general happiness as its direct aim, then an ethical standard other than that offered has still to be found.

Hence, unless pure altruism as thus formulated confesses its inadequacy, it must justify itself as a sufficient rule £01" all conduct, individual and' social. We will first deal with it as the alleged right principle of public policy; and then as the alleged right principle of private. action. § 84.. On trying to understand precisely the statement that when taking general happiness as an end, the rule must be-" every body to count for one} nobody for more than one.." there arises the idea of distribution. We can form 22a THE DATA OF ETHICS. no idea of distribution without thinking of something distributed and recipients of this something. That we may clearly conceive the proposition we must clearly conceive both these elements of it. Let us take first th~ loecipients. (( Everybody to count for one, nobody for more than one." Does thie mean that, in respect of whatever is portioned out, each is to have the sanle share whatever his character, whatever his conduct? Shall he if passive have as much as if active? Shall he if useless have as much as if useful?

Shall he if criminal have as much as if virtuous? If the distribution is to be made without reference to the natures and deeds of the recipients, then it must be shown that a system which equalizes, as far as it can, the treatment of good and bad, will be beneficial. If the distribution is not to be indiscriminate, then the formula disappears. The some· thing distributed must be apportioned otherwise than by equal division. There must be adjustment of amounts to deserts; and we are left in the dark as to the mode of adjust,ment-we have to find other guidance. Let us next ask what is the something to be distributed- ? The first idea which occurs is that happiness itself must be divided out among all. Taken literally, the notions that the greatest happiness should be the end sought, and that in apportioning it everybody should count for one and nobody for more than one, imply that happiness is something that can be cut up into parts and handed round. This, however, is an impossible interpretation. But after recognizing the impossibility of it, there returns the question-What is it ill respect of which everybody is to count for one and nobody for more than one?

Shall the interpretation be that the concrete means to happiness are to be equally divided? Is it intended that there shall be distributed to aU in equal portions the necessaries of life, theappliallces to comfort, the facilities for amuse ment? As a conception simply, this is more defensible.

TRIAL AND COMPROMISE. 223 But passillgover the question of policy-passing over the question whether greatest happiness would ultimately .he secured by such a process (which it obviously would not) it turns out on examination that greatest happiness could not even proxirnately be so secured. Differences of age., br growth, of constitutional need, differences of activity antI consequent expenditure, differences of desires and tastes, would entail the inevitable result that the material aids to happiness which each received would be .more or less un adapted to his requirements. Even if purchasing power were equally divided, the greatest happiness would not be achieved if everybody counted for one and nobody for more than one; since, as the capacities for utilizIng the purchased means to happiness would vary both with the constitution and the stage of life, the means which would approximately suffice to satisfy the wants of one would be extrerr1ely insufficient to satisfy the wants of another, and so the greatest total of hAppiness would not be obtained: means might be unequally apportioned in a way that would produce a gi'eater total.

But now if happiness itself cannot be cut up and dist~ibuted equally, and if equal division of the material . aids to happiness would not produce greatest happiness, what is the thing .to be thus apportioned ?-what is it in respect of which everybody is to count for one and nobody for more than one? There seems but a single possibility. There remain to be equally distributed nothing but the conditions under which each may pursue happiness. The ·limitations to action-the degrees of freedom and restraint. shall be alike for alL Each shall have as much liberty to pursue his ends as consists with maintaining like liberties to pursue their ends by others; and one as much as another shall have the enjoyment of that which his efforts, carried on within these limits, obtain. But to say that in respect of these conditions everybody shall count for one and nobody for more than one, is simply to say that equity shall be enforced. 16 224 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

Thus, considered as a principle of public policy, Bentham'e principle, when analyzed, transforms itself into the principle he slights. Not general happiness becomes the ethical standard by which legislative action is to be guided, but universal justice. And so the altruistic theory under this form collapses. § 85. From examining the doctrine that general happines8 should be the end of public action, we pass now to examine the doctrine that it should be the end of private action. It is contended that from the standpoint of pure reason, the happiness of others has no less a claim as an object of pursuit for each than personal happiness. Considered as parts of a total, happiness felt by self and like happiness felt by another, are of equal values; and hence it is inferred that, rationally estilnated, the obligation to expend effort for others' benefit, is as great as the obligation to expend effort for one's own benefit. Holding that the utilitarian system of morals, rightly understood, harmonizes with the Christian maxim-" Love your neighbour as yourself," ]\tIr. Mill says that '4 as between his own happiness and that of others, utilitarianisrIl requires him to be as strictly impartial as a disinterested and benevolent spectator." (p. 24) Let us consider the alternative interpretations which may be given to this statement.

Suppose, first, that a certain quantum of happiness has in some way become available, without the special instrllmen t1lity of A, B, C, or D, constituting the group concerned. Then the proposition is that each shall be ready to have this qnantum of happiness as much enjoyed by one or more of the others as by himself. The disinterested and benevolent spectator would clearly, in such a case, rule that no one ought to have more of the happiness than another. But here, assuming as we do that the quantU111 of happiness has become available without the agency of any among the group, simple equ'ity dictates as much. :N'0 one having in any way establi8hed a claim different from.

TRIAL AND COMPROMISE. 225 the claims or others, their claims are equal; and due regard for justice by each will not permit him to monopolize thtl happiness. Now suppose a different case. Suppose that the quantum of happiness has been made available by the· efforts of one member of the group. Suppose that A has acquired by labour some material aid to happiness. He decides to act as the disinterested and benevolent spectator would direct. What will he decide ?-what. would the spectator direct? Let us consider the possible suppositions; taking first the least reasonable. The spectator may be conceived as deciding that the labour expended by A in acquiring this material aid to happiness, originates no claim to special use of it; but that it ought to be given to B, 0, or D, or that it ought to be divided equally among B, 0, and D, or that it ought to be divided equally arnong all members of the group, including A who has laboured for it. And if the spec tator is con0eived as deciding thus to-day, he mnst be con ceived as deciding thus day after d~y; with the result that one of the group expends all the effort, getting either none of the benefit or only his nUlnerical share, while the others get their shares of the benefit without expending any efforts.

That A might conceive the disinterested and benevolent spectator to decide in this way, and might feel bound to act in conformity with the imagined decision, is a strong supposition; and probably it will be admitted that such kind of impartiality, so far from being conducive to thr general happiness) would quickly be fatal to everyone. But this is not all. Action in pursuance of such a decision would in reality be negatived by the very principle· enun ciated. For not only A, but also B, C, and D, have to act on this principle. Each of them must behave as he con ceives an impartial spectator would decide. Does B con ceive the impartial spectator as awarding to him, B, the product or. A's labour? Then the a.3sun1ption is that R ' 226 THE nATA OF ETHICS. conceives the impartial spectator as favouring himself, B,. 1110re than A conceives him as favouring hil11sel£, A; which is inconsistent with the hypothesis. Does B, in con ceiving the impartial spectator, exclude h1s own interests as ('cnnpletely as A does? Then how can he decide so much to his own advantage, so partially, as to anow.him to take from A an equal share of the benefit gained by A's labour, towards which he and the rest have done nothing?

Passing rrom this conceivable, though not credible, deci sion of the spectator, here noted for the purpose of observ ing that habitual confornlity to it would be impossible,there remains to be considered the decision which a spectator really impartial would. give. 1-Ie would say that the happi ness, or material aid to happiness, which had been purchased by A's labour, was to be taken by A. He would say that B, 0, and D had no claims to it, but only to such happi .. ness, or aids to happiness, as their respective labours had purchased. Consequently, A, ncting as the imaginary iln.. partial spectator would direct, is, by this test, justified in appropriating such happineBs or aid to happiness as his own efforts have achieved. ." And so under its special form as under its general form, the principle is true only in so rar as it embodies a dis guised justice. Analysis again brings out the result that making "general happines~3" the end of action, really meanf!1 1naintaining what we call equitable relations among indi.

viduals. Decline to accept in its vague Iorm "the gl'eatest happiness principle," and insist on knowing what is the im plied conduct, public or private, and it turns out that the principle is meaningless save as indirectly asserting that the claims of each should be duly regarded by all. The utilitarian altruism becomes a duly qualified egoism. § 86. Another point of view from which to judge tIle altruistic theory may now be taken. If, assuu1il1g the proper object of pur~uit to be general happiness, we proceed TRIAL AND COMPROMISE. 227 rationally, we must ask in what d~fferent ways the aggregate, general happiness, may be composed; an:d must then· ask what composition of it will yield the largest sum. Suppose that each citizen pursuet) illi:l own happiness independently, not to the detriment o! others but without active concern for others; .then ttrlh united happinesses constitute a cert.ain SUill-a certain general happiness. Now suppose that each, instead of m&l.dng his own happiness the object of pursuit, makes the happiness of others the object of pursuit j then, again, there results a certain sum of happiness. This sum must. be less than, or equal to, or greater than, the first. If it is admitted that this sum is either less than the first or only equal ~h it, the altruistic course of action is confessedly eithfJf lyOrSe than, or no better than, the egoistic. rrhe assumptJQn must be that the sum of happiness obtained is greater. Let us observe what is involved in this assumption.

If each pursues exclusively the happiness of others; and jf each is also a recipient of happiness (which he must he, for otherwise no aggregate happine!4s can be forlned out of their individual happinesses); then the implication is that each gains the happiness due to altruistic action exclusively; and that in each this is greater in amount than the egoistic happiness obtainable by him, if he devoted himself to pursuit of it. Leaving out of consideration. for a moment these relative amounts of the two, let us note the conditions to the receipt of altruistic happiness by each. The syulpathetic nature gets pleasure by giving pleasure; and the proposition is that if the general happiness is the object of pursnit} each will be made' happy by witnessing others' happiness. Bn t what in such case constitutes the happiness of others? These others are also, by the hypothesis, pursuers and receivers of .altruistic pleasure. The genesis of altruistic pleaBure in each is to depend on the display of pleasures by others; wh ieh is again to depend on the display of plc:asures by others j and so on perpetually. Where) then) i~ _thepleasur(j) 228 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

to begin? Obviously there must be egoistic pleasu!" some where, before there can be the altruistic pleasure caused by synlpathy with it. Obviously, therefore, each must be egoistic in due amount, even if only with the view of giving others the possibility of being altruistic. So far from the sun} of happiness being made greater if all make greatest happiness the ex.clusive end, the SUIll disappears entirely. How absurd is the supposition that the happiness of all can be achieved withou~ each pursuing his own happiness, will be best shown by a physical simile. Suppose a cluster of bodies, each of which generates heat; and each of which is, therefore, while a radiator ,of heat to those around, also a receiver of heat from then1. Manifestly each will have a certain proper heat irrespective of that which it gains from the rest; and, each will have a certain heat gained from the rest irrespective of its proper heat. What will happen r So long as each of the bodies continues to be a generator of heat, each continues to maintain a temperature partly derived from itself and partly derived from others. But if each ceases to generate heat for itself and depends on the heat radiated to it by the rest, the entire cluster becomes cold. Well, the self-generated heat stands for egoistic pleasure; the heat radiated and received stands for sympathetic pleasure; and the disappearance of all heat if each ceases to be an originator of it) corresponds to the disappearance of all pleasure if each ceases to originate it egoistically.

A further conclusion may be drawn. Besides the im plication that before altruistic pleasure can exist, egoistic pleasure must exist, and that if the rule of conduct is to be the same for all, each lllUSt be egoistic in due degree; there is the implication that, to achieve the greatest sum of happiness, each must be more egoistic than altruistic. For} speaking generally, sympathetic pleasures mnst ever con tinue less intense than the pleasures with which there is sympathy. Other things equal, ideal feelings cannot be as vivid as real feelings. It is true that those having strong TRIAI:i ,AND COM.PROMISE. 229 imaginations may, especially in cases where the affections are engaged, feel the moral pain if not the physical pain of another, as keenly as the actual sufferer of it, and may participate with like intensity in another's plea sure: sometimes even mentally representing the received pleasure as greater than it really is, and so getting reflex pleasure greater' than the recipients' direct pleasure.

Such cases, however, and cases in whiuh even apart from exaltation of sympathy caused by attachment, there is a body of feeling sympathetically aroused equal in amount to the original feeling, ·if not greater, are necessarily excep tional. For in such cases the total consciousness includes many other elements besides the mentally-represented pleasure or pain -notably the luxury of pity and the luxury of goodness; and; genesis of these can occur but occasion ally: they could not be habitual concomitants of sympathetic pleasures if all pursued these from moment to moment. In estimating the possible totality of sympathetic pleasures, we must include nothing beyond the representations of the pleasures others exp81~ience. And unless it be assert'3d that we can have other's states of consciousness perpetually reproduced in us more vividly than the kindred states of consciousness are aroused in ourselves by their proper personal causes, it must be admitted that the totality of altruistic pleasures cannot become equal to the totality of egoistic pleasures. Hence, beyond the truth that before there can be altruistic pleasures there must be the egoistic pleasures from sympathy with which the~r. arise, there is the truth that, to obtain the greatest sum of altruistic pleasures: there must be a greater sum of egoistic pleasures.

§ 87. That pure altruism is suicidal may he yet other wise demonstrated. A .perfectly moral law must be one which becomes perfectly practicable as human nature be comes perfect. If its practicableness decreases as hu man 230 THE DATA OF ETHICS. nature improves; and if an ideal human nature neces· sitates its impractioability; it cannot be the moral law sought. Now opportuniti8s for practising altruism are numerous and great in proportion as there is weakness, or incapacity, or imperfection. If we pass beyond the limits of the family, in which a sphere for self-sacrificing activities must be pre .. ~erved as long as offspring have to be reared; and if we ask how there can continue a social sphere for self-sacrificing activities; it becomes obvious that the continued existence of serious evils) caused by prevalent defects -of nature, is implied. As fast as men adapt thernselves to the require ments of social life, so fast will the demands for efforts on their behalf diminish. And with arrival at finished adaptation, when all persons are at once completely self-con served and completely able to fulfil the obligations which society imposes on them, those occasions for postponement of self to others which pure altruism contemplates, disappear.

Such sel£-sacrifices become, indeed, doubly impracticable. Carrying on successfully their several lives, men not only can not yield to those around the opportunities £01" giving aid, bGt aid cannot ordinarily be given them without interfering with their normal activities, and so diminishing their pleasures. Like every inferior creature, led by its innate desires spontaneously to do all that its life requires, man, when completely moulded to the social state, must have desires so adjusted to his needs that he fulfils the needs in gratifying the desires. And if his desires are severally gratified by the performance of req aired acts, none of these can be performed for him without balking his desires. Acceptance from others of the results of their activities can take place only on condition of relinquishing the pleasures derived from his own activities. .Dinlinution rather than increase of happiness would result, could 3.1truistic action in su.ch case be enforced.

TRIAL AND COMPROMISE. 231 And here, indeed, we are introduced to another baseles~~ assumption which the theory makes. § 88. The postulate of utilitarianism as formulated in the statements above quoted, and of. pure altruism as otherwise expressed, involves the belief that it is possible for hil,ppiness, or the means to happiness, or the conditions to happiness, to be transferred. .Without any specified limita tion the proposition taken for granted is, that happiness in general admits of .detachment from one and attachment to another-that surrender to any· extent is possible by one and appropriation to any extent is possible by another . . But a moment's thought shows this to be far from the truth. On the one hand, surrender carried to a certain point is extremely mischievous and to a further point fatal; and on the other hand, much of the happiness each enjoys is self generated and can neither be given nor received.

To assume that egoistic pleasures may be relinquished to any extent, is to fall into one of those many errOl'S of ethical speculation which result from ignoring the truths of biology. When taking the biological view of ethics we saw t.hat plea sures accompany normal amounts of functions, while pains accompany defects or excesses of. functions; further, that complete life depends on cOlllplete discharge of functions, ftnd therefore on receipt of the correlativepleaRures. Hence, to yield up normal pleasures is to yield up so much life; and there arises the question-to what extent may this be done? If he is to continue living, the indiVIdual must take certain nmounts of those pleasures which go along with fnlfilLnent of the bodily functions, and ?nust avoid the pains which entire non-fulfilment of them entails. Completeabnegation means death; excessive abnegation means illness; abnega tionlessexcessive means physical degradation and consequent loss of power to fulfil obligations,personal and other.

When, therefore, we attempt to spc. c~alize the proposal to live not for s91£-satisfaction but for the satisfaction of others, we 232 THE DATA OF ETHICS. lneet with the difficulty that beyond a certain limit this cannot be done. And when we have decided what decrease of bodily welfare, caused by sacrifice of pleasures and acceptance of pains, it is proper for the individual to make. there is forced aLl us the fact that the portion of happiness, or means to happiness, which it is possible for him to yield up for redistribution, is a limited portion. Even more rigorous on another side is the restriction put upon the transfer of happiness, or the means to happiness. The pleasures gained by efficient action-by successful pursuit of ends, cannot by any process be parted with, and cannot in any way be appropriated by another. The habit of arguing about general happiness sometimes as though it were a concrete product to be portioned out, and sometilnes as though it were co-extensive with the use of those material aius to pleasure which may be given and received, has caused inattention to the truth that the pleasures of achieve ment are not transferable. Alike in the boy who has won :l, game of marbles, the athlete who has performed a feat, the statesman who has gained a party triumph, the inventor who has devised a new machine, the Inan of science who has discovered a truth, the novelist who has well delineated a character, the poet who has finely rendered an en10tion, we see pleasures which must, in the nature of things, be enjoyed exclusively by those to whom they come. And if we look at all such occupations as luen are not inlpelled to by their necessities-if we contemplate the various ambitions which play so lalge a part in life; we are reminded that so long as the consciousness of efficiency remains· a dominant pleasure, there will remain a dominant pleasure ,vhich cannot be pursued altruistically but must be pursu{ld egoistically.

Cutting off, then, at the one end, those pleasures which 111'e inseparable from maintenance of the physique in an uninjured state; and cutting off at the other end the pleasures of successful action j the amount that remains is so TRIAL AND COMPROMISE. 233 _ greatly diminishod, as to make untenable the assumption that ha,ppiness at large admits of distribution after the manner which utilitarianism assumes. § 89. In yet one more way may be shown the inconsistency of this transfigured utilitarianism which regards its doctrine as embodying the Christian maxirn-" Love your neigh bour as yourself," and of that altruislll which, going still further,: enunciates the maxirn-" Live for others." A right ru Ie of conduct must be one which may with advantage be adopted by all. "Act accordin g to that nlaxim only, which you can wish, at the saIne time, to become a universal law," says Kant. And clearly, passing over needful qualifications of this maxim, we m'1Y accept it to the extent of admitting that a mode of action which becomes impracticable as it approaches universality, must be wrong. Hence, if the theory of pure altruism, implying that effort should be expended for the benefit of others and not for personal henefit, is defensible, it must be shown that it will produce good results when acted upon by all. Mark the consequences if all are purely altruistic.

First, an impossible combination of moral attributes is implied. Each is supposed by the hypothesis to regard self AO little and others so much, that he willingly sacri fices his own pleasure~ to give pleasures to them. But if this is a universal trait, and if action is universally con gruous with it, we have to conceive each as being not only a sacrificeI' but also one who accepts sacrifices. While he i8 so unselfish as willingly to yield up the benefit for which he has laboured, he is so selfish as willingly to let others yield up to him the benefits they have laboured for. 'ro make pure 'altruism possible for all, each must be at once· extremely un egoistic and extremely egoistic. A-s a giver, he must have no thought for self; as a receiver, no thought for others. Evidently, this impl1es an inconceivable mental constitution. The sympathy which is so solicitous for others THE DATA OF ET HIes.

as willingly to injure self in benefiting them, cannot at the same time be so regardless of others as to accept benefits which they injure themselves in giving. The incongruities that emerge if we assume pure altruism to be universally practised, may be otherwise exhibited thus. Suppose that each, instead of enjoying such pleasurns as come to him, or such consumable appliances to pleasure as he has 'worked for, or such occasions for pleasure as reward his efforts, relinquishes these to a single other, or 3dds them toa common stock from which others benefit; what will result? Different answers Inay be given according as we assume that there are, or are not, additional influences brought into play. Suppose there are no additional influences. Then, if each transfers to another his happiness, or means to happiness, or occasions for happiness, while sonle one else does the like to him, the distribution of happiness is, on the average, unchanged; or if each adds to a common stock his happiness, or means to happiness, or occasions fot' happiness, from which COllInon stock each appropriates his portion, the average state is still, as before, unchanged.

The only obvious effect is that transactions must be gone through in the redistribution; and loss of tin1e and labonr Inust result. Now suppose some additional influence which makes the process beneficial; what must it be? The totality can· be increased only if the acts of transfer increase the quantity of that which is transferred. The happiness, or that which brings it, must be greater to one who derives it from another's efforts, than it would have been had his own efforts procured it; or otherwise, sup.' posing a fund of happiness, or of that which brings itJ has been formed by contributions from each, then each, in appropriating his share, must find it larger than it wonld have been had no such aggregation and dispersion taken place. To justify belief in such increase two conceivable assumptions may be made. One is that though the sum of plea~nres, or of pleasure~yielding things, relnalns the same TRIAL, AND COMPROMISE. 335 yet the kind of pleasure, or of pleasure-yielding things, which each receives in' exchange. from another, or from the aggre gate of others) is one which he appreciates more than that for which he laboured. Butta assume this is to assume tlUtt each labours directly for the thing which he enjoys less, ['~ther than for the th~ng w1.J.ich he enjoys more, which is nb3urd. The othel" asslunption is that while the exchanged or redistributed pleasure of· the egoistic kind, remains the same in amount for each, there is added to it the altruistic pleasure accompanying the exchange. But this assumption is clearly inadmissible if, as is implied, the transaction is universa!-is one through which each' becomes giver and 'feceiver to equal extents. For if the transfer of pleasures, or of pleasure-yielding things, from one to another or others, is always accompanied by the consciousness that there will he received from him or them an equivalent; there results merely a tacit exchange, either direct or roundabout. Each beC0111eS altruistic in no greater degree than is implied by being equitable; and each, having nothing to exalt his happiness, sympathetically or otherwise, cannot be a source of syn1pathetic happiness to others.

§ 90.. Thus, when the Ineanings of its words are inquired into, or when the necessary implications of its theory are exatuined, pure altruism, in whatever form expl'essed, conlmits its adherents to various absurdities. If "the greatest happiness of the greatest num ber," or in other words, "the general happiness," is the proper end of action, then not only for all public action but for all private action, it must be the end; because, otherwiso, the greater part of action remains unguided. Consider its fitness for each. If corporate action is to be guided by the principle, with its interpreting comment-" every body to count for one, nobody for more than one" there must be an ignoring of all differences of character and conduct, ,merits and_ demerits, among citizens, since 236 THE DATA OF ETHICS. no discrimination is provided for; and nloreover, since that in respect of which all are to count alike cannot be happiness itself, which is indistributable, and since equal sharing of the concrete means to happiness, besides failing ultimately would fail proximately to produce the gr6atsst happiness; it results that equal distribution of the conditions under which happiness may be pursued is the only tenable Illeaning: we discover in the principle nothing but a round ...

about insistance on equity. If, taking happiness at large as the allll of private action, the individual is required to judge between his own happiness and that of others 'as an impar tial spectator would do, we see that no supposition concern ing the spectator save one which suicidally ascribes partiality to hiln, can bring out any other result than that each shall enjoy such happiness, or appropriate such means to happi ness, as his own efforts gain: equity is again the sole content. When, adopting another lnethod, we consider how the greatest sum of happiness may be composed, and, recognizing the fact that equitable egoism win produce a cer·tain sum, ask how pure altruism is to produce a greater sum; we are shown that if all, exclusively pursuing altruistic pleasures, are so to produce a greater snm of pleasures, the implication is that altruistic pleasures, which arise fron1 sympathy, can exist in the absence of egoistic plea sures with which there may be synlpathy-an impossibility; and another implication is that if, the necessity for egoistic pleasures being admitted, it 1S said that the greatest sum of happiness will be attained if all individuals are n10r8 altruistic than egoistic, it is indirectly said that as a genera truth, representative feelings are stronger than presentative feelings-another impossibility. Again, the doctrine of pu re al truism assumes that happiness ll1ay be to any extent transferred or redistributed; whereas the fact is that plea sures of one order cannot be transferred in large ll1easure without results which are fatal or extremely injurious, and that pleasures of another order cannot be transferred in any '!'RIAL AND .COMPROMISE. 231 degree. Further, pure altruism presents this fatal anomaly; that while a right principle of action must be more and more practised as men improve, the altruistic principle becomes less and less practicable as men approach an ideal form, because the sphere £01' practising it continually de e.r\3ases. Finally, its self-destructiveness is made manifest on observing that for all to adopt it as a principle o£ action, which they must do if it is a sound principle, implies that all are at once extremely unegoistic and extremely egoistic-ready to injure self for others' benefit, and ready to accept benefit at the cost of injury to others: traits which cannot coexist.

The need for a compromise between egoism and altruism is <thus made conspicuous. We are forced to recognize the claims which his own well-being has on the attention of each by noting how, in some directions we come to a deadlock, in others to contradictions, and. in others to disastrous results, if they are ignored. Conversely, it is undeniable that disregard of others by each, carried to a great extent is fatal to society, and carried to a still greater extent is fatal to the family, and eventually to the race. Egoism and altruisnl are therefore co-essential. t 91. What form is the compromise between egoism and altruism to assume? how are their respective claims to be satisfied in due degrees? It is a truth insisted on by moralists and recognized in common life, that the achievement of individual happiness is not proportionate to the degree in which individual happiness is made the object of direct pursuit; but there has not yet· become current the belief that, in like manner, tho achievement of general happiness is not proportionate to the degree in which general happiness is made the object of direct pursuit. Yet failure of direct pursuit ill the last case Is more reasonably to be expected than in the first.

When discussing the relations of means and e~dsJ we saw 238 THE DATA OF ETHICS. that as individual conduct evolves, its principle becomes more and more that of making fulfilment of means the proximate end, and leaving the ultimate end, welfare or happiness, to come as a result. And we saw that when general welfare or happiness is the ultimate end, the saIne principle holds even more rigorously; since the ultima t~ end under its ilnpersonal form, is less determinate than under its personal form, and the diffieulties in the way of achieving it by direct pursuit still greater. Recognizing, then, the fact that corporate happiness still more than individual happiness, must be pursued not directly but indirectly, the first question for us is-What must be the general nature of the means through which it is to be achieved. It is admitted that self-happiness is, in a measure, to be obtained by furthering the happiness of others. May it not be true that, conversely, general h1ppiness is to be obtained by furthering self-happiness? If the well-being of each unit is to be reached partly through his care for the well-being of the aggregate, is not the well-being of the aggregate to be reached partly through the· care of each unit £01' himself? Clearly, our conclusion must be that general happiness is to be achieved lnainly through the adequate pursuit of their own happinesses by individuals; while, reciprocally, the happinesses of individuals are to be achieved in part by their pursuit of the general happiness.

And this is the conclusion embodied in the progressing ideas and usages of mankind. This compronlise between egoism and altruism has been slowly establi::;hing itself; and towards recognition of its propriety, men's actual beliefs, as distinguished from their nominal beliefs, have been gradually approaching. Soeial evolution bas been bringing about a state in which the claims of the individual to the proceeds of his activities, and to such satisfactions as they bring, a:ce more and UlOre positively asserted; at the same time that insi:3tance on others' claims, and habituaJ 'JRIALAND COMPROMISE. 239 respect for them, have been increasing. Among the rudest savages personal interests are very vaguely distinguished from the int.erests of others. In early stages of civiliza tion, the proportioning of benefits to efforts is extremely rude: slaves and serfs get for work, arbitrary amounts of food and shelter: exchange 'being infrequent, there is little to develop the idea of equivalence. But as civilization advances and status passes into contract, there comes daily experience of the relation between advantages enjoyed and labour given: the industrial system maintaining, through supply and demand, a due adjustment of the one to the other. And this growth of voluntary cooperation-this exchange of services under 3greement, has been necessarily accompanied by decrease of aggressions one upon another, ,and increase of syn1pathy: leading to exchange of services beyond agreement. That is to say,· the more distinct asser tions of individual claims and more rigorous apportionin~ of peraonal enjoyments to efforts expended, has gone hand in hand with growth of that negative altruism shown in equitable conduct and that positive altruism shown in gratuitous aid.

A higher phase of this double change has in our own times becomes conspi~uous. If, on the one hand, we note the struggles for political freedom, the contests between labour and capital, the judicial reforms made to facilitate enforcement of rights, we see that the tendency still is towards complete appropriation by each of whatever benefits are dne to hiul,and consequent exclusion of his fellovvs £r()m such benefits. On the other hand, if 'we consider what is meant by the surrender' of power to the ma,sses, the abolition of class-privileges, the efforts to diffuse know le(lge, the agitations to spread temperance, the multitudinous philanthropic societies; it becomes clear that regard for the well-being of others is increasing pari paS8U with the taking of means to secure personal well-being. What hoM.s of the relations within each society holds to 17 240 THE DATA OF ETHICS. some extent, if to a less extent, of the relations between societies. Though to maintain national claims, real or imaginary, often of a trivial kind, the civilized still make war on one another; yet their several nationalities are more respected than in past ages. Though by victors portions of territory are taken and money compensations exacted; yet conquest is not now, as of old, habitually followed by entire appropriation of territories and enslavement of peoples.

The individualities of societies are in a larger measure preserved. Meanwhile the altruistic intercourse is greater: aid is rendered 011 occasions of disaster by flood, by fire, by famine, or otherwise. And in international arbitration as lately exemplified, implying the recognition of claims by one nation upon another, we see a further progress in this wider altruism. Doubtless there is mueh to be said by way of set~off; for in the dealings of the civilized with the un. civilized, little of this progress can be traced. It may be urged that the primitive rule-a Life for li£e," has been developed by us into the rule-" For one life many lives," as in the cases of Bishop Patteson and Mr. Birch; but t.hen there is the qualifying fact that we do not torture our prisoners or mutilate them. If it be said' that as the Hebrews thought themselves warranted in seizing the lands God promised to them, and in some cases exterminating the inhabitants, so 'we, to fulfil the "manifest intention of Providence," dispossess inferior races whenever we want their territories; it may be replied that we do not kill many 1110re than seems needful, and tolerate the existence of those who subnlit. And should anyone point out that as Attila, while conquering or destroying peoples and nations, regarded himself as "the scourge of God," punishing mon for their sins, so we, as represented by a High Commis sioner and a priest he quotes, think ourselves called on to chastise with rifles and cannon, heathens who practise poly gamy; there is the rejoinder that not even the most ferocious disciple of the teacher of mercy would carry his vengeance TRIAL AND COMPROMISE. 241 eo far as. to depopulate whole territories and erase scores of cities. And when, on the other' hand, we renlember that there is an Aborigines Protection Society, that there are Commissioners in certain colonies appointed to protect native interests, and that in some cases the lands of natives have been purchased in ways which, however unfair, have implied some recognition of their claims; we may say that little as the compromise between egoism and altruism hae progressed in international affaire, it 118,5 still progressed somewhat in the direction indicated.

CHAPTER XIV, CONCIUATION. § 92. As exhibited in the last chapter, the compl'omise between the clain1s of self and the claims of others seems to imply permanent antagonism between the two. The pursuit by each of his own happiness while paying due regard to the happine~s of his fellows, apparently necessitates the ever recurring question-how far must the one end be sought and how far the other: suggesting, if not discord in the life of each, still, an absence of complete harmony. This is not the inevitable inference ho·wever. When; in the Princ1ples of Sociology,Part III, the pheno mena of race-maintenance among living things at large were discussed, that the development of the domestic relations might be the better understood, it was shown that during evolution there has been going on a concilia tion between the interests of the species, the interests of the parents, and the interests of the offspring. Proof was given that as we ascend from the lowest forms of life to the highest, race-maintenance is achieved with a decreasing sacrifice of life, alike of young individuals and of adult individuals, and also with a decreasing sacrifice of parental lives to the lives of offspring. We saw that, with the progress of civilization, like changes go on among human beings j and that the highest domestic relations are those in which the conciliation of welfares CONCILIATION. 243 within the family becomes greatest, while the 'welfare of the society is best subserved. Here it remains to be shown that a kindred conciliation has been, and is, taking place between the interests of each citizen and the interests of citizens at large; tending ever towards a state in which the two become merged in one, and in which the feeling~ answering tothom respectively, fall into complete concord.

In the family group, even as we observe it among many inferior vertebrates, we see that the parental sacrifice, now become so moderate in amount as to consist with long continued parental life, is not accompanied by consciousness or sacrifice; but, contrariwise, is made from a direct desire to make it: the altruistic labours on behalf of young are carried on in satisfaction of < parental il1Rtincts. If we trace these relations up through the grades of mankind, and observe how largely love rather than obligation prompts the care of children, we see the concilia.tion of interests to be such that achievement of parental happiness coincides with securing the happiness of offspring: the wish for children amongtbe childless, and tbe occasional adoption of·children, showing how needful for attainment of certain egoistic satisfactions are these altruistic activities. And. further evolution, causing along with higher nature dilni nished fertility, and therefore smaller burdens on parents, may be expected to bring a state in which, far more than now, the pleasures of adult life will consist in raising offspring to perfection wbile simultaneously furthering the immediate happiness of offspring.

Now though altruism of a social kind, lacking certain elements of parental altruism, can never attain the same, level; yet it may be expected to attain a level at which it ,vill be like p~rental altruisln in spontaneity-a level such that ministration to others' happiness will become a daily need-a level such that the lower egoistic satisfactions will be continually subordinated to this higher egoistic satis faction, not by any effort to subordinate them, but py the 244 THE DATA OF ETHIC8. prefelence for this higher egoistic satisfaction whenever it can be obtained. Let us consider how the development of sympathy, which must advance as fast as conditions permit, will bring about this state. ~ 93. We have seen that during the evolution of life, }Jleasures. and pains have necessarily been the incentives to and deterrents from, actions which the conditions of exist ence demanded and negatived. An implied truth to be here noted is, that faculties which, under given conditions, yield partly pain and partly pleasure, cannot develop beyond the limit at which they yield a surplus of pleasure: if beyond that limit more pain than pleasure results from exercise of them, their growth must be arrested.

Through sympathy both these forms of feeling are excited. Now a pleasurable consciousness is aroused on witnessing pleasure ; now a painful consciousness is aroused on witnessing pain. Hence, if beings around him habitually manifest pleasure and but rarely pain, sympathy yields to its possessor a surplus 01 pleasur·e.; while, contrariwise, if little pleasure is ordinarily witnessed and much pain, sym pathy yields a surplus of pain to its possessor. The average development of sympathy lTIUst, therefore, be regulated by the average manifestations of pleasure and pain in others. If the life usually led under given social conditions i~ such that suffering is daily inflicted, or is daily displayed by asso ciates, sympathy cannot grow: to assume growth or it is to assume that the constitution will modify itself in sUlh way as to increase its pains and therefore depress Its ener· gies; and is to ignore the truth that bearing any kind of pain gradually produces insensibility to that pain, or callousness.

On the other hand, if the social state is such that manifes tations of pleasure predonlinate, sympathy will increase; since sympathetic pleasures, adding to the totality of pleasures enhancing vitality, conduce to the physical prosCONCILIATION. 245 per:tty of the most sympathetic, and since the pleasures of sympathy exceeding its pains in all, lead to an exercise of it which strengthens it. The first inlplication is one already more than once indicated. We have seen that along with habitual militancy and under the adapted type of social organization, sympathy _ cannot develop to any considerable height. The destructive activities carried on against external enemies sear it; the state of feeling nlain tained causes within the society itself frequent acts of aggression or cruelty; and further, the compulsory cooperation characterizing the militant reg'ime necessarily represses syulpathy-exists only on condition o:r an unsympathetic treatluent of some by others.

But even could the militant regi1ne forthwith end, the hindrances to development of sympathy would still be great. Though cessation of war would imply increased adaptation of man to social life, and decrease of sundry evils, yet there would remain much non-adaptation and much consequent unhappiness. In the first place, that form of nature which has generated and still generates ,vars, though by implication raised to a higher form, would not at once be raised to so high a form that there would cease all in justices and the pains they cause. For ~ considerable period after predatory activities had ended, the defects of the pre datory nature would continue: entailing their slowly diminishing evils. In the second place, the ill-adjustment of the human constitution to the pursuits of industrial life, must long persist, and may be expected to survive in ;) measure the cessation of wars: the required modes oi ~ctivity must rernain for innumerable generations in somel degree displeasurable. And in the third place, deficiencies of self-control such as the improvident show. us, as well as those many failures of conduct due to inadequat~ foresight of consequences, though less marked than now) could not fail still to produce suffering.

Nor would even complete adaptation, if limited to 246 THE DATA Oli' ETHICS. disappearance of the non-adaptations just indicated, remove all sources of those miseries which, to the extent of their manifestation, check the growth of sympathy. For ,vhile the rate of multiplication continues so to exceed the rate of mortality as to cause pressure on the means of subsistence, there must continue to result ~uch unhappiness; either from balked affections or from overwork and stinted means. Only as fast as fertility diminishes, which we have seen it must do along with further mental development (Principles of Biology, § § 367-377), can there go on such diminution of the labours 'required for efficiently supporting self and family, that they will not, constitute a displeasurable tax o~ the energies. Gradually then, and only gradually, as these various causes of unhappiness become less can sympathy become greater. Life would be intolerable if, while the causes of misery remained as they now are, all men were not only in a high degree sensitive to the pains, bodily and mental, felt by those around and expressed in the faces of those they met, but were unceasingly conscious of the miseries every where being suffered as consequences of war, crime, mis conduct, misfortune, ilnprovidence, incapacity_But, as the moulding and re-moulding of man and society into mutuEi.l fitness progresses, and as the. pains caused by unfitness decrease, sympathy can increase in presence of the pleasures that come from fitness. The two ehanges are indeed so related that each furthers the other. Such growth of sympathy as conditions permit, itself aids in lessening pain and augmenting pleasure; and the greater surplus of pleasure that results makes possible further growth of sympathy.

§ 94. The extent to which sympathy may develop when the hindrances are removed, will be better conceived after observing the agencies through which it is excited, and setting down the reasons for expecting those agencies to CONCILIATION. 247 become more efficient. Two factors have to be considered -the natural language ofl· feeling in the being sympathized with, and the power of interpreting that language in the bei,ng 'who sympathizes. We may anticipate development of both. Movements of the body and facial changes are visible effect~ o£ feeling which, when the feeling is strong, are uncontrollable. V\Then the feeling is les8 strong however, be it sensational or emotional, they may be wholly or par tIally repressed ; and there is a habit, more or less constant, of repressing them: this habit being the concomitant of a nature such that it is 'often undesirable that others should see wliat is felt. So necessary with our existing characters and conditions are concealments thus prompted, that they have come to form a part of moral duty; and concealment for its own sake is often insisted upon as an element in good manners. All this is caused by the prevalence of feelings at variance with social good-feelings which cannot be shown without producing discords or estrange ments. But in proportion as' the egoistic desires fall more under control of the altruistic, and there conle fewer and slighter impulses of a kind to be reprobated, the need for keeping guard over facial expression and bodily move ment will decrease, and these will with increasing clearness convey to spectators the mental state. Nor is this all.

Restrained as its use is, this Ianguage of the emotions is at present prevented from growing. But as fast as the emo tions become such that they may be more candidly displayed, the.re will go, along-with the habit of display, development of the means of display; so that besides the stronger emotions, the more delicate shades and smaller degrees of emotion win visibly exhibit thelllsel ves: the emotional language will beconle at once more copious, more varied, more definite. And obviously sympathy will be prop or.. tionately facilitated. An equally importan~, if not a more important, advance 01 248 iHE DATA OF ETHICS. kindred nature, is to be anticipated. The vocal signs 01 sentient states will silnultaneously evolve further. Loudness of tone, pitch of tone, quality of tone, and change of tone, are severally marks of feeling j and, combined in different ways and proportions, serve to express different amounts and kinds of feelings. .A s elsewhere pointed out, cadences are the~ comments of the enlotions on the propositions of the intellect.* Not in excited speech only, but in ordinary speech, we show by ascending and descending intervals, by degrees of deviation from the lnedium tone, as well as by place and strength of enlphasis, the kind of sentiency which accompanies the thought expressed. Now the manifestation of feeling by cadence, like its n1anifestation by visible changes, is at present under restraint: the motives for repression act in the one case as they act in the other. A double effect is produced. This audible language of feeling is not used up to the limit of its existing capacity; and it is to a considerable degree nlisu8ed, so as to convey other feelings than those which are felt. 'fhe result of this disuse and misuse is to check that evolution which norInal use would cause. We must infer, then, that as moral adapta tion progresses, and there is decreasing need for conceal.

ment of the feelings, their vocal signs will develop much further. Though it is not to be supposed that cadences will ever convey emotions as exactly as words convey thoughts, yet it is quite possible that the emotional language or the future may rise as much above our present emotional language, as our intellectual language has already risen above the intellectual language of the lowest races. A simultaneous increase in the power of interpreting both visible and audible signs of feeling n1ust be taken into account. Among those around we see differences both of ability tu perceive such signs and of ability to conceive the inlplied mental states and their causes: here, a stolidity un• • See Essay on" The Odgin and Function of Music."

CONCILIATION. 249 impressed by a slight facial chan?;e or altered tone of voice, or else unable to imagine what is felt ; and there, a quick observation and a penetrating intuition, making instantly comprehensible the state of mind and its origin. If we suppose both these faculties exalted both a more delicate perception of the signs and a strengthened constructive imagination-we shall get some idea of the deeper and wider sympathy that will hereafter arise. 110re vivid representations of the feelings of others, implying ideal excitements of feelings approaching to real excitements, must imply a greater likeness between the feelings of the sympathizer and those of the sympathized with: coming near to identity. By simultaneous increase of its subjective and objective factors, sympathy may thus, as the hindrances diminish, rise above that now shown by the sympathetic as much as in them it has risen above that whieh the callous show.

§ 95. What must be the accompan37ing evolution of conduct? What must the relations between egoism and altruism become as this form of nature is neared? A conclusion drawn ill the chapter on the relativity of pleasures and pains, and there elnphasized as one to be borne in n1ind, must now be recalled. It was pointed out that, supposing them to be consistent with continuance of life, there are no activities which may not become sources of pleasure, if surrounding conditions require persistence in them. And here it is to be added, as a corollary, that if the conditions require any class o£ activities to be relatively great, there win arise a relatively great pleasure accompany .. ing that class o£ activities. What bearing have these general inferences on the special question before us ? That alike for public welfare and private welfare sympathy is essential) we have seen. We have seen that cooperation and the benefits which it brings to each and all, become high in proportion as the altruistic, that is the sympathetic, 250 THE DATA OF E'l'HICS.

interests extend. The actions prompted by fellow-feeling are thus to be counted among those demanded by social conditions. They are actions which maintenance and further development of social organization tend ever to increase; and therefore actions with which there will be joined an increasing pleasure. From the laws of life it must be con cluded that unceasing social discipline will so mould human nature, that eventually sympathetic pleasures will be sponta neonsly pursued to the fullest extent advantageous to each and all. The scope for altruistic activities will not exceed the desire for a]truistic satisfactions. In natures thus constituted, though the altruistic gratifi cations must remain in a transfigured sense egoistic, yet they will not be egoistically pursued-will not be pursued from egoistic motives. r.rhollgh pleasu!'e will be gained by giving pleasure, yet the thought of the sympathetlic pleasure to be gained will not occupy consciousness, but only tho thought of the pleasure given. To a great extent this is so now. In the truly synlpathetic, attention is so absorbed with the proximate end, others' happiness, that there is none given to the prospective self-happiness which may ultimately result. An analogy will make the relation clear.

A miser accumulates money, not deliberately saying to himself-" I shall by doing this get the delight which possession gives." He thinks only of the money and th~ means of getting it; and he experiences incidentally the pleasure that comes from possession. Owning property is that which he revels in imagining, and not the feeling which owning property will cause. Similarly, one who is sym pathetic in the highest sense, is mentally engaged solely it. representing pleasure as experienced by another; and pursues it for the benefit of that other, forgetting any participation he will have in it. Subjectively considered, then, the conciliation of egoism and altruism will eventua.lly become such that though the altruistic pleasure, as being a part of the consciousness of one who experiences it, can CONeI LIATION. 25) never be other than egoistic, it will not be consciuusly egoistic. Let us now ask what must happen in a society COlllposed of persons constituted in this manner.

§ 96. The opportunities for that postponement of self to others which constitutes altruism as ordinarily conceived, must, in several ways, be more and more limited as the highest state is approached. Extensive demana s on the benevolent, presuppose much unhappiness. Before there can be many and large calls on some for efforts on behalf of others, there must be many others in conditions needing help-in conditions of com parative misery. But, as we have' seen above, the develop ment of fellow-feeling can go on only as fast as Inisery decreases. Sympathy can reach its full height only when there have ceased to be frequent occasions for anything like serious self-sacrifice. Change the point of view, and this truth presents itself under another aspect. I We have already seen that with the progress of adaptation each becomes so constituted that he cannot be helped without in some way arresting a pleasur able activity. There cannot be a beneficial intel~£erence between faculty and function when the two are adjusted.

Consequently, in proportion as mankind approach complete adjustment of their natures to social needs, there must be fewer and smaller opportunities for giving aid. Yet again, as was pointed out in· the last chapter, the sympathy whicl prompts efforts for 1thers' welfare must be pained by self-injury on the part of others; and must, th~re· fore, cause aversion to accept benefits derived from their self-injuries. What is to be. inferred? While each when occasion offers is ready, anxious even, to surrender egoistio satisfactions; otbers, similarly-natured, cannot but resist the surrender. If anyone, proposing to treat himself more hardly than a disinterested spectator would direct, refraiul 252 THE DATA OF ETHICS. fram appropriating that which is due, others, caring for hint if he will not care for himself, must necessarily insist that be shall appropriate it. General altruisln then, in its developed form, must inevitably resist individual excesses of altruism. The relation at present familiar to us will be inverted; and instead of each maintaining his own claims, others will maintain his clailns for him: not, indeed, by active efforts, which will be needless, but by passively resist.

ing any undue yielding up of them. There is nothing in such behaviour which is not even now to be traced in our daily experiences as beginning. In business transactions among honourable men, there is usually a desire on either side that the other shall treat himself fairly. Not unfre .. quently, there is a refusal to take something regarded as the other's due, but 'which the other offers to give up. In social intercourse, too, the cases are common in which those who would surrender t~leir shares of pleasure are not permitted by the rest to do so. Further development of sympathy cannot but make this mode of behaving in.. creasingly general and increasingly genuine. Certain coulplex restraints on excesses of altruism exist, which, in another way, force back the individual upon a Lormal egoism. 'l"wo may here be noted. In the first place, self-abnegations often repeated imply on the part of the actor a tacit ascription of relative selfishness to others who profit by the self-abnegations. Even with men as they are, there occasionally arises a feeling among those for wholn sacrifices are frequently made, that they are being insulted by the assumption that they are ready to receive them; and in the mind of the actor also, there son1etimes grows up a recognition of this feeling on their part, and a consefluent check on his too great or too frequent su.rrenders of pleasure.

Obviously in more developed natures, this kind of check must act still more promptly. In the second place, when, as the hypothesis implies, altruistic pleasures have reached a greater intensity than they now possess, each person will be CONCILIATION. 253 debarred from undue pursuit of them by the consci.ousness that other persons, too, desire them, and that scope for others' enjoyment of them must be left. Even now maybe observed among groups of friends, where some competition in amiability is going on, relinquishments of opportunities for self-abnegation that others. may have them. "Let her give up the gratification, she will like to do so;" "Let him undertake the trouble, it will please him;" are suggestions which from time to time illustrate this consciousness. The most developed sympathy will care for the sympathetic satisfactions of others as well as for their selfish satisfactions. What may be called a higher equity will refrain fronl trespassing on the spheres of others' altruistic activities, as a lower equity refrains from tres-, passing on the spheres of their egoistic activities. A.nd by this checking of what may be called an egoistic 3.ltruism, undue sacrifices on the part of each must be prevented.

What spheres, then, will eventually remain' for altruism as it is commonly conceived? r.l'here are three. One of them nlust to the last continue large in extent; and the others must progressively diminish, though they do not dis appear. The first is that which family-life affords. Always there must be a need for subordination of self regarding f8elings to other-regarding feelings in the rearing of children. Though this will diminish with diminution in the number to be reared) yet it will increase with the greater elaboration and prolongation of the activities on their behalf. But as shown above, there is even now partially effected a conciliation such that those egoistic satisfac tions which parenthood yields are achieved through altruistic activities-a conciliation tending ever towards completeness. An important developement of family-altruism must be added: the reciprocal care of parents by children during old age-a care beconling lighter and better fulfilled, in which a kindred conciliation may be looked £01'". Pursuit of social welfare at large nlust afford hereafter, as it 254 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

does now, scope for the postponement. of selfish interests to unselfish interests, but a continually lessening scope; because as adaptation to the social state progresses, the needs £01" those regulative actions by which 'social life is made hartnonious become less. And here the amount of altruistic action which each undertakes must inevita11y be kept within moderate bounds by others; for if they al~e similarly altruistic, they 'will not allow some to pursue public ends to their own considerable detriment that the rest may profit. In the private relations o£ men, opportunities for self sacrifice prolIlpted by synlpathy, must ever in some degree, though eventually in a srnall degree, be afforded by accidents, diseases, and Dlisfortunes in general; since, however near to completeness the adaptation of hurnan nature to the conditions of existence at large, physical and social, may become, it can never reach com..

pleteness. Flood, fire, and wreck nlust to the last yield at intervals opportunities for heroic acts; and in the motives to such acts, anxiety for others 'will be less alloyed with love of admiration than now. Extreme, however, as nlay be the eager ness for altruistic actio!l on the rare occasions hence arising, the amount falling to the share of each must, for tIle reasons - given, be narrowly limited. But though in the incidents of ordinary life, postponements of self to others in large ways must become very infrequent, daily inter course 'will still furnish multitudinous small occasions for the activity of fellow feeling. Always each nlay continue to further the welfare of others by warding off from them evils they canl1.ot see, and by aiding their' actions in ways un known to thelIl ; or, conversely putting it, each may have, :1R it were) supplementary eyes and ears in other persons, which perceive for hiln things he cannot perceive himself: so per fecting his life in nUU1.erous details, by lllaking its adjust.

ments to el1vironing actiol1s c0l11plete. ~ 97. Must it t,hel1 follOW that eventually, with this dimi..

CONCILIATION. 255 nution of the spheres for it, altruismmusb diminish in total amount? By no means. Such a conclusion itnplies a mis conception. Natllrally, under existing conditions, vvithsuffering widely diffused and so much of effort deillanded from. the more for tunate in succouring the less fortunate, altruislll is under stood to mean only selt-sacrifice; or, at any rate, a mode of action which, while it brings some pleasure, has an accom paniment of self-surrender that i8 not pleasurable. But the sympathy which prompts denial orself to please others, is a sympathy which also receives pleasure from their pleasures when theyare otherwise originated. The stronger the fellow feeling which excites efforts to make others happy, 'the stronger is the fellow-feeling with their happiness however caused. In its ultimate form, then, altruism will be the achieve ment of gratification through sympathy ,vith those gratifica tions of others which are mainly produced by their activities of all kinds successfully carried on-synlpathetic gratifica tion which costs the receiver nothing, but is a gratis addition to his egoistic gratifications. This power of representing in idea the mental states of others, which, during the process of adaptation has had the function of mitigating suffering, must, as the suffering falls to a minimuln,colne to have almost wholly the fUllction of mutually exalting men's enjoyrnents by giving everyone a vivid intuition of his neighbour's enjoyments. While pain prevails widely, it is undesirable that each should participate much in the con 8ciousnesses of others; but with an increasing predominance of pleasure, participation in others' consciousnesses becomes dl gain of pleasure to all.

A nd so there will disappear that apparently-permanent opposition between egoism and altruism, implied by the con1pronlise reached in the last chapter. Subjectively looked at, ~he conciliation will be such that the individual will not have to balance between self-regarding imou]sAH 18 256 THE DATA OIl' ETHICS. and other-regarding impulses; but, instead, those satis factions o£ other-regarding impulses which involve self. sacri£ce, becoming rare and much prized, :will be so unhesi tatingly preferred that the competition of self-regarding irnpulses ,vith them will scarcely be felt. And the subjective conciliation will also be such that though altruistic pleasure will be attained, yet the motive o£ action will not consciously be the attainment of altruistic pleasure; but the idea present will be the securing of others' pleasures. Meanvvhile, the conciliation objectively considered will be equally complete. Though each, no longer needing to maintain his "egoistic claims, will tend rather when occasion offers to slu~render them, yet others, similarly natured, will not permit him in any large measure to do this; and that fulfilment of personal desires required for completion of his life will thus be secured to hirn: though not now egoistio in the ordinary sense, yet the effects of due egoism will be achieved. Noris this all. As, at an earlier stage, egoistic con1petition, first reaching a comproluise such that each claims no more than his equitable share, afterwards rises to n. conciliation such that each insists on the taking of equitable shares by others; so, at the latest stage, altruistic cOlupetition, first reaching a compronlise under which each restrains himself from taking an undue share of altruistic satisfactions, eventually rises to a conciliation under which each takes care that others shall have their opportunities for altruistic satisfactions: the highest altruism beln g that which ministers not to the egoistic satisfactions of others only, but also to their altruistic satisfactions.

Far off as 88ems such a state, yet everyone of the factors counted on to produce it may already be traced in operation among those o£ highest natures, What now in thelo il; occasional and feeble, may be expected with further evolution to become habitual and strong; and what now . characterizes the exceptionally high may be expected C3ventually to characterize all. For that which the best CONCILIATION. 257 human nature is capable of, is within the reach of human nature at large. § 98. That these conclusions will meet with any considerable acceptance is improbable. Neither with current ideas nor with current sentirnents are they sufficiently congruous. Such a view will not be agreeable to those who lament ';he spreading disbelief in eternal damnation; nor to those who follow the apostle of brute force in thinking that because the rule of the strong hand was once good it is good for all time; nor to those whose reverence for one who told them to put up the sword) is shown 9Y using the swordto spread his doctrine among heathens. From the ten thousand priests of the religion of love, who are silent when the nation is moved by the religion of hate, will come no sign of assent; nor from their bishops who, far frorn urging the extreme precept of the master they pretend to follow, to turn the other cheek when one is smitten, vote for acting on the principle-strike lest yebe struck. Nor will any approval be felt by legislators who, after praying to be forgiven their trespasses as they forgive the trespasses of others, forth"rith decide to attack those who have not tres passed against them; and who, after a Queen's Speech has invoked "the blessing of Almighty God" on their councils, immediately provide means for committing politi cal burglary.

But though men who profess Christianity and practise Paganism can feel no s,ympathy with· such a view, there are some, classed as antagonists to the current creed, who may not think it absurd to believe that a rationalized version of its ethical principles will eventually be acted upon.

OIIAPTER xv. AllSOLUTE AND RELATIVE ETHICS. § 99. A3 applied to Ethics, the word "absolute" will by nlany be supposed to imply principles of right conduct that exist out of relation to life as conditioned on the Earth-out of relation to time and place, and independent of the Universe as now visible to us_a eternal" principles as they are called. Those, however, who recall the doctrine set forth in First Prinm'ples, will hesitate to put this interpre .. tation on the word. Right, as we can think it, necessitates the thought of not-right, or wrong, for its correlative; and hence, to ascribe rightness to the acts of the Power manifested through phenomena, is to assume the possibility that wrong acts may be committed by this Power. But how come there to exist, apart from this Power, conditions of such kind that subordination of its acts to them makes them right and insubordination wrong.. How can Uncon ditioned Being be subject to co~ditions beyond itself?

If, £01" example, anyone should assert that the Cause of T.hings, conceived in respect of fundamental moral attributes us like ourselves, did right in producing a Universe which, in the course of immeasurable time, has given origin to beings capable of pleasure, and would have done wrong in abstaining from the production of such a Universe; then, the. comment to be made is that, imposing the moral idea~ ABSOLUTE AND RELA'fIVE ETHICS. 259 generated in his finite consciousness, upon the Infinite Existence which transcends consciousness, he goes behind that Infinite Existence and prescribes for it principles of action. As implied in foregoing chapters, right and wrong as conceived by us can exist only in relation to the action& of creatures capable of pleasures and pains; seeing that analysis carries us back to pleasures and pains as the elements out of which the conceptions are framed. But if the word "absolute," as used above, does not rofer to the Unconditioned Being -if the principles of action distinguished as absolute and relative concern tl~ conduct of conditioned beings; in what way are the words to be understood? An explanation of their rneanings will be best conveyed by a criticism on the current conceptions of right and wrong.

§ 100. Conversations about the affairs of life habitually huply the belief that every deed named may be placed under the one head or the other. In discussing a political question, both sides take it for granted that some line of action may be chosen which is right, while all other lines of action are wrong. So, too, is it with judgments on the doings of individuals: each of these is approved 01' disap proved on the assumption that it is definitely classable as good or bad. Even where qualifications are admitted, they are admitted with an implied idea that some such positive characterization is to be made. Nor is it in popular thought and speech only that we see this. If not wholly and definitely yet partially and by implication, the belief is expressed by moralists. In his Methods of Ethics (1st Ed. p. 6.) Mr. Sidgwick says : " That there is in any given circumstances some. one thing which ought to be done and that this can be known, is a fundamental assumption, made not by philosophers only, but by all men who perform any processes of moral reason260 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

ing.'.'* In this sentence there is specifically asserted only the last of the above propositions; namely, that, in every case, what U ought to be done" "can be known." Bllt though that "which ought to be done" is not distinctly identified with "the right," it !llay be inferred, in the absence of any indication to t.he contrary, that Mr. Sidgwick regards the two as identical; and doubtless, in so conceiving the postulates of nloral science, he is at one with most, if not all, who have nlade it a subject of study. At first sight, indeed, nothing seems more obvious than that if actions are to be judged at all, these postulates must be accepted. N~vertheless they may both be caned ~n question, and I think it rrlay be shown that neither of them is tenable. Instead of admitting that there is in every case a right and a wrong, it may be contended that in multitudinous c&ses no right, properly so-called, can be alleged, but only a least wrong; and further, it may be contended that in many of these cases where there can be alleged only a least wrong, it is not possible to ascertain with any precision which is the least wrong.

A great part of the perplexities in ethical speculation arise from neglect of this distinction between :right and least wrong-between the absolutely right and the relatively right. And many further perplexities are due to the assumption that it can, in SOlne way, be decided in every case which of two courses is morally obligatory. § 101. The law of abi:;oluteright can take no cognizance of pain, save the cognizance implied by negation. Pain is the correlative of some species of wrong-some kind of diver .. gence from that course of action whicb perfectly fulfils all requirements. If, as was shown in an early chapter, the * I do not find this passage in the second edition; but the omission of it appears to have arisen not from any change of view, but because it did not naturally come into the re-cast form of the argument which the section contains.

ABSOLUTE AND RELATIVE ETHICS. 26] conception of good conduct always proves, when analyzed, to be the conception of a conduct which produces a surplus of pleasure somewhere; while, conversely, the conduct concoived as bad proves always to be that which inflicts somewhere a surplus of either positive or negative pain; then the absolutely good, the absolutely right, in conduct, can be that only ,vhich produces pure pleasure-pleasure unalloyed with pain anywhere. By inlplication, conduct which has any concomitant of pain, or any painful conse· quence, is partially wrong; and the highest clailn to be nlade for such conduct is, that it is the least wrong which, under the conditions, is possible-the relatively rig-ht. The contents of preceding chapters irnply throughout that, considered fronl the evolution point of view, the acts of men during the transition which has been, is still, and long will be, in progress, must, in nlost cases, be of the kind here classed as least wrong. In proportion to the incongruity between the natures men inherit from the pre-social state, and the requirements of social life, must be the amount of pain entailed by their actions, either on themselves or on others. In so far as pain is suffered, evil is inflicted.; and conduct which inflicts any evil cannot be absolutely good.

1'0 make clear the distinction here inslsted upon between that perfect conduct which is the subject-matter of Absolute Ethics, and that imperfect conduct which is the subject matter of Relative Ethics, some illustrations must be given. § 102. Among the best examples of absoltltely right actions to be named, are those arising where the nature and the req lJirements -have been moulded to one another before social evolution began. Two will here suffice. Consider the relation of a healthy mother to a healthy infant. Between the two there exists a mutual dependence which is a source of pleasure to both. In yielding its natural ftDod to the child" the mother receives gratifioation; and to 262 THE DATA OF ETHICS. the child there comes the satisfaction of appetite-a satis .. fa,ction which ~ccompanies furtherance of life, growth, and in creasing enjoyment. Let the relation be suspended, and on both sides there is suffering.. The mother experiences both bodily pain and mental pain; and the painful sensatiol1 borne by the child, brings as its results physical mischief and I::iome damage to the emotional nature. Thus the act is one that, is to both exclusively pleasurable, while abstention entails pain on both; and it is consequently of the kind we here call absolutely right. In the parental relations of the father we are furnished with a kindred example. If he is well constituted in body and mind, his boy, eager for play, finds in him a sympathetic response; and their frolics, giving mutual pleasure, not only further the child's physical welfare but strengthen that bond of good £eelipg between the two which makes subsequent guidance easier. And then if, repudiating the stupidities of early education as at present conceived and unhappily State-enacted, he has rational ideas of mental developmen t, and sees that the second-hand knowledge gained through books should begin to supplement the first-hand knowledge gained by direct observation, only when a good stock of this has been acquired, he will, with active synlpathy, aid in that exploration of the surrounding world which his boy pursues with delight; giving and receiving gratification from Illonlent to Inoment while furthering ultimate welfare.

Here, again, are actions of a kind purely pleasurable alike in their immediate and remote effects-actions absolutely right. '£he intercourse of adults yields, for the reason assigneJ, relatively few cases that fall cotnpletely within tbe same category. In their transactions from hour to hour, more or less of deduction from pure gratification is caused on one or other side by imperfect :fitness to the requirements. The pleasures men gain by labouring in tqeir vocations and receiving in one form or other returns for their services, ABSOLUTE A.ND RELATIVE E1.'HICS. 263 usuallY-have the drawback that the labours are in a con.. siderable degree displeasurable. Cases, how3ver, do OCCUlt where the energies are so abundant that inaction is irksolue; and where the daily work, not too great in· duration, is of a kind appropriate to the nature; and where, HS a consequenco, pleasure rather than pain is a concomitant. VVhen services yielded by such a one are paid for by another similarly adapted to his occupation, the entire transaction is of the kindw8 are here considering: exchange under agreement between two so constituted, becomes a means of pleasure to both, with no set-off of pain. Bearing in Inind the form of nature which social discipline is producing, as shown in the contrast between savage and civilized, the ilTIplication is that ultimately men's activities at large will assume this character.

Remembering that in the course of organic evolution, the means to enjoyment themselves eventually become sources of enjoyment; and that there is no form of action which may not through the development of appropriate structures become pleasurable; the inference must be that industrial activities carried on through voluntary cooperation, will in time acquire the character of absolute rightness as here conceived. Already, indeed, something like such a state has been reached among certain of those who minister to our resthetic gratifications. The artist of genius-poet, painter, or nlusician-is one who obtains the Ineans of living by acts that are directly pleasurable to him, while they yield, . immediately or 'remotely, pleasures to others. Once more" among absolutely right acts may be named certain of those which we class as benevolent. I say certain of them, because such benevolent acts as entail submission to pain, > positive or negative j that others nlay receive pleasuee, are, by the definition, excluded. But there are benevolent acts' of a kind yielding pleasure solely. Some one who has slipped is saved from falling .by a bystander: a hurt is prevented and satisfaction is felt by both. .A. pedestrian is choosing a dangerous route} or a fellow-passenger ia 264 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

about to alight at the wrong station, and, warned against duing so, is saved from evil: each being, as a consequence, gratified. There is a misunderstanding between friends, and one who sees how it has arisen, explains: the result being agreeable to all. Services to those around in the small affairs of lifo, ll.lay be, and often are, of a kind which there is equal pleasure in giving and receiving. Indeed, RA was urged in the last chapter, the actions of developed altruism n1ust habitually have this character. And so, in countless ways sugge~ted by these few, men may add to one anothers happiness without anywhere producing un happiness-ways which are therefore absolutely right. In contrast with these consider the many actions which from hour to hour are gone through, now with an accompani ment of some pain to the actor and no\v bringing results that are partially painful to others, but which nevertheless are inlperative. As inlplied by antithesis with cases above referred to, the wearisollleness of productive labour as ordinarily pursued, renders it in so far wrong; but then far greater suffering would result, both to the labourer and his family, and therefore far greater wrong woq.ld be done, were this wearisomeness not borne. Though the pains which the care of many children entail on a mother, for,m a considerable set-off from the pleasures secured by them to her children and herself; yet the rniseries, immediate and remote, which neglect would ell~ail so far exceed them, that submission to such pains up to the linlit of physical' ability to bear them, becomes morally imperative as being the least wrong. A. servant who fails to fulfil an agreement in respect of work, or who is perpetually breaking crockery, or who pilfers, may have to suffer pain from being discharged; but since the evils to be borne by all concerned if incapacity or misconduct is tolerated, not in one case only but habitually, must be much greater, such infliction of pain is warranted as a means to preventing' greater pain. Withdrawal of custom from a tradesman whose charges are too high, or ABSOLU']'E AND RELATIVE ETHICS. 265 V?ho~ecommodities are inferior, or who gives short Ill,eas.ure, or who is unpunctual, decreases his welfare, arid perhaps injures his belongings; but as saving him from these evils would imply bearing the evils his conduct causes, and as such regard for his well-being would inlply disregard of the woll-being of some more worthy or more efficient tradesman to whom. the castom would else go, and as, chiefly, general adoption of the implied course, having the effect that the inferior would· not suffer from their· inferiority nor the superior gain by their superiority, would produce universal misery, withdrawal is jU3tified-the act is relatively right.

§ 103. I pass now to the second of the two propositions above enunciated. After recognizing the truth that a large part of hunlan conduct is not absolutely right, but only relatively right, we have to recognize the further truth that in many cases where there is no absolutely right course, but only courses that are more or less wrong, it is not possible to say which is the least wrong. Recurrence to the inttances just given will show this. There is a point up to which it is relatively right for a parent to carry self-sacrifice for the benefit of offspring; and there is a point be~rond which self-sacrifice cannot be pushed without bringing, not only on himself or herself but also on the family, evils greater than those to be prevented by the self-sacrifice. Who sllaH say where this point is? Depending on the ccnstitutions and needs of' those con cerned, it is in no two cases the same, and cannot be by anyone more than guessed. '1'he transgressions or short comings of a servant vary from the trivial to the grave, and the evils which discharge may bring range through countless degrees from slight to serious. The penalty may be in flicted for a very small offence, and then there is wrong done; or after numerous grave offences it may not be inflicted, and again there is wrong doue. How shall be determined the degree of transgression beyond which to 266 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

discharge is less wrong than not to discharge? In like manner with the ~hopkeeper's misdemeanours. No one can sum up either the amount of positive and negative pain which tolerating them involves, nor the amount of positive and negative pain involved by not tolerating them; and in medium cases no one can say where the one exceeds tho other. In men's wider relations frequently occur circumstances under which a decision one or other way is imperative, and yet under which not even the most sensitive conscience helped by the clearest judgment, can decide which of the alternatives is relatively right. Two examples will suffice. Here is a merchant who loses by the failure of a man indebted to him. Unless he gets help he himself will fail; and if he fails he will bring disaster not only on his family but on all who have given him credit. Even if by borrowing he is enabled to meet immediate engagements, he is not s'afe; for the time is one of panic, and others of his debtors by going to the wall may put him in further difficulties. Shall he ask a friend for a loan? On the one hand, is it not wrong forthwith to bring on hin1self, his family, and those who have business relations with him, the evils of his failure? On the other hand, is it not wrong to hopothecate the property of his friend, and lead him too, with his belongings and dependents, into similar risks?

The loan would probably tide hilll over his difficulty; in which case would it not be unjust to his creditors did he refrain from asking it? Contrariwise, the loan would verY' possibly fail to stave off his bankruptcy; in which case i~ not his action in trying to obtain it, practically fraudulent? rl:'llough in extreme cases it may be easy to say which coursa is the least wrong, how is it possible in all those medium caRes where even by the keenest man of business the COll tingencies cannot be calculated? Take, again, the difficulties that not un£requently arise from antagonism between family duties and social duties. Here is a tenant ABSOLUTE A~D RELATIVE ETHICS. 267 farmer whose political principles prompt him to vote in opposition to 'his landlord. If, being a Liberal, he votes for a .Conservative, not only does he by his act say that he thinks what he dOBS not thillk, but he may perhaps assist what he regards as bad legislation: his \rate may by chan.ce turn the election, and on a Parliamentary division asinglH membel' may decide the fate of a measure. Even neglecting, as too improbable, such serious consequences, there is the manifest truth that if all who hold like views with himself, are sin1ilarlJ deterred from electoral expression of them, tlJere must result a different balance of power and a different national policy: making it clear that only by adherence of all to their political principles, can the policy he thinks right be maintained. But now, on the other hand, how can he absol ve himself from responsibility· for the evils which those depending on him may suffer if he fulfils what appears to be a peremptory public duty? Is not his duty to his children even Inore peremptory? Does not the family precede the State j and does not the welfare of the State depend on the welfare of the family? May he, then, take a course which, if the threats uttered are carried out, will eject hirn from his farm; and so cause inability, perhaps temporary perhaps prolopged, to feed his children. rrhe continge.nt evils are infinitely varied in their ratios. In one case the imperativeness of the public duty is great and the evil tlh~t may come on dependents small; in another case the political issue is of trivial moment and the possible injury which tho family may suffer is great; and between these extremes there are all gradativns. Further, the degrees of probability of each result, public and private, range from the nearly certain to the almost impossible. Admitting, then, that it is wrong to act in a way likely to injure the State; and admit ting that it is wrong to act :in a way likely to injure the family; we have to recognize the fact that in countless cases no one can decide by which of the alternative courses the least wrong is likely to be done.

268 THE DATA OF ETHICS. These instances will sufficiently show that in conduct at large, including men's dealings with themselves, with their families, with their friends, with their debtors and creditors, and with the public, it usually happens that whatever course is taken entails some pain somewhere; forn1ing a deduction from the pleasure achieved, and making the course in so far not absolutely right. Further, they will show that throughout a considerable part of conduct, no guiding principle, no method of estimation, enables us to say whether a proposed course is even relatively right; as causing, proximately and remotely, specially and generally, the great~st surplus of good over evil. ~ 104. And now we are prepared for dealing in 8 syste matic way with the distinction between Absolute Ethics and· Relative Ethics. Scientific truths, of whatever ol'der, are reached by eliminating perturbing or conflicting factors, and recog.

nizing only fundamental factors. When, by dealing with fundamental factors in the abstract, not as presented in actual phenomena but as presented in ideal sE'paration, general laws have been ascertained, it beco1nes possible to draw inferences in concrete cases by taking into account incidental factors. But it is only by first ignoring these and recognizing the essential elements alone. that we can discover the essential truths sought. Take, ~n illustration, the progress of mechanics from its empirical form tu its rational form. All have occasional experience of the fact that a person pushed on one side beyond a certain degree, loses his balance and falls. It is o~served that a stone flung or an arrow shot, does not proceed in a straight line, but comes to the earth after pursuing a course which deviates more and more from its original course. When trying to break a stick across the knee, it is found that success is easier if the stick is seized at considerable distances from ABSOLUTE AND RELATiVE ETHICS. 269 the knee on each side than if seized close to the knee.

Daily use of a spear draws attention to the truth that by thrusting its point under a stone and depressing the shaft, the stone may be raised the more readily the further away the hand is towards the end. Here, then, are sundry expe riences, -eventually grouped into empirical generalizations, which serve to guide conduct in certain simple cases. How does mechanical science evolve from these experiences? To reach a forlnula expressing the powers of· the lever, it supposes a lever which does not, like the stick, admit of being bent, but is absolutely rigid; and it supposes a fulcrum not having a broad surface, like that of one ordinarily used, but a fulcrum without breath; and it supposes that the weight to be raised bear.s on a definite point, instead of bearing over a considerable portion of the lever. Sirnilarly with the leaning body, which, passing a c81~tain inclination, overbalances. Before the truth respecting the relations of centre of gravity and base can be forrnulated, it must be assumed that the surface on which the body stands is un yielding; that the edge of the body itself is .unyielding; and that its nlass, while made to lean more and more, does not change its form-conditions not fulfilled in the cases commonly observed. And so, too, is it with the projectile: determina.tion of its course by deduction from mechanical laws, prirnarily ignores all deviations caused by its Rhape and· by the resistance of the air. The science of rational mechanics is a science which consists of such ideal truths, and can conle into existence only by thus dealing with ideal cases. It remains impossible so long as attention is restricted to con~rete cases presenting all the complications offriction, plasticity, and so forth. But now, after disen tangling certain fundamen'tal mechanical truths, it becomes possible by their help to guide actions better; and it becomes possible to guide them still better when, as presentiy h~ppens, the complicating elements from which they have been disen ta,ngled are themselves taken into accountf At t111 270 THE DATA OF "ETHICS.

advanced stage, the modifying effects of friction are allowed for, and the inferences are qualified to the requisite extent. The theory of the pulley is corrected in its application to actual cases by recognizing the rigidity of cordage; the e:ffects of which are forlTIulated. The stabilities of masses, determinable in the abstract by reference to the centres of gravity of the masses in relation to the bases, come to be determined in the concrete by including altlo their characters in respect of cohesion. rrhe courses of projectiles having been theoretically settled as though they moved through a vaCUUU1, are afterwards settled in more exact correspon dence with fact by taking into account atnl0spheric resistance. .And thus we see illustrated the relation between certain abRolute truths of mechanical science, and certain relative truths which involve them. Weare shown that no scientific establishment of relative truths js possible, until the absolute truths have been formu lated independently. We see that mechanical science fitted for dealing with the real, can arise only after ideal Inechanical science has arisen.

All this holds of moral science. As by early and rude experiences there were inductively reached, vague but par tially-true notions respecting the overbalancing of bodies, th~ motions of missiles, the actions of levers; so by early and rude experiences there were inductively reached, vague but par tially-true notions respecting the effects of men's behaviour on themselves, on one another, and on society: to a cortain extent serving in the last case, as in the first, for the gnidancl' of conduct. Moreover, as this rudimentary mechanical knowledge, though still ren1aining empirical, becomes during early stages of civilization at once more definite and more extensive; RO during early stages of civilization these ethical ideas, still retaining their empirical character, increase in precision and multiplicity. But just as we have seen that mechanical knowledge of the empirical sort can evolve into mechanical science, only by first omitting all qua]ifyin~ ABSOLUTE AND RELATIVE ETHICS. 271 circumstances, and generalizing in absolute ways the funda..

mental laws of forces; so here we have to see that empiri cal ethics can evolve into rational ethics only by first lleglecting all complicating incidents, and formulating the laws of right action apart from the obscuring effects of special conditions. And the final implication is that just 68 the system of mechanical truths, conceived in ideal separation as absolute, becomes applicable to real mechanical problems in such way that making allowance for all inci dental circumstances there can be reached conclusions far nearer to the truth than cou~d 0therwise be reached; so, a system of ideal ethical truths, expressing the absolutely right, will be applicable to the questions of our transitional state in such ways that, allowing for the friction of an incolTIplete life and the imperfection of existing natures, we may ascertain with approximate correctness what is the relatively right. § 105. In a chapter entitled it Definition of Morality" in Social Staties, I contended that the moral law, properly so called, is the law of the perfect man-is the fOJ'mula of ideal conductis the statement in all cases of that which should be, and cannot recognize in its propositions any elementR implying existence of that which should not be. Instancing questions concerning the right courFe to be taken in cases where wrong has already been done, I alleged that the answers to such questions cannot be given "on purely ethical principles." I argued that"No conclusions can lay claim to absolute truth, but such as Jepend upon truths .that are themselves absolute. Before there can be exactness in an inference, there must lo-e exactness in the antecedent propositions. A geo metrician requires that the straight lines with which he deals shall be veritably straight; and that his circles, :md ellipses, and parabolas shall agree with precise definitions-shall perfectly and invariably answer to specified equations.

1£ you put to him a question in which these conditions are not complied with, he tells you that it cannot be answered. So likewise is it with the philosophical moralist. He treats solely of the straight man. He determines the properties of the straight man; describes how the straight man comports himself; show. 19 ~72 THE DATA OF ETHICS. :n what relationship he stands to other straight men; shows how a communH1 of straight men is constituted. Any deviation from strict rectitude he is obliged wholly to ignore. It cannot be admitted into his premises without vitiating all his conclusions. A problem in which a crookedman forms one of the elements is insoluble by him." Referring to .thisyiew, specifically in tbe first edition of the Methods of Ethics but more generally in th~ second edition, Mr. Sidgwick says :"Those who take this view adduce the analogy of Geometry to show that Ethics ought to deal· with ideally perfect human relations, ju"t as GeChnetry treats of ideally perfect lines and circles. But the most irregular line has definite spatial relations with which Geometry does not refuse to deal: though of course they are more complex than those of a straight line. So in Astronomy, it would be more convenient for purposes of stuuy if the &tars moved in circles, as was once believed: but the fact that they move not in circles but in ellipses, and even in imperfect and perturbed ellipses, does nt>-t take them out of the sphere of scientific investigation: by patience and industry we· have learnt how to reduce to principles and calculate even these more complicated motions. It is, no doubt, a convenient artifice for purposes of instruction to assume that the planets move in perfect ellipses (or even-;:-at an earlier stage of studyin circles) : we thus allow the individual's knowledge to pass through the same gradations in accuracy as that of the race has done.

But what we want, as astronomers, to know is the actual motion of the stars and its causes: and similarly as moralists we naturally inquire what ought to be done in the actual world in which we live." P. 19, Sec. Ed. Beginning with the first of these two staternents, which concerns Geometry, I must confess myself surprised to find my propositions called in question; and after fun con .. sideration I remain at a loss to understand Mr. Sidgwick's mode of viewing the matter. When, in a sentence pre ceding those quoted above, I remarked on the impus8ibility of solving" mathematically a series of problems respecting crooked lines and broken-backed curves," it never occurred to me that I should be met by the direct assertion tha t "Geometry does not refuse to deal" with "the· most irregular line." Mr. Sidgwick states that an irregular line, say such as a child makes in scribbling, has "definite spatial relations." What meaning dpes he .here give to the word "definite." If he means that its relations to space at large are definite in the sense that by an infinite intelligence they would be definable; the reply ABSOLUTE AND RELATIVE ETHICS .. 273 is that to an infinite intelligence aU· spatial relations would be definable: there could be no indefinite spatial relations the word "definite" thus ceasing to mark any distinction.

If, on the other hand, when saying that an irregular line has U definite spatial rela.tions," he means relations knowable definitely by human intelligence; there still comes the questioll.Jhow is the word "definite" to be understood r Surely anything distinguished as definite admits of being defined; but how can we define an irregular line? And if we cannot define the irregular line itself, how can we know its (( spatial· relations" definitely? And how, in the absence. of definition, can Geometry deal with it ? If Mr. Sidgwick lneans that it can be dealt with by the " method of limits," then the reply is that in such cass, not the line itself is dealt with geometrically, but certain definite lines artificially put in ;uasi-definite relations to it: the indefinite becomes c0~nizable only through the medium of the hypo thetically -definite. Turning to the second illustration, the rejoinder to be made is that in so far as it concerns the relations between the ideal and the real, the analogy drawn does not shake but strengthens my argument. For whether considered under its geometrical or under its dynamical aspect, and whether considered in the necessaryorde. of its develop ment or in the order historically displayed, Astronomy shows us throughout, that truths respecting simple, theo retically-exact relati6ns, must be ascertained before truths respecting the complex and practically-inexact relations that actually exist, can be ascertained. As applied to the interpretation of· planetary movements, we see that t,ho t.heory of cycles and epicycles was based on pre~existing knowledge of the circle: the properties of an idnal curve having been learnt, a power was acquired of giving s'ome expression to the celestial motions. Wosee that the Copernican interpretation expressed the facts in terms o£ circular movements otherwise distrib~lted and combined.

274 THE DATA OF ETHICS. We see that Kepler's advance from the conception of circul1t? lllovements to the conception of elliptic movements, was made possible by comparing the facts as they are with the facts as they would be were the movements circular. We see that the subsequently-learnt deviations from elliptic move ments; ,yore learnt only through the pre-supposition that tho movements are elliptical. And we see, lastly, that even no'v predictions concerning the exact positions of planets, after taking account of perturbations, imply constant references to ellipses that are regal·ded as their norrnal or average orbits for the time being. rrhus, ascertainment of the actual truths has been made possible only by pre-ascertainment of certain ideal truths. To be convinced that by no other course could the actual truths have been ascertained, it needs only to suppose anyone saying that it did not concern him, as an astronomer, to know anything about the properties of circles and ellipf3es, but that he had to deal with the Solar System as it exists, to which end it was his business to observe and tabulate positions and directions and· to be guided by the facts as he found them. So, too, is it if we look at the development of dynamical astronomy.

The fil'stproposition in Newton's P1·i-nc1pia deals with the movement of a single body round a single centre of force; and the pheno:Ill4)na of central motion are first formulated in a case which is not simply ideal, but in which there is no specification of the force concerned: detachment from the real is the greatest possible. Again, postnlating a principle of action confornling to an ideal law, the theory of gravitation deals with the several problems of the Solar System in fictitious detachment from the rest; and it makps certain fictitious assumptions, such as that the mass of eacll body concerned is concentrated in its centre of gravity. Only later, after establishing the leading truths by this artifice of disentangling the major factors from the minor factors, is the theory applied to the actual problems in their ascending degrees of complexity j taking in more and more ABSOLUTE AND RELATIVE ETHICS. 275 of the Dlinor factors. And if we ask whether the· dynamics of·the Solar System could have been established· in any other way, we see that here, too, simple truths holding under ideal conditions, have to be ascertah~ed before real truths existing under complex conditions can be ascertained.

'The alleged necessary precedence of Absolute Ethics over Rela.tive Ethics is thus, I think, further elucidated. One who has followed the general argument thus far, will not deny that an ideal social being may be conceived as so COl1, stituted that his spontaneous activities are congruous with the conditions imposed by the social environment formed by other such beings. In many places, and in various w~ys, I have argued that conformably with the laws of evolution in general, and conformably with the laws of organization in particular, there bas be~en, and is, in progress, an adaptation of humanity to the social state, changing it in the direction of such an ideal congruity. .And the corollary before drawn and here repeated, is that the ultimate man is one in whom this process has gone so far as to produce a correspondence between all the promptings of his nature and all.the req uire ments of his life as carried on in society. If so, it isa necessary implication that there exists an ideal code of conduct formulating the behaviour of the completely adapted man in the completely evolved society. Such a code is that here called Absolute Ethics as distingll:shed from Relative Ethics-a code the injunctions of which are alone to be considered as absolutely right in contrast with those that are relatively right or least wrong; and which, as a system of ideal conduct, is to serve as a standard for our guidance in solving, as well as we can, the problems of real conduct.

§ 105. A clear conception of this matter is so important that I must be excused for bringing in aid of it a further illustration, more obviously appropriate as being furnished by organic science instead of by inorganic science. The relation between morality proper and morality as commonly 276 THE DATA OF ETHICS. conceived, is analogous to the relation between physiology and pathelogy; and the course usually pursued by moralists is much like the course of one who studies pathology with. out previous study of physiology. Physiology describes the various functions which, as com. 1,iaed:, constitute and maintain life; and in treating of them it assumeA that they are severally performed in right ways, in due amounts, and in proper order: it recognizes only healthy functions. If it explains digestion, it supposes that the heart is supplying blood and that the visceral nervous syst8m is stimulating the organs immediately concerned.

If it gives a theory of the circulation, it assumes that blood has been produced by the combined actions of the structures devoted to its production, and that it is properly aerated. If the relations between respiration and the vital processes at large are interpreted, it is on the pre-supposition that the heart goes on sending blood, not only to the lungs and to certain nervous centres, but to the diaphragm and intercostal muscles. Physiology ignores failures in the actions of these several organs. It takes no account of imperfec tions, it neglects derangements, it does not recognize pain, it knows nothing of vital wrong. It simply formulates that which goes on as a result of con1plete adaptation of all parts to all needs. That is to say, in relation to the. inner actions constituting bodily life, physiological theory has a position like that which ethical theory, under its absolute form as above conceived, has to the outer actions constituting con duct. The moment cognizance is taken of excess of function, or arrest of function, or defect of function, with the resulting evil, physiology passes into pathology. We begin now to take account of wrong actions in the inner life analogous tn the wrong actions in the outer life taken account of by ordinary theories of morals.

The antithesis thus drawn, however, is but preliminary. A.fter observing the fact that there is a science of vital actions normally carried on, which ignores abnormal actions; ABSOLUTE AND RELATIVE ETHICS. 277 we have more especially to observe that the science of abnormal actions can reach such. definiteness as is possible to it, only on condition that the science of normal actions has previously become defilJite; or rather, let us say that pathological science depends for its advances on previous advances made by physiological science. The very con 'Ception of disordered action implies a pre-conception of well-ordered aclion. Before it can be decided that the heart is beating faster or slower· than it should, its healthy rate of beating must be learnt; before the pulse can be recog nized as too weak or too strong, its proper strength must be known; and so throughout. Even the rudest and most empirical ideas of diseases, presuppose ideas of the healthy states from .which they are deviations ; and obviously the diagnosis of diseases can become scientific, only as fast as there arises scientific knowledge of organic actions that are undiseased.

Similarly, then, is it with the relation between absolute morality, or the law of perfect right in human conduct, and relative morality which,recognizing wrong iIi hUIlTan con du.ct, has to decide· in what way the wrong deviates from the right, and how the right is to be most nearly approached. When, formulating normal conduct in an ideal society, we have reached a science o£absolute ethics, we have simul taneously reached a science which, when used to interpret the phenomena of real societies in their transitional states, full of the miseries due to non-adaptation (which we may can pathological states) enables us to form approximately true conclusions respecting the natures of the abnormalities~ and the courses which tend most in the dir~ction of the normal. § 106. And now let it he ohserved that the conception of ethics thus set forth, strange as many will think it) is one which really lies latent in the beliefs of m.oralists at large~ rrhough not definitely acknowledged it is vaguely implied in many of their propositions.

278 THE DATA OF ETHICS. From early times downwards we find in ethical specula tions, references to the ideal luau, his acts,his feelings, his judgments. When Sokrates said that well-doing is the thing to be chiefly studied, and that he aehieved it who devoted to the study searching and labour, he made the actions of the superior man his standard, since he gave no other. Plato, in .Mino8, asserts that "the authoritative rescripts or laws are those laid down by the artists or IneH of knowledge in that department;" and the doctrine contained in Laches is that only "the One Wise Man" can estimate the good or evil, or the conlparative value of two alternative ends in each individual case:" an ideal Ulan is postulated. Aristotle says :-" For it is the man whose condition, whether moral or bodily, is in each case perfect who in each case judges rightly, and at once perceives the truth. And herein it is that the perfect man may be said to differ most widely fro In aU others, in that in all such cases he at once perceives the truth, being, as it were, the rule and n1easure of its application." While observing that the Stoics, like other ancient philosophers, failing to distinguish properly between intellect and feel ing, identified wisdom with goodness, we see that they, too, made the perfect man the measure of rectitude. And Epi curl1S, also, regards the wise rnan as the only one who can achieve a happy life-" he alone knows how to do the right thing in the right way."

If in modern tilnes, influenced by theological dogmas concerning human sinfulness, and by a theory of divine ly prescribed conduct, moralists have not so frequently referred to an ideal, yet various references are trace able. We may see one in the dictuln of Kant-" Act only on that maxinl whereby thOll canst at the sanle time will that it should become a universal law." For this implies ABSOLUTE AND RELATIVE ETHICS. 279 the thought of a society in ,vhich the maxim is acted upon by all and universal bene~t recognized as the effect: there is a conception of ideal conduct under ideal conditions. And though Mr. Sidgwick, in the quotation above made from him, implies that Ethics is concerned with Ulan as he. is, rather than with nlan as he should be; yet, in elsewhere speaking of Ethics as dealing with conduct as it should be, rather than with conduct as it is, he postulates ideal conduct and indirectly the ideal man. On his first page, speaking of Ethics along with Jurisprudence and Politics, he says that they are distinguished "by the characteristic that they t1ttempt to determine not the actual but the ideal-what ought to exist, not what does exist."

It requires only that these various conceptions of an ideal .)ou.duct and of an ideal humanity, should be made consistent ttnd definite, to bring them into agreement with the concep tion ab0ve set forth. At present such conceptions are babituaHJ vague. The ideal man having-been conceived in terms of ilIe current morality, is thereupon erected into a moral stauJard by which the goodness of actions may be judged; and. the reasoning becomes circular. To make the ideal ~an ~erve· as a standard, he has to be defined in terms of the conditions which his nature fulfils-in terms of those objeci.ive requirements which must be met before conduct can be right; and the common defect of these con ceptions of the ideal man, is that they suppose him out· of relation to s'IA'ch conditions. All the above references to him, direct or indirect, imply that the ideal man is supposed to live and 9tct under existing soc,ial conditions. The tacit inquiry is] not what his actions would b~ under circumstances altogether changed, but what they would be under present c~rcumstances. And this inquit"y is futile for two reasons. The coexistence of a perfect man a.nd an imperfect society is impossible; and could the two coexist, the resulting conduct would not furnish the ethical standard sought. In the 280 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

first place, given the laws of life as they are, and a man of ideal nature cannot be produced in a society consisting of men having natures remote from the ideal. As well might we expect a child of English type to be born among Negroes, as expect that among the organically immoral, one who is organically moral will arise. Unless it be denied that character results from inherited structure, it must be admitted that since, :in any society, each individual descends from a stock which, traced back a few generations, ramifies every. where through the society, and participates in its average nature, there must, notwithstanding marked individual diversities, be preserved such community as prevents any one frOln reaching an ideal form while the rest remain far below it. In the second place, ideal conduct such as ethical theory is concerned with, is not possible for the ideal man in the midst of men otherwise constituted.

A.n absolutely just or perfectly sympathetic person, could not live and act according to his nature in a tribe of cannibals. Alnong people who are treacherous and utterly without scruple, entire truthfulness and openness must bring ruin. If all around recognize only the law of the strongest, one whose nature will not allow hirn to inflict pain on others, must go to the wall. There requires a certain congrujty between the conduct of each member of a society and other's conduct. A mode of action entirely alien to the prevailing modes of action, cannot be sllccessfull y persisted in-must eventuate in death of self, or posterity, or both. Hence it is manifest that we must consider the ideal man as existing in the ideal social state. On the evolution hypothesis, the two presuppose one another; and only when they coexist, can there exist that ideal conduct which Absolute Ethics has to formulate, and which Relative Ethics has to take as the standard by which to estimate divergencies from right, or degrees of wrong.

CHAPTER XVI. THE SCOPE OF ETHICS. § 107. At the outs-et it was shown that as the conduct with which Ethics deals, is a part of conduct at large, conduct at large must be understood before this part can be understood. After taking a general view of conduct, not human only but sub-human, and not only as existing but as evolving, we saw that Ethics has for its subject-matter the most highly-evolved conduct as displayed by the most highly -evolved being, Man-is a specification of those traits which his conduct assumes on reaching its limit of evolution. Conceived thus as comprehe~.ding the laws of right living at large, Ethics has a wider fi~ld than is commonly assigned' to it. Beyond the conduct commonly approved or repro .. bated as right or wrong, it includes all conduct which furthers or hinders, in either' direct or indirect ways, the welfare of self or others. As foregoing chapters in various places imply, the entire field of Ethics includes the two great divisions, personal and Docia!. There is a class of actions directed to personal ends, 'v11ioh are to be judged in their relations to personal well being, considered apart from the well-being of others: though they secondarily affect fellow-men these primarily affect the agent himself, and must be classed as intrinsically right or wrong according to their beneficial or detrimental effeots on him. There are actions of another class .which 282 THE DATA OF ETHICS.

affect fellow men immediately and renlotely, and which, though their results to selI are not to be ignored, must be judged as good or bad mainly by their results to others. Actions of thiR last class fall into two groups. Those of the one group achieve ends in ways that do or do not unduly interfere with the pursuit of ends by others-actions which, because of this difference, ~e call respectively unjust or just. Those forming the other group are of a kind which influence the states of others without directly interfering with the relations between their labours and the results, in one W8,y or the ot,her-actiolls which we speak of as beneficent or malefi cent. And the conduct which we regard as beneficent is itself subdivisible according as it shows us a self-repression to avoid giving pain, or an expenditure of effort to give pleasure-negative beneficence and positive beneficence. Each of these divisions and subdivisions has to be considered first as a part of Absolute Ethics and then as a part of Relative Ethics. Having seen what its injunctions must be for the ideal man under the implied ideal conditions, we shall be prepared to see how such injunctions are to be most nearly fulfilled by actual men under existing conditions.

§ 108. For reasons already pointed out, a code of perfect personal conduct can never be made definite. ~any forms of life, diverging from one another in consider~ble degrees, may be so carried on in society as entirely to fulfil the conditions to harmonious cooperation. And if various types of men adapted to various types of activitieR, may thus lead lives that are severally complete after their kinds, no specific statement of. the activities universally required for personal well-being is possible. But though the particular requirements to be fulfilled for perfect individual well-being, must vary along with variations in the Dlaterial conditions of each society, certain general requirements have to be fulfilled by the individuals of all THE SCOPE OF ETHICS. 283. @ocieties. A.n average balance between waste and nutrition has universally to be preserved. Normal vitality inlplies a relation between activity and rest falling within moderate limits of variation. Oontinuance of the society depends on satisfaction of those primarily-personal needs which result in marriage and parenthood. Perfection of individual life hence implies certain modes of action which are approximately alike in all cases, and ,which therefore become part of the subject-matter of Ethics.

That it is possible to reduce even this restricted part to scientific definiteness, can scarcely be said. But ethical requirements may here be to such extent affiliated upon physical necessities, as t~ give them a partially-scientific authority. It is clear that between the expenditure of bodily substance in vital activities, and the taking in of materials from which this substance may be renewed, there is a direct relation. It is clear, too, that there is a direct relation between the wasting of .tissue by effort, and the need for those cessations of effort during which repair may overtake 'vaste. Nor is it less clear that between the rate of mortality and the rate of multiplication in any society, there is a relation such that the last must reach a cortain level before it can balance the first, and prevent disappearance of the society. And it may be inferred that pursuits of other leading ends are, in like manner, determined by certain natural necessities, and from these derive their ethical sanctions. That it will ever be practicable to lay down precise rules for private conduct in conformity with such requirements, may be doubted. But the function ot A.bsolute Ethics in relation to private conduct will have been discharged, when it has produced the warrant for its requirements as generally expressed; when it has shown the irnperativeness of obedience to thenl; and when it has thus taught the need for deliberately considering-whethel' the conduct fulfils them as well as may be.

Untler the ethics of personal conduct considered in 284 THE DATA OF ETHICS. relation to existing conditions, have to come all questions concerning the degree in which immediate personal welfare has to be postponed, either to ultimate personal welfare or to the welfare of others. As now carried on, life hourly sots the claims of present self against the claims of future self, and hourly brings individual interests face to face with the interests of other individuals, taken singly or as asso ciated. In many of such cases the decisions can be nothing lnore than compromises; and ethical science, here necessarily empirical, can do no more than aid in making compromises that are the least objectionable. To arrive at the best compromise in any case, implies correct conceptions of the alternative results of this or that course. And, consequently, in so far as the absolute ethics of individual conduct can be made definite, it must help us to decide between conflicting personal requirements, and also between the needs for asserting self and the needs for subordinating self.

~ 109. From that division of Ethics which deals with the right regulation of private conduct, considered apart from the effects directly produced on others, we pass now to that division of Ethics which, considering exclusively the effects of conduct on others, treats of the right regulation of.it with a view to such effects. The first set of regulations coming under this head are those concerning what we distinguish as justice. Individual life is possible only on condition that each organ is paid for its action by an equivalent of blood, while the organism 0-8 a whole obtains from the environment assimilable matters {tat compensate for its efforts; and the mutual dependence uf parts in the social organisln, necessitates that, alike for its total life and the lives of its units, there similarly shall be maintained a due proportion between returns and labours: the natural relation between work and welfare shan be preserved intact. Justice, which formulates the THE· SCOPE OF 'ETHICS. 285 range of conduct and limitations to. condncthence arising, is at .once the most important division of Ethics and the division which admits of the greatest definiteness. That principle of equivalence which meets us when we seek its roots in the laws of individual life,. involves the idea of measure; and on passing to social life, the same principle introduces us to the conception of equity or equalness, in the relations of citizens to one another: the elelnents of the questions arising are quantifat-i'Ve,and lhence the solutions assume a more scientific form. Though, having to recog ..

niZJe differences among individuals due to age, sex, or other cause, "re cannot regard the members of a society as absolutely equal, and therefore cannot deal with problems growing out of their relations with that precision which absolute equality might make possible; yet, considering them as approximately equal in virtue of their common human nature, and dealing with questions of equity on this supposi tion, we may reach conclusions of a sufficiently-definite kind. This division of Ethics considered under its absolute form, has to define the equitable relations among perfect indivi duals who limit one another's spheres of action by coexist ing, and who achieve their ends by cooperation. It has to do much more than this. Beyond justice between ma.n and man, justice between each man and the aggregate of men has to be dealt with by it. The relations betweon the individual and the State, considered as representing all individuals, have to be deduced - an important and. a relatively-difficult matter. What is the ethical warrant for governmental authority? To what ends may it be legiti mately exercised? How far may it rightly be carried? Up to what point is the citizen bound to recognize the collective decisions of other citizens, and beyond what point may he properly refuse to obey them.

These relations, private and public, considered as main~ taived under ideal conditions, having been formulated, there 286 'fHE DATA OF ETHICS. come to be dealt with the analogous relations under real con ditions-absolute justice being the standard, relative jnstic& has to be determined by conRidering how near au approach may, under present circumstances, be made to it. As already implied in various places, it is impossible during stages of transition which necessitate ever-changing com. pro~ises, to fulfil the dictates of absolute equity; and ~0t11ing beyond empirical judgments can be formed of the extent to which they may be, at any given tinie, fulfilled. While war continues and injustice is done between societies, there cannot be anything like complete justice within each society. Militant organization no less than nlilitant action, is jrreconcilable with pure equity; and the inequity implied by it inevitably ramifies throughout all social relations. But there is at every stage in social evolution, a certain range of variation within which it is possible to approach nearer to, or diverge further from, the requirements of absolute equity.

Hence these requirements have ever to be kept in view that relative equity may be ascertained. § 110. Of the two subdivisions into which beneficence falls, the negative and the positive, neither can be specialized. Under ideal conditions the first of them has but a nominal existence; and the second of them passes largely into a transfignred form admitting of but general definition. In the conduct of the ideal nlan among ideal men, that self-regulation which has for its motive to avoid giving pain, pr~cticany disappears. No one having feelings which prompt acts that disagreeably affect others, there can exist no code of restraints referring to this division of conduct. But though negative beneficence is only a nominal part of Absolute Ethics, it is an actual and considerable part of Relative Ethics. For while luen's natures remain imperfectly adapted to socialli£e, there must continue in them impulses which, causing in some cases the actions we name unjust, cause in other cases the actions we narne unkind-unkind THE SCOPE OJ!' ETHICS. 287 now in deed and now in word; and in respect of these lllodes of behaviour which, though not aggressive, give pain, there arise nunlerous and cOlnplicated problems. Pain is ~ometimes given to others simply by maintaining an equi table claim; pain is at other times given by refusing a ~~<1n~gt ~ g,ud g,~ain atotItel 7 times by maintaining an opinion In these and numerous cases £?uggested by theIn, there have to be answered the questions whether, to avoid inflicting pain, personpl feelings should be sacrificed, and how far sacrificed. Again, in cases of another class, pain is given not by a passive course but by an active course. How far shall a person who has misbehaved be grieved by showing aversion to him? Shall one whose action is to be repro bated, have the reprobation expressed to him or shall nothing be. said? Is it right to annoy by condemning a prejudice which another displays? These and kindred queries have to be answered after taking into account the immediate pain given, the possible benefit caused by giving it, and the possible evil caused by not giving it. In solving probl81lls of this· class, the only help 'Absolut.e Ethics gives, is by enforcing the consideration that inflicting more pain than is necessitated by proper self-regard, or by desire for another's henefit, or by the maintenance of a general principle, is unwarranted. Of positive beneficence under its absolut~ form nothing more specific can be said than that it must become CO~ extensive with whatever sphere remains for it; aIding t.o complete the life of each 8S 8 recipient of services and to exalt the life of each as a renderer of services. As with n developed humanity the desire for it by everyone will 50 increase, and the Sphbl\] {.H exercise of it so decrease, as to involve an altruistic competition, analogous to the existing egoistic competition, it may be that Absolute Ethic~ will eventually include what we before called a higher equity, prescribing the mutual limitations of altruistic acpivities.

Under its relative form" positive beneficence presents nllme 20 288 THE DATA OF ETHICS. l~OUS problems, alike important and difficult, admitting only of empirical solutions. How far is sel£-saerifice for another's benefit to be carried in each case ?-a question which nlu~t be answered differently according to the character of the other, the needs of the other, and the various claims of self o.nd belongings which have to be met. To what extent ondor given circumstances shall private welfare be sub 4 ordinated to public welfare ?-a question to be answered after considering the importance of the end and the seriousness of the sacrifice. What benefit and what detri ment vvill result froIn gratuitous aid yielded to another? f1 question in each case implying an estimate of probabilit,ies Is there any unfair treatulent of sundry others, jnvol ved by n101'e than fair treatment of this one other ? Up to ,vhat lilnit may help be given to the existing generation of the inferior, without entailing mischief on future generationH of the superior? Evidently to thcFe and many kindred questions included in this division of Rel~tive Ethics, approximately true answers only can be given.

But though here Absolute Ethics, by the standard it supplies, does not greatly aid Relative Ethies, yet, as in other cases, it aids somewhat by keeping before con sciousness an ideal conciliation of the variol~s claim.sinvolved; and by suggesting the search for such c'~mpromise among t,heUl, as shall not disregard any, but shall satisfy all to tho greatest extent rracticable.

APPENDIX TO PART I. THE CONCILIAT.ION. [ While searching for S01ne 1tW1n01'anda,I have dt:scovered the rough draft of a chapter belonging to this work. Whether it was that, 'when wrtOtt"ng 01d at length the part of the ar.q1trnent it belongs to, I was led to put aside this chapter as havinp a forrn unjitting it for inc01jJoration, or whether it was that I had 'Jnislal:dit, I cannot n01vrmnembe1". The last supposition 1:S, I think, the 17l0rep1"obable.; since this r01tgh draft contains matter 'which, had it been before 1JW, I should have ernbodied. Partly beCaltSecm:tain of the argu1nents it contains yield fur ther support to the gene1"alconclusion drawn, and partly because such of its arguments as answer to those incl~[ded in the text are set forth in another ~vay, I have decided here to append this omitted chapter. "The Data of Ethicg," as finally elaborated, Iwas based on a 1nan1lscript dictated to a short-hand Clnzanuensis, and 'W1"itten out by hhn in a series ~l copy-books, one to each chapter: an arrangernent which, I suspect, accidentally led to the mnission indicated. As, on reading tkis rough draft, I find that it is fairly coherent and expressed 'with adequate cZearness,I have thought it well to print it y'1tst as it stands. In a few places where the short-hand 'writm"failed to interpret his notes, I have supplied, ~on square brackets, what I suppose were tlw 1nissing 'l.vords.; and in S01ne other cases,I have corrected errors that were obviously due VO 1nis'ltnderstanding or to mistranscript1:on.] § In the last two chapters have been enunciated the claims of egoism and altruism respectively. Each has been insisted upon so strongly that, taken alone, it would seem to go far toward the repudiation of the other. The usual tendency in ethical specula tion is not to recognize in full both factors, as essential to human happiness, but to insist almost exclusively upon the one or the other. Or rather I should say that, in almost all cases, ignoring the egoistic factor, the insistence has been upon the altruistic one.

At first sight it seems that there is some inconsistency in the position here taken. To enunciate the legithnacy of egoism in the way done, possibly caused the reader to think that the high er morality was being denied by the assertion of a system of selfishness. Contrariwise, reading by itself the subsequent 290 APPENDIX. chapter, he might, if one who had before appreciated the claims of egoism, be led to suppose that egoism was being ignored, and the tacit assertion made that egoistic gratifications were to be achieved through fulfilment of altruistic obligations. And finding that each of the chapters to a considerable extent seems to conflict with the other, he will incline to allege an incongruity of doctrine. If he does not go farther, he will at any rate be inclined to say that the doctrine implies a necessary incomplete ness-implies that there can be no such thing as a life in which all requirements are fully satisfied. That process of evolution set forth in preceding chapters, will appear to be negatived by such incolnpatibility between the conflicting claims of self and others; so that it cannot end in an entire equilibrium between human nature and its conditions. ~l'aking by itself the chapter on Egoism versus Altruism, it would seem that for the imperative welfare of the individual, and of those belonging to him, and of those afterwards descending from him, there must be such sub ordination of the claims of others, as from time to time deducts from their welfare or diminishes the total happiness. On the other hand, reading by itself the chapter on Altruism versus Egoism, it seems to be all. inevitable corollary that self-abnegation -that is, the abandonment of a gratification or the submission to a pain due to the craving unsatisfied, is nlore or less demanded of all, that there may be maintained that social state which, by its prosperity, conduces to the egoistic welfare of each, and that there may be also achieved the character and the capacity which are the nleans to their egoistic gratifications ; and that thus the pursuit of altruistic ends must of necessity entail egoistic deprivations. Or, to put the matter briefly, it seems to be clear that there must be everywhere a certain large percentage of sacrifice-sacrifice of others to self or sacrifice of self to others; and that, in so. far as there is sacrifice, there is a submission to pain, positive or negative, and therefore a necessary failure in the working out of [a] nature capable of complete life-that is, complete happiness.

1Iere there renlains to be shown the invalidity of this con clusion. On tracing upwards the process of evolution to a higher stage, we shall see that this conflict between egoism and altruism, which now constitutes the crux in all ethical speculation, is transitional, and is in process of gradual disappearance. § Already in seeking clues for the interpretation of the future, we have gone back to the past; and that we may understand th¥ past have carried our inquiry back to the beginning. In seeking a right interpretation of egoism we set out with life in its earlier stages,and observed the truth that a predominant egoism, through which each achieved the benefits of its own superiority, was the THE CONCILIATION. 291 condition not only to the maintenance of life from the begin ning, but a condition to the maintenance of each species, and therefore to the evolution of higher species. Similarly, when seek ing for an ultimate basis for the claiIns of altruism, we observed, on going back to its root, that from the beginning altruism has been co-essential; in so far that the continued egoism of gen eration after generation has been made possible only through .the altruism which sacrifices, physically and otherwise, a portion of the life of each generation for the next. Here we may with advantage pursue, in seeking the ultimate conciliation of egoism and altruism, the same course. If we similarly go back to the beginning, we shall get a clue. to the method by which the con ciliation, already in certain directions achieved, will in the future be carried out to the full.

For how is there effected that conciFation of the egoism and altruism, co-essential as we have seen, by which each race, and life on the globe as a whole, have been maintained and evolved? How is there achieved that conciliation between the egoism of the parent, which is essential to production and fostering of offspring, and the altruism by which that fostering is effected? The answer is perfectly simple. There has from the beginning been arising, and has arisen more and more to a higher and higher stage, such constitution in each creature, as entailed egoistic gratification in performing the altruistic action. If we glance afresh at the cases before indicated, in which there is a self-sacrifice of parent for the benefit of offspring, we observe that throughout, this self-sacrifice is made in gratifica tion of a powerful instinct, and is a source of pleasure, and the negation of it an extreme pain. Not to dwell on cases,even low down among invertebrate animals, where, as even with molluscs, great labour is taken in safe laying of ova, or, as in the case of the spider, the ova are carried about and protected till they are hatched-cases which show us even there that this expenditure of labour by which other beings are benefited, is itself done in fulfilment of an instinct which is only to be satisfied by the act, and is therefore in that sense egoistic; we haye this relation forced upon us distinctly, when we come to the more highly organized and intelligent creatures. If we ask how it is that there are gone through by a pair of birds, all the labours of nest building, the denial of activity implied by incubation, the activity of the male in feeding the female while sitting, and the prolonged labours of both in subsequently bringing food to the young; the answer is that all these actions are carried on under the prompt ings of certain inherited and organized cravings, which make the successive activities sources of gratification. And it needs but to observe the signs of distress consequent on danger to the young to get a measure of the degree of pleasure taken in performing 292 APPENDIX.

these acts that are directly beneficial to others and at the same time pleasurable to self. Evidently this conciliation between the requirements of egoisln and altruism, has from the beginning been growing in extent and conlpleteness-necessarily has been doing so-since the higher the type of creature evolved, the more the young beconles dependent upon the parent and the more involved the requirements to be fulfilled in fostering them, and therefore the IIlore continuous and more varied the activities carried on by adults in behalf of the young. And this conciliation which we see has gone hand-in-hand with evolution, is a conciliation which we see has reached a high degree in the human race. It needs not here to dwell on parental sacrifices as prompted by parental affections. It needs not to dwell on the amount of positive pleasure which the nlother de rives from daily witnessing that welfare of her offspring which her self-sacrificing efforts achieve; nor does it need to dwell upon the intensity of the unhappiness which from tinle to tinle resul ts if illness threa tens or death destroys, and if, as a conse quence, the mother, no longer called on "to make these daily sacrifices, is at the same time defrauded of the pleasures those sacrifices brought. All that needs to be more especially indicated in further insisting on this great fact is, that during the evolu tion of the human race itself there has been a marked further progress in this conciliation; so that whereas during savage life the sacrifices made on the part of both parents are less varied and persistent, they endure for a shorter period, and that among the civilized the labours of both parents, gone through in rearing and education, nluch more complex, are prolonged over a greater number of years, and the labours gone through in accumulating the means for setting them up in life, and often the injury to health borne in providing them with fortunes, are such as to make it manifest that a large part of the pleasure of daily life is achieved in the process of sacrificing personal ends for the benefit of offspring.

In all which illustrations the one truth to be observed and carried with us is, that there gradually evolves with the evolution of a higher life, an organic altruism, which, in relation to a cer tain limited class of other beings, works to the effect of making what we call self-sacrifice not a sacrifice in the ordinary sense of the word, but an act which brings more pleasure than pain-an act which has for its accompaniment an altruistic gratification which outweighs the egoistic gratification lost; and this, other wise stated, implies that as the altruistic gratification is egoisti cally expressed, egoism and altruism coalesce. § That which has been in course of achievement in respect of the limited group of beings constituting a fanlily, in the course rrHE CONCILIATION. 293 of the evolution of life, and has now, in the human race, been in very large measure achieved, has been in course of achieve ment, and is to a comparatively small extent achieved, with those larger groups constituting societies. The conciliation be tween egoism and altruism under their aspects as ordinariI y understood, is slowly coming about by analogous conciliation of the egoistic and altruistic gratifications.

Only those whose creed prompts thenl to believe in the unalterable badness of human nature, and who, in face of the evidence which mankind at large furnish, hold that Ulan not only always has been, but always will be, "desperately wicked;" can refuse to recognize the conspicuous fact that along with the progress of civilization, there has been growing up not only that kind of altruism which is shown in decreasing aggressive. neSt1 on fellow-men, but also that kind of altruism which is shown in actual regard for their welfare. Go back to the times when· blood-feuds were not only chronic between adjacent tribes but in the later tilues in which there were blood-feuds maintained from generation to generation between families of the same /tribe, and c,ontrast it/ with the present time in which, among civilized peoples, such aggressions as exist, relatively few, are far less violent in kind; and it cannot be denied that that negative latruism which is shown in refraining from injuring others, has increased. Contrast the times in which slavery, existing every where, excited even in moralists no repugnance, with modern times when slavery, by the more sympathetically-millded, is characterized as " the sum of all villanies; " and it is undeniable that the extent to which selfish gratification is pursued at the cost o£ misery to others, is alike less extrenle and less widespread.

Observe the contrast between savages who torture their captives till they die, or ancient so-called heroes who dragged the dead bodies of slain foes after their chariots, with our own days in which, among the more advanced nations, wounded enemies are cared for, and bystanding nations selld out doctors and nurses; and it cannot be questioned that there exists now [more kind feeling] than existed in the less developed human beings. So in the contrast between gladiatorial shows and days when pugil ism is forbidden, or between the societies in which seeing ani mals slay one another is a chief pleasure and societies in which there exist associations and laws for the prevention of such re maining cruelty to animals as exists. If, fronl the increase of syulpathy shown by the decrease of cruelty, we pass to that which is shown by the establishment of juster social relations, the same thing is shown to us. Fronl the tiInes when the system of internal protection was so little developed that men had to rectify their own grievances by force -as well as they might, to the times when there exist guardians 294 APPENDIX.

of life and property patrolling the streets at all hours, we are shown a gradual rise of that public sentiment expressing regard for the clainls of others. Defective as is the administration of law, yet men's properties as well as their lives are far safer than they were in early times; by which there is implied an increase of those feelings which embody themselves in equitable laws. If we again look at the growth of governmental forms, which have gone on from period to period decreasing the unchecked powers of ruling classes, and extending to lower and lower grades shares of political power, we see both that the institu tions so established are more altruistic in the sense that they recognize better the claims of all, and in the sense that they are advocated and carried on grounds of equity and by appeal to men's sense of justice-:-that is, to the most abstract and latest developed of the altruistic sentiments.

. N or is it otherwise if we consider the altruism which ex presses itself in active benevolence. Go back to early societies, and we find little or nothing representing those multitudinous agencies which have grown up during civilization for the care of the sick and aged and the unfortunate. In the rudest forms of society, those who were no longer from one or other cause capable of taking care of themselves, were either killed or left to die. But the moral modification which has resulted from the discipline of social life, as it has gradually passed more and more from the militant to the industrial form, has been accom panied by growth of multitudinous forms of philanthropic ac tivity-'countless societies voluntarily established and carried on, enormous sums of money subscribed, innumerable people busying themselves with a view to the welfare of those who are not so well off in the world as themselves. That is to say, altru ism arising from that same growth of sympathy which checks cruelty and extends justice, has been simultaneously leading to positive exertions for the benefit alike of individuals and of the community at large.

And if we ask what is the attitude of mind in those who are engaged, now in the checking of actions which inflict pain, now in the furtherance of political changes which conduce to more equitable relations, now in the agitations for changing unjust laws, now in the carrying on of organizations for mitigating the pains of less fortunate fellow-citizens or increasing their pleas ures; we see that if [not] in the whole, still in large nleasure, the prompting cause is an actual satisfaction in the contempla tion of the benefits achieved. Large numbers of persons are there who, often postponing in large measure, and sonletimes unduly, their private affairs to public affairs, are as eagerly ener getic in achieving what they conceive will redound to human 'welfare at large, or the welfare of particular classes of people, as THE CONCILIATION. 295 though they were pursuing their personal ends; and so show us that the gratification of their altruistic' feelings has become to them a stimulus approaching in potency to the gratification of their directly egoistic feelings. So that the pursuit of the altru istic pleasure bas become a higher order of egoistic pleasure.

§ It is a paradox daily illustrated, that the belief in irrationali ties habitually goes with scepticism of rationalities. ~rhose who are impressed by some statement of a wonder, and accept it on the strength of some. emphatic assertion· notwithstanding its utter incongruity with all that is known of the course of things, will listen with utter incredulity. to inferences drawn by the most cogent reasoning from prenlises .. that they do not deny. Incapable of conceiving with any vividness the necessary' dependence of conclusions upon premises, where these are at all remote from the simplest matters, they are not affected in their convictions by demonstration, however clear, as they are affected by the manifestation of strong belief in those who make statements to them. And thus while, for example, they see nothing whatever ridiculous in the tradition which ascribes the universe to a great artificer who was tired after six days' labour, it seems to them quite ridiculous to suppose that there are to conle in the future, changes in human nature, and corresponding changes in human society, analogous to, and equally great with, those that have taken place since societies were first formed.

One who, looking at the hour-hand of a watch, fails to see it move, and is prompted by his inability to see the movement to say that it does not move, is checked from doing so by his experiencesof past occasionswhen,on lookingafter an interval, he has seen that movement has taken place; but one can . readily imagine that in one wheJ had never had any experiences of watches, and who was toI..d that this hour-hand was moving though he could not see it, and that unless familiar with the actions of machinery, it would be of little avail to point out the arrangements of mainspring, balance-wheel, pinions, and the like, in such way as to prove to him that although he could not see it, the hour-hand must be moving. .J--\nd much in the same condition as would be such an one who had never before seen a watch, and who was incredulous as to the movemelitof the hour-hand becauseit was imperceptibleto him, ~re the great mass of people who habitually look upon human nature and human society as, if not stationary, still, not moving in such way as to be likely to change their places in such great degree as to make them remote froIn what they now are. They have indeed the opportunity, not paralleled in the hypothetical case just put, of contrasting existing civilized socie ties with.ex~~ting savage societies; and they have the opportunity 296 APPENDIX.

of contrasting the present state of anyone civilized society with its preceding state. But strong as is the evidence furnished to them that both the individual human being and the masses of human beings, undergo decided changes, they are so domi nated by the daily .. inlpression of constancy, as to have either unconsciousness, or no adequate consciousness, of the changes that are, from kindred causes, hereafter to take place. Not denying that there will be changes, their imagination of them is so vague, and their belief in them is so feeble, that, practically, the admission that they may take place an10unts to nothing in their general conception of things, and plays no part as a factor in their general thinking. And, most renlarkably, this proves to be so not [only] with the commonplace uncultured [and ]with those of mere literary culture; but it is to a large extent true of those whose scientific culture should give them clear con ceptions or causation-clear conceptions that results will not re sult without causes, and, conversely, that given the causes the results are inevitable. Even a large proportion of the biological world whose discipline, especially in recent years, might be pre sumed to give them full faith in the potent working hereafter of causes that have worked so potently heretofore, show no sign that their conceptions or human lire and human society are much in advance of those held by other people. Strange to say, natu ralists who have accepted in full the general hypothesis of or ganic evolution, and hold that by direct or indirect adaptation, organisms have perpetually been moulded to their respective conditions, and that in the future as the past such nlouldings to conditions must ever go on, show themselves, like the rest, little regardful or the corollaries which must inevitably follow re specting the future of humani~y. And many of them Inay be numbered anlong those who, in various ways, are busy in thwart ing this process of adaptation as respects men and society.

Hence, not at all among the uneducated class, very little among the class called educated, and in no adequate degree even in the scientific class, is there a belief in the unquestionable truth that altruism in the future will increase as it has increased in the past'; and that as, at the present time, there has grown up in the superior types of men, a capacity ror receiving much personal pleasure from furthering the welfare of others, and in conteln plating such welfare as is produced by other means, so will there in the future grow up a nluch greater degree, and a much more widespread aIllount, of such pleasure-so will there in the fu ture come a further identification of altruism with egoism, in the sense that personal gratification will be derived from achiev ing the gratification of others. So far is it from being true, as might be supposed fron1 the general incredulity, that though there has arisen a considerable moralization of the human THE CONCILIA\o-fION. 297 being, as a concomitant of civilization, there will be no compa rable increase of such moralization in the future, it is true that the moralization will hereafter go on at a much greater rate, because it will no longer be checked by influences hitherto, and at present, in operation. During all the past, and even still, the egoism of warlike activities has been restraining the altruism which grows up under peaceful activities. The need for main taining adaptation to the militant life, which implies readiness to sacrifice others, has perpetually held in check the progress of adaptation to the industrial life, which, carried on by exchange of services, does not of necessity entail the sacrifice of others to self. And because of these conflicting influences, the growth of altruism has of necessity been slow. What this moral modifica tion due to the adaptation of human beings to peaceful social life, might hf\.ve already achieved in civilized societies, had it not been for the moral effects that have accompanied the neces sary process of compounding and re-conlpounding by which great nations have been produced, we may judge on observing the moral state existing in the few simple tribes of nlen who have been so circumstanced as to carryon peaceful lives. (Here insert examples.) Judge, then, what might by this time have happened under the closer mutual dependence and more complex relations which civilized societies have originated, but for the retarding causes which have kept sympathies] seared; and then judge what will happen in the future when, by further progress such as has been going on in the past, we reach eventually a state in which the great civilized societies reach a condition of permanent peace, and there continues no such extreme check as has been operating thus far. Not only must we infer that the future of man and of society will have modifications as great as the past has shown us, but that it will have much greater. rrhat is to say, the transformation of altruistic gratifications into egoistic ones, will be carried very nluch further; and an average larger share in the happiness of each individual, will depend on conscious ness of the well-being of other individuals.

§ Doubtless the moral Inodification of human nature which has thus to take place hereafter, analogous to that which has taken place heretofore, will be retarded by other causes than this primary cause. Not only is the growth of sympathy held in check by the perfonnance of unsynlpathetic actions, such as are necessitated by militant activities, but it is held in check by the constant presence of pains and unhappinesses, and by the con sciousness that these exist even when they are not visible. Those in whom the sympathies have become keen, are of necessity pro portionately pained on witnessing sufferings borne by others, not 298 .APl)ENDIX. [only] in those cases where they are the causes of sufferings, but where the sufferings are caused in any other way. To those whose fellow-feelin~s were too keenly alive to the miseries of the great mass of their kind-alive not only to such miseries as they saw but to such nliseries as they heard of or read of, and to such miseries as they knew must be existing all around, far and near, life would be nlade intolerable: the sympathetic pains would submerge not only the sympathetic pleasures but the egoistic pleasures. .And therefore life is made tolerable, even to the higher among us at the present time, by a certain per petual searing of the sympathies, which keeps theln down at such level of sensitiveness as that there remains a balance of pleasure in life. -VVhence it follows that the sympathies can become more and more acute, only as fast as the amount of human misery to be synlpathized with becomes less and less; and while this diminution of human misery to be sympathized with, itself must be due in part to the increase of sympathy which prompts actions to mitigate it, it nlust be due in the main to the decrease of the pressure of population upon the means of subsistence. -VVhile the struggle for existence anlong men has to be carried on with an intensity like that which now exists, the quantity of suffering to be borne by the majority must remain great. This struggle for existence must continue to be thus intense so long as the rate of multiplication continues greatly in excess of the rate of mortality. Only in proportion as the production of new individuals ceases to go on so greatly in excess of the disappearance of individuals by death, can there be a diminution of the pressure upon the means of subsistence, and a diminution of the strain and the accompanying pains that arise more or less to all, and in a greater degree to the inferior. On referring back to the Principles of Biology, Part VI, the reader will find grounds for the inference that along with social progress, there must inevitably go a decrease in human fertility, ending in a comparative balance of fertility and nlortality, as there comes the time when humanevolution approaches its limit of complete adaptation to the social state.

And as is here implied, the highest evolution of the sympathies, and consequent reaching of the ultimate altruism, though the progress will go on with comparative rapidity when a peaceful state is once arrived at, will yet only approach its highest degree as this ultimate state is approached. § But one of the chief causes of perplexity in this question, arising from the conflict of egoistic and altruistic requirements, and which is natural to the present condition, is due to the fact that altruism is habitually associated with self-sacrifice. So long as egoism is in excess, and so long as, in consequence of its ex..

THE CONCILIATION. 299 ce~s, the counteraction of altruism is shown mainly in checking undue personal gratification, or in assuaging the pains that have been produced by selfishness somewhere or other, it hap pens, as a matter of course, that the conception of altruism is identified with the conception of abandonment of individual gratification, and self-infliction of more or less pain. r-rbis, however, as I have inlplied, is an erroneous and purely tra~si~ tional view of the effect of altruism in its ultimate workings out. Sympathy is the root of every other kind of altruism than that which, from the beginning, originates the parental activities. It is the root of that higher altruisnl which, apart fronl the philo progenitive instinct, produces desire for the happiness of others and reluctance to inflict pain upon then1. ~rhese two traits are - inevitably associated. The same mental faculty which reproduces in the individual consciousness, the feelings that are being dis played by other beings, acts equally to reproduce those states when they are pleasurable or when they are painful. Sympathy, therefore, is a state of the individual, of pleasure or pain, accord ing to the states of the surrounding beings.· Consequently it happens, as indicated above, that when there exists around a large proportion ofpail1, syn1pathy may entail on its possessor more pain than pleasure, and so is continually kept in check.

Oontrariwise as, in course of the general evolution of hUlllanity and society, the general increase of sympathy everywhere, and improvement in the social relations consequent upon greater sympathy, it more and more happens that the states of con sciousness existing in those around are pleasurable; and in pro.. portion as this happens, the effect of sympathy is to increase the pleasure of the possessor. Evidently the general corollary fronl this is that with the increase of sympathy, there arises the double result, that by its increase it tends to decrease the causes of human misery, and in proportion as it decreases the causes of human Inisery and increases the causes of happiness, it becomes itself the cause of further reflected happiness received by each from others. And the limit towards which this evolution approaches, is one under which, as the amount of pain suffered by those around from indi vidual inlperfections. and fronl imperfections of social arrange nlent and conduct, become relatively small, and simultaneously the growth of sympathy goes on with little check, the sympathy becomes at the same time almost exclusively a source of pleasure received from the happiness of others, and not of pains received from their pains. And as this cOlldition is approached, the function of synlpathy is not that of stimulating to self-sacrifice and of entailing upon its possessor positive or negative pain, but its function becomes that of making hinla recipient of positive pleasure. The altruism which has to arisr, therefore, in future, 300 APPENDIX.

is not an altruism which is in conflict with egoism, but is an altruisln which comes eventually to coincide with egoisnl in respect of a large range of life; and it becomes instrumental in exalting satisfactions that are egoistic in so far as they are pleasures enjoyed by the individual, though they are altruistic in respect of the origin of these pleasures. So far then from its being, as is comnlonly assumed, true that there must go on throughout all the future, a condition in which self-regard is to be continually subjected by the regard for others, it will, contrariwise, be the case, that a regard for others will eventually beconle so large a source of pleasure, as to compete with in its amount, and indeed overgrow, the pleasure which is derivable from direct egoistic gratification; and the pursuit of this indirect egoistic gratification may so beconle itself the pre dominant part of egoism.

Eventually, then, along with the approximately-complete adaptation of man to the social state, along with the evolution of a society complete in its adjustments, and along with the ulti mate diminution of pressure of population, which must come with the highest type of human life, there will come also a state in which egoism and altruisnl are so conciliated that the one merges in the· other. § To those who look at the creation at large, and the organic creation in particular, from the old point of view of special creation, and who think of the structures and functions of all species as supernaturally given, and therefore fixed by God, there will not only be a repudiation of a conception like this as chi merical, but there will also be an utter imperviousness to all arguments derived from those adaptations of constitution to con ditions which the organic creation at large presents, and espe cially those which present adaptations of the kind here prophe sied. But all who take the evolution view, cannot in consistency deny that if we have in lower orders of creatures cases in which the nature is constitutionally so nlodified that altruistic activi ties have become one with egoistic activities, there is an irre sistible implication that a parallel identification will, under parallel conditions, take place among human beings.

Social insects furnish us with instances completely to the point; and instances showing us, indeed, to what a nlarvellous degree the life of the individual nlay be absorbed in subserving the lives of other individuals. Strangely enough, it happens that the typical illustrations taken fronl the animal creation to enforce on human beings 'the virtue of activity, are taken froln those creatures whose acti vities are devoted, not to their own special welfare, but to the welfare of the communities they fornl part of. The ant, which in the Bible is referred to as showing an industry which should THE CONCILIATION. 301 shame the sluggard among men, and the busy bee which, in the child's hymn, is named as an exar,nple to be followed in making the best of time, are creatures whose activities are not like those comnlended to the child and the sluggard-activities mainly to be expended in subserving personal well-being; but they are activities which postpone individual well-being so com pletelv to the well-being of the conlmunity, that individual life appears to be attended to only just as far as necessary to make possible due attention to the social life. These instances which. are given as spurs to egoistic activity, are actually sup plied by creatures whose activity is almost wholly altruistic.

Throughout the animal kingdom there are found no better examples of energetic industry, than these in which the ends which the activities subserve are altruistic rather than egoistic. And hence we are shown, undeniably, that it is a perfectly pos sible thing for organisms to become so adjusted to the require ments of their lives, that energy expended for the general wel fare may not only be adequate to check energy expended for the individual welfare, but may corne to subordinate it so far as to leave individual welfare no greater than is requisite for maintenance of individual life. And now olJserve,further, that we are thus shown not only the existence of an almost complete identification of egoism and altruism; but we are also shown that this identification takes place in consequen·ce of the gratification accompanying the altruistic activities having beconle a gratification that is sub stantiallyegoistic. Neither the 'ant nor the bee can be supposed to have a sense of duty, in the acceptation we give to that word; nor can it be supposed that it is continually undergoing self sacrific8 in the ordinary acceptation of that word. At the very outset of its mature life, the working bee begins that life which, with untiring energy, it pursues to the end-collecting food to feed the growing members of the community, gathering pollen with which to build new cells, and taking only just such food and such rest as are needful to maintain its vigour; and in the absence of those moral instigations existing only in the high er vertebrates, the instigations are in this case simply those re sulting from an organization which has become adjusted in the course of evolution to the carrying on a social life. Trheyshow us that it is within the possibilities of organization to produce a na ture which shall be just as energetic, and even more energetic,in the pursuit of altruistic ends, as is, in other cases, shown in the pursuit of egoistic ends; and they show that in' snch cases these altruistic ends are pursued in pursuing ends which on their other face are egoistic. For the satisfaction of the needs of the organ ization, these actions .conducive to the welfare of others must be carried on. The seeking for the satisfaction whiGh the organiza~ 302 APPENDIX.

tion requires, itself entails the performance of those activities which the welfare of the comnlunity requires. § And here we are brought to a special application of that general law, the relativity of pleasure, set forth and illustrated in a preceding chapter. vVe have but duly to see the far-reaching sequences of this law, to understand, even without such an illus tration as that just furnished, that such a relation between the individual and the community is not only possible, but is certain to establish itself if the conditions to its establi~hment are nlain tained. One who once fully grasps the truth that pleasure of every kind is the concomitant of the activity of sonle nervous structure, inherited from the race or developed by modification in the in dividual, will see it to be an inevitable corollary that there can be a gratification in altruistic activities just as great as in egoistic activities, if there exists the structure which answers to those activities; and that the evolution of such a structure will inevitably take place, partly by direct and partly by indirect equilibration, where it is to the advantage of the species that it should exist.

In proportion as, with the advance of so~iety to a peaceful state, there increases the form of social life which consists in mutual exchange of services-in proportion as it becomes to the advantage of the individual, and to the prosperity of the society, to regard others' claims and fulfil contracts-in proportion as the individual comes to be aided in leading a more complete life, by possessing a nature which begets friendship and kindly officesfrom all around; in such proportion does there continuously tend to take place both a strengthening of the altruistic emotions directly in the individ ual, and the increase of those individuals who inherit most largely the altruistic nature. And in proportion as there goes on this individual modification, conducing ever to the prosperity of the society after the peaceful [stage] has been reached, in that sanle proportion does it also happen that anlong societies those among whom that nlodification has gone on most effectually will be those to [survive and grow, so as gradually to replace those societies1 in which the individual nature is not so adapted to social require nlents. Inevitably, therefore, by this process, the tendency of peaceful conditions is to the continual increase of those faculties, that is, those nervous structures, which have for their spheres of activity, pleasure taken in the welfare of others; and in pro portion as this takes place, there is evolved more and more a nature in which the egoistic pursuit of these pleasures, arising from the activity of the altruistic feelings, becomes a source of such altruistic activities as are needful for the general welfare.

As certainly as those organized and inherited structures which prompt the activities of the chase, in animals and in men who THE CONOILIATION. 303 live by the'chase, and which, surviving in civilizedmen, give them what seems so natural, the pleasure in achieving the success of the chase, are structures which prompt to actions in pursuit of gratification apart from future egoistic ends (for the sportsman may be .indifferent to the game he kills); so are there growing up, and will still further grow up with the progress towards a peaceful state, structures which will prompt to altruistic activities, and which will find their gratification in those altruistic activities quite apart from any egoistic motives. Anyone 'who looks around and observes the higher types of men and women already existing, will see that even now the evolution of such structures has nlade considerable progress; and that there is no limit to the progress, save reaching the height at which it completely fulfils requirements.

21 PART II. THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS.

COPYRIGHT, 1892, BY·. D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. PRINTED AT THE ApPLETON PRESS, U. S. A.

CHAPTER T. THE CONFUSION·· OF ETHICAL .THOUGHT. § 111. If, in COlnmon with other things,human feelings and ideas conform. to .the general law of evolution, the implication is that the set of conceptions constituting ethics, together with the associated sentiments, arise out of a .relatively. incoherent and.· indefinite consciousness; and . slo"\v.-lyacquirecoherence and definiteness at the .. same time that .the aggregate of thelu differentiates from the larger aggregate. with which jt is originally lllingled. Long remainingundistinguisheg, and then but vaguely discern: ible as something independent, ethicSIDust be expected to ac quire a distinct eluboditnent only when mental evolution ha,s reached a high stage. Hence. the present .confusion of~ethical thought. Total at the outset, it. has necessarily continued great during social progress at large, and, though .. diminished,must .be supposed to be still great in our present semi-cjvilized state.

Notions of right and wrong, variously derived and changing with every change in social arrangements .and a.ctivities,form an asselnblage which we. may conclude is even now in large measure chaotic. Let us·contemplate some of the chief factors of the ethical consciousness, and observe the sets of conflicting beliefsand opinions severally resulting frQln them~ § ,112. Originally, ethics has no existence apart from religion, which holds it in solution. Religion itself,· in its 308 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. earliest form, is undistinguished fronl ancestor-·worship. And the propitiations of ancestral ghosts, made for the purpose of avoiding the evils they may inflict and gaining the benefits they may confer, are prolnpted by prudential considerations like those which guide the ordinary actions of life. "Come and partake of this! Give us maintenance as you did when living!" calls out the innocent Wood Veddah to the spirit of his relati ve, when leaving an offering for him; and then, at another time, he e.xpects this spirit to give hiIn success in the chase. A Zulu dreams that ·his brother's ghost, scolding him and beating hiln for not sacrificing, says-" I wish for meat;" and then to the reply-" No, my brother, I have no bullock; do you see any in the cattle-pen ~" the rejoinder is-" Though there be hut one, I demand it.)' The Australian medicine-man, eulo gizing the dead hunter and listening to replies from the corpse, announces that should he be sufficiently avenged he has promised that "his spirit "T0uld not haunt the tribe, nor cause them fear, nor mislead them into wrong tracks, nor bring sickness amongst them, nor make loud noises in the night." Thus is it generally. Savages ascribe their good or ill fortunes to the doubles of the dead whom they have pleased or angered; and, while offering to them food and drink and clothing, promise conformity to their wishes and beg for their help.* When from the first stage, in which only the ghosts of fathers and other relatives are propitiated by the members of each faluily, we pass to the second stage, in which, along with the rise of an established chieftainship, there arises a special fear of the chief's ghost, there results propitiation of this also-offerings, eulogies, prayers, promises. If, as warrior or ruler, a powerful man has excited admiration and dread, the anxiety to be on good terms with his still * For further illustrations see Principles Of Sociology, § 142-3, and Ecclesiastical Institutions, § 584.

THE OONFUSIONOF ETHIOAL THOUGHT. 309 more powerful double is great, and prompts observance of his comlnands and interdicts. Of course, after nlany conquests have made him a king, the expre~sions of subordina!ion to his deified spirit, regarded as omnipotent and terrible, are more pronounced, and subrnission to his will becomes iInperati ve: the concomitant idea being that right and wrong consist simply in obedience and' disobedience to him. . All religions exemplify these relations of phenomena. Concerning the Tongans, Mariner says that"Several acts acknowledged-by all civilized nations as crimes, are under many circumstances considered by them as matters of indifference," unless they involve disrespect to "the gods, nobles, and aged persons." In, his description of certain peoples of ,the Gold Ooast, J\!IajorEllis shows that with theru the idea of sin is limited to insults offered to the gods, and ,to the neglect of the gods. .

"The most atrocious crimes, committed as between man and man, the gods can view with equanimity. These are man's' concerns, and must be rectified or punished by man. But, like the gods of people much farther advanced in civilisation, there is nothing that offends them so deeply as to ignore them, or question their power, or laugh at them." When from these cases, in which the requiredsubordi nation is shown exclusively in observances expressive of reverence, we pass to cases in which there are commands of the kind called ethical, we find that the propriety of not offending God is the primary reason for fulfilling then!. Describing the admonitions given by parents to children among the ancient'.J\!Iexicans,Zurita in,stances these:" Do not poison anyone, since you would sin against God in his creature; your crime would be discovered and punished, and. . you would suffer the same death " (p. 138). "Do not injure anyone, shun adultery and luxury; that is a mean vice which causes the ruin of him who yields to it, and which offends Go." (p. 139). "Be modest; humility procures us the favour of God and of the powerful" (p. 141).

Much more pronounced, however, a~ong' the Hebrews ,vas the belief that right and wrong are made such simply by the will of God. As Schenkel relnarks~"Inasmuch as 310 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHIOS. man owes obedience to God's laws, sin is regarded as rebellion (I8a. i. 2, lix. 13; I-I08. vii. 13; .A.lno8 iv. 4)." Oonfornlity to divine injunctions is insisted upon solely because they are divine injunctions, as is shown in Levitimis xviii. 4, 5 :- . " Ye shall do my judgments, and keep mine ordinances, to walk there in: I am the Lord your God. Ye shall therefore keep my statutes and my judgments." Such was theview which the Hebrews themselves avowedly entertained. This is proved by their later writings. Bruch remarks that according to the author of the Book of Wisdon~, " virtue is obedience to the will of G'od, and where this is ex pressed in the Law fulfilment of itis required (vi. 5, 19)." And in like manner, Fritzsche says-In Eccle8ia8ticu8 " the command of God appears as the proper motive of morality."

How little good and bad conduct ","ere associated in thought with the intrinsic natures of right and wrong, and how completely they were associated in thought with obedience and disobedience to Jahveh, we see in the facts that prosperity and increase of population werepromise€l as rewards of·allegiance; while there was punishment for such non-ethical disobediences as omitting circunlcision or number ing the people. That conformity to injunctions, as well as making sacri fices and singing praises, had in view benefits to be received in :return for subordination, other ancient peoples show us. Here are illustrative passages from the Rig-Veda. "The unsacrificing Sanakas perished. Contending with the sacrificers the non':sacrificers fled, 0 Indra, with ltverted faces." i. 33, 4-5. " :Men fight the fiend, trying to overcome by their deeds him who performs no sacrifices." vi. 14, 3. ,. Mayall other people around us vanish into nothing, but our own off spring remain blessed in this world." x. 81, 7.

"We who are wishing for horses, for booty, for wdttnen.••Indra, the strong one who gives us women." iy. 17, 16. A like expected exchange of obligations was shown among the Egyptians when Rameses, invoking Ammon for aid, reminded him of the hecatombs of bulls he had THE ,C0:NFUSI0:N OFETHIOALTHOUGHT. 311 sacrificed to him. And,sinlilarly, it was sho"'Tn' among the early ", Greeks when Chrises, .praying for v~ngeance, emphasized the claim he had established on Apollo by deco rating his tenlple. Evidently the good and evil which come from enjoined and forbidden actions, are considered as di- . rectly caused by God, and not as indirectly due to' the consti tution of things. That like conceptions prevailed throughout :r:nedireval Europe everyone knows. With the appeals to saints for aid in battle, with ,the' vows to build chapels to the Virgin by way of conlpounding for crirnes, and with the crusading expeditions and pilgrimages, undertaken' as means to salva tion, there went the idea that divine injunctions, are to be obeyed sirnplybecause they are divine injunctions; and the accompanying idea was that good and evil are consequences of' God's will and not consequences naturally caused. The current idea was well shown in the forms of manumission "}1-'or fear of Almighty God, and for the cure of my soul, I liberate thee" &c. or" For lessening my sins" &c. Even uo-wa kindred conception survives in most men. Not only is it still the popular belief that right and wrong become suchbydi-v.ine fiat, but' it is the belief of many theologians and moralists. The speeches of bishops concerning, the Deceased Wife's Sisters Bill, sufficiently indicate' the attitude of the one ; and various books, among others that of the Quaker-moralist Jonathan Dymond, show the other. Though there has •long 'been growing a vague recognition of natural sanctions which some actions have and others have not, yet there continues a general ~belief that moral obligation is 'su pernaturally derived.

§ 113. Various mythologies of ancient peoples, in common with ,those of some existing savages,describe the battles of the gods: now, with one another and now with' "alien foes. If the deities of the Scandinavians, the Mongolians, the Indians, the Assyrians, the Greeks, 312 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. are not all of them successful warriors, yet the supremacy of the gods over other beings, or of one over the rest, is habitually represented as established by conquest.· Even the Hebrew deity, characterized as a "man of war," is constantly spoken of as a subduer of enemies, if not per sonally yet by proxy. The apotheosized chiefs who become the personages of mythologies (frequently invaders, like the Egyptian gods who carne into Egypt from the land of Punt) usually leave behind thenl wars in progress or unsettled feuds; and fulfilment of their commands, or known wishes, by over COIning enemies, then becolnes a duty. Even· where there are no bequeathed antagonisms with peoples around, example and precept given by the warrior-king unite in giving divine sanction to the ethics of enmity.

Hence such a fact as that told of the Fijian chief, who was in a state of mental agony because he had dis pleased his god by not killing enough of the enenlY. Hence such representations as are made by Assyrian kings: Shalmaneser II. asserting that Assur "had strongly urged Ine to conquer and subjugate;" Tiglath Pileser naming Ashur and the great gods as having "ordered an· enlarged frontier to " his dominions; Sennacherib describing himself as the instruluent of Assur,· and aided by him in battle; Assurbanipal, as fighting in the service of the gods who, he says, are his leaders in war. Of like meaning is the account which the Egyptian king, Rameses II, gives of his transcendant achievements in the field while inspired by the ghost of his deified father. N or is it otherwise with the carrying on of wars among the Hebrews in pursuance of divine behests; as when it is said-" Whomsoever the Lord our God shall drive out from before us, them will we possess." (Judg. xi. 24.) And among other peoples, in later times, we see the same con nexion of ideas in the name assulued by Attila-" the scourge of God."

THE CONFUSION OF ETHICAL THOUGHT. 313 Sanctions for deeds entailed by the conflicts between so cieties, when not thus arising, inevitably arise from social necessities. Oongruity nlust be established between the con duct found needful for self-preservation and the conduct held to be right. When, throughout a whole community, daily acts are at variance with feelings, these feelings, con tinually repressed, diminish, and antagonist feelings,. con tinually encouraged, grow; until the 8.verage sentiments are adjusted to the average requirements. Whatever in jures foes is then thought not only justifiable but praise worthy, and a part of duty. Success in killing brings admiration above every other achievement; burning of habitations and laying waste of territory become things to be boasted of; while in trophies, going even to the extent of .a pyramid of heads of the slain, the conqueror and his followers show that pride which irnplies the consciousness of great deeds.

These conceptions and feelings, conspicuous in ancient epics and histories, have continued conspicuous during the course of social evolution, and ·are conspicuous still; If, in stead of asking for men's nominal code of right and wrong, we seek for their real code, we find that in most minds the virtues of the warrior take the first place. Ooncerning an officer killed in a nefarious war, you may hear the remark " He died the death of a gentleman." And among civilians, as among soldiers, there is tacit approval of the political brigandage going on in various quarters of the globe; while there are no protests against the massacres euphemistically called "punishments." § 114. But though for the defence against, and conquest of, societies,one by another, injurious actions of all kinds have been needful, and have acquired in men's minds that sanction implied by calling them right, such injurious ac tions have not been needful within each society; but, con. trariwise, actions of an opposite kind have been needful.

314 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. Violent as may frequently be the conduct of tribesmen to one another, combined action of them against other tribes must be impossible in the absence of some Inutual trust, consequent on experience of friendliness and fairness. And since a behaviour which favours harnlonious cooperation within the tribe conduces to its prosperity and growth, and therefore to the conquest of other tribes, survival of the fittest among tribes causes the establishrnent of such behaviour as a general trait. The authority of ruling lllen gives the ethics of amity collateral support. Dissension being recognized by chiefs as a source of tribal weakness, acts leading to it are repro bated by them; and where the injunctions of deified chiefs are remelllbered after their deaths, there results a super natural sanction for actions conducive to harmony, and a supernatural condemnation for actions at variance with it.

Hence the origin of what we distinguish as moral codes. Hence the fact that in numerous societies,fornled by various races of men, such moral codes agree in forbidding actions which are anti-social in conspicuous degrees. We find evidence that moral codes thus, arising are transmitted from generation to generation, now informally and now formally. Thus" the Karens ascribe all their laws, and instructions, to the elders of preceding generations." According to Schoolcraft, the Dakotas "repeat traditions to the falnily, with maxillls, and tell their children they must live up to them." And then Morgan tells us that among the Iroquois, when mourning for th~ir sachems, ,. a prominent part of the ceremonial consisted in the repetition of their ancient lavvs and usages." Whence it is manifest that, sachems being the ruling men, this repetition of their injunctions during their obsequies, amounted to a tacit expression of obedience, and the injunctions became an ethical creed having a quasi-supernatural sanction.

The gravest transgressions, first recognized as such, and their flagitiousness taken for granted, are, in the absence of THE €JONFtrSION' OF:ETRICAL THOUGHT. 315 a systematized code of condu~t, not conspicuously denounced by early teachers; any more than by our own priests, the wrongfulness of murder and robbery is luuch insisted on. Interdicts referring to the less .marked deviations from ordi nary conduct, .and..injunctions to behave worthily, are most common. The works of the' ancient Indians furnish' illus trations ;' at the same time showing. how reaction against extreme· egoism leads to enunciation of extreme altruism. Thus, in the later part of that heterogeneous compound,the Mahabharata,.we read :"Enjoy thou the prosperity of others, AlthQugh thyself unprosperous; .noble men Take pleasure in their neighbour's happiness." And again in Bharavi's Kiratal'juniya it is said : "The noble-minded dedicate themselves To the promotion of the -happiness Ofothers"'-.e'enofthose who injure them."

So··too a passage in the "Gural runs:"To ~xe:rcisebenevolence is the whole design of acquiring property. "He truly lives who· knows and discharges the duties of benevolence. He who knows them not may be reckoned among th~ dead." In the Ohinesebooks :wehave, besides the injunctions of the Taouists, the. TIloral maxinls of Confucius, exemplifying high de~elopment of the ethics of amity. Enumerating the five cardinal virtues Confucius says:"First among these stands humanity, that is to say, that universal sym pathywhich should' exist between mail and man ·without, distinction of class or race. Justice, which gives to e~ch member of the community his due,. without favour or affection." And then in another place he expresses, in a different form, the·Ohristian maxim :" Do not let a man practise to· those beneath him, that which he dislikes in those above him; to those .before him, what he dislikes in those behind him; to those on the right hand, that which he dislikes on the left/' Social life in Ancient Egypt had produced clear recog nition of the essential .. principles of harmonious; co..opel·a~ 316 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS.

tion. M. Chabas, as quoted by Renouf and verified by him, says :"None of the Christian virtues is forgotten in it; piety, charity, gentle ness, selt-command in word and action, chastity, the protection of the weak, benevolence towards the humble, deference to superiors, respect for property in its minutest details, •.. all is expressed there, and in ex tremely good language." And then, according to Kuenen, who gives evidence of the correspondence, we have the same principles adopted by -the Hebrews, and formulated by Moses into the familiar deca logue; the essentials of which, summed up in the Christian n1axim, serve along with that maxim as standards of conduct down to our own day. The broad fact which here chiefly concerns llS is that, in one or other way, communities have habitually established for themselves, now tacitly and no'w avowedly, here in rudi mentary forms and there in elaborated forIns, sets of com /lnands and restraints conducive to internal anlity. And the genesis of such codes, and partial conformity to them, have been necessary; since, if not in any degree recognized and observed, there nlust result social dissolution.

§ 115. As the ethics of enmity and the ethics of amity, thus arising in each society in response to external and in ternal conditions respectively, have to be simultaneously en tertained, there is formed an assemblage of utterly incon sistent sentiments and ideas. Its components can by no possibility be harmonized, and yet they have to be all ac cepted and acted upon. Every day exemplifies the resulting contradictions, and also exemplifies men's contentInent under them. When, after prayers asking for divine guidance, nearly all the bishops approve an unwarranted invasion, like that of Afghanistan, the incident. passes without any expression of surprise; while, conversely, when the Bishop of Durham takes the chair at a Peace-meeting, his act is comlnented upon as remarkable. When, at a Diocesan Conference, a THE CONFUSION OF. ETHICAL THOUGHT. 317 peer (Lord Cranbrook), opposing international arbitration, says he is "not quite sure that a state of peace might not be a more dangerous thing for a nation than war," the as sembled priests of the religion of love Inake no protest; nor does any general reprobation, clerical ..or lay, arise when a ruler in the Church, Dr.. Moorhouse, advocating a physi cal and moral discipline fitting the English for war, .ex presses the wish "to make them so that they would, in fact, like the fox when fastened by the dogs, die biting," and says that" these were moral qualities to be encouraged and increased· arnong our people, and he believed that nothing could suffice for this but the grace of God operating in their hearts." How cOlnpletelyin harmony with the popu lar feeling, in a land covered with -Christian churches and chapels, is this exhortation of the Bishop of Manchester, we see in such facts as that people eagerly read accounts of football-matches in which there is an average of a death per week; that they rush in crowds to buy newspapers which give detailed reports of a brutal prize-fight, but w'hich pass over in a few lines the proceedings of a Peace Congress; and that they are lavish patrons of illustrated papers, half the wood-cuts in which have for their sub jects the destruction of life or the agencies for its destruc tion.

Still more conspicuous do we find the incongruity between the nominally-accepted ethics of amity and the actually accepted ethics of enmity, when we pass to the Continent. In France, as elsewhere, the multitudinous appointed agents for diffusing the injunction to do good to enemies, are practically dumb in respect of-this injunction; and, instead of seeking to make their people put up the sword, are themselves, under the direction of these people they have been teaching, obliged, durin~ their student days, to serve in the army. Not to achieve any humane end or to enhance the happin.essof mankind, either at home or abroad, do the French submit to the crushing weight of their military 318 THE INDUCTIONS OF· ETHICS. budget; but to wrest back territories taken from them in punishment for their aggressiveness. And, as we have lately seen, a wave of enthusiasm very nearly raised to supreme power a soldier who ",~as expected to lead them to a war of revenge. ' So is it, too, in Protestant Germany-the land of Luther and the favourite home of Christian theology. Significant of the national feeling was that general order to his soldiers issued by the Emperor on ascending the throne, in which, saying that" God's decree places me at the head of the arlny,"· and otherwise expressing his submission to " God's will," he ends by swearing" ever to remenlber that the eyes of my ancestors look down upon me from the other ,vorld, and that I shall one day have to render account to them of the glory and honour of the Army." To which add that, in harn10ny with this oath, pagan alike in sentiment and idea, ,ve have his n10re recent laudation of duelling-clubs: a laudation soon afterwards followed by personal performance of divine service on board his yacht.

How absolute throughout Europe is the contradiction between the codes of conduct adjusted respectively to the needs of internal amity and external enmity, we see in the broad fact that along with several hundred thousand priests who are supposed to preach forgiveness of injuries, there exist immensely larger arn1ies than any on record! § 116. But side by side with the ethical conceptions above described, originating in one or other way and having one or other sanction, there has been slowly evolving a different conception-a conception derived wholly from recognition of naturally-produced consequences. This gradual rise of a utilitarian ethics has, indeed, been inevitable; since the reasons which led to commands and interdicts by a ruler, living or apotheosized, have habitually been reasons of ex pediency, more or less visible to all. Though, when once established, such commands and interdicts have been con..

THE CONFUSION OFETlIIC.A.L THOUGHT. 319 formed to mainly because obedience to the authority impos ing theln was a duty, yet there has been very generally some accompanying perception -of their fitness. Even among the uncivilized, or but slightly civilized, we find a nascent utilitarianisnl. The Malagasy, for exanlple, have'laws against Adultery, Theft and Murder; •.. there is also a Fine inflicted on a Man, who shall curse another MaIf's Parents. They p.ever swear profanely:~;b¥t these things they do, 'because, said they, it is conven ient and proper; and we could not live by one another, if there were not such laws." In the later Hebrew writings the beginnings of a utilitarian ethics are visible; for though, as Bruch relnarks of the author of hcclesiasticus,"all his ethical rules and precepts in a truly flebrew way run together in t.he notion of the fear of God," yet many of his rnaxin1.sdo not originate from divine injunctions. When he advises not to become too dependent, to value a good name, to be cautious in talk, and to be judicious in eating and dripking, he mani festly derives guidance froIn the results of experience. A fully-di~erentiated systenl of expediency-nlorals had been reached by some of the Egyptians. ]\IIr. Poole writes:"Ptah-hotep is wearied with religious services already outworn, and instead of the endless prescriptions of the current religion, he attempts a simple doctrine of morals, founded on the observation of.a long life."

. . . His proverbs" enforce the advantage of virtuous life in the present. The future has no place in the scheme." ... "This moral philosophy of the sages is far above that of the Book of the Dead, inasmuch as it throws aside all that is trivial and'teaches alone the necessary duties. But it rests on a basis of .. expediency. The love of God, and the love of man, are unnoticed as the causes of virtue." Similarly was it with the later Greeks. In the Platonic Dialogues, and in the Ethic8 of Aristotle, we see,morality in large lIleasure separated from theology and placed upon a utilitarian basis. Coming down to modern days, the divergence of expedi ency-ethics from theological ethics, is well illustrat~d in 22 320 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. Paley,who, in his official character, derived right and wrong froIn divine commands, and in his unofficial character de rived them froIn observation of consequences. Since his day the last of these vie,vs has spread at the expense of the first, and by Bentham and Mill we have utility estab lished as the sole standard of conduct. How cOlnpletely in this last, conduciveness to hUlnan welfare had become the suprelne sanction, replacing alleged divine commands, ,ve see in his refusal to call" good "a supreme being whose acts are not sanctioned by "the highest human morality;" and by his statement that" if snch a being can sentence .me to hell for not so calling him, to hell I ,viII go."

§ 117. Yet a further origin OT moral dictates is to be recognized as having arisen simultaneously. Habits of conformity to rules of conduct have generated sentiments adjusted to such rules. The discipline of social life has produced in men conceptions and emotions 'which, irre specti ve of supposed divine commands, and irrespective of observed consequences, issue in certain degrees of liking for conduct favouring social welfare and aversion to conduct at variance 'with it. Manifestly such a moulding of hUlnan nature has been "furthered by survival of the fittest; since groups of men having feelings least adapted to social require ments mnst, other things equal, have tended to disappear before groups of men having feelings most adapted to them .. The effects of moral sentiments thus arising are sho,vn alnong races partially civilized. Oook says :---.,.The Otaheitans "have a knowledge of right and wrong from the mere dictates of natural eonseience; and involuntarily condemn themselves when they do that to others, which they would condemn others for doing to them."

So, too, that moral sentilnents were influential during early stages of sorne civilized races, proof is yielded by ancient India.n books. In the lIfahabharata, Draupadi complains of the hard lot of her righteous husband, and THE CONFUSION OF ETHICA.L. TjfOUGHT. 321 charges the. Deity with injustice ; but is answered by Yud- . dishthira :" Thou uttere~t infidel sentiments. I do not act fJ;om a desire to gain the . recompense of my works. I give what I ought to give ..• Whether re ward accrues to me or not, I do to the best of my power what a man should do, ••••It is on duty alone that my thoughts are fixed, and this, too, nat urally. The man who seeks to make of righteousness a gainful merchandise, is low. The man who seeks to milk righteousness does not obtain its re ward .... Do not doubt about righteousness: he who does so is on the way to be born a brute." And similarly, in another of 'these ancient books, the Rama yana, we read :"Virtue is a service man owes himself, and though there were no Heaven, nor any God to rule the world, it were not less the binding law of life. It is man's privilege to know the Right and follow it."

In like manner, according to Edkins, conscience is re garded among the Chinese as the supreme authority. He says:" When the evidence of a neW religion is presented to them they at once refer it to a mora] standard, and give their approval with the utmost readi ness, if it passes the test. They do not ask whether it is Divine, but whether ~t is good." And elsewhere he remarks that sin, according to the Con fucian moral standard, "becomes an act which robs a man of his self-respect, and offends his sense of right," and is not" regarded as a transgression of God's law." Of modern v;rriters 'who, asserting the existence of a moral sense, consider th~ intuitions it yields as guides to conduct, we Jllay distinguish two classes. There are those who, taking a view like that of Oonfucius just indicated, hold that the dicta of conscience are authoritative, irre spective of alleged divine cOlllmands; and,indeed, furnish a test by which commands Inay be kno'wn as not divine· if they do not v;rithstand it. On the other hand there are those who regard the authority of conscience as second to that ofcomlllands which they accept as divine, and as having for its function to prolnpt obedience to such com322 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS.

mands. But the two .are at one in so far as they place the dicta of conscience above considerations of expediency; and also in so far as they tacitly regard conscience as having a supernatural origin. To which add that while alike in recognizing the 1110ral sentiment as innate, and in accepting the ordil1ary dogma that human nature is everywhere the same, they are, by implication, alike in supposing that the llloral sentiment is identical in all men. But, as the beginning of this section shows, it is possible to agree with moralists of the intuitive school respecting the existence of a moral sense, ·while differing froll1 them respecting its origin. I have contended in the forego ing division of this work, and elsewhere, that though there exist feelings of the kind alleged, they are not of supernat ural origin but of natural origin; that, being generated by the discipline of the social activities, internal and external, they are not alike in all men, but differ Inore or less every where in proportion as the social activities differ; and that, in virtue of their mode of genesis, they have a coordinate authority \vith the inductions of utility.

§ 118. Before going further it will be well to sum up these various detailed statements, changing somewhat the order and point of view. Survival of the fittest insures that the faculties of every species of creature tend to adapt thenlselves to its mode of life. It 111Ust be so with man. From the earliest times groups of men whose feelings and conceptions were con gruous with the conditions they lived under, must, other things equal, have spread and replaced those ·whose feelings and conceptions ,vere incongruous with their conditions. Recognizing a few exceptions, which special CirCUll1 stances have made possible, it holds, both of rude tribes and of civilized societies, that they have had continually to carryon external self-defence and internal cooperation external antagonisln and internal friendship. Hence their THE CONFUSION OF ETHICAL THOUGHT. 323 members have required t,vo different sets of sentimellts and ideas, adjusted to these two kinds of activity.

In societies having indigenous religions, the resulting conflict of codes is not overt. As the cOffiluands to destroy external enemies and to desist from acts which produce internal dissensions, come either froIn the living ruler or from the apotheosized ruler; and as, in both cases, the obligation arises not from the natures o£the prescribed acts, but from the necessity of obedience; the two, having the. saIne sanction, are not perceived to stand in opposition. But where, as throughout Christendom, the indigenous religion in which the ethics of enlnity and the ethics of amity coexisted with like authorities, has been suppressed by an invading religion, which, insisting on the ethics of amity only, reprobates the ethics of enmity, incongruity has resulted. International antagopisms having continued, there has of necessity survived the appropriate ethics of enmity, which, not being included in the nominally-accepted creed, has· not had the religious sanction. Hence the fact that we have a thin layer of Christianity overlying a thick layer of Paganism. The Christianity insists 0 11 duties which the paganism does not recognize as such; and the Paganism insists on duties which the Christianity f~rhids. The new and superposed religion, with its system of ethics, has the nominal honour and the professed obedience; while the old and suppressed religion has its system ot ethics nominally discredited but practically obeyed. 'Both \are believed in, the last more strongly than the first; and men, now acting on the principles of the one and now on those of the other, according tocircurnstances, sit down under their contradic tory beliefs as well as they Inay; or, rather, refrain from re cognizing the contradictions.

Hence the first of these various confusions of ethical thought. Since, in the general mind, moral injunctions are identified with divine. commands, those injunctions only are regarded as moral which harmonize with the nominally324 THE INDUOTIONS OF ETHIOS. accepted religion, Christianity; while those injunctions which belong to the primitive and suppressed religion, au thoritative as they may be considered, and eagerly as they are obeyed, are not regarded as nloral. There have come to be two classes of duties and virtues, condemned and ap proved in similar ways, but one of which is associated with ethical conceptions and the other not: the result being that men cannot bring their real and nominal beliefs into har mony. And then we have the further confusions which arise, not from the conflict of codes, but from the conflict of sanctions. Divine commands are not the authorities whence rules of conduct are derived, say the utilitarians, but their authorities are given by conduciveness to human welfare as ascertained by induction. And then, either with or without recognition of divine commands, we have writers of the lTIoral-senseschool making conscience the· arbiter; and hold ing its dicta to be authoritative irrespective of calculated consequences. Obviously the essential difference between these two classes of moralists is that the one regards as of no value for guidance the feelings with which acts are regarded, while the other regards. these feelings as of supreme value.

Sueh being the conflict of codes and conflict of sanctions, what must be our first step ~ We must look at the actual ideas and feelings concerning conduct ·which men entertain, apart from established !10menclatures and current professions. How needful is such an analysis we shall be further shown while making it ;. for it will becolue manifest that the confu sion of ethical thought is even greater than we have already seen it to be.

CHAPTER II. WHAT IDEAS AND SENTIMENTS ARE ETHICAL~ § 119. A silent protest has been made by many readers, and probably by most, while reading that section of the foregoing chapter which describes the ethics of enmity. Governed .by feelings and ideas which date from their earliest lessons, and have been constantly impressed on them at home and in church, they have forined an almost indissoluble association between a doctrine) of right and wrong in general, and those particular comluands and in-, terdicts'included in the decalogue, \vhich, contemplating the actions of Inen· to one another in the same society, takes no note of their combined actions against men of alien so cieties. The conception of ethics has, in this ~ray, come to, be limited to that which I have distinguished as the ethics of amity; and to speak of· the ethics of enmity seems ab surd. Yet, beyond question, men associate ideas of right and wrong with the carrying on of inter-tribal and international conflicts; and this or that conduct in battle is applauded or condemned no less strongly than this or that conduct in ordinary social life. Are we then to say that there is one kind of right and wrong recognized by ethics and another . kind of right and wrong not recognized by ethics? If so, under what title is this second kind of right and wrong to be dealt with? Evidently lnen's ideas about conduct are in 326 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS.

so unorganized a state, that while one large class of actions has an overtly-recognized sanction, another large class.of ac tions has a sanction, equally strong or stronger, 'which is not overtly recognized. The existence of these distinct sanctions, of which one is classed as moral and the other not, is still more clearly seen when we contrast the maxims of C~ristianity with the dog mas of duellists. During centuries throughout Europe, and even still throughout the greater part of it, there has existed, and exists, an hnperative "obligation," under certain con ditions, to challenge another to fight, and an imperative ob ligation to accept the challenge-an obligation much more imperati ve than the obligation to discharge a debt. To eithel" combatant the word "must" is used with ,as much emphasis as it would be used were he enjoined to tell the truth. The" duty" of the insulted man is to defend his honour; and so wrong is his conduct considered if he does not do this, that he is shunned by his friends as a disgraced man, just as he would be had he cornmitted a theft. Beyond question, then, we see here ideas of right and wrong quite as pronounced, with corresponding sentiments of approba tion and reprobatioll quite as strong, as those which refer to fulfilments and breaches of what are classed as moral injunc tions. How, then, can we include the last under ethical sci ence and exclude the first from it ~ The need for greatly widening the current conception of ethics is, however, still greater than is thus shown. There are other large classes of actions which excite ideas and feel ings undistinguishable in their essential natures froln those to which the term ethical is conventionally limited.

§ 120. Among uncivilized and semi-civilized peoples, the obligations imposed by custom are perelnptory. The uni versal belief that such things ought to be done, is not usually made manifest by the visiting of punishment or reprobation on those who do not conform, because J;lon<;onfQrlllityis WHAT IDEAS AND SENTIMENTS ARE ETHICAL? 32'7 scarcely heard of. How intolerable to the .general mind is breacl.'iof usages, is shown occasionally ,vhen a ruler is de posed and even killed· for -disregard of therp: a sufficient proof that his act is held wrong. And weSollletimes :find distinct expressions of moral sentiment on b~half of custonlS having nothing which we should call moral authority, and even on behalf of customs which we should call profoundly hnmoral. I may begin ,vith an instance I have ,named elsewhere in another connexion - the instance furnished by sOlne Mahomedan tribes who consider that one of the worst offences is srnoking: "drinking the shameful," as they term it. Palgrave narrates that 'while "giving divine honours to a creature," is regarded by the Wahhahees as "the :first of the great sins," the second great sin is smoking-a sin in comparison with ,vhich murder, adultery, and false witness, are trivial sins. Shnilarly, by certain Russian sects close .to Siberia, smoking is an offence distinguished from all others as being never forgiven: "every crime can be expiated by repenta;nce except this one." In these cases the repugnance felt for an act held by us to be quite harm less, is of the same nature as the repugnance felt for the blackest crimes: the only difference being that it is more intense.

Lichtenstein tells us that when Muliha-wang, king of the lVlatelhapees (a division of the Bechuanas), ",-as told that Europeans are not permitted to have more than one wife, "he said it was perfectly incomprehensible to him how a ,vhole nation could sublnit voluntarily to such extraordinarJ la'ATs." Similar was the opinion of the Arab sheikh who, along with his people, received the account of m~hogamy in England with indignation, and said" the fact is simply impossible! How can a man be contented ,vith Olle wife 1" N or is it only men ,vho think thus. Livingstone says of the Makololo "Tomen on the shores of the Zalnbesi, that they were quite shocked to' hear that in England a man had only 328 THE INDUCTION~ OF ETHICS. one wife: to have only one was not" respectable." So, too, in Equatorial Africa, according to Reade, " If a man marries, and his wife thinks that he can afford another sponse~ she pesters him to marry again; and calls him a 'stingy fellow' if he de clines to do so."

Silnilar is the feeling shown by the Araucanian women. "Far from being dissatisfied, Or entertaining any jealousy toward the new-comer, she [one of two wives] said that she wished her husband would marry again; for she considered it a great relief to have some one to assist her in her household duties, and in the maintenance of her husband." No notion of irnmorality, much less criminality, such as "\ve associate with bigamy and polygalny, is here entertained; but, contrariwise, when a wornan calls her husband a " stingy fellow" if he does not take a second wife, we have proof that monogamy is reprobated. Ideas relevant to the relations of the sexes, still more pro foundly at variance "\vith our own, are displayed in many places. Books of travel have made readers familiar "\vith the fact that among various races, a traveller entertained by a chief is offered a wife or a daughter as a ten1porary bed fellow; and the duty of hospitality is held to require this offer. In other cases the loan takes a somewhat different shape. Of the Ohinooks we read :" Among all the tribes, a man will lend his wife or daughter for a fish-hook or a strand of beads. To decline an offer of this sort is, indeed, to disparage the charms of the lady, and therefore give such offence, that although we had occasionally to treat the Indians with rigour, nothing seemed to irritate both sexes more than our refusal to accept the favours of the females."

Still Inore pronounced is the feeling shown by the members of an Asiatic tribe ,vhich Errnan visited. "The Chnckchi offer to travellers who chance to visit them, their wives, and also what we should call their daughters' honour, and resent as a deadly affront any refusal of such offers." Here 'we see that deeds which among ourselves would be classed among the profoundest disgraces, are not only re garded without shmne, but declining to participate in them causes indignation: implying a sense of ,vrong . ..A..s it concerns in another way the relations of the sexes, ViHAT IDEAS AND S]tNTIMENTS ARE ETHICAI~? 329 I may instance llext a further contrast between the senti lnents entertained by many' partially-civilized peoples, and those which have arisen along with the advance of civiliza tion. Interdicts· on luarl'iages between persons of different· ranks, breaches of which have in some cases brought the severest punishment, date back to very early times.' Thus, in the .2J£ahabharata we read that Draupadi refused the "ambitious Karna," saying :-" I wed not with the base born." And then, COIning down to comparatively modern times, we have the penaltie~ entailed on those who broke the laws against me8allianoes; as in France during the feudal period, on nobles who married beneath them: they were ex cluded from tournalllents, and their descendants also. But ~he condenlnation thus manifested five centuries ago is not paralleled now. Though '. a certaIn amount of reprobation is in SOUle cases shown, in other cases there is approbation; as witness Tennyson's "Miller's Daughter" and Mrs. Brown ing's " Lady Geraldine's Courtship." IIere the different feel ings excited, though like in nature to those we call moral, are not concerned \vith either supposed divine commands or with acts usually classed as lnoral or'irnmoral.

. Returning to the uncivilized races, I Inay instance the con ceptions associated with the division of labour between the sexes. Concerning various tribes of American Indians, North and South, we read that cuStOlU, limiting the actions of the lllen mainly to war and the chase, devolves on the women all the Inenial and laborious occupations; and these customs have an imperative sanction. Says Falkner con cerning the Patagonians :"So rigidly are" the women" obliged to perform their duty, that their husbands cannot help them on any occasion, or in the greatest distress, without incurring the highest ignominy." And these usages are fully approved of by the women them selves; as witness the following extract concerning the Dakotas :'.' It is the worst insult one virago can cast upon another in a moment of 330 THE INDUOTIONS OF ETHIOS. altercation. 'Infamous woman I' will she cry, 'I have seen your husband carrying wood into his lodge to make the fire. Where was his squaw, that he should be obliged to make a woman of himself ~ , "

Olearly this indignation is the correlative of a strong moral feeling enlisted on behalf of the prescribed conduct. But if~, among ourselves, any women were left, as among the Esqui maux, "to carry stones [for building housesJ, almost heavy enough to break their backs," while "the 111en look on with the greatest insensibility, not stirring a finger to assist them," moral reprobation would be felt. As there are no specific injunctions, divine or hurnan, referring to transactions of these kinds, the strongly-contrasted emotions which they ex cite in ourselves and in these uncivilized peoples, must be ascribed to unlikenesses of customs-unlikenesses, however, which are thelnselves significant of innate emotional unlike nesses. As further illustrating in a variety of "rays these differ ences of feelings akin in nature to those we call moral, though not ordinarily classed as such, I may, without com menting upon each, here append a series of theIne " The Caffers despise the Hottentots, Bushmen, Malays, and other people of colour, on account of their not being circumcised. On this account, they regard them as boys, and will not allow them to sit in their company, or to eat with them."

" A l\fayoruna, who had been baptized, when at the point of death was very unhappy ... . because, dying asa Christian, instead of furnish ing a meal to his relations, he would be eaten up by worms." " The Bambara washerwomen ... were stark naked, yet they manifested no shame at being seen in this state by the men composing our caravan." And a kindred statement is made concerning the Wakavi rondo by Thomson, who describes their women as neverthe less altogether modest, and, remarking that "morality has nothing to do with clothes," says of these people that" they are the lnost moral of all the tribes of this region, and they are simply angels of purity beside the decently-dressed Masai." "I found that the married men," among the Hassanyeh Arabs, says Petherick, " felt themselves highly flattered by any attentions paid to their better halves during their free-and-easy days. [Their marriages are for WHAT IDEAS AND SENTIMENTS .ARE ETHICAL? 331 three or four days in the week"only.] They seem to take such, attentions as evidence that their wives are attractive." .

Among the Khonds, " so far is constancy to a husband from being required in a wife, that her pretensions do not, in the least, suffer diminution in the eyes of either sex when fines are levied on her convicted lovers; while on the other hand, infidelity on the part of a married man is held to be highly dis honourable, and is often punished by deprivation of many social privileges." I have reserved for the last, two reularkable cases in which feelings like those which we class as moral, are definitely ex pressed in ways to us very surprising. The first concerns the Tahitians, who were described by Cook as without shame in respect of actions which among ourselves especially ex-, cite it, and as feelin~ shame in respect of actions which among, ourselves' excite none. These people were extremely averse to 'our custom of eating in society. "They eat alone, they said, because it was right." The other instance, equally anomalous, is even more startling. In Vate "it is consid ered a disgrace to the family of an aged chief if he is not buried alive." A. like usage and accompanying feeling ex isted in Fiji.

A son said, when about to hury his mother alive, "that it was from love to his mother that he had done so; that, in consequence of the same love, they were now going to bury her, and that none but themselves could or ought to do so sacred an office! . . . she was their mother, and they were her children, and they ought to put her to death." The belief being that people comlnence lifein the next world at the stage they have reached when they leave this world; and that hence postponement of death till old age entails a subsequent miserable existence. Thus we have abundant proof that with acts which do vio lence to our Inoral sentiinents, there are associated, in the minds of other races, feelings and ide~s not only warranting them but enforcing then1-They are fulfilled with a sense of obligation; and non-fulflhnent of them, regarded as breach of duty, brings condemnation and resulting self reproach.

§ 121. Everywhere during social progress custom passes 332 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS~ into law. Practically speaking, custonl is law in undevel .... oped societies. "The old Innuits did so, and therefore we nlus\" say the existing Innuits (Esquimaux); and other un~ civilized peoples similarly express the constraint they are under.- In subsequent stages, customs beCOITle the ackno,vl edged bases of laws. It is true that afterwards the body of laws is made up in part of alleged divine comlnands the themistes of the Greeks, for example; but in reality these, supposed to come from one who was originally an apotheosized ruler, usually enforce existing customs. Leviti c~(;s shows us a whole body of -practices, many of them of kinds which ,vould be now regarded as neither religious nor moral, thus acquiring authority. Whether inherited from the undistinguished forefathers of the tribes, or ascribed to the will of a deceased king, customs embody the rule of the dead over the living; as do also the la,vs into which they harden.

Of course, therefore, if ideas of duty and feelings of obli gation cluster round custolns, they cluster round the derived la\vs. The sentiment of "ought" comes to be associated with a legal injunction, as with an injunction traced to the general authority of ancestors or the special authority of a deified ancestor. And not only does there hence arise a consciousness that obedience to each particular law is right and disobedience to it wrong, but eventually there arises a consciousness that obedience to law in general is right and disobedience to it wrong. Especially is this the case where the living ruler has a divine or semi-divine character; as "\vitness the following staternent concerning the ancient Pe ruvians:"The most common punishment was death, for they said that a culprit was not punished for the delinquencies he had committed, but for having broken the commandment of the Ynca, who was respected as God."

And this conception, relninding us of religious conceptions anciently current and still current, is practically paralleled by the conceptions still expressed by jurists and accepted WHAT IDEAS AND. SENTIMENTS ARE ETHICAL ? 333 by most citizens. For though a distinction. is commonly made between legal obligation and moral obligation, in those cases where the law is of a kind in respect of which ethics gives no direct verdict ; yet the obligation to, obey has COlne to be, if not nominally yet practically, a moral obligation., The words habitually used imply this. It is held "right" to obey the law and" wrong" to disobey it. Conforlnity and nonconformity bring approbation and reprobation, just as though the legal injunction were a Illoral injunction. A man who has broken the law, even though it be in a lnatter of no ethical significance,-say a householder ,vho has re fused to fill up the census-paper or a pedlar who has not taken out a 1i~ense-feels, when he is brought before the magistrates, that he is regarded not only by them but by spectators as morally blameworthy. The feeUng shown is quite as strong as it would be were he convicted of aggress ing on his neighbours by nuisances-perpetual noises or pes tilent odours-which are Inoral offences properly so called.

That is to say, law is upheld by a sentiment indistinguish able from moral sentiment. Moreover, in SOlne cases where the two conflict, the senthnent which upholds the, legal dictum overrides the sentiment whic~ ,upholds, the moral dictuln,. as in the case of the pedlar above named. His act in selling without a licence is IIIorally justifiable, and forbidding hinl to sell without a licence is morally unjusti fiable-is an interference with his due liberty, which is ethically unwarranted. Yet the factitious moral sentiInent enlisted on behalf of legal authority, triumphs over the natural moral sentinlent enlisted on behalf 'of rightful free dom. Ho,v strong is the, artificial sanction acquired by a constituted authority, is seen very strikingly in the doings of Joint Stock associations. If the directors of a cOlllpany forIned to carry out a specified undertaking, decide to extend their activities so as to include undertakings not originally specified, and even undertakings wholly unallied to those' 334 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS.

originally specified; and if they bring before the proprietary their proposals for doing this; it is held that if a majority (at one time a simple nlajority, but now two-thirds) approve the proposal, the proprietary at large is bound by the decision. Should a few protest against being comnlitted to such new undertakings, they are fro'wned upon and pooh poohed as unreasonable obstructions: moral reprobation is vented against such resistance to the ruling agent and its supporters. Nevertheless the moral reprobation should be inverted. As a question of pure equity, the incorporated body cannot enter on any businesses not specified or impliecl. in the deed of incorporation. Those who break the original contract by entering on unspecified businesses, are un justified ; while those who stand by the original contract, however few in number, are justified. Yet so strong is the quasi-moral sanction associated with the acts of a constituted authority, that its ethicallY-V\Trongcourse is thought right, and insistence on regard for the ethically-right course is thought wrong!

§ 122. How then are ethical ideas and sentinlents to be defined-How, indeed, are they to be conceived in any con sistent way? Let us recapitulate. Throughout the past, and down to present days in most minds, conceptions of right and wrong have been directly associated with supposed divine injunctions. Acts have been classed as good or bad, not because of their intllinsic natures but because of their extrinsic derivations; and virtue has consisted in obedience. Under certain circum stances, we find conduct regarded as praise,,-rorthy or blarneworthy according as it does or does not inflict . suffering or death upon fellow-beings; \"'hile, under other circurDstances, we find the praise or blame given according as it does or does not conduce to the 'welfare of fellow beings. Then there is the opposition between hedonism and ascetichnn: by some approbation is felt for deeds which WHAT IDEAS AND SENTIMENTS ARE ETHICAL? 335 apparently conduce to the happiness of self or others .or both; while, contrari"lse, others look with reprobation upon a way of living which makes happiness an end.

By this, class the· perceptions of good and evil conduct, along with ·love of the one and hatred of the other, are traced to a moral sense; and ethics becoll1esthe. interroga tion of, and obedience to, conscience. Contrariwise, by that class such guidance is ridiculed; and calculations of conse quences, irrespective of sentiment of·right or theory of right, occupy theethicaI sphere. Universally in early stages, and to a considerable degree in late stages, the idea of ought is associated with conformity to established customs, irrespec tive·of their natures; and when established customs grow into laws, the idea of ought comes to be associated with obedience to laws:: no matter whether considered intrinsically good or intrinsically bad. Clearly, therefore, the conceptions of right, obligation, duty, and the sentiments associated with those conceptions, have a far wider range than the conduct ordinarily con ceived as the subject-matter of moral science. In different places and under different circumstances, substantially the same ideas and feelings are joined with classes of actions of totally opposite kinds, and also with classesof actions of which Inoral scie¥ce, as ordinarily conceived, takys no cognizance.

lIenee, if we· are to treat the subject scientifically, we must disregard the limits of conventional ethics, arid consider what are the intrinsic natures of ethical ideas and senti ments. § 123. A trait common to all·forms of sentiD:?entsand ideas to be classed as ,ethical, is the consciousness of authority. The natureo£ the authority is inconstant. It may be that of an apotheosized ruler or other deity supposed to give cOmmands. It maybe that of ancestors "\\~ho have be queathed JIsages, with or without· inJqnctions .to follow them. It lllay be that of a living ruler who makes laws, or '23 836 'fEE INDUCTIOltS OF ETHICS. a military commander who issues orders. It may be that of an aggregate public opinion, either expressed through a gov ernment or otherwise expressed. It Inay be that of an im agined utility which everyone is bound to further. Or it n1ay be that of an internal monitor distinguished as con science.

Along,vith the element of authority, at once intellectu ally recognized and emotionally responded to, there goes the elernent, more or less. definite, of coercion~ The conscious ness of ougld which the recognition of authority implies, is joined'with the consciousness of m~l8t, which the recognition of force irrlplies. Be it the power of a god, of a king, of a chief soldier, of a popular government, of an inherited cus tom, of an unorganized social feeling, the~eis always present the conception of a power. Even when the injunction is that of an internal monitor, the conception of a power is not absent; since the expectation of the penalty of self-reproach, which disobedience nlay entail, is vaguely recognized as co ercive. A further component of the ethic"al .consciousness, and often the largest conlponent, is' the represented opinion of other individuals, who. also, in one sense, constitute an authority and exercise 'a coercion. This"

either as actually hnplied in others' behaviour, or as iInagined. if they are not present, commonly serves Inore than anything else to restrain or impel.' How large a component this is, we see in a child \vho blushes when '~Trongly suspected of a transgression, as much as when rightly suspected; and probably most have had proof that, "rhen guiltless, the feeling produced by the conceived repro bation of ?thers is scarcely distinguisluiole from the feeling which would 'be produced by such reprobation if guilty. That aniInagined public opinion is' the chief .elelnent of consciousness in cases where the acts ascribed or'.colnmitted are intrinsicall,y ,vrong, is shown when this. imagined or expressed opinion refers to acts which are not intrinsically WHAT IDEAS AND. SENTIMENTS ARE ETHICAL? 337 wrong. The emotion of shame ordinarily'" accompanying some gross breach of social convention which is nlorally indifferent, or even morally praiseworthy (say wheeling home the barro,v of a costermonger who has lamed~ hiniself), may be quite as strong as the elllotion of shame which fol lows the proved utterance of an unwarranted libel-an act intrinsically wrong. In the majority of people tltefeeling of ought not 'will be more peremptory in the first case than in the last.

If, now, we look at the nlatter apart froln conventional classifications, we see that where the consciousnesses of au thority, of .coercion, and of public opinion, cOlnbined in dif ferent proportions, result in an idea and a feeling of obliga tion, we Juust class these as ethical irrespective of the kind of action to which they refer. If the associated conceptions of right are sirnilar, and the prolnpting emotions similar, we must consider th.e mental states as of the same·nature, though they are enlisted on behalf of .acts radically opposed. Or rather, let us 'say that, with the exception of anidea and a sentimelitincidelltally referred to, Vire must class them as forming a body of thought and feeling which may.be called pro-ethical; and which, with the Inass of Inankind, stands in place of the. ethical properly so called. § 124. For no,v let us. observe that the ethical sentiInent and idea properly so called, are independent of the ideas and sentiInents .above described as derived £roln external authorities, and coercions, and approbations-religious, po litical, or social. The ,. true' moral consciousness' which we name ~onscience, does not. refer to those extrinsic results of conduct 'WThich take the shape of praise or blaIne, reward or pUllishrnent, externally 'awarded; but it refers to the intrinsic results of conduct ,vhieb, in part and by some in tellectually perceived, are mainly and by rrlo~t, intuitively felt .. The lnoral consciousness proper does not contemplate qbligations.as artifi~ially iznposed by an extern.~l pO'wer; 338 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS.

nor is it chiefly occupied with estinlates of the alnonnts of pleasure and pain which given actions may produce, though these may be clearly or dimly perceived; but it is chiefly occupied with recognition of, and regard for, those condi tions by fulfihnent of which happiness is achieved or misery avoided. The sentiment enlisted on behalf' of these con ditions is often in harnlony with the pro-ethical sentiment .. cOlnpounCl,edas above described, though from titne to time in conflict with it; but whether in harmony or in c.onflict, it is vaguely or distinctly recognized as the rightful ruler: responding; as it does, to consequences which are not arti ficial and variable, but to consequences which are natural and permanent. It should be remarked that along' with established su premacy of this ethical sentiment proper, the feeling of ob ligation, though continuing to exist in the background of consciousness, ceases to occupy its foreground; since the right actions are. habitually performed spontaneously or from liking. Though, while the moral nature is imperfectly de veloped, there may often arise conformity to the ethical sen timent under a sense of compulsion by 'it; and though, in other cases, non-conforlnity to it may cause subsequent self reproach (as instance a renlelnbered lack of gratitude, which may be a source of pain without there being any thought of extrinsic penalty); yet with a nloral nature completely balanced, neither of these feelings will arise, because that ,vhich is done is done in satisfaction of the appropriate desire.

And now having, mainly for the purpose of Inaking' the statement complete, contemplated the ethical sentiment proper, as distinguished froln the pro-ethical sentiment, we may for the present practically dismiss it from our thoughts, and con sider only the phenomena presented by the pro-ethical sen timent under its various forms. For throughout the remain ing chapters of this division, treating inductively of ideas and. feelings about conduct di~played by mankind at large, WHAT IDEAS AND SENTIMENTS ARE ETHICAL? 339 we shall be concerned almost exclusively 'with the pro-ethical sentiment: the ethical sentilnent proper being, in the great nlass of cases, scarcely discernible. Before entering on the task indicated, let me add that a good deal which approaches to repetition ·will be found in the immediately-succeeding pages-not repetition in 80 far as the evidence given is concerned, but in so far as the car dinal ideas are concerned. In the preliminary discussion to which this chapter and the preceding one have been devoted, it has been necessary to state in brief SOlne of the leading conceptions which a general inspection of the phenoITlena suggests. These conceptions have now· to be set forth in full, along with the masses of facts which give birth to theIne But while it seems well to apologize beforehand for the re currence, in elaborated forms, of ideas already expressed in small space, I do not altogether regret having to elaborate the ideas; since there ,vill be afforded occasion for further emphasizing conclusions which can scarcel.y be too much dwelt upon.

CHAPTER III. AGGRESSION. § 125. Under this title, accepted in its full meaning, may be ranged many kinds of acts-acts so many and various that they cannot be dealt with in one chapter. Here I propose to restrict the application of the title to acts in flicting bodily injury on others to the extent of killing or "TO unding theIn-acts of kinds which we class as destruct ive. Even of these acts, which we may consider as completely or partially hOlnicidal, there are sundry kinds not compre hended under aggression as ordinarily understood. I refer .to those which do not imply antagonism or conflict. The first of them to be named is infanticide. Far from being regarded as a crime, child-rnurder has been, through out the world in early thnes, and, in various parts of the world still is, regarded as not even an offence: occasionally, indeed, as a duty. We have that infanticide which is dic tated by desire to preserve the lives of adults; for in a tribe vvhich is ever on the border of starvation, addition of sonle to its number may prove fatal to others. Female infanti cide, too, is often dictated by thought of tribal welfare: the established policy is to kill girls, who, while not useful for purposes of war and the chase, will, if in excess, injuriously tax the food-supplies. Then, again, we have the child Inurder committed in a fit of passion. Among savages, and AGGRESSION. 341 even among th;e-semi-civilized, this. is considered an indiffer entmatter: the power of life and death over children being, in early stages, taken for granted. Once more we have the sacrifice of childrell to propitiate cannibal chiefs, livin~ or dead. Regarded as an obligation, this may be classed as prom pted by a pro-ethical sentiment.

Turning to the socially-sanctioned homicides of which the. victims are adults, we lllay set down fir~t those which in many places oCcur at funerals; as instance Indian suttees until recent times. On much larger scales are the immola tions during the obsequies of chiefs and kings. The killing of wives to accompany their dead husbands to the other world, and the killing of maie attendants to serve them in the other world (sometimes also of friends) are forms of wholesale slaughter 'which have occurred in many countries, and still occur in parts of Africa. And with these may be joined such slaughters as those which are common in Da homey, where a man is killed that his double lnay carry a message froln the king to a deceased ancestor. Homicides of this class have also a kind of pro-ethical warrant; since they are instigated by reverence for custom and by the obli gation of loyalty. Lastly we have the homicides prompted by beliefs classed as religious. vVith.. or without the ascription of divine cannibalism, the sacrifices of victims to deities have prevailed widely among various races in early times-Phcenicians, Scythians, Greeks, Romans, Assyrians, Hebrews &c. carried, in sonle places, to great extremes; as··in Ancient ltlexico, where thousands of human victhns annually were slain on. altars, and where wars were made on the plea that the gods were hungry. And to these religious homicides which, in early stages, ministered to the supposed appetites of the gods, must be added the religions homicides. which, in comparatively modern times, have been committed, alike by Catholics and Protestants, to appease the supposed wrath of their God against Inisbelievers.

342 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. Under that theory 'which regards the rightness of acts as constituted by fulfilment of divine injunctions, these re ligious homicides, in COllInon with sundry of those above de scribed, were prompted by one of the motives we class as pro-ethical. § ·126. From these aggressions, taking the form of homi cides, which are not consequent on personal or tribal antag onisms, let us pass to those of which bloodthirstiness is the cause, with or without enmity, personal or tribal. I will begin with an instance which I have named else,vhere -that of the Fijians, among whom murder was thought hon ourable. Credence to this statement, which otherwise one would be inclined to 'withhold, is justified by knowledge of kindred statements respecting other peoples. Livingstone tells us thatA Bushman" sat by the fire relating his early adventures: among these was killing five other Bushmen. 'Two,' said he, counting on his fingers, 'were females, one a male, and the other two calves.'-' What a villain you are to boast of killing women and children of your own nation! What will God say when you appear before him ~ '-' He will say,' replied he, 'that I was a very clever fellow.' . . . I discovered that, though he was employing the word whiJh is used among the Bakwains when speaking of the Deity, he had only the idea of a chief, and was all the time referring to Sekomi."

Still more· astounding is the state of things, and the kind of sentiment, described by Wilson and Felkin in their account of Uganda. Here is an illustrative incident. " A young page of Mtesa's [king of Uganda], son of a subordinate chief, was frequently employed to bring me messages from the palace, and one morning came down to my house, and informed me with great glee that he had just killed his father. I inquired why he had done this, and he said that he was tired of being merely a servant, and wished to become n chief, and said so to Mtesa, who replied, 'Oh, kill your father, and you will be come a chief; , and the boy did so." That, among peoples who lead lives of aggression, it is a virtue to be a destroyer and a vice to be peaceful, sundry cases prove.

AGG RESSION. 343 " rrhe name of ' harami '-brigand-is still honourable among the Hejazi Bedouins .•.•He, on the other hand, who is lucky enough, as we should express it, to die in his bed, is called' fatis ' (carrion, the corps creve of the .Klephts); his weeping mother will exclaim, ' 0 that my sOn had perished of a cut-throat!' and her attendant crones will suggest, with deference, that such evil came of the will of Allah." How profound may become the belief in the virtue of Inan~ , slaughter, is made. clear by the Kukis, ,vhoseparadise is " the heritage of the luan who has killed the largest number of his enell1iesin life, the people killed by him attending on him as his slaves." With this s:upposed divine approval of man-slaying, we may join the social approval manifested in other cases. Among the Pathans, one of the tribes on the north-west frontier of the Punjaub, " there is hardly a man whose hands are unstained," and" each person counts up his murders."

.That, under wild social conditions, a sentiment of this kind readily arises, was shown in California during the gold period. Murderers "continued to notch the number of their victims on neatly.kept hilts of pistols or knives." § 127. If frol11 the implied or expressed belief in the hon ourableness of private homicide, illustrated by some still-ex tant savages, we turn to the belief in the honourableness of that public and wholesale honlicide for which the occasions are given by real or pretended inter-tribal or international in·· juries, ancient records of barbarous and semi-civilized peoples furnish illustrations in abund.ance~ Among the gods of the prilnitiive Indians, Indra is lauded in the Rig - Veda as the devastating warrior, and .A.glli, too, "was born, the slayer of the enemy," and the" destroyer of cities." Emulating their gods, the warriors of the Rig-Veda and the lIfahabhaTata glory in conquests. Propitiating Indra with deep libations, the hero prays :-" Let us share the wealth of him whom thou hast slain; bring us to the house hold of hirn ,vho is hard to vanquish." .And then with such 344 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS.

prayers, comn1on to militant peoples, may be joined passages from the Mahabharata recommending atrocities. " Let a map. inspire his enemy with confidence for some real reason, and then smite him at the proper time, when his foot has slipped a little." H Without cutting into an enemy's marrow, without doing something dreadful, without smiting like a killer of fish, a man does not attain great prosperity." " A son, a brother, a father, or a friend, who present any obstacle to one's interests are to be slain." After these early Aryans, look now at some of the early Sernites. Still more extrerne in the irnplied praiseworthi ness of sanguinary deeds, are they sho·wn to have been by their records. Assyrian kings glorify themselves in inscrip tions describing ,vholesale slaughters and the most savage cruelties. Sennacherib, driving his chariot through" deep pools of blood," boasts-" with blood and flesh its wheels were clogged;" Assurbanipal says of the conquered-" their tongues I pulled out," "the linlbs cut off I caused to be eaten by dogs, bears, eagles, vultures, birds of heaven;"

Tiglath-Pileser's account of the slain Muskayans is that " their carcases covered the valleys and the tops of the ll1ount ains ;" in an inscription of Assur-natsir-pal come the ,vords -" I am a ~"eapon that spares not," the re,"olted nobles" I flayed, with their skins I covered the pyramid," "their young Inen and lnaidens I burned as a holocaust; " and of his ene mies Shalmaneser II says-" with their blood I dyed the mountains like wool." Evidently the expectation was that IneH of after times would adlnire these merciless destructions, and this implies belief in. their righteousness; for vve cannot assume that these Assyrian kings intentionally made theln selves eternally infamous. Onlitting evidence furnished in plenty by the histories of the Egyptians, Persians, Greeks, Macedonians, ROlnans, we find kindred thoughts and feelings betrayed by the peoples of northern Europe. The Gauls of early days, galloping home with the heads of their enemies slung to AGGRESSION. 345 their saddles, displayed them on stakes or preserved them in chests. According to Coosar·:The Suevi and Germans generally ~, esteem it their greatest praise .. that the lands about their territories lie unoccupied to a very great extent."

And the fact that the Norse paradise was conceived as a place for daily cornbats, sufficiently shows how dOlninant ,vas the belief in the virtue of successful aggression. That throughout the Middle Ages successful aggression ,vas thought the One thing worth living for, needs no proof. History, which is little more thaD; the Newgate Calendar of nations, describing political burglaries and their results, yields illustrations on every page: h arms and the man" supply the univ~rsal theme. No better way of sho"wingthe dominant sentiment down to comparatively recent times, can be found than that of quoting the mottoes of nobles, of which here are some English ones. Earl of Rosslyn-" Fight;" Baron IIawke-" Strike;" Earl of Sefton-" To conquer is to live;" the Marquis of Downshir~-" By God and my sword I will obtain;" the Earl of Carysfort-" This hand is hostile;" Count Magawley-" The red hand to victory;" the Duke of Athole-" Forth, fortune, and fill the fetters." And the gen eral spirit is well shown by lines illustrating the motto of the Middleton falnily :" My sword, my spear, my shaggy shield, These make me lord of all below, And he who fears the lance to wield Beneath my shaggy shield· must. bow, His lands, his vineyards must resign, For all that cowards have is mine."

Mottoes being the expressions of feelings held above all others worthy, and tacitly assulning the existence of like feelings in others, those quoted irnply the social sanction given to ag gressiveness; and we need but recall the religious ce~emonies on the initiation of a knight, to see that his militant course of life was supposed to have a divine sanction also. War, even unprovoked ",val', was supported by a pro-ethical sentiment. Nor is it essentially otherwise even now. Thinly veiled 346 THE INDUOTIONS OF ETHICS. by conventional respect for the professed religious creed, the old spirit continually discloses itself. JVluch more feeling than is excited by a hylnn, is excited by the song-" The Hardy Norseman;" and pride in the doing of the "sea wolves" who " conquered Normandy," sho"\vn by the line "Oh, ne'er should we forget our sires," is habitually sy111pathized in. No reading is lllore popular than narra A ti ves of battles; and the epithet "great," as applied to Alexander, I{arl, Peter, Frederick, Napoleon, is applied notwithstanding all the atrocities they committed. Occa sionally, indeed) we meet "\vith overt expression of this sentiment. Lord W olseley says of the soldier :-" He must believe that his duties are the noblest that fall ~o man's lot. lie must be taught to despise all those of civil life:"

a sentilnent which is not limited to the" duties" of the soldier as a defender of his country, which in our day he never perforrns, but is extended to his "duties" as an invader of other countries, and especially those of weak peoples: the appetite for aggression transforms baseness into nobility. When, in the Hindoo epic, the god Indra is described as conquering a woman, we are astonished to find a victory which we should consider so cowardly lauded by the poet; and when, on the ,valls of Karnak, we see Rameses , represented as a giant holding by the hair half-a-dozen dwarfs, and cutting off all their heads 'with one sweep of his sword, we think it strange that he should have thought to glorify hilnself by depicting an easy triumph of strong over weak. But ,vhen with arms of precision, with shells, with rockets, with far-reaching cannon, peoples possessed only of feehle weapons are conquered ",~ith as great facility as a man conquers a child, there COlnes applause in our journals, with titles and rewards to the leaders! The " duties" of the soldier so performed are called "noble;"

while, held up in. contrast with them, those of the peaceful citizen are called despicable! Beyond question, .. then, the sentiment which rejoices in AGGRESSION. 34'7 personal superiority, and, not asking for equitable cause, is ready, under an authority it willingly accepts, to slaughter so-called enelnies, is still dominant. The social sanction, and the reflected inner sanction due to it, constitute a pro-ethi cal sentilnent which, in international relations, remains su preme. § 128. The ethics ~£ enmity 'thus illustrated, very little qualified in some tribes of savages, especially canni,bals, qualified in but a moderate' degree in ancient semi-civilized societies, and continuing predolninant during" the deveIop Inent of civilized societies, has been qualified more and more by the ethics of amity as the internal social life has' disci plined men in cooperation: "the relative prosperities of na tioils, while in part determined ?y their powers of conquest, having been all along in pal~t determined by the extents to which, in daily intercourse, the aggressiveness of their mem bers has been restrained.

Such peoples as have produced literatures show us, in reI~tively early days, the rise of an ethics of alnity, set in opposition to the ethics of enmity. Proceeding, as the expressions of it do, from the mouths of poets and sages, we nl.ay not measure by th~m t~e beliefs which then pre vailed; any more than we luay now Ineasure the prevailing beH~£s by the injunctions to forgive enemies, perpetually uttered by our priests. But even, the occasional enuncia tion of altruistic sentiments, occlirring in ancient societiett after there had been long-established states of relatively peaceful life, is significant. AHd it is' interesting to observe, too,how, after the absolute selfishness of the antagonistic activities, a violent reaction led t9 the preaching of absolute uns~l:flshness. Thus, while of that, vast compilation which constitutes the llfahabharata, the older parts are sanguinary in sentiment, the latter parts contain condemnations of need less warfare. It is said that fig~t~pg is the worst means of gaining 'Victory,and that a king should extend his conquests 348 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS.

without fighting. And there are much more pronounced re probations of aggressive action, as this:" Treat others as thouwould'st thyself be treated. Do nothing to thy neighbour, which hereafter Thou would'st not have thy neighbour do to thee. A man obtains a rule of action by looking on his neighbour as himself." And then in the writings of an Indian moralist, said by Sir William Jones to date three centuries'B. C., we read the ex treme statement :H A good man who thinks p~lly of benefiting his enemy has no feelings of hostility towards him even at thefllomentof being destroyed by him." Similarly among the ]?ersians, we find Sadi writing~" Show ~indnes8 even to thy foes;" and again-" ~he men of God's true faith, I've heard, grieve not the hearts e'en of their foes." In like manner among the Chinese, the teaching of Lao-Tsze was that"Peace is his highest aim· .... he. who rejoices at the destruction of human life is not fit to be entrusted with power in the world. He who has been instrumental in killing many people should move on over them with bitter tears." Confucius said :-" In carrying on your government, why should you use killing at all? Let your evinced desires be for what is good, and the people will be good." 'Yenciu&l held that" he "rho has no pleasure in killing men can" unite the elnpire; and of the warlike he said that"When contentions about territory are the ground on which they' fight, they slaughter men, till the fields are filled with them. When some 'strug·· gle for a city is the ground on which they fight, they slaughter men tin the cUy is filled with them. . ... : Death is not enough for such a crime."

Early as was his time, YenGiu's evidently entertained higher sentiments than do" the western barbarians" at the present time. The characterization which has been given to slav.ery -" the sum of all villanies" - would probably haye been given by him to aggressive ·war. In section 573 of The .Prin.ciple8 if Sociology, as' also in section 437, instanees are given of various tribes which, non aggressive externally are 'also non-aggressive inter~anyAGGRESSION. 349 tribes in which crimes of violence are so rare that scarcely any control is needed~ There may be added' a' few other examples. There are the aborigines of, Sunlatra,a simple people who, thrust into the interior by the' Malays, ate de scribed by Marsden as "mild, peaceable, and forbearing" that. is, non-aggressive. There are the Tharus;' inhabiting a retired strip of forest at the foot of the Hinialayas, which af fords them a' refuge from invaders, and who are described as "a peaceful and good-natured race." Flirther;:we :ihave "a specially relevant testilnony given by different authoritiesre specting the Iroquois. In his work, The League-if thelroquois, Morgan says :- ' "It was the boast of the Iroquois that the great object of'their confeder acy was peace-to break up the spirit of perp~tualwarfare,which h&d waste~ the red race from age to age."

And then clear indication of the resultsls c'out£iineddn' the following statement made by the same 'writer"';";"'; "Crimes and offences were so unfrequent under their social :sysvem,that the Iroquois can scarcely be said to have·had a criminal'code." Here, however, the truth which it speciany~cohcerns us to note. is that during states of hostility wliichmake ag-: gression habitual, it acquires a social sanction;'and in so"me cases a divine sanction: there is a pro-ethical sentiment enlisted on its behalf~ Contrarhvise, in the 'cases just referred to, aggressiveness meets with reprobation:~ An ethical sentiment, rightly so-called, produces repugnance fu~ . N or was it otherwise with the lIebrews., After the chronic qntagonisms of nomadic life had been brought to an end by their captivity, and after their sub'seqtleB;t,wa:vsofcon~, quest had ended in a comparatively peacefhl-state, ,the ex pression of altruistic sentiments became" marked.; ...• until, in Leviticus, we see emerging the prinei ple~' often iegarded; as exclusively Christian-" Thou shalt love ":thyneighbour ;'as thyself "-a principle, however, which ,appears to ,have been limited to " the congregation of thechildren·of Israel.~' And 350 THE INDUOTIONS OF ETHIOS.

then in later days by the Essenes, as well as by Ohrist and his apostles, the ethics of amity, extended so as to include enemies, ,vas carried even to the extreme of turning the cheek to the smiteI'. § 129. Into what general induction may these facts be grouped ~ Taken in the mass, the evidence shows, as we might expect, that in proportion as inter-tribal and inter national antagonisms are great and constant, the ideas and feelings belonging to the ethics of enmity predominate; and, conflicting as they do ,vith the ideas and feelings belonging to the ethics of amity, proper to the internal life of a society, they in greater or less degrees suppress these, and fill with aggressions the conduct of man to lnan. J\!Iiscellaneons kinds of hOlnicide, such as were noted at the out\set~infanticide, killing for cannibalism, immolations at funerals, sacrifices to the gods-are characteristic of societies in which warfare is habitual. Those most atrocious of lYlan-eaters,the Fijians, among ,vhom everyone carried his life in his hand, implied their ingrained militancy by their conception of the other ","orld,where their gods" make war, and kill and eat each another," and bear such names as "the 'murderer," "fresh from the cutting up or slaughter,"

&c.; where tt chief arri vingafter death, boasts that he has " gestroyed many towns, and slain many in war;" and ,vhere "men "rho have not slain an enemy" suffer" the most de grading of all punishments." The· Bushmen, exhibiting pride in private murder, pass their lives in ceaseless antagonism with ni~n and beasts around-aggressing and aggressed upon. So, too, the Bedouin tribes instanced as thi.nking any death save one suffered in combat disgraceful, cOlnlnit never-ending aggressions. And the Waganda, the king of whonl sug gested to his page the parricide gladly carried out by him, are soldiers iibtedfor "their warlike character, which tinges the whole of their life and government." . If, froIn the relations as .illustrated in these extreme AGGRESSION. 351 cases, we pass to the relations as illustrated in developing societies, we see that with decrease of external aggressive ness there goes decrease of internal aggressiveness. During the Merovingian period, along with chronic militant ac tivities on large and small scales, occurring even to the extent of ,val'S between towns, perpetual violence charac\ terized the relations of individuals: kings murdered their queens, royal fathers were murdered by their sons, princely brothers nlurdered brothers, while bloodshed and cruelty prevailed everywhere. In the next period the conquests of Charleluagne were accompanied by atrocities large and SIllall. He beheaded 4,000 Saxons in one day, and in flicted death on those who refused baptisrn or ate flesh during Lent. Silnilarlythroughout the Feudal ages, recur ring international fights were accornpanied by perpetual fights among nobles; the chroniclers .. describe little else than.· crimes '; and .the slaughtering of serfs by knights was passed over as a thing not calling for reproach. But as the course of ages and the consolidation of kingdoms brought diminution· of a diffused warfare, and as, by consequence, industrial activities, .with resulting internal co -operation, filled larger spaces in men's Iives,the more unscrupulous forms of aggressiveness canle to be reprobated, while appro bation was given to conduct characterized by regard. for others. And though modern times have seen great wars, yet, since the militant activities have not been all-pervading as in earlier times, the sentiments appropriate to peaceful activities have not been so universally repressed. Moreover, as we else"where sa,v, (Principles qf Sociology, § 573), the brutality of citizens to one another has from time to time increased along with renewed militancy and decreased along with cessation of it; while there have been concomitant mod ifications in the ethical standard.

24 CHAPTER IV. ROBBERY. § 130.' Between physically injuring another, partially or to the death, and injuring him either by taking possession of his body and labour, or of his property, the kinship in nature is obvious. Both direct and indirect injuries are comprehended under the title Aggression; and the second, like the first, might, ,vithout undue straining of words, have been brought within the lilnits of the last chapter. But, as before ilnplied, it has seemed nlore convenient to separate the aggression which nearly always has bloodshed for its concoluitant, frolu the aggression which is cornmonly blood less. Here we have to deal with this last. The extreme form of this last aggression is that which ends in capturing a man and enslaving hiIn. Though to class this under the head of robbery is to do SOlue violence to the name, yet we may reasonably say that to take a luan from himself, and use his powers for other purposes than his OWll, is robbery in the highest degree. Instead of de priving him of some product of past labour voluntarily under taken, it deprives him of the products of future labours ,vhich he is cOlIlpelled to undertake. At any rate, whether rightly to be called robbery or not, it is to be classed as an aggression, if not so grave as that of inflicting death, yet next to it in gravity.

It is needless here to furnish proofs that this kind of aggression has been, froln very early stages of human proROBBERY. 353 gress, a concomitant of militancy. Eating the vanquished or turning them into bondsmen, commonly becanle alterna tives where inter-tribal conflicts "\vere perpetual. From the incidental making of captives there has frequently grown up the intentional making of captives. An established policy has dictated invasions to procure workers or victims. But whether with or without intention, this robbery in the highest degree has been, throughout, a concomitant of habitual war; could not, indeed, have arisen to any extent without war. A closely-allied forul of robbery-somewhat earlier, since we find it in rude tribes which do not make slaves-is the stealing of WOlnen. Of course, along with victory over com batants there has gone appropriation of the non-combatants belonging to them; and women have consequently been in II all early stages among the prizes of conquerors. In books treating of primitive marriage, like that of }Ir. McLennan, there will be found evidence that the stealing .of won1en not unfrequently becomes the normal process by which the nunlbers of a tribe are maintained. It is found best to avoid the cost· of rearing them, and to obtain by fighting or theft the requisite number from other tribes. Becoming a traditional policy, this custom often acquires a strong sanction; and is supposed by SOIne to have originated the interdict against lnarriage with those of the same clan.

But, however this may be, we habitually find women re garded as the most valued spoils of victory; and often, where the men are killed, the women are preserved to become mothers. It was so with the Caribs in their can nibal days; and it was so with the Hebrews, as shown in NU1nbers xxxi, 17-18, where we read that, after a SllC cessful war, all the wives and the males among the children were ordered by }lIosesto be killed, while the virgins were re served for the use of the captors. (See also DeuteronomJyxxi.) N ow the truth here to be observed is that in societies which· have not risen to high st~ges, the ethical sentiment, or rather the pro-ethical sentiment, makes no protest 354 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. against robberies of these kind; but, contrariwise, gives countenance to them. The cruel treatment of prisoners delineated in Egyptian and Assyrian wall-paintings and wall-sculptures, implies, what the records tell, that there was a social sanction for their subsequent bondage. Simi larly, we do not see in the literature of the Greeks, any more than in the literature of the Hebrews, that the holding of men in slavery called forth moral reprobation. It was the same with the capture of women and the making wives of then1, or more frequently concubines: this was creditable rather ·than discredita.ble. With the social sanction for the stealing. of women by the early Aryans, as narrated in the Mahabharata, there ·was also a divine sanction; and it is manifest that among the Hebrews there was social if not divine sanction for the taking of the virgins of J abesh Gilead for wives, and also for the stealing of the" daughters of Shiloh." (Judge8 xxi.) Under this head it needs only to add that modern pro gress'with its prolonged discipline of internal amity, as op posed to that of external enmity, has been accompanied by disappearance of these grossest forms of robbery. The ethi cal senthnent, rightly so-called} has been developed to the extent needful for suppressing them.

§ 131. Success in war being honourable, all accompani ments and signs of such success become honourable. Hence, along with the enslaving of captives if they are not eaten, and along vvith the appropriation of their wornen as concu bines or wives, there goes the seizing of their property. A natural. sequence is that not only during war but at other tirnes, robbery of enemies, and by implication of strangers, who are ordinarily classed as enemies, is distinguished from robbery of fellow-tribesmen: the first being called good even when the last is called bad. Anlong the Comanches. "a young man is not thought worthy to be counted in the list of warriors, till he has ROBBERY. 355 returned from some successful plundering expedition, the greatest thieves are . . the most respectable members of society." A Patagonian is considered "as indifferently capa ble of supporting a wife unless he is an adept in the art of stealing from a stranger." Livingstone says of the East Africans: "In tribes which have been accustomed to cattle-stealing, the act is not considered immoral, in the 'Y~y that theft is. Before I knew the language well, I said to a chief, 'You st~le the cattle of so and so.' , No, I did not steal them,' was the reply, 'I only lifted them.' The word' gapa' is iden tical with the Highland term for the same deed."

Concerning the Kalmucks the account of Pallas is that they are addicted to theft and robbery on a large scale', but not of people of their o'wn tribe. And, Atkinson asserts the like of the Kirghis. " Thieving of this kind [stealing horses or. camels from one of the same tribe] is instantly punished among the Kirghis;' but a baranta., like the sacking of a town, is honourable plunder." Hence doubtless arises that contrast, seeming to us so strange, between the treatInent which robber-tribes, such as Bedouins, show to strangers under their roofs and the opposite treatment they show to them after they have departed. Says Atkinson :" ~Iy host [a Kirghis chief] said Koubaldos [another Kirghis chief. to whom I wa.s going] would n.ot molest us at his. aoul, but that some of. his bands would beset on our track and try to plunder us on our march." Perhaps it is among the !Turkomans that we find the IT10st marked illustrations of the way in which predatory tribes come to regard theft as honourable. By the people of Merv, raids" even alTIOllg members of the· same tribe are not, or were not until lately, looked upon in the light of robberies" ; but the raids must be on·a respectable scale.

" It iscuriousthat, whilered-handedmurderand robberywerea recognized means of existence among the'Tekkes, thieYery, inthesense of stealing from the person, or filching an article from a stall of the bazaar,. was despised." And Mr. O'Donovan subsequently relates that when urging 'on the Merv Council the cessation of maraudingexpedi tions, a ~elnber.;" with angry astonishment" asked" how 356 THE INDUOTIONS OF ETHIOS. in the name of Allah they were going to Iive if raids were not to be made"! To all vvhich evidence we may add the facts that" the Path an mother often prays that her son Inay be a successful robber," that according to Rowney the like is done by the Afridi mother, and the further fact that among the Turkomans a celebrated robber becornes a saint, and pilgrimages are made to his tOInb to sacrifice and pray. While, in most of these cases, a nlarked distinction is recognized between robbery outside the tribe and robbery within the tribe, in other cases the last as well as the first is deerned not only legitimate but praiseworthy. Dalton says of the Kukis :"'rhe accomplishment most esteemed amongst them was dexterity in thieving.': Sinlilarly, according to Gilmour" In Mongolia known thieves are treated as respectable members of soci ety. As long as they manage well and are successful, little or no odiurn seems to attach to them."

Of another Asiatic tribe we read: " They [Angamis] are expert thieves and glory in the art, for among them, as with the Spartans of old, theft is only dishonourable and obnoxious to punishment when discovered in the act of being committed." From America nlay be instanced the case of the Chinooks, by whom "cunning theft is regarded as honourable; but they despise and often punish the inexpert thief." A case in Africa is furnished by the Waganda, vvarlike and blood thirsty, among whom"The distinctions between meum and tuum are very ill-defined; and indeed all sin is only relative, the crime consisting in being detected." And then, passing to Polynesia, we find that anlong the Fijians" Success, without discovery, is deemed quite enough to make thieving virtuous, and a participation in the ill-gotten gain honourable." So that in these instances skill or courage sanctifies any invasion of property-rights.

§ 132. Evidence yielded by the historic races proves that along with a less active life of external enrnity and a 351 more active life or internal amity, there goes a change of ethical ideas and sentiments, allied to that noted in the last chapter. The Rig - Veda describes the thie,~ish acts of the gods. Vishnu" stole the cooked mess" at the libations of Indra. When Tvashtri began to perforlua sOUla-sacrificein honour OI his son who been slain .by Indra, and refused, on the ground· of his homicide, to .allow the latter to assist at the ceremony, then" Indra interrupted the celeh\5~tion, and drank off tp.e sonla by force." The moral principle thus exemplified by the gods is paralleled by the moral principle recommended for men. " Even if he were to covet the property of other people, hejs bound as a Kshatriya to take it by force of arms, and never to beg for it." But the Indian literature of later ages, displaying the r~su1ts of settled life, inculcates opposite principles.

Passing over illustrative facts furnished by other ancient historic peoples, it will suffice if we glance at the facts .\vhich medireval and modern histories furnish. Dasent tells uso£ th€\ Norsemen, that-" Robbery and piracy in a good straight .. forward wholesale way were honoured and respected. SimiJ larly with the primitive Gerlnans. Describing them, Cresar says:" Robberies which· are committed beyond the boundaries of each stata bear no infamy. • • And when any of their chiefs has said in an assembly 'that he will be their leader, let those who are willing to follow, give in their names; , they who approve of both the enterprise and the man arise and promise their assistance, and are applauded by the people; ~llch of them as have not followed him are considered deserters and traito~s, and confidence in all matters is afterwards refused them." Not to ~tteIXlpt the impossible task of tracing through some ten centuries· the relation between the perpetual. wars, large and small, public and private, and the plundering of men. by one another, wholesale and retail, it will suffice to single out special periods. Of France in the early feudal period, Ste.

Palaye says :." Our old writers denounce the avarice, greed, deceit, perjury, pillage, theft, 358 THE INDUOTIONS OF ETHIOS. and brigandage, and other f:\xcessesof an unbridled soldiery, equally devoid of principles, morals, and sentiments." During the Hundred Years War a 1'egilneof robbery became universal. Among the nobles the desire for plunder was the motive for fighting. Everywhere there ,vas brigandage on a large scale, as well as on a slnall scale. In addition to multi tudinous scattered highwaymen there were organized con1 panies of robbers who had their fortresses, lived luxuriously on the spoils of the surrounding country, kidnapped children for pages and women for concubines, and sold at high prices safe-conducts to travellers. And then, along with all these plunderings on land, there ,vas habitual piracy at sea. Not only states, but towns and individuals equipped vessels for buccaneering; and there were established refuges for marine freebooters. Take, again, the evidence furnished by the Thirty Years War in Germany. Universal marauding he;.

came the established systeln. Soldiers were brigands. Not only did they plunder the people everywhere, but they used "thousand-fold torments" to make them disclose the places where they had hidden their goods,; and the peasants had to "till their fields armed to the teeth" against their fe1 Io,v-countryrnen. Meanwhile the soldiers were themselves cheated by their officers, slnall and great, who some of them made large fortunes by their accumulated embezzlements, at the same time that the princes robbed the nation by debasing the coinage. Involved and obscure as the evidence is, no one can fail to recognize the broad fact that with progress·· towards a state. in which war is less frequent, and does not, as of old, implicate almost everyone, there has·· been a decrease of dishonesty, and a higher appreciation of honesty; to the extent that now robbery of a stranger has corne to be· as much a crime as robbery of a fellow-citizen. It is true that there are still thefts. It is true that there are still n1ultitudinous frauds. But the thefts are not so nUlnerous, and the frauds are not of such gross kinds as they were.

ROBBERY. 359 From the days· when kings·· frequently tricked their cred itors and shopkeepers boasted of their ability to pass bad money, as Defoe tells us, we have somewhat advanced in the respect for rneltrn and tu'um. Nay, as shown by Pike's I£istol'Y of Ori17~e, the contrast is marked even between the· amount of transgression against property during the war period ending in 1815 and the recent amount of such trans gression. § 133. But of the relationship alleged, the clearest proofs are furnished by contrasts between the warlike uncivilized tribes instanced above, and the peaceful uncivilized· tribes. Here are traits presented by some of these last. Not only, according to Hartshorne, is the harmless W ood Veddah perfectly honest, but he cannot conceive it· possible thataman should" take that ·which does not belong to hinl." Of the Esquimaux, among whom war ·i8 unknown, 'weread that "they are uniformly described as most scrupulously honest;" and any such qualification of this statement as is made by Bancroft, refers to Esquimaux demoralized by con tact ,vith white traders. Of the Fuegians we learn fronl Darwin that"If any present. was designed for one canoe, and it fell near another, it was invariably given to the right owner."

.And Snow says they were very honourable in their COIll, lnercial dealings with him. Concerning certain of the Papuans on the Southern coast of New Guinea, who are described as too independent for cOlnbined action in war, ,ve read that" in their bargaining the natives have generally been very honest, far more so than our 'o'wn people." .And concerning others of this race, Rops tells us that the natives of Dory give evidence" of an inclination to right and jus tice, and strong moral principles. Theft is considered by them as a ver.y grave offence, and is of very rare occur rence." A like character is ascribed by Rolf! to the abo rigines of Lette. In The Principles ofSociology,·§§431 and 360 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. 574, I have given testimonies respecting the honesty of the peaceful Todas, SEl,nta]s, Lepchas, Bodo and DhiInals, Hos, Chakmas, J akuns. IIere I add sorne further testiInonies.

Consul Baker tells us of the aborigines of Vera Cruz, now a subject race averse to military service, that "the Indian is honest, and seldom yields to even the greatest temptation to steal." In his description of a race inhabiting a "long strip of swamp and forest" at "the foot of the Himalayas," Mr. Nesfield says that "their honesty is vouched for by a hun dred stories;" "such at least is the character of the Tharu, so long as he remains in the safe seclusion of his solitary wilds," where he is free from hostilities. And ~hen, with the fact stated by J\tforgan concerning the Iroquois, that " theft, the most despicaule of human crimes, was scarcely known alnong them," we have to join the fact that their league had been forlned for the preservation of peace among its component peoples and had succeeded in its purpose for many generations.

CHAPTER Y. REVENGE. § 134. Among intelligent creatures the struggle for ex istence entails aggressions. Where these are not the de structive aggressions of carnivorous creatures on their prey, they are the aggressions, not necessarily destructive but cornmonly violent, of creatures competing with one another for food. Animals severally impelled by hunger are inevitably led into antagonisms by endeavours severally to seize . whatever food they can; and injuries, more or less decided, are usual concomitants.~ Aggression leads to counter-aggression. Where both creatures have powers of offence, they are likely both to use them; especially where their powers of offence are approximately equal, that is, where they are creatures of the same species: such creatures being also.those comnlonly brought into competition. That results of this kind are inevitable, will be manifest on remembering that among members of the same species, those individuals which have oot, in any considerable degree, resented aggressions, must have ever tended to disappear, and to have left behind those which have with some effect made counter-aggres sions. Fights,therefore,not only of predatoryanimalswith prey but of animals of the same kind with one another, have been unavoidable from the first and have continued to the last.

Every fight is a succession o,f retaliations-bite being 362 THE INDUOTIONS OF ETHIOS. given for bite, and blow for blow. Usually these follo"\v one another in quick succession, but not always. There is a postponed retaliation; and a postponed retaliation is what we call revenge. It may be postponed for so short a time as to be merely a reCOIllmencement of the fight, or it may be postponed for days, or it Inay be postponed for years. And hence the retaliation which constitutes what we call re venge, diverges insensibly from the retaliations which char acterize a conflict. But the practice, alike of hnmediate revenge and of post poned revenge, establishes itself· as in some lneasure a check upon aggression; since the Illotive to aggress is checked by the consciousness that a counter-aggression will come: if not at once then after a time. § 135. Among human beings in early stages, there hence arises notonly the practice of revenge hut a belief that re venge is imperative-that revenge is a duty. Here, froln Sir George Grey's account of the Australians, we have a graphic picture of the sentiInent and its results :"The holiest duty a native is called on to perform is that of avenging the death of his nearest relation, for it is his peculiar duty to do so: until he has fulfilled this task, he is constantly taunted by the old women; his wives, if he be married, would soon quit him; if he is unmarried, not a single young woman would speak to him; his mother would constantly cry, and lament she should ever have given birth to so degenerate a son; his father would treat him with contempt, and reproaches would constantly be sounded in his ear."

Of illustrations froln North America that furnished by the Sioux may be nalned. Burton says :" The obstinate revengefulness of their vendetta is. proverbial; they hate with the' hate of Hell;' and, like the Highlanders of old, if the author of an injury escape them, they vent their rage upon the innocent, because he is of the same clan or colour." From South America a case given by Scholnburgk may be quoted. "My revenge is not yet satisfied, there still lives a member of the hated family,"·said a Guiana native, 'whose relative he suspected to have been poisoned.

REVENGE. 363 Here, again, is an instance from Williams' account of the Fijians. " At that hour of death, he never forgets an enemy, and at that time he never forgives one. .The dying man mentions his foe, that his children may perpetuate his hatred,-it may be against his own sOll,-and kill him at the first opportunity." And then Tholnson tells us of the NewZealanders that "not to avenge the dead, according to native law, indicates the most craven spirit." Passing to Asia I may quote Macrae's account of the Kukis. "Like all savage people,'~ the Kukis "are of a most vindictive disposi tion; blood must always be shed for blood.... If a man should happen to be killed by an accidental fall from a tree, all his relations assemble ..• and reduce it to chips." In Petherick, we read thatThe shedding of blood is "an offence with Arabs that neither time nor contrition can obliterate, thirst for revenge descending from father to son, and even through successive generations."

So too of the East Africans Burton writes" Revenge is a ruling passion, as the many rancorous fratricidal wars that have prevailed between kindred clans, even for a generation, prove. Re taliation and vengeance are, in fact, their great agents of moral control." In all these cases we see that either avowedly or tacitly re venge is considered a moral obligation. The early stages of various existing peoples yield equally clear evidence. In his Japan in DaY8 of Yore, ~Ir. Den~ng translates the life of Musashi, published by the ~Iomtusho (Education Department), narrating a prolonged vendetta full of cOlubats and murders ; apd, in partial sympathy with the Japa~ese educationists, remarks that his hero's acts of undying revenge, displayed" so many of the nobler aspects of human nature " and are" calculated to inspire confidence in humanity." A kindred spirit is sho'wn in the early In dian literature. The gods are revengeful. As described in the Rig-Veda" Agni swallows his enemies, tears their skin, minces their members, and throws them before thewolves to be eaten by them, or by the shrieking vultures."

364 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. And the ascribed character of the gods is participated in by their devotees, as instance the invocation :" Indra and Soma, burn the Rakshas, destroy them, throw them down, ye two Bulls, the people that grow in darkness. Hew down the madmen, suffocate them, kill them, hurl them away, and slay the voracious. Indra and Soma, up together against the cursing demon! May he burn and hiss like an oblation in the fire! Put your everlasting hatred on the villain." The narrative of the "ferocious and deadly struggle" car ried on " with all the frenzied wrath of demons," as Wheeler says, is full of vows of revengea revenge extending to horrible treatment of enemies' remains. N or do we find a different sentiment displayed among the Hebrews, V\Thether in the ascribed actions of J ahveh or the actions of his wor shippers. The cOlumand to "blot out the rernelubrance of Alnalek from under heaven" (Deut. xxv. 19), and the ful filnlent of this cOlnmand by Saul and Samuel, to the extent of .destroying not only the Amalekites but all their cattle, is a typical exalnple of the implied divine revengea sam ple variously paralleled in other cases. And with this sanc tification of revenge we see that the acts and feelings of the IIebrews themselves harmonized. The wreaking of vengeance was bequeathed as a duty; as when David, after enjoining Solomon to walk in the ways of the Lord, told hilU not to spare the son of a luan who had cursed him, (and who had been forgiven on oath), saying-" but his hoar head bring thou down to the grave with blood." (1 Kings ii. 9.) It is superfluous to illustrate in detail the kindred senti ments and ideas of European peoples throughout mediffival times. lVlost of the political and private incidents narrated exhibit thenl. To inflict vengeance was among them, as now among savages, considered an obligation; and when, occasionally, the spirit flagged in men it was kept alive by ,vornen, as in the Merovingian period by Fredegonde and Brunehaut. Then in later centuries there were chronic farnily-feuds between nobles everywhere, translnitted from REVENGE. 365 generation to generation. And the spirit was still active down to the time of the Abbe Brantome, who, in his will, en joins a nephew to execute vengeance on his behalf should he be injur.ed when too old to avenge himself. Nay, the vendetta, once so .genera], is even now not extinct in the East of Europe.

Though, throughout the modern civilized world, not per turbed everywhere and always by conflicts" life does not furnish such multitudinous examples of like meaning, yet survival of the ethics of enruity, in so far as it enjoins re venge, is sufficiently Inanifest. Duels almost daily occurring someV\rhereor other on the Oontinent, exhibit the conceived obligation under its private form; and under its public form we have before us a striking example in the persistent desire which the French cherish to punish the Germans for defeating them-a desire of which the strength has lately (August, 1891) been shown by the relllarkable fact that while professedly enthusiastic advocates of liberty and up holders of free institutions, they have been lauding "the noble Russian people" and the despotic Czar who holds them in bondage; and all because they hope thus to be aided in their ,,,,,ished-forfight with Germany. Olearly the ap propriate expression of their feeting is-Not that we love freedom less but that we love revenge more.

§ 136. But, while jpcieties have been in course of growth and consolidation, there have been occasional expressions of ideas and sentiments opposite to these-occasional expres sionswhich, as they are associated with the arrival at more settled social states, may be fairly regarded as consequent upon a diminution of warlike activities. Various illustrations are furnished. by the literature of Hindostan. In the code of lffanu we read :" Wound not another, though by him provoked, Do no one injury by thought or deed, Utter no word to pain thy fellow-creatures."

366 THE INDUOTIONS OF ETHIOS. . And again, in another place, there is the exhortation " Treat no one with disdain, with patience bear Reviling language; with an angry man Be never angry; blessings give for curses." Of like spirit is the following frolIi the Gural .'" To do no evil even to enemies will be called the chief of virtues.~' So, too, among some of the Persians. In their literature of the 7th century we find the passage" Think not that the valour of a man consists only in courage and force; if you can rise above wrath and forgive, you are of a value inestimable." At a later date, namely in a story of Sadi, there occurs the injunction :" Hast thou been injured ~ suffer it and clear Thyself from guilt in pardoning others' sin." And still more extrenle is the doctrine we find in Hafiz, as translated by Sir William Jones :" Learn from yon orient shell to love thy foe, And store with pearls the hand, that brings thee woe, Free, like yon rock, frOln base vindictive pride, Imblaze with gems the wrist, that rends thy side."

Nor are the writings of the Ohinese sages without kindred utterances.of sentiment. ~ao-Tsze says, "Recolnpenseinjury with kindness." So also according to Mencius"A benevolent man does not lay up anger, nor cherish resentment against his brother, but only regards him with affection and love." While Oonfucius, in conformity wit!! his doctrine of the mean, expresses a less extreme view. " 'What do you say concerning the principle that injury should be recompensed with kindness ~' The Master said,' With what then will you recompense kindness ~ Recompense injury with justice, and recom pense kindness with kindness.'" In the later stages of Hebrew civilization, we siInilarly find the social and divine sanctions for revenge occasionally qualified-a luingling of opposed ideas and sentinlents. lVhile, in Eccle8ia8ticu8 xxx. 6,a father is regarded as REVENGE. 361 happy ,vho leaves·" an avenger against his enemies," yet in - ch. x. 6 there is an injunction to "bear not hatred"

for wrong. received-an injunction containing in germ the ethical principle which., centuries later, took shape in Christianity. § .131. Proofs that decline of vindictiveness and growth of forgiveness are associated with decrease of militancy and increase of peaceful cooperation, cannot be clearly disen tangled from the facts; since the two kinds of life have Iiearly everywhere, and at all times, been associated in one or other proportion. But to such general evidence as the foregoing quotations furnish, may be added some evidence furnished by existing societies. There is the fact that throughout the chief nations' of Europe, the family-vendetta has disappeared during a period in which the conflicts of nations have become less constant, and the peaceful exchange of s~rvices within ·each nation more active: a contrast between ancient and modern which asserted itself soonest where the industrial type was earliest developed, namely, among ourselves.

Again, there is the fact that in our own society, with its comparatively small number of soldiers and a militancy less predominant than that of continental societies with their vast armies and warlike attitudes, there has been a suppression of the revenge for private insults, while this with them continues; and so far has the vindictive. spirit declined that an injured man who shows persistent animosi ty towards one who has injured hiin, is reprobated rather than applauded: forgiveness is, at any rate by many, tacitly approved. But if we seek a case in which the virtue supposed to be especially Christian is practised, we must seek it among the non-Christians. Certain peaceful tribes of the Indian hills are characterized by it, as witness this account of the Lepchas:----__ 25 368 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. " They are wonderfully honest, theft being scarcely known among them; they rarely quarrel among themselves ••.•They are singularly forgiving of injuries, when time is given them, after hasty loss of temper. Although they were ready enough to lodge complaints before the magistrate against one another in cases of .assault and other. offences, they rarely prosecuted to a decision, generally preferring to submit to arbitration, or making mutual amends and concessions. They are averse to soldiering, and cannot be induced to enlist in our army even for local service in the Hills."

Thus 'we get both positive and negative evidence that the revengefulness 'within each society is proportionate to the habitual conflict with other societies; and that while, at the one extreme, there is a lnoral sanction for revenge, at the other extreme there is a llloral sanction for forgiveness.

CHAPTER VI. JUSTICE. § 138. Perhaps the soul of goodness in things evil is by nothing better exemplified than by the good thing, justice, \vhich, in· a rudinlehtaryform, exists within the evil thing revenge. Meeting aggression by counter-aggression is, in the first place, an endeavour to avoid being suppressed by the aggressorjand to maintain that ability to carry on life which justice implies; and -it is, in the second place, an endeavour to enforce justice by establishing __ an equality 'with the aggressol : inflicting injuries as great as have been received. .This rude process of. balancing claims usually fails to es tablish equilibrium. Revenge, habitually carried not as far only as suffices to compensate for injuries received but, if possible, farther, -evokes re-revenge, which also, if possible, is carried to excess;_ and so there result chronic wars be tween _tribes and chronic antagonisms bet~Teen families and between individuals. These commonly continue .from gen eration to generation .

. But occasionally there is sho,vna tendency towards estab lishment of an -.equilibrium, by bringing aggression -and counter-aggression to·-a _definite balance, achieyedby _meas~ ure. Let us look at the evidence. § 139. Men of various rude types, as the Australians,con stantly show the idea, tacitly asserted and acted upon, that the loss of aJife in one tribe .IDust be cOlnpensated by the 370 THE INDUOTIONS OF ETHIOS. infliction of a death in another tribe; SOUle member of "\\Thich is known, or supposed, to haye caused the said loss of life. And since deaths from disease and old age are, alnong others, ascribed to the machinations of foes-since equiy alent deaths lllUSt be inflicted for these also, there haye to be frequent balancings of losses. [It seeIns clear, however, that these revenges and re-revenges cannot be always carried out as alleged. For if not only deaths by violence but deaths by disease entail thelll the two tribes must soon dis appear by mutual extirpation.] Races much Inore advanced in SOlne cases carry out, not this secret balancing of Inor tality-accounts between tribes, but an oyert balancing. This is the case ",,,ith the SUlnatrans, arnong wholn the differences are squared by money payments.

This maintenance of inter-tribal justice, prolnpted in part by consciousness of that corporate injury which loss of a member of the tribe entails, and requiring the infliction of an equivalent corporate injury on the offending tribe, has the trait that it is indifferent what member of the offending tribe is killed in compensation: whether it be the guilty man or some innocent Ulan matters not. This conception of inter tribal justice is repeated in the conception of inter-family justice. Those early types of social organization in which the family is the unit of cOlnposition, show us that in each family there arises an idea allied to the idea of nationality; and there results an allied system of reprisals for the bal ancing of injuries. The Philippine Islands supply eyidence. "In the proyince of La Isabela, the Negrito and Igorrote tribes keep a regular Dr. and Or. account of heads." A further interesting illustration is yielded by the Quianganes of Luzon. From an account of them given by Prof. F.

Blumentritt, here is a translated passage:" Blood vengeance is a sacred law with the Quianganes. If one plebeian is killed by another, the matter is settled in a simple manner by killing the murderer or some one of his family who is likewise a plebeian. But if a prominent man or noble is killed by a plebeian, vengeance on the murJUSTICE. 3'71 derer, a mere plebeian. is not enough; .the victim of the sin-offering must be an equivalent in rank. Another nobleman must fall for the murdered noble, for their doctrine is,-What kind of an equivalent is it to kill some one who is no better than a dog ~ Hence the family of the slain noble looks around to see if it cannot find a relative of the murderer to wreak vengeance upon, who is also a noble; while the murderer himself is ignored. If no noble can be found among his relatives, the family of the murdered man wait patiently till some one of them is received into the noble's caste; then the vendetta is prosecuted, although many years may have elapsed. When the blood-feud is satisfied a reconciliation of the contending factions takes place. In all the feuds the heads of the mnr dered champions are cut off and taken home, and the head-hunters cele brate the affair festally. The skulls are fixed to the front of the house."

Here the need for inflicting an injury of like· anlount, and so equalizing the losses, is evidently the dominant need. The Senlitic peoples in general furnish kindred facts. " It is a received law among all the Arabs, that whoever sheds the blood of a man, owes blood on that account to the family of the slain person. • . The lineal descendants of all those who were entitled to revenge at the moment of the man-slaughter, inherit this right from their parents." Burckhardt writes :-.... And respecting this system of administering rude justice by the balancing of deaths bet\veen falnilies, Burckhardt remarks:" I am inclined to believe that this salutary institution has contributed, in a greater degree than any other circumstance, to prm.~ent the warlike tribes of Arabia from exterminating one another. . . the terrible' blood revenge' tenders the most inveterate war nearly bloodless." The evide~t implication being that dread of this persistent revenge, makes members of different falnilies and tribes fearful of killing one another. That· with. the feelings and practices of existing Semites, those of ancient Semites agreed, there is good reason to believe. The authorization of blood-revenge between families, is inlplied in 1 Kings, ii, 31, 33, as well as elsewhere. How, among European peoples in early times, kindred conceptions led to kindred usages, need not be shown. in detail. The fact that when the systenl of taking life for life was replaced by the system of compensations, these "were adjusted to ranks, so that the murder of a person 1110re valuable to the group 11e belonged 372 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS.

to "vas·compounded for by a larger fine payable to it, shows ho\v dominant was the idea of group-injury, and how domi nant \vas the idea ofequi valence. § 140. But these ideas of family-injury and family-guilt have all along been accompanied by ideas of individual injury and individual-guilt: here very distinct and there less distinct. They are very distinct among some peoples in early social stages, as is shown by the account \vhich 1m Thurn gives of the Guiana tribes. " In the absence of anything corresponding to police regulations, their mutual relations in everyday life are very well-ordered by the· traditional respect which each individual feels for the rights of the others, and by their dread· of adverse public opinion should they act contrary to such traditions •••.The smallest injury done by one Indian to another, even if unintentional, must be atoned by suffering a similar injury."

And that among the Hebrews there was a balancing of individual-injuries is a fact more frequently referred to than. is the fact that there was a balancing of family injuries; as witness the familiar "eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot" prescribed in .Deuterono1nyxix. The decline of family-responsibility and growth of indi vidual-responsibility, seem to be concomitants of the change in social organization from the type in which the family is the unit of cOlllposition to the type in which the individual is· the unit of composition. For, evidently, as fast as the family-organization dissolves, there cease to be any groups which can be held responsible to one another for injuries inflicted by their melnbers; and as fast as this happens the responsibility must fall on the members therllselves. Thus it naturally happens that along with social evolution, there emerges from that unjust form of retaliation, in which the groups more than their component men are answerable, that just form in which the lllen them selves are answerable: the guilty person takes the conse~ JUSTICE.

qu.ences<?fhis· acts, and does not leave thenlto be borne by other persons. Au instructive contrast in the literature of the Hebre~s supports this conclusion. In the earlier writings, God 'is represented as .punishing not only those who have sinned against hinl,but their posterity for generations. In the later writings; however, there~ occurs the prophecy of a time when this shall no longer be. Here is a passage from JereJniah, xxxi. 29, 30. "In those days they .shall say no more, The fathers have eaten a sour grape, and the children's teeth are set on edge. But >every one shall die for his own iniquity : everyman that eatet~ the sour grape, his teeth shall be set on edge." That· in European peoples growth of this factor in the conception of justice has gone along with the lapsing of group-organization and the rise of individual citizenship, is clear. And it is interesting to observe how strange uow seem to us the old idea and sentiment, when we COlne in contact with them, as in China, where the group-organiza tion lingers,. and it is thought sufficient if, in compensation for one of our people who has been· murdered, a victim is I delivered up: no matter whether the victim be the guilty man or not.

§ 141. But while, in the more advanced social stages, maintenance of the relation between conduct and conse quence COlnes to be· recognized as required by justice; in early social stages the idea of equality is that which chiefly obtains recognition, under· the form· of an infliction· of equiv alent· injuries. It could scarcely be otherwise. During times of unceasing strife, with entailed wounds· and deaths, this is the onlyequality admitting of distinct maintenance. Evidently, however, from this practice of balancing deaths and mutilations, there tends to arise one component in the conception··of equity. We may see, too, that the activities of militant life them selves afford scope for some further developlnentof the 374 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. idea; and occasionally there grow up usages requiring sonle maintenance of equality, even in the midst of conflict. Speaking of certain early wars recorded in the Indian books, Wheeler remarks that" The sentiment of honour which undoubtedly prevailed amongst the an cient Kshatriyas made them regard an attack upon a sleeping enemy as a heinous crime." "Aswatthama even whilst bent upon being revenged on the murderer of his father, awoke his sleeping enemy before slaying him."

And various histories yield occasional signs of the belief that under certain circumstances-especially in personal combats-foes should be placed under something like equal conditions before they ar.e attacked; though, very generally, the aim has been the reverse-to attack them under every disadvantage. That all along the idea of likeness of treatment has entered into human relations at large, but chiefly among lnembers of the same society, is manifest. But any con siderable development of it has been inconsistent ,vith rnilitant life and militant organization. W"hile war, even when retaliatory, has necessarily been a discipline in in justice, by inflicting wounds and death upon individuals who have mostly been guiltless of aggression, it has, at the saIne time, necessitated ,vithin each society a type of or ganization which has disregarded the requirelnents of jus tice; alike by the coercive arrangements within its fighting part, by the tyranny over slaves and serfs forming its industrial part, and by the subjection of women. Hence the broad fact that throughout civilization the relations of citizens have become relatively equitable only as fast as Inilitancy has become less predominant; and that only along with this change has the sentiment of justice become nlore pronounced.

As yielding converse evidence I must again refer to the habits andsenthnents which accompany entire peaceful ness. Already in the last chapter but one I have nalned some peoples whose unaggressivellesB towards other peoples JUSTICE. 3'75 is accompanied by unaggressiveness among themselves; and of course this trait is in part ascribable to that regard for others' claims which justice implies. Already, too, in the last chapter; I have quoted various travellers in proof of the great honesty characterizing tribes of this same class; and of course their honesty may be taken as, in a considerable degree, proof of the prevailing sentirnent of justice. Here, to this indirect evidence, I may add evidence of a more direct kind, furnished by the treatment of women and children among them. In The Principles ofSociology, §§ 324, 32'7, I have drawn a contrast between the low status of WOluen among luilitant savages, as well as the militant semi-civilized, and· the high stat1-l8 of women among these uncultured but unmilitant peoples; showing th~t by the Todas, low as they are in sundry respects, the women are relieved from all hard work, and "do not eY"en ~tep out of·doors to fetch water or wood;" that the wives of the Bodo and DhiffiaJs "are free from all out-door work whatever;" that among the Hos a wife "receives the fullest consideration due to her sex;" and that among the "industrious, honest, and peace-loving Pueblos," no girl is forced to marry against her will, and "the usual order of courtship is reversed" -facts an of them showing a recognition of that· equality of claill1swhieh is. an essential element in the idea of justice. And here I may add an instance not before nlentioned, furnished by the Manansas, who occupy a hill-country in which they have taken ref uge froIn the invading Bamangwatos and JVlako101o. Said one of thenl to Holub-.:-" We want not the blood of the beasts, much less do we thirst for the blood of men;" and hence they are regarded with great contempt by the more powerful tribes. Holub; however, testifying to their honesty -and fidelity, says that "nothing worse seems to be alleged against them than their habitual courtesy and good-nature;" and he adds~" They treat their women in a , ,yay that offers a very favourable contrast to either the 3'76 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS.

Bechuanas' or the !tlatabele :" that is,- they are relatively just to thern. Similarly, in The Principles of Sociology, §§ 330-2, I have shown how much the way in which children are treated by warlike peoples who exercise over them the powers of life and death, and behave to boys far better than to girls, differs froIn the 'way in which they are treated by these unwarlike peoples, whose conduct to thern is both kind and equal; girls are dealt with as fairly as boys. To these indications that the sentiment of justice is Inarked where the habits are peaceful, something should be added respecting the overt expression of it. Little that is definite can be expected fronl the uncultured, since both the sentiment and the idea are complex. We lnay, how ever, infer that in a W ood-Veddah who cannot conceive that a Dian should take that which is not his own, there exists a sufficiently clear, if not a fornlulated, idea of justice; and we may.fairly say that this idea is. implied in the peaceful Tlulruswho, when they fly to the hills for refuge, "always leave any arrears of rent that may be due tied up in a rag to the lintel of their deserted house."

N or can we doubt that both the sentiment and· idea, from ,vhich result regard for other men's claims, must be dominant in the Hos, of wholn ","'e read that one suspected of theft is not unlikely to commit suicide, as also in th~ IJet-htas, an aboriginal hill-tribe in Burma, described as ideally good, anlong whom one accused by several of an evil act" retires to some secluded spot, there digs his grave and strangles himself." But it is only when we pass to peoples who have risen to a state of culture high enough to evolve literatures, that we get definite evidence concerning the conception of justice which has arisen, and among these we meet with a very significant fact. For throughout ancient societies at large, inilitant in their activities, in their types of structure, and in the universally-established system of statu8 or compulsory JUSTICE. 3'77 cooperation, justice is not differentiated in thought from altruism in general. In the literatures of the Ohinese, the Persians, the Ancient Indians, the Egyptians, the Hebrews, justice is in the main confounded with generosity and llumanity. The Inaxim commonly supposed to be especially Christian, but which, as we have seen, was in kindred forms enunciated alnong various peoples in pre-Christian days, shows us this. " Do unto others asyewould that they should do unto you," is an injunction which merges generosity and justice in one. In the first place, it makes no distinction be tween that which you are called upon to do to another on grounds of equity,and that which you are called upon to do to him on grounds of kindness; and, in the second place, it in cludes no recognition, overt or tacit,. of those claims of the doer which we call" rights." In the consciousness.of ju~tice properly so-called, there is included an egoistic as well as an altruistic element--aconsciousness of the claim of self and a sylnpathetiG.consciousness of the claims of others. Percep tion and assertion of this claim 01 self, cannot develop in a society·organized for warfare, and carried on by compulsory cooperation. Universal paralysis would ensue if each luan were free, within the limits prescribed by equity, to do as he iiked. Under a despotic rule there is scope for any amount of generosity but for only a limited amount of justice. The sentiment and the idea can grow only as fast as the external antagonisms of societies decrease and the inter~al harmonious cooperations of.their members increase.

CHAPTER VII.' GENEROSITY. § 142. To bring into intelligible order the kinds of con duct ordinarily grouped under the name Generosity, is diffi cult; partly because luuch which passes under the nalne is not really prolnpted by generous feeling, and partly because generosity rightly so-called is complex in nature and its, composition variable. Generosity is a double-rooted sentiment: one of its roots being very ancient and the other very modern. Its ancient root is the philoprogenitive instinct, which, as manifested throughout a large part of the animal kingdom, leads to the sacrifice of self for the benefit of offspring. This form of generosity coexists in many creatures with absolute disregard of the welfare of all save offspring: conspicuously so in the Oarnivora and less conspicuously so in the I£erbivora. The relatively modern root of generosity is sympathy, which is shown by some of the higher gregari ous creatures, as the dog, in considerable degrees. This trait is 1110re variously and largely displayed by hUlnan beings, and especially by certain higher types of then!.

The earlier factor in the sentirnent is personal and narrow, while the later is impersonal and broad. In Inankind, generosity ordinarily combines the two. The love of the helpless, which constitutes the essential part of the philoprogenitive instinct, is, nearly always, associated vvith fello~T-feeling: the parent sympathizes with the pleasures and pains of the child. Oonversely, the GENEROSITY. 319 feeling which prolnpts a generous act of one adult to another, commonly includes an element derived from the early instinct. The individual aided is conceived in a distinct or vague way as an object of pity; and pity is a sentiment closely allied to the parental, since it is drawn out towards some being relatively helpless or unfortuna~ or suffering. To' this mixed nature of the sentitnent as comrnonly displayed, is due the confusion in its nlanifestations among races in different stages; and to it must consequently be ascribed the perplexities which stand in the way of satisfac tory inductions.

§ 143. As a preliminary it should be further remarked that the sentiment of generosity, even in its developed form, is simpler than the sentiment of justice; and hence is earlier manifested. The one results from rnental repre sentations of the pleasures or pains of another or others-is shown in acts instigated by the feelings which these men tal representations arouse. But the other implies repre sentations, not shnply of pains or pleasures, but also, and chiefly, representations of the conditions which are required for, or are conducive to, the avoidance of pains or pro curing of pleasures. lIenee it includes a set of mental actions superposed on the luental actions constituting generosity. Recognition of this truth makes comprehensible the order of their succession in the course of civilization. And this order will be rendered still more conlprebensible if we re luember that generosity, among people of low intelligence, often results fronl inability to represent to themselves dis tinctly the consequences of the sacrifices they make-they are improvident.

§ 144. First to be dealt with is that pseudo-generosity nlainly cOlnposed of other feelings than benevolent ones.

380 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. The wish for the welfare of another is, indeed, rarely with .. out alloy: there are mostly present other Inotives-,chiefly the desire for applause. But to the lowest of the actions apparently caused by generosity, these other motives form the predominant or sole prolnpters instead of .. the subordi nat8'&prompters. The displays of hospitality among uncivilized and barbar ous peoples furnishes striking exalnples. Of the Bedouin "at once rapacious and profuse," and who is scrupulously hospitable, Palgrave says:"He has in general but little to offer, and for that very little he not unfrequently promises himself an ample retribution, by plundering his last night's guest when a few hours distant on his morning journey." Similarly of the Kirghiz, we are told by Atkinson that a chief who does not molest travellers while with him, sends his followers to rob them on their march. In East Africa, too, a chief of Urori "will entertain his guests hospitably as long as they relnain in his village, but he will plunder them the moment they leave it." Still rnore startling are the apparent incongruities of conduct arnong the Fijians.

"The same native who within a few yards of his house would murder a coming or departing guest for sake of.a knife or a hatchet, will defend him at the risk of his own life as soon as he has passed his threshold." And then how little relation there is between generosity rightly so-called and hospitality in such cases, is further sho,vn by the staternent of Jackson that the Europeans who have lived long among Fijians have become hospitable: "a practice which they have adopted through the example of these savages." Among the uncivilized at large, of whatever type, hospi tality of a less treacherous kind, prompted apparently by usa?;e the origin of which is difficult to .understand, is con stantly displayed. " •Custom' enjoins the exercise of hospitality on every Aino. They receive all strangers as they received me, giving them of their best, placing them in the most honourable place, bestowing gifts upon them, and, when they depart, furnishing them with cakes of boiled millet."

GENEROSITY. 381 We read that among the Australians, the laws of hospitality require. that stranger~. shoul<lbe .. perfectly unmolested. dur ing their sojourn. Jackson says that according to .. the rules of Samoan hospitality, strangers are well treated,receiv ing the best of everything.., According to Lichtenstein "the .Caffres are hospitable;" and that" the hospitality of the African_s has heen .noticed by almost every traveller who has been much among them" is remarked by Winter bottom. Of the tribes inhabiting North America Morgan says:~ " One of the most attractive features of Indian society was the spirit of hospitality by which it was pervaded. Perhaps no people ever carried this principle to the same degree of universality, as did the Iroquois." SO, too, Angas tells us of theN ew Zealanders that· they are very hospitable to strangers. By this last people we are shown ill' how large a measure the love of applause is a factor in apparent generosity.

The New Zealanders, writes Thomson, have a great admira tion of profuseness, andd~siretobe considered libera} at their feasts; and elsewhere he says that. by them" heaping up riches, unless' to squander, was· disgracefuL" To an allied. feeling may be ascribed the trait presented by the people of St. Augustine Island, among whom the dead were judged and sent to happiness or n1isery according to their " goodness" or "badness;" and " goodnessmeant .one.whose friends had given a grand funeral feast, and badness a per son whose stingy friends. provided nothing at all." To this peremptory desire for approval is in some cases due an ex penditure, on the occasion of a death ora Inarriage, so great that the family is impoverished by it for years; .and in one case, if not in more cases, female infanticide is committed ,vith the view of avoiding the ruinous expense,vhich a daughter's marriage entails.

To the prompters of pseudo-generosity thus disclosed,may be added another disclosed .. by the habits of civilized settlers in remote regions. Leading solitary lives. as such men do, 382 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. the arrival of a stranger brings "an irnmense relief from mo-: notony, and gratifies the craving for social intercourse. Hence it happens that travellers and sportsmen are not only "welcomedbut even pressed to stay. ~lanifestly, then, the sentiment which in many cases insti gates hospitality to visitors and feasts to friends, is a pro ethical sentirnent. There goes with it little, or none, of the ethical sentiment proper. § 145. We find, however, among some of the most un civilized peoples, displays of a generosity which is Inanifestly genuine-sornetimes, indeed, find displays of it greater than among the civilized. Burchell tells us even of the Bushmen that towards one another they" exercise the virtues of hospitality and generosity; often in an extraordinary degree." So, too, he says that the Hottentots are very hospitable among them selves, and often to people of other tribes; and ]{olben expresses the belief that" In }Vlunificence and Hospitality the Hottentots, perhaps, go beyond all the other Nations upon Earth." Of the East Africans, again, Livingstone says:"The real politeness with which food is given by nearly all the interior tribes, who have not had much intercourse with Europeans, makes it a pleasure to accept."

Though, in the fol]owing extract concerning the people of Loango, there is proof that love of approbation is a strong prompter to generous actions, yet there seelns evidence that there is mingled with it a t.rue sentiment of generosity. " They are always ready to share the little they have with those whom they know to be in need. If they have been fortunate in hunting and fishing, or have procured something rare, they immediately run and tell their friends and neighbours, taking to each his share. They would choose to stint themselves rather than not give them this proof of their friendship ...• They call the Europeans close fists, because they give nothing for nothing." Other races, sorne lower and some higher, yield like facts. We read that the Australian natives who have been success ful in hunting always, and without any remark, supply GENEROSITY. 383 'those of their number who have been unsuccessful with. a share of their meal. The account given by Vancouver of the Sandwich Islanders, shows that, in their generosity towards strangers, they were like rnost uncivilized peoples before bad treatment by Europeans had demoralized them.

He says:" Our reception and entertainment here [at HawaiiJ by these unlettered people, who in general have been distingui8hed by the appellation of sav ages, was such as, I believe, is seldom equalled by the most civilized nations of Europe." Brett· describes the Guiana tribes as "passionatel.y fond of their children; hospitable to everyone; and, anlong themselves, generous to a fault." These instances I may reinforce by one from a renlote region. Bogle stayed while in Thibet ,with the Lama's farnily-that is, with his relations, at whose hands he received much kindness. When he offered them presents they refused to accept them; say ing-"Y ou . . . are COlne from a far country; it is our business to render your stay agreeable; why should you make· us presents ~ " § 146. Various of the uncivilized display generosity in other "rays than by hospitality, and in 'ways which exhibit the sentiment· more clearly detached from other sentilnents.

Illustrations are furnished by that very inferior race, the :Australians. They were al"ways willing to show Mr. Eyre where water "vas to be had, and, even unsolicited, would help his rn.en to dig for it. Their kindness in this respect seems the more remarkable on renlembering how difficult it was for them to find a proper supply forthemselves. Sturt tells us that a friendly native has heen known to interpose, at great personal risk,. on behalf of travellers whom a hostile tribe was about to attack. With' an adjacent race it was the same. During troubled times in Tasmania, the lives of white people were in several instances ~'saved by the native "ronlen, ,vho .would often steal away fronl the tribe, and give notice of an 26 384 THE' INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. intended attack." Under another form, much generosity of feeling is shown by the Tongans. Mariner writes of them that"They never exult in any feats of bravery they may have performed, but, on the contrary, take every opportunity of praising their adversaries; and this a man will do, although his adversary may be plainly a coward, and will make an excuse for him, such as the unfavorableness of the opportunity, or great fatigue, or ill state of health, or badness of his ground, &c."

These, and lnany kindred facts, lnake it clear that the name "savages," as applied to the uncivilized, mi~leads us; and they suggest that the name nlight with greater propriety be applied to many among ourselves and our European neighbours. § 147'. If, as we see, under the forln of hospitality enforced by custom, in which it is largely simulated, or under forms in which it is more manifestly genuine, gener osity is widely prevalent anlong peoples who have not emerged from low stages of culture; we need not be sur prised to find expressions of generous sentiments, and in junctions to perform generous actions, in the early literatures of races ·which have risen to higher stages. The ancient Indian books furnish examples. Here, from the Rig-Veda, is an extract exhibiting the interested or non-sympathetic prolnpting of generosity:"The givers of largesses abide high in the sky; the givers of horses live wit.h the sun; the givers of gold enjoy immortality; the givprs of raiment prolong their Ii ves."

Sirnilarly Rig-Veda X. 107, eulogizes liberality to priests. ".I regard as the king of men him who first presented a gift .... The wise man makes largesse, giving his breastplate. Bountiful men neither die nor fall into calamity; they suffer neither wrong nor pain. Their liber ality confers on them this whole world as well as h~aven." In tIle Code of Manu, too, 've read that strangers are to be allowed to sojourn and be well entertained. He must eat before the householder (iii. 105). "The honouring of a guest confers wealth, reputation, life, and heaven" (iii.

GENEROSITY. 38-5 106; iv. 29) and delivers from guilt (iii. 98). And kin dred reasons for hospitality are given by Apastamba: The reception of guests is rewarded by" immunity from misfortunes, and heavenly bliss," (ii. 3, 6, 6.) "He who entertains guests for one night obtains earthly happiness, a second night gains the middle air, a· third heavenly bliss, a fourth the world of unsurpassable bliss; many nights procure endless worlds" (ii. 3, 7, 16.) The literature of the Persians contains kindred thoughts. In the Shdiya8t, the clothing of the soul in the next ,,"orld is said to be formed "out of ahnsgivings." Passages in the Gulistan enjoin liberality while reprobating asceticism. "The liberal man who eats and bestows, is better than the religious man who fasts and hoards. Whosoever hath forsaken luxury to gain the appro bation of mankind, hath fallen from lawful into unlawful voluptuousness."

And in the same work we have a more positive injunction to be generous, but still associated with self-interest as a motive. "Do good, and do not speak of it, and assuredly thy kindness will be recompensed to thee." Passing to China we find in Confucius various kindred injunctions; dissociated, too, from promptings of lower motives. Here are examples" Now the man of perfect virtue, wishing to be established himself, seeks a.lso to establish others; wishing to be enlarged himself, he seeks also to enlarge others.'" "rrhe Master said, 'Though a man have abilities as admirable as those of the duke of Chow, yet if he be proud and niggardly, those other things are really not worth being looked at.'" "When any of his [Confucius's] friends died, if he had no relations who could be depended on for the necessary offices, he would say, 'I will bury him.'" That .in the sacred books of the Hebrews are to be fonnd kindred adillonitions, here joined withprolnises of super natural rewards and there without such promises, needs no saying. It should be added, however, that we are not enabled by these quoted passages to compare· the characters displayed by Indians, Persians, Chinese, or Hebrews, with the characters described in the foregoing accounts travellers 386 THE INDUOTIONS OF E'rHIOS.

give us of the uncivilized; for these passages come from the writings of exceptional men-poets and sages. But though violent reaction against an all-pervading selfishness may nlostly be the cause of exaggerated expressions of generosity, we must adlnit that the possibility of such exaggerated expressions goes for something. § 148. Concerning generosity among European peoples, as exhibited in history at successive stages of their progress, no very definite statements can be made. We have evidence that in early days there existed much the same feelings and practices as those now existing among savages-practices silnulating generosity. Tacitus says of the primitive Ger mans:"No nation indulges more profusely in entertainments and hospitality. To exclude any human being from their roof is thought impious." And these usages and ideas went, as we know, along with utte:r lack, of sympathy: they implied the generosity of dis play sanctified by tradition.

Throughout the Middle Ages and down to comparatively recent times, we see, along with a decreasing generosity of display, little lnore than the generosity prompted·by hope of buying divine favour. The motive has been all along expressed in the saying,--" He that hath pity upon the poor lendeth to the Lord" (Prov. xix. 17); and the Lord is expected to pay good interest. Christianity, even in its initial form, represents the giving of alms as a means of salvation; and throughout nlany centuries of Ohristian history the giving of alms had little other Inotive. ,Just as they built chapels to cOlnpound for crilnes and manumitted slaves to Inake peace with God; so, beyond a desire for the applause which follo,ved largesse, the only lTIotiveof the rich for perforlning kind actions was an other-worldly Hlotive-a dread of hell and wish for heaven. As ~Ir. Lecky remarks-" Men gave Inoney to the poor, simply. and exclusively for their own spiritual benefit, and the welfare of the sufferer was altogether GENEROSITY. 38'7 foreign to their thoughts." How utterly alien to generosity, rightly so-called, was the feeling at· work, is shown by the unblushing, and indeed self-satisfied, avowal made by Sir Thomas Browne in the passage w'hich Mr. Lecky quotes from hinl,-" I give no alnls to satisfy the hunger of my brother, but to fulfil and accolnplish the will and command of my God."

In modern days, however, we nlay recognize a growing proportion of true generosity-the ethical sentiment as distinguished from the pro-ethical sentiment. Though there is still. in predominant amount that transcendental self-seeking which' does good here merely to get happiness hereafter-though there are even nlultitudes who, in the spirit of Sir Thomas Brovvne, feel no shalne in the avowal that their kindnesses to others are prolnpted by the .wish to please God more than' by the wish to further human ,vel fare; yet there are many who, in conferring benefits, are prompted nlainly, and others who are prompted ~rholl'y, bi fellow-feeling with those vvhom they aid. And beyond the manifestations of this sentirnent of true generosity in private actions, there are occasionally Inanifestations of it in public actions; as ,vhen' the nation made a sacrifice o£ twenty millions of money that the West Indian slaves might be emancipated.

That this development of true ,generosity has been conse quent on increase of sympathy, and that syrnpathy has gained scope for exercise and growth with the advance to an orderly and amicable social life, scarcely needs saying. § 149. For reasons given at the outset, it is difficult to bring the various manifestations of pseudo-generosity and generosity proper, into generalizations of a definite kind. And the impediment due to the cOlnplexity and variable composition of the emotion prornpting generous acts, is made greater by the inconsistency of the traits which 111en, and especially the 10,,"'e1" types of men, present. Un388 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. balanced as their natures are, they act in quite opposite ways according to the impulse which is for the' rnornent in pos session of consciousness. Angas tells us that "infanticide is frequent among the New Zealanders." Yet" both parents are alrnost idolatrously fond of their children;" and while Cook described thelll as "implacable towards their enemies,"

Thomson observed that they were kind to their slaves. Other instances are furnished by the Negro races. Reade says that in parts of Equatorial Africa where there is the greatest treachery, there are also strong marks of affec tionate friendship. Concerning the East Africans Burton writes :" When childhood is passed, the father and son become natural enemies, after the manner of wild beasts. Yet they are a sociable race, and the sudden loss of relatives sometimes leads from grief to hypochondria and insanity." Lacking those higher emotions 'which serve to coordinate the lower, these last severally determine the actions now this way and now that, according to the incidents of the mornent. Hence only by comparison of extremes are we likely to dis cover any significant relations of facts. In the accounts of those most ferocious savages, the cannibal Fijians, 'rho 'worship cannibal gods,-savages whose titles of honour are "the waster of" such a coast, "the depopulator of" such an island, and who committed atrocities ,"vhich Williarrls said "I dare not record here,"

no mention is made of any generosity save that which results from display. Among the predatory red lnen of North America, the Dakotas may be singled out as those who, in the greatest degree, show the aggressiveness and revengefulness fostered by a life of chronic war-rnen by whom prisoners, especially aged ones, are handed over to the squaws to torture for their aruusement. Here gen erosity is referred to only to note its absence: the Dakota is ungenerous, says Burton-never gives except to get more in return. Similarly of the N agas, ever fighting, GENEROSITY. 389 village with village as well as with neighbouring races, carrying blood-feuds to extremes, dreaded as robbers and murderers, and always mutilating their dead enemies, 1ve read that "they are totally devoid of a spark of generosity, -and will not give the Inost trifling articles without receiving rellluneration.' , Of the converse connexion of traits the evidence is usually not clear, for the reason that the generosity ascribed to tribes which do not carryon perpetual hostilities is mostly of the kind shown in hospitality, 'which is always open to the interpretation of being due in part, if not wholly, to usage or love of display. Thus Oolquhoun, who talks of the "hos pitable aborigines" and says" it is quite refreshing to turn from the Ohristian Anarnites to the less repulsive, if heathen, hill-tribes" (the Steins who inhabit" fever-stricken haunts,"

where they can lead peaceful lives) says that" amongst theIl1 a stranger is certain of a welconle; the fatted pig or fowl is at once killed, the loving cup produced." Similarly in his earlier ,vork, Across Oh:rYS8, lVlr. Colquhoun, speaking of indigenous peoples here and there islanded among the' con quering Tartars, speaks of them as "very pleasant in their ways, kind and. hospitable;" and afterwards he quotes the impressions of a resident French missionary, who spoke of the peaceful native inhabitants as "simple, hospitable, hon est," haviJlg "Ie bon creur," while of the governing Ohinese, and especially the n1ilitary mandarins, his verdict was " etre mandarin, c'est etre voleur, brigand!" Of like mean ing is the contrast drawn by the Abbe Favre in his Accottnt ..qf the Wild Tribes ofthe Malayan Peninsula. On the one hand he describes the conquering race, the Malays, as being full of predatory vices, lying, cheating, plundering-" no man can entrust them vvith anything;" and, so far from being hospitable, using every means to fleece the traveller.

On the other hand of the aboriginal peoples, who "fled to the fastnesses of the interior, where they have since con tinued in a savage state," he tells us that their disputes are 390 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. settled" without fighting or malice," that they are" entirely inoffensive," and "generally kind, affable, inclined to grati tude and to beneficence," "liberal and-generous." Briefly contrasting the two he says-" The actions of Malays gen erally show low sentiments and a sordid feeling; but the J akuns are naturally proud and generous;" and then he asks-" Whence then conIes so remarkable a difference?" As a cause he comments on the "plundering and bloody actions" of the piratical lVIalays; while the J akuns have been led into quiet lives in their fastnesses. Let me add, lastly, the case of the peaceful and "simple Arafuras," of wholn the French resident,1\L Bik, says :-" They have a very excusable anlbition to gain the name of rich men, by paying the debts of their poorer fellow-villagers ... Thus the only use they make of their riches is to ernploy it in settling differences."

CHAPTER VIII. HUMANITY. § 150. The division between the subject-matter of this chapter and that of the last chapter, is in large measure artificial, and defensibl~ only for convenience sake. Kind ness, pity, mercy, which we here group under the general head of humanity, are closely allied to generosity; though less liable than it to be simulated by 10'wer feelings. They are all altruistic sentiments, and have for their common root, sYlnpathy. Hence we may expect to find, as we shall find, that in respect of their relations to other traits of nature, and to type of social life, much the same may be said of them as may be said of generosity. It may also be said of them, as of generosity, that while in their developed forms they are mainly pron1pted by mental representations of the pains or pleasures of other beings, they usually contain to the last, as they contain in chief measure at first, the parental feeling-the feeling which is excited by the consciousness of relative incapacity or help lessness-the pleasure felt in taking care of something 'which tacitly appeals for aid. And the mixed nature of these sentiments hence resulting, adds, as in the case of gener-· osity, to the difficulty of generalizing.

A further difficulty, 'which is indeed a sequence of the last, results from the incongruous emotions which many types of men, and especially inferior types, display. Thus, 392 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. while ~Ioffat says "the Bushmen will kill their children without remorse," and while Lichtenstein tells us that no other savages betray" so high a degree of brutal ferocity;" Moffat, speaking of their attentions to him when he was ill, says :-" I ·was deeply affected by the synlpathy of these poor Bus}nnen, to whom we were utter strangers." Agreeing vdth Burchell, J{olben describes the Hottentots as friendly, liberal, benevolent; and yet, from Kolben, as from Sparrman, we learn that they frequently bury infants alive, and leave their aged to die in solitary places. It is so, too, with the Australians. While they abandon their aged to perish, and often destroy their infants, they are represented as fond and indulgent parents, and as often showing kind feelings to tra vellers. More strange still is the contrast exhibited in Borneo, where, according to Boyle, a Dyak has often been seen rushing" through a captured village, clasping in his arms a young child as tenderly as possible, without relaxing his grasp of its father's gory head."

In face of such facts it seems unlikely that our inductions concerning the relations of hUlnane feeling to type of man, and to social type, can be more than rudely approximate. § 151. We may fitly begin with illustrations of entire lack of sympathy, now taking the negative shape of simple in difference to others' suffering, and no·w taking the positive shape of delight in their suffering. Of the Karens Mason says :" I have stood over an old woman dying alone in a miserable shed, and tried in vain to induce her children and grandchildren, ('lose by, to come to help her." The lack of feeling shovvn by the Honduras people in Herrera's day, he illustrates by the refusal of a wife to kill a hen for her sick husband, because, as she said, "her husband would die, and then she should lose him and the hen too." Various Negro races furnish kindred examples. While, concerning' the natives of Loando, Monteiro says HUMANITY. 393 that "the negro is not cruelly inclined " [not actively cruel] yet "he/has not the slightest idea of mercy, pity, or. compassion ":- .

"A fellow-creature, or animal, writhing in pain or torture, is to him a sight highly provocative of merriment and enjoyment." Duncan and Burton agree in saying that the Dahomans, who" are void either of sympathy or gratitude, even in their own faluilies," are "in point of parental affection, inferior to brutes." And then the Ashantees show us this indifference forlllulated as a principle of conduct. Two of their proverbs, as rendered by Burton, run thus :--" If an other suffers pain, (to you) a piece of wood suffers." " The distress of others is no concern of yours; do not trouble yourself about it." Passing from negative to positive cruelty, we find in the Damaras illustrations of both. Baines says of thenl:- ~ " Everybody knows that in other tribes the aged and helpless are left to perish, but that a.mother should refuse to pull a few bundles of grass to close up a sleeping hut for her sick daughter .•.. is almost beyond belief."

And, according to Galton, a sick man " is pushed out of his hut by his relations away frorn the fire into the cold; they do all they can to expedite his death." So ,vith the negative inhumanity of the Dahomans above named may be joined their positive inhumanity; shown, for instance, in the " annual customs" at which numbers of victims are slaugh tered to supply a dead king "with fresh, attendants in the shadowy world," and again shown by decorating their buildings with great numbers of human skulls, which they make war to obtain. Of kindred testimonies Holub yielqs one concerning the J\'Iarutse, asserting that "a brutal cruelty is one of the· predominant failings of these people;" and another is yielded by Lord Wolseley, who says that" the love of bloodshedand of watching human bodily suffering in any shape is a real natural pleasure to the negroes of West Africa." To these cases of positive inhumanity, may be added those displayed by the predatory tribes of North America 394 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS.

who, while they discipline their young men by subjecting them to tortures, also torture their enelnies. " W 01yes of women borne," as the Prairie Indians are called, hand over" an old lnan or V\Toman" for torture, "to the squa,vs and papooses, pour les amuser." Burton who tells us this, says of the Y utahs that they are "as cruel as their limited intellects allow them to be." From another authority we learn that the squaws alllong the Oomanches are crueller than the men, and delight in torturing the male prisoners. § 152. How often misused words generate misleading thoughts! Savage, originally meaning rude, wild, uncul tured, ""vas consequently applied to aboriginal peoples. Behaving treacherously and cruelly to voyagers, as some of them did in retaliation, this trait was regarded as a universal trait; and "savage" came to Inean ferocious. Hence the baseless belief that savageness in this sense, characterizes the uncivilized in contrast with the civilized.

But the inhurnanity which has been shown by the races classed as civilized, is certainly not less, and has often heen greater, than that sho\vn by the races classed as uncivilized. Passing over the multitudinous cruelties which stain the annals of ancient .Eastern nations, of whonl the Assyrians rnay be nalned as a sample; rnerely nanling the doings of the admired IIomeric Greeks-liars, thieves and murderers, a£ Grote shows-whose heroes revelled in atrocities; and not dwelling on the brutalities of the Spartans or the callousness, if nothing nlore, of other later Greeks; ""ve may turn to the ROlnans, whose ruthless civilization, lauded by admirers of conquests, entailed on Europe centuries of misery. Twenty generations of predatory wars, developed a nature of which the savagery has rarely been equalled by that of the worst barbarian races known to us. Though the torture of captives has been practised by the HUMANITY. 395 North Alnerican Indians, they have not been in the habit of torturing their slaves. Though· there were subject. tribes alllong the Fijians "rho were liable to be used for cannibal feasts, yet the Fijians did not go to the length of killing hundreds of his fellow-slaves along vyith one who hadmur dered his master. 1\.nd if very often the uncivilized reduce to bondage such of the conquered as are not slain, they do not forln them into herds, make them work like beasts, and deny them all human privileges; nor do they use any of thelIl to gratify their app~tites for bloodshed by combats in arenas-appetites so rampant in Rome that the need for satisfying theln was bracketed 'with -the need for satisfying bodily hunger. Using the word "savage" in its modern acceptation, we m~y fairly say that, leaving the Fijians out of the conlparison, the white savages of Rome outdid all which the dark savages elsewhere have done.

Were it not that men are blinded by the theological bias· an~ the bias of patriotism, it would be clear to thelll that throughout Christian Europe also, during the greater part of its history, the inhumanity fostered by the wars between societies, as well as by the feuds within 'each society, has ,been carried to extremes beyond those reached by inferior peoples whom we think of as ferocious. Though the atrocities committed by such semi-civilized races as the Mexicans and Central Alnericans, such as skinning victims alive and tearing out their palpitating hearts, lnay not have been paralleled in Enrppe; yet Europeans, loudly professing a religion of love, have far exceeded them in the ingenuity of their multitudinous appliances for the infliction of pro longed agonies on heretics, on witches, and on political offenders. And even now, though at home the discipline of a peaceful social life has nearly extinguished such inhumani ties, yet by our people abroad there are still perpetrated in hUlllan deeds, if not of these kinds, yet of other kinds. The doings of· Australian settlers to the natives, of "beach combers" and kidnappers in the Pacific, do bnt exmnplify 396 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS.

in vivid ways the barbarous conduct of European invaders to native races-races which, when they retaliate, are con demned as "savage." § 153. While men of SOllle varieties appear to be devoid of sympathy, and the llloral traits which it originates, there are men of other varieties who, inferior to ourselves as they Inay be in respect of culture, are our equals, and some of thelll our superiors, in respect of humanity. Here, in the briefest way, I string together the testilnonies of travellers, whose names 'vill be found in the references. The Veddahs are "in general gentle and affectionate:" " wido,vs are always supported by the cOlnnlunity." Tannese -'~ The sick are kindly attended to the last." In New Guinea some tribes of Papuans have shown great humanity to Europeans placed at their mercy ~ Dyaks-" Hunlane to a degree which well might shame ourselves." Malagasy "Treat one another with Illore humanity than we do."

Esquimaux-" As between themselves, there can be no people exceeding them in this virtue-kindness of heart." Iroquois-" Kindness to the orphan, hospitality to all, and a cotnmon brotherhood" were enjoined. Chippewas-before the white man .caIne, there was more "charity practised towards one another; and the widow and orphan were never allowed to live in poverty and want." Araucanians-No indigent pt;rson is to be found .••the "most incapable of subsisting themselves are decently clothed:" "generous and humane towards the vanquished." Mandingos-" It is impossible for 111e to forget the disinterested charity, and tender solicitude, with which lnany of these poor heathens . . . sympathized with lUB in my sufferings." And Kolf!, speaking of the" continued kindness" of the inhabitants of Luan, says--" I never n'let with more harillony, content ment and toleration, more readiness to afford n'lutual assist ance, more domestic peace and happiness, nor more humanity and hospitality."

HUMANITY. 397 Though, as in the case of the Bushmen, characterized by Moffat in the first section of this chapter, humane actions on some occasions are associated 'with brutal actions on other oc casions, yet in some of the peoples here instanced-the Ved dahs, the Esquimaux, and the inhabitants of Luan-there is no such alloy. § 154. In the literatures of ancient Eastern peoples, there are numerous expressions of humane sentiments and exhor tations' to humane, actions~utterances of poets and sages, which, though they probably indicate in but small measure the prevailing senthnents, l11ay be taken as in some measure significant of advance consequent on settled social life. Among the early Indian books, the M"ahabharata contains the following':~ "To injure none by thought or word or deed, To give to others, a,nd be kind to all This is the constant duty of the good." And'in the same book, the princess Savitri, urging Yama, the god of death,. to give back the soul of· her husband ,vhich he was carrying away, tells the god how noble is the quality of mercy. She argues that to give is more divine than to take; to preserve is Inightier than to destroy. The sacred book .of the Persians, the Zend-Avesta, appears to have its humane precepts in some Ineasure prompted by the doctrine of metelnpsychosis-kind treatment of animals b~ing insisted upon partly for that reason; but Sadi, in the G~(;listan, has definite injunctions of a relevant kind : "Show mercy to the weak peasant . . . it is criminal to crush the poor and defenceless subjects with the arm of power ... Thou who art indif ferent to the sufferings of others deservest not to be called a man."

.Charitable conduct was insisted upon among the Egyptians too.. According to Birch and DUllcker, it was enjoined" to give bread to the hungry, water to the thirsty, clothes to the naked, and shelter to' the wanderer;" and the memoirs in the tOlubs "portray just and charitable live~, protection of the widow" and the needy) care for the people in tiInes of 398 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. famine." Similarly, the books of the Chinese sages agree in elnphasizing the virtues which flo\v from fellow-feeling. According to Legge, Lao-tsze "seenlS to condelnn the inflic tion of capital punishment; and he deplores the practice of war." In a like spirit Confucius says that "benevolence is the characteristic elenlent of humanity." And Mencius too, while alleging that the" feeling of commiseration is essential to ulan," remarks that "so is the superior man affected to'\vards animals, that, having seen them alive, he cannot bear to see them die." To all which has of course to be added ~he evidence furnished by the sacred books of the Hebrews, in the later of ,vhich there are injunctions to show kindness and mercy, not to men only but to animals-injunc tions which the European peoples who avo'wedly accepted theIn, along with the still more humane doctrine of Jesus, did so little throughout many centuries to practise, even in small rneasure.

§ 155. Amid perturbing causes and conflicting testi lIlonies, no general conclusions seenl trustworthy save those reached by putting side by side the extreme cases. Compari sons so made justify anticipation. Of the Karens, instanced above as absolutely heartless, it is said that "every tribe is antagonistic to each other," and there is almost continual war. So too is it with another Indian race, the Afridis. The intensity of the fighting propensity among them is such that" an AfrIdI generally has a blood-feud with Iline out of ten of his own relations; " and their lack of all humane-sentiment is implied by the statement that "ruthless, cowardly robbery, cold-blooded, treacherous murder, are to an Afridi the salt of life." Then we have the case of the Daholnans, above shown to be utterly void of sympathy, even with their own offspring, and whose absolutely militant social state is so exceptionally indicated by their army of Anlazons. The wildest tribes of the North Anlerican Indians, too, the Dakotas and the HUMANITY. 399 COluanches, whose inhumanity is shovtTn by torturing their prisoners, .are tribes of warriors carrying. on chronic feuds and perpetual ,vars.

Of the converse relation, the most marked cases above instanced are those exhibited by certain absolutely peaceful peoples-the Esquimaux, the inhabitants of Luau, the Ved dahs. Alnong such, free as they are from those passions which inter-tribal enmities exercise and increase, we find an unusual display of that fellow-feeling \vhich results in kindly behaviour and benevolent actions. And here, along with this contrast, lllay be joined a con trast of kindred nature, between the absence and presence of a trait allied to humane feeling-I mean gratitude; for of gratitude, as of humanity, the ultimate root is sym.pathy. Of .the fighting and destructive Fijians Williams says-" In gratitude deeply and disgracefully stains the character of the :F'ijian heathen." " If one of them, when sick, obtained medicine from me, he thought me bound to give him food; the reception of food he considered as giving him a claim on me for covering; and, that being secured, he deemed him self at liberty to beg· anything he wanted, and abuse· me if I refused his unreasonable request."

On· the other hand, what do we read about the Veddahs, living always in peace ~ }Ir. Atherton describes them as " very grateful for attention or assistance·;" and, as quoted by Pridhml1, Mr. Bennett says that after having given some Veddahs presents and done them a service"a couple of elephant's tusks,nearly six feet in length, found their way into his front verandah at night, but the Veddahs who had brought them never gave him an opportunity to 'reward them. 'What a lesson in grati tude and delicacy,' he observes, ' even a Veddah may teach! ' " Truly, indeed, they may teach this, by making in so un obtrusi ve a way, and with great labour, a return greater in' value than the obligation; and they may teach lTIOre-may teach that where there have not been preached theOhristial) virtues, these nlay be shown in a higher degree-than ,vhere they are ostentatiously professed and perpetually enjoined. .

27 CHAPTER IX. VERACITY. § 156. Complete truthfulness is one of the rarest of vir tues. Even those who regard themselvesa's absolutely truth ful are daily guilty of over-statements and under-statements~ Exaggeration is almost universal. The perpetual use of the word" very," where the occasion does not call for it, shows how widely diffused and confirmed is the habit of misrepre sentation. And this habit sometimes goes along with the loudest denunciations. of falsehood. After much veheluent talk about "the veracities," will eonle utterly unveraciolls accounts of things and people-accounts made 11nveracious by the use of emphatic words where ordinary words alone are warranted : pictures of which· the outlines are correct but the lights and shades a~d colours are -doubly and trebly as strong as they should be. Here, among the countless deviations of statement from fact, we are concerned only with those in which form is wrong as well as colour......-:-thosein'which the statement is not merely a perversion of the fact but, practically, an inversion of it. Chiefly, too, ,ve have to deal with cases in which personal interests of one or other kind are the prompters to falsehood :-now the desire to inflict injury, as by false witness; now the desire to gain a material advan tage; now the desire to escape a punishlnentor other threat ened evil; now the desire to get favour by saying that VER.A.CITY~ 401 which pleases. For 'inmankind at large, the love<o£ truth for truth'ssake,:.irrespective of ends, is but little exelnplified...

Here let us contemplate some of the illustrations of' ve~ racityand unveracity-chiefly unveracity-furnishedby vari ous human races. § 157. The members of wild tribes in diffei'entpartsof the world, who, as· hunters or asnotnads,are more or-less hostile to their 'neighbours; are nearly always reprobated by travellers for their untruthrulness; as are also the nlembers of larger societiesconsQlidated by conquest··under .de~potic rulers. . Says Burton' of' the Dakotas-" The Indian, like other savages, never tells the truth." Of the Mishmis, Griffith writes-" They have so little regard .for truth, that one cannot rely much on what they say." And a general relnark, d propos of ·the Kirghiz, is to the same effect. " Truth, throughout Central Asia, is subservient to the pow erful, and the ruler who governs leniently commands 'but little respect." . Of the settled societies, the first to benalned is the Fijian.

Willialns tells us that" Among the Fijians the propensity to lie is so strong, that they seem to have no wish to deny its existence.... Adroitness in lying is attained by the constant use made of it to conceal the schemes and plots of the Chiefs, to whom a ready and clever liatis' a valuable acquisitiom .•. ~A Fijian truth' has been regard<Klas a synonym for a lie.'" Of kindred nature,underkindred conditions, is the trait dis played by the people'.of Uganda~ c '" In comrbon with all savage tribes, truth is held in very low estimation, and it is never considered wrong to .tell 'lies; indeed,' a successful liar .is considered a smart, clever fellow, andratheradmired.". So, too, was it among the'.ancient semi-civilized' peoples '0£ Central America. De ·Laet says .of ·certain 'of ·them, living under a despotic and bloody regime-" they are liars, like most of the Indians." And concerning the -modernIndians, 402 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS.

who nlay be supposed to have preserved more or less the character of their progenitors, ~Dunlop writes :"I never have found any native of Central America, who would admit that there could be any vice in lying; and when one has succeeded in cheating another, however gross and infamous the fraud may be, the na tives will only remark, ' Que hombre vivo' (What a clever fellow)." A like fact is given by Mr. Foreman in his work on the Philippine Islands. He says the natives do not "appear to regard lying as a sin, hut rather as a legitimate, though cun ning, convenience." § 158. The literatures of ancient semi-civilized peoples yield evidence of stages during which truth ,vas little es teemed, or rather, during which lying was tacitly or openly applauded. As we saw in a recent chapter (§ 127) decep tion, joined with atrocity, was occasionally inculcated in the early Indian literature as a means to personal advancement.

vVe have proof in the Bible that, apart from the lying which constituted false witness, and was to the injury of a neigh bour, there was among the Hebrews but little reprobation of lying. Indeed it would be remarkable were itother,vise, considering that J ahveh set the example; as ,vhen, to ruin Ahab, he commissioned" a lying spirit" (1 Kings, xxii, 22) to deceive his prophets; or as when, according to Ezekiel, xiv, 9, he threatened to use deception as a means of vengeance.' "If the prophet be deceived when he hath spoken a thing, I the Lord have deceived that prophet, and I will stretch out my hand upon him, and will destroy him from the midst of my people Israel." Evidently from a race-character which evolved such a con ception of a deity's principles. there naturally came no great regard for veracity. This 'we see in sundry cases; as when Isaac said Rebeeca was not his wife but his sister, and never theless received the same year a bountiful harvest: "the Lord blessed hinl" (Gen. xxvi, 12); or as 'when Rebecca in duced Jacob to tell a lie to his father and defraud Esau--a lie not condemned but shortly follo,ved by a divine pronlise of prosperity; or as ,vhen Jeremiah tells a falsehood at the VERACITY. 403 king's suggestion. Still we must not overlook the fact that in the writings of the Hebre'w prophets, as also in parts of the New Testament, lying is strongly reprobated. A verag~ ing the evidence, we Inay infer that along with the settled life of the Heb~ews there had grown up among them an increased truthfulness.

Much regard for veracity was hardly to be expected among the Greeks. In the Iliad the gods are represented not only as deceiving men but as deceiving one another. The chiefs" do not hesitate at all manner of lying." Pallas Athbne is described as loving Ulysses because he is so de ceitful; and, in the ,vords of lJIahafIy, the Homeric society .is full of " guile and falsehood." * N or was it widely other wise in later days. The trait alleged of the Cretans "always liars "-though it may have been more marked in them than in Greeks at large, did not constitute an essential difference. lYlahaffydescribes Greek conduct in the Attic age as characterized by "treachery" and " selfish knavery," and says that Darius thought a Greek who kept his word a notable exception. Evidence of the relation bet"reen chronic hostilities and utter disregard of truth, is furnished throughout the history of Europe. In the Merovingian period - "the era of * Marvelous are t.he effects of educational bias. Familiarity with the doings of these people, guilty of so many" atrocities," characterized by such "revolting cruelty of manners," as Grote says, who were liars through all grades from their gods down to their slaves, and whose religion was made up of gross and brutal superstitions, distinguishes one of our leading 8tat.esmen; and, joined to familiarity with the doings of other Greeks, it is thought by him to furnish the best possible preparation for life of the highest kind. In a speech at Eton, reported in The Times, of 16 March, 1891,Mr. Gladstone said-" If the purpose of education is to fit the human mind for the efficient performance of the greatest functions, the ancjent culture, and, above all, Greek culture, is by far the best, the most lasting, and the most elastio instrument that can possibly be applied to it." Other questions aside, one might ask with puzzled curiosity which of lir. Gladstone's creeds, as a statesman, it is which we must ascribe to the influence of Greek culture- ...

whether the creed with which he set out as a Tory when fresh from Ox ford, or the extreme radical creed. which he has adopted of late years f 404 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. " blood" -oaths taken by rulers, even with their hands on the altar, ","ere forthwith broken; and Salvian writes-" If a :Frank forswear hinlself, where's the wonder, when he thinks perjury but a form of speech, not of crinle?" After perpetual wars during the two hundred years of the Carolingian period, with Arabs, Saracens, Aquitanians, Sax ons, Lombards, Slavs, Avars, Normans, came the early feudal period, of which H. ~Iartin says :"The tenth [century] may pass for the era of fraud and deceit. At no other epoch of our history does the moral sense appear to have been so com pletely effaced from the human soul as in that first period of feudalism." And then,as an accompaniment and consequence of the internal conflicts which ended in the establishment of the French monarchy, there was a still-continued treachery: the aristocracy in their relations ,vith one another "were without truth, loyalty, or disinterestedness . . . N either life nor character was safe in their hands." Though Mr. Lecky ascribes the medireval "indifference to truth" to other causes than chronic militancy, yet he furnishes a sentence \vhich indirectly yields support to the induction here Illade, and is the more to be valued because it is not intended to yield such support. He relnarks that "where the indus trial spirit has not penetrated, truthfulness rarely occupies in the popular mind the same prominent position in the catalogue of virtues " as it does among those "educated in the haLits of industrial life."

N or do we fail to see at the present time, in the contrasts between the Eastern and Western nations of Europe, a like relation of phenomena. § 15.9. Reflection shows, however, that this relation is not a direct one. There is no immediate connexion between bloodthirstiness and the telling of lies. N or because a lnan is kind-hearted does it follow that he is truthful. If, as above inlplied, a lifeofarnity is conduci.ve to veracity, while a life of enmity fosters unveracity, the dependencies must be VERACITY. 405 indirect~ After glancing at· SOIne further facts, we shall understand better in what "rays these traits of life and character are usually associated. In respect of veracity, as in respect of other virtues, I have again to instance various aboriginal peoples who have been thrust by invading races into undesirable habitats; and have there been left either. in absolute tranquillity or free from chronic hostilities with their neighbours. Saying of the Kois that they all seeln to suffer from chronic fever (which sufficiently 'shows why they are left unmolested in their malarious \vilds)J\!Iorris tells us that"They are noted for truthfulness, and are quite an example in. this re spect to the civilized and more cultivated inhabitants of the plains."

According to Shortt, in his Hill Ranges pf Southern India"A pleasing feature in their [Sowrahs] character is their complete truthfulness~ They do not know how to tell a lie. They are not suffi": ciently civilized· to be able to invent." 1-nlay remark .. in passing that. I· have heard other Anglo Indians assign lack of intelligence as the cause of this good trait-a not very respectable endeavour. to save the credit of the higher.· races. Considering that small children tell lies, and that lies are told, if not in speech .yet in acts, "by dogs, considerable hardihood is shown in ascribing the truthful ness of these and kindred peoples. to stupidity. In his Highlands of Oentral India, Forsyth ,vrites:" The aborigine is the most. truthful of beings, and rarely denies either a money obligation or a crime really chargeable against him." Describing the R:ilnosis, Sinclair alleges that"1'hey are as great liars as the most civilized races, differing in this from the Hill tribes proper, and from the ParWarlS, of whom I once knew a Brahman to say: 'The Kunabis, if they have made a promise, will keep it, but a l\1~ahar [Parwari] is such a fool that he will tell the truth without any reason at all.'"

.A.ndthis opinion expressed by the Brahman, well illustrates the way in which their more civilized neighbours corrupt these veracious aborigines; for while Sherwill,· writing of another tribe, says -" The truth is by a Sonthal held sacred, offering in this respect a bright exanlple to . their 406 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. lying neighbours the Bengalis," it is remarked 0:£ them by Man that" Evil comm unications are exercising their baneful influences over them, and soon, I fear, the proverbial veracity of the Sonthal will cease to become a by-word." In The Principles if Sociology, vol. ii, §§ 43'7 and 574, I gave the names of others of these Indian hill-tribes noted for veracity-the Bodo and Dhil1uUs, the Carnatic abori gines, the Todas, the Hos; and here I rnay add one more, the Puluyans, whose refuge is "hen1111ed in on all sides by mountains, \voods, back"raters, swamps, and the sea," and who "are sornetinles distinguished by a rare character for truth and honour, which their superiors in the caste scale might well emulate." So too is it in a neighbouring land, Ceylon. Wood-Veddahs are described as " proverbially truth ful and honest." From other regions there comes kindred evidence. Of SOITIe Northern Asiatic peoples, who are ap parently without any organization for offence or defence, we read :,.-" To the credit of the Ostiaks and Sanloiedes it must be said, that they are eminently distinguished for in tegrity and truthfulness."

But novv we have to note facts which rnake us pause. There are instances of truthfulness an10ng peoples who are but partially peaceful, and alTIOng others who are any thing but peaceful. Though characterized as " lnild, quiet, and timid," the Hottentots have not infrequent wars about territories; and yet, in agreement ·with Barrow, Kolben saysThe Word of a Hottentot "is sacred: and there is hardly any Thing upon Earth they look upon as a fouler Crime than breach of Engagement." ~Iorgan, writing of the Iroquois, states that "the love of truth was another marked trait of the Indian character." And yet, though the Iroquois league \vas formed avowedly for the preservation of peace, and achieved this end in respect of its component nations, these nations carried on hostilities with their·· neighbours. The Patagonian tribes VERACITY. 407 have frequent fights with one another, as well as with the aggressiv~. Spaniards; and yet Snow says-" A lie with them is held in detestation." The Khonds, too, who believe that truthfulness is one of the most sacred duties hnposed by the gods, have "sanguinary contlicts" bet","'een tribes respecting their lands. And of the Kolis, inhabiting the highlands of the Dekhan, w'e read that though "nlanly, simpIe, and truthful," they are "great plunderers" and guilty of " unrelenting cruelty."

What is there in common between these truthful and pa cHic tribes and these truthful tribes which are more or less warlike ~ The COlnnlon trait· is that they are not subject to coercive rule. That this is so with tribes which are peace ful, I have shown elsewhere \ (Principle8 of Sociology, ii, §§ 573-4); and here we come upon the significant fact that it is so, too, with truthful tribes which are not peaceful. The Hottentots are governed by an assembly deciding by a majority, and the head Inen have hut little authority. The Iroquois were under the control of a council of fifty elected sacheln~, 'who could be deposed by their tribes;' and military expeditions, led, by chiefs chosen for merit, were left to private enterprise and vo1u~tary service. .Among the Patagonians there. was but feeble government: followers deserting their chiefs if dissatisfied. Writing of the Khonds' " system of society" Macphe.rson says-" The spirit of equal ity pervades its whole constitution, society is governed by the nloral influence of its natural heads alone; to the entire ex clusion of the principle of coercive authority."

§ 160. In the remarks of sundry travellers, we find evi dence that it is the presence or absence of despotic rule which leads to prevalent falsehood or prevalent truth. . Reference to the Report8 on the Di8covery if Peru of . Xeres and Pizarro (pp. 68-9, 85-6, 114-120), makes it manifest that the general untruthfulness described was due to the intimidation the Indians were subject to. So, too, respect408 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. ing the Mexicans, the Franciscan testimony was-" They are liars, but to those who treat them well they speak the truth readily." A clear conception of the relation between mendacity and fear was given to Livingstone by his experi ences. Speaking of the falsehood of the East Africans he says"But great as this failing is among the free,.it is much more annoying among the slaves.. One can scarcely induce a slave to translate anything truly: he is so intent on thinking of what will please."

And he further remarks that "untruthfulness is a sort of refuge for the weak and oppressed." A glance over civilized communities at once furnishes verification. Of European .peoples, those subject to the most absolute rule, running down from their autocrat through all grades, are the Russians; and their extreme untruthfulness is notorious. Among the Egyptians, long subject to a despotism administered by despotic officials, a man prides himself· on successful lying, and will even ascribe a defect in his work to failure in deceiving sorne one. Then we have the case of the Hindus, who, in their early days irresponsibly governed, afterwards subject for a long period to the brutal rule of the JVIahometans,and since that time to the scarcely-less brutal rule of th~ Ohristians, are so utterly untruthful that oaths in Oourts of Justice are of no avail, and lying is confessed to without shame. Histories tell like tales of a mendacity which, beginning ,vith the ruled, infects the rulers. Writing of the later feudal period in France, ~Iichelet says :--" It is curious to trace froll1 year to year the lies and tergiversations of the royal false coiner"; but nowadays political deceptions in France, though still practised, are nothing like so gross. N or has it been other wise among ourselves. If ,vith the "universal and loath some treachery of 'which every statesman of every party 'was continually guilty," during Elizabeth's reign, 'while rnonarch ical power was still but little qualified, we contrast the ve racity of statesmen in recent days, we see a kindred instance VERACITY. 409 of the relations between the untruthfulness which accom panies. tyranny and the truthfulness which arises along with increase of liberty.

Hence such connexions as we trace between mendacity and a life of external enluity, and between veracity and a life of internal amity, are not due to any direct relations between violence and lying and bet\veen peacefulness and truth-telling; but. are due to the coercive social structure which chronic external· enmity develops, and to the non-coercive social structure developed by a life of internal amity. To which it /should be added that under the one set of conditions there is little or no ethical, or rather pro-ethical, reprobation of. lying; while u:ndel' the other set of conditions the pro-ethical reprobation of lying, and in. considerable measure the· ethical reprobation, becoIlle strong.

CHAPTERX. OBEDIENCE, § 161. Under the one name" obedience" are grouped two kinds of conduct, which have widely different sanctions: the one sanction being permanent and the other temporary. Filia} obedience and political obedience being thus bracketed, the idea of virtuousness is associated with both; and almost everyone thinks that a subn1ission which is praiseworthy in the one case, is praiseworthy in the other also. Here we have to recognize the truth that while due subor dination of child to parent originates in a permanent order of Nature, and is unconditionally good, the subordination of citizen to government is appropriate to a process which is transitional, and is but conditionally good. It is true that in societies which have had a genesis of the kind erroneously supposed by Sir Henry Maine to be universal, the two kinds of obedience have a common root: the patriarchal group grows out of the falnily, and, by insensible steps, the subjection of children to parents passes into the subjection of adult sons to their father, and the subjection of falnily-groups to the father of the father or patriarch. It is true, also, that by union of many patriarchal groups there is produced an organization in which a supreme patriarch is the political head. But in developed societies, such as those of lIlodern days, these prilniti ve' relationships have \vholly disappeared, and the two kinds of obedience have become quite distinet. N evertheOBEDIENOE. 411 less, being in large measure prompted by the same senti ment, the two comillonly vary together.

In contemplating the facts, we will first take those which concern the subordination of child to father, and then those which concern the subordination of citizen to governlnent. § 162. The earliest social stages are characterized not only by absence of chiefs, and therefore absence of the sentiment which causes political submission, but they are often char acterized by such slnall sublnission of sons as renders the human family-group near akin to the brutal family-group-a group in which parental responsibility on the one side, and filial subjection. on the other, soon cease. 'rhe American races yield instances. The Araucanians "never punish their male children, considering chastisement degrading, and calculated to render the future man pusil lanirnous and unfit for the duties of a warrior." Among the Ara waks affection seeins to prompt this lenient treatment: a father "will bear any insult or inconvenience from his child tamely, rather than administer personal correction."

And then of a Dakota boy we read that" At ten or twelV(', he openly rebels.against all domestic rule, and does not hesitate to strike his father: the parent then goes off rubbing his hurt, apd boasting to his neighbours of the brave boy whom he has begotten." Some old-"rorld races supply kindred illustrations. 9f the East Africans, Burton says :-" When childhood is past, the father and son becoine natural enemies, after the manner of 'wild beasts." So, too, when, writing about the Bedouin character, and cOlnmenting on "the daily quarrels between parents and children," Burckhardt tells us that" instead of teaching the boy civil manners, the father desires him to beat and pelt the strangers who come to the tent," to cultivate his high spirit: adding elsewhere that"The young man, as soon as it'is in his power, emancipates himself from the father's authority . . . whenever he can become master of a tent himself 412 THE INDUOTIONS OF ETHIOS • . . • he listens to no advice, nor obeys any earthly.command but that of his own will."

A.ssociated with insubordination to parents, we sornetimes have cruelty shown to them in age. A Ohippewayan old luan "is neglected, and treated ",~ith great disrespect, even by his own children;" and the Kamtschadales "did not even consider it a violation of filial duty to kill them [their parents] when-they became burdensome." Towards mothers, ruore especially, is disregard shown: their relatively low position as slaves to men, prompting contempt for them. By the Dakotail "the son is taught to make his rnother toil for him." In Fiji "one of the first lessons taught the infant is to strike its mother, a neglect of which would beget a fear lest the child should grow up to be a coward." When a young IIottentot-has beenadnlitted into the society of InenHe " may insult" his mother" when he will with Impunity. He may cudgel her, if he pleases, only for his Humour, without any danger of being called to an Account for it." Such actions are" esteemed as Tokens of a ManlV Temper and Bravery." • Concerning the Zulu boys Thompson writes:~ "It is a melancholy fact, that when they have arrived at a very early age, should their mothers attempt to chas tise them, such is the law, that these lads are at the moment allowed to kill their mothers."

And Mason says of the Karensthat"Occasionally, when the mother gives annoyance to her children by reproving them; one will say: 'My mother talks excessively. I shall not be happy till she dies. I will sell her, though I do not get more than a gong or five rupees for her.' And he sells her." So far as these instances go, they associate lack of obedience of children to parents with a low type· of social organization. This, however, is not a uniform relation, as we see in the case of. the Esquimaux, arnong whom "the affection of the parents for. their children is very great, and disobedience on the part of the latter is rare. The parents never inflict physical chastisement upon the children." The fact would appear to be that in the lowest social groups, we may have either filial obedience or filial disobedience; but OBEDIENCE. 413 that if the groups are o£kindswhich lead lives o£antagonism, then, in the absence·of filial .obedience, there· does not arise that cohesion required for social organizati?u.

§ 163. This is implied by the converse connexion which we see displayed among various types of filen. If, with the wandering Sernites above named, we contrast the Semites who, though· at first wandering, became.·settled and politically-organized, we see little filial subordination .in the one and much in the other. Among the Hebrews the head of the family exercised capital jurisdiction (Genesis xxxviii. 24). In the decalogue (Exodus xx. 12) honouring parents COUles next to obeying God.. In Leviti(yUtsxx. 9, punisllluent is threatened for cursing father orluother, just as it is for blasphemy; and in IJeuterronomyxxi. 1~21, it is ordered that a rebellious. son shall be· publicly· stoned to death. Of another branch of the· race,which assumed the coercive type of social organization-.-the .Assyrians-w~e read·that" A father was supreme in -his household . •. If the son or daughter dis owned his father he was. sold as a slave, and if he -disowned his mother he was outlawed." .

By the Hindus, filial piety, vividly shown by sacrifices of food to deceased father,. grandfather, great-grandfather, &c., ,vas in early times vividly shown, too, during life. "The father of Nakiketas had offered what is called an All-sacrifice, which requires a manto give away all that he possesses. His son, hearing of his father's vow, asks him, whether he does or does not lllean to fulfil his vow withOllt reserve. At first the father hesitates; at last, becoming angry, he says: 'Yes, I shall give thee also unto death.' The father, having once said so, was bound to fulfil his vow, and to sacrifice his son to death. The son·is quite· willing to go, in order to redeem his father's rash promise." No less conspicuously has this connexion been exhibited in China, where it has continued from the earliest recorded days down to our own. With the established worship of ancestors, by whom are 'supposed to be consumed the periodical offerings of food, &c., made to theIn, there has' all along gone the absolute subordination· ofchiIdrell 414 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS.

to Iiving parents. Says Confucius-" Filial piety and fraternal submission I-are they not the root of all benevolent actions ~ " An old Chinese saying runs-" Among the hundred virtues, filial piety is the chief;" and a sacred edict of 1670 says filial piety is "the first and greatest of the cOlnmandments in Ohina." It was the same in another large society of which the continuity goes back beyond our chronology: I ITlean that of the Egyptians. According to Ptah-hotep, "the secret of moral duty is obedience; filial obedience is its root." N or was it other\vise with the society 'which, beginning as a slnall cluster of clans, spread and. spread till it· over-ran all Europe, 'wHh parts of Asia and Africa. The subjection of sons to fathers in early Roman days, and long afterw'ards, was absolute-less qualified indeed, than in China; for though down to the present tirne Chinese parents have the right of infanticide, and may sell their children as servants or slaves; and though, by implica tion, adult sons can do nothing without parental approval, or own property not subject to parental confiscation; yet ,ve do not read that the Chinese have exercised the power of life and death over adult children, as did the Romans. Of course with the establishment of this absolute parental power ,vent the assumption that filial submission should be absolute. And if, throughout subsequent European history, a father's authority and a child's subjection have been less extrelue; yet, up to cOluparatively nlodern times, they have been very decided.

By various types of tnen we are thus shown that filial obedience has constantly accompanied social growth and con solidation: if not throughout, yet during its earlier stages. , § 164. The height to which political obedience rises is determined, in chief nleasure, by the existence of favourable conditions. If the physical characters of the habitat are such as to negative large aggregations of filen-as they do in wide tracts \vhich are barren, leading to nOlnadic life, or as OBEDIENCE. 415 they do where mountain chains cut off group from group -the tendency seems rather to be for the filial sentiment to develop no further than the patriarchal; and along with this restrict~d growth there may go resistance to a wider rule. The Khonds exempHfy this :- ) " For the head of a family all the tribes have the greatest respect, it being a proverb with them that' A man's father is his God on earth.' The so cial organization among thein is indeed strictly patriarchal, the father of a family being its absolute ruler in every case. Disobedience to him under any circumstances is regarded as a crime."

This trait is possessed by another mountain people; the Bhils, who, along with a certain amount of submission to general .chiefs, show an extreme allegiance to their family-chiefs or patriarchs, called Turwees. " So wonderful is the influence of the chief over this infatuated people, that in no situation, however desperate, can they be induced to betray him." "To kill another when their Turwee desires, or to suffer death themselves, appear to them equally a matter of indifference." From filial obedience, thus widening in range, Inay in time develop a settled political obedience, where physical circumstances favour it; and especially where there arises combined action in war. Pallas tells us that the Kalmucks manifest much" attachment towards their legitimate rulers"; and that they honour and obey their parents. Among the Sgaus, a division of the Karens (apparently unlike the other divisions)-"

"The elders say: '0 children and grandchildren! respect aolld reverence your mother and father.' . . . '0, children and grandchildren! obey the orders of kings, for kings in former times obeyed the commands of God." But it is in the larger societies of prirnitive types that the two kinds of obedience are most closely associated. In China where, as before shown, filial obedience is extreme, we see them jointly insisted upon; as implied by Tsze-hea when he lauded a man" if, in serving his parents, he can exert his utmost strength, if, in serving his prince, he can devote his life;" and as implied in the conduct of Confu cius, already quoted as enjoining filial obedience, who when 28 416 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. . " passing the vacant place of the prince, his countenance ap peared to change, and his legs to bend under him, and his ~ words caIne as if he hardly had breath to utter them." After recognizing in Ohina occasional dissent, as of lJIencius, ,vho in one place suggests rebellion, we may pass to Persia.

Here, too, there were solitary expressions of independence, as by the Darwesh who said that" kings are for the pro tection of their ~ubjects, not subjects for the service of kings;" but, in general, political obedience was urged, for reasons of prudence if for no other. One of their vazirs said :"Opinions differing from the king, to have 'Tis your own hands in your own blood to lave. Should he affirm the day to be the night, Say you behold the moon and Pleiads' light." And Sadi enjoins the attitude of submission as a part of duty: instance the sentence :""\Vhosoever possesseth the qualities of righteousness placeth his head on the threshold of obedience." . Alnong the Ancient Indians, instanced above as carrying to an extreme the submission of son to father, political sub~ mission was strongly insisted on; as in the Oode of Manu, where it is held wrong to treat even a child-king" as if he ",'"ere a filortal; he is a great divinity in· human shape."

Then in Egypt, along vdth that.exhortation to obey parents quoted from Ptah-llotep, may be named his approval of wider obedience :-" If thou abasestthyself in obeying a superior, thy conduct is entirely good before God." OOln. menting on the grovelling prostrations represented in their sculptures and paintings, Duncker remarks that the Egyp tians "worshipped their kings as the deities of the land." Indeed, in the inscriptions on the tombs of officials, the deeds inlplying such worship are specified as pro()fs of their virtue. N or was it otherwise with the Hebrews. While, in their decalogue, religious obedience and filial obedience are closely coupled, there was elsewhere joined with these politi cal obedience; as in Proverb8 xvi. 10, where it is said :-"A OBEDIENCE. 4:17 divine sentence is in the lips of the king;· his lllouth trans .. gresseth not." Throughout European history a like relationship is trace able. Along with. the theory and practice of absolute subjection of child to parent, there went the theory and practice of absolute subjection to the chief man of the group-now to the local head, while the groups were small and incoherent, and now to the central head, when they , became large and consolidated. Less definite forms of rule having been replaced by feudalism, there first came fealty to the feudal lord, and then, with advancing political inte gration, there came loyalty to the king. In the old French epic the one inexpiable critne is the treason of a vassal; the noblest virtue is a vassal's fidelity. In our o\vn coun try the extreme loyalty of the highlanders to the chiefs of their clans, and subsequently to the Stuarts as their kings, exemplifies the dominance of the sentiInent; while the English nobility have, among other ways of showing this feeling, shown it in sundry of their mottoes; as instance Paulet and others, "Aimez loyaulte;" Earl Grey and others, ~'De bon vouloir servir Ie roy;" Earl of Lindsay, . "Loyalty binds me;" Baron Mowbray, "I will be loyal during my life;" Earl of Rosse, "For God and the King; "

Adair, "Loyal to the death." And here let us note how the frequency with which loyalty is thus expressed as the highest of sentiments, reminds us of the frequency with whic]1 aggressiveness has been, by other nobles, chosen as the sentiment Jnost worthy to be professed. § 165. The significance of this association lies in the fact that they. are both accompanitnents of chronic militancy. When we remember that 'first of all the chief, and in later days the king, and later still the emperor, is primarily the supreme commander; and that his headship in peace is but / a sequence of· his headship in war; it is clear that at the outset political obedience is identical with military obedience' J 418 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. Further, it needs but to consider that for success in war ab solute subordination to the conlmander-in-chief is essential, ' and that absolute subordination to him as king is a concomi tant, to see that while the Inilitancy remains active, the two remain one.

Additional evidence of this relationship is yielded by a few cases in which political obedience is carried to an extreme exceeding obedience of all other kinds. The first to be named is afforded by a people who have passed away-the warlike and cannibal Mexicans, who invaded their neighbours to get victirns to satisfy their hungry gods. Montezuma II., says Herrera, "caused himself to be so highly respected, that it almost came to be adoration. No commoner was to look him in the face, and if one did, he died for it." According to Peter of Ghent, "the worst feature in the character of the Indians is their submissive ness;" and then Herrera, illustrating their loyalty, names a man who would not betray his lord, but rather than do so allowed himself to be "torn pie"ce-Ineal" by dogs. Among existing peoples, a striking example is furnished by the cannibal Fijians. These ferocious savages, revelling in ,val' and destruction, are described by Erskine as intensely loyal.

So obedient are they to their chiefs, says Jackson, that they have been known to eat pumice-stone ,vhen comlnanded to do so; and Williams says that a condemned nlan stands unbound to be killed, himself declaring-" Whatever the king says, must be done." Of the bloody Dahomans, too, with their Amazon army, we are told by one traveller that " before the king all are slaves alike," and by another that " they reverence hiJn with a lnixture of love and fear, little short of adoration:" "parents are held to have no right or clahn to their children, who, like everything else, belong to the king." So that political subordination submerges all other kinds of subordination. N or is it only by these extreme cases, and by the extreme converse cases, that this connexion is shown. It is shown OBEDIENCE. 419 . also by the intermediate cases: instance the various peoples of Europe. In Russia militancy and its appliances subor dinate the entire national life; and among Europeans the Russians display the most abject obedience: gaining, there by, the applause of ~r. Oarlyle. Loyal to the point of wor ship, they submit unresistingly to the dictation of all State officials down to the lowest. On the other hand, we are our selves the people among whom nlilitancy and its appliances occupy the smallest space in the national life, and among whonl there is least political subjection. The Government has COlne to be a servant instead of a master. Citizens se verely criticize their princes; discuss the propriety of abol ishing onedi vision of·the legislature ; and expel from power ministers who do not please them.

Nor is it otherwise "\vhen we compare earlier and later stages of the saIne nation. By these, too, we are shown that as fast as the life of internal anlity outgrows the life of external enmity, the sentiment of obedience declines. Though submissive loyality to the living German Kaiser is great, yet it is not so great as was the submissive loyalty to his conquering ancestor, Frederick II., when Forster wrote --" What chiefly disgusted Ine was the deification of the king." If, notwithstanding the nominally free form of their government, the mass of the French people let their liberties be trampled upon to an extent which the English delegates to a Trades-1Jnion Congress in Paris said is "a disgrace to, and an anomaly in,.a Republican nation;" yet their ,villing subordination is not so great as it was at the time when war had raised the French monarchy to its zenith. In our o,vncase, too, while there is a marked contrast between the amount of war, internaJ and external, in early days, and the complete internal peace, joined with long external peace, w'hich recent times have known; there is a contrast no less marked between the great loyalty shown in early days and the moderate loyalty, largely 1l0Iuinal, shown at present. / 420 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS.

It remains only to add that, along with the decline of political subordination there has gone a decline of filial subordination. The harsh rule of parents and humble submission of children in past centuries, have, in our times, been exchanged for a very ITloderate exercise of parental authority and a filial subjection which, far less conspicuous during youth than it used to be, almost ceases when the age for lnarriage arrives. § 166. Thus, akin though they are in the sentiment prompting them, and in the main varying together, the two kinds of obedience, filial and political, have different sanctions. The one is bound up with the laws of life, while the other is dependent on the needs of the social state, and changes as they change. For the obedience of child to parent there is the warrant arising from relatively-imperfect development, and there is the "Tarrant arising from the obligation to Inake some return for benefits received. These are obviously perma nent; and though, with the advance froin lower to higher types of man and society, filial subjection decreases, yet some degree of it must ever remain, and nlust continue to be prolnpted by an ethical sentilnent properly so-called.

On the other hand, political obedience, non-existent in groups of primitive men, COITleS into existence during the -political integrations effected by war-during the growth and organization of large societies formed by successive con quests. The development of political obedience in such soci eties is a necessity; since, without it, there cannot be carried on the combined actions by which subjugations and consoli dations are brought abO\lt. The implication is that the sentiment of political obedience, . having but a transitional function, Inust decrease in amount as the function decreases in needfulness. Along with decline Qf that system of 8tatu8 characterizing the militant type of organization, and rise of that system of contract charac..; OBEDIENCE. 421 terizing the industrial type, the need for subjection becomes gradually less. The change of sentiment accompanying this change froln compulsory cooperation to voluntary cooperation, while it modifies the relations of citizens to one another, modifies also their relations to their govern ment: to this the same degree of obedience is neither required nor felt. HUlnble subnlission ceases to be a virtue; and in place of it there comes the virtue of independence.

Decline of political obedience and waning belief in the duty of it, go along with .increasing subordination to ethical principles, a clearer recognition of the supremacy of these, and a determination to abide by them rather than by legisla tive dictates. J\'Iore and lllore the pro-ethical sentiments prompting obedience to government, come into conflict with the ethical sentiment prompting obedience to conscience. More and more this last causes unconformity to laV\rs which are at variance with equity. And lnore and more it com~s to be felt that legal coercion is warranted only in so far as law is an enforcer of justice. That political obedience is thus a purely transitional virtue, cannot be perceived while the need for political sub Qrdination remains great; and while it remains great the un limited authority of the ruling-power (if not a man then a majority) will continue to be asserted. But if from past changes weare to infer futu·re changes, we may conclude that in an advanced state, the sphere of political 0 bedience will have cOlnparatively narrow limits; and that beyond those lirnits the submission of citizen to government will no more be regarded as meritorious than is now the cringing of a slave to a master.

CHAPTER XI. INDUSTRY. § 167. If we are to understand the origins and variations of the sentiments, ethical and pro-ethical, which have been entertained in different times and places concerning indus try and the absence of industry, we nlust first note certain fundamental distinctions between classes of human activities, and between their relations to the social state. Industry, as we now understand it, scarcely exists among priInitive men-scarcely, indeed, can exist before the pastoral and agricultural states have been established. Living on wild products, savages of early types have to expend their energies primarily in gathering and catching these: the obtainment of some, like fruits and roots, being easy and safe, and the obtainment of others, such as beasts of 'which some are swift and some are large, being difficult and dangerous. After these the remaining activities, more diffi cult and dangerous than those the chase implies, are implied by warfare with fellow-men. Hence the occupations of the utterly uncivilized may be·roughly divided into those which demand strength, courage, and skill, in large measure, and those which demand them in but small Ineasure or not at all. And since in most cases the preservation of the tribe is Inainly determined by its success in war and the chase, it results that the strength, courage, or skill shown in these, come to be honoured both for themselves and for their value INDUSTRY. 423 to the tribe. Conversely,· since the digging up of roots, the gathering of wild fruits, and the collecting of shell-fish, do not call for strength, courage, and skill, and do not conspicu ously further tribal preservation, _these occupations come to be little honoured or relatively despised. .An implication strengthens the contrast. While the stronger sex is called on to devote itself to the one, the other is left to the weaker sex: ,sometimes aided by conquered men, or slaves. Hence arises a further reason why, in primitive societies, honour is given to the predatory activities while the peaceful activities are held in dishonour. Industry, therefore, or that which at first represents it, is not unnaturally condemned by the pro ethical sentiment.

The only kinds of activity to be classed as industrial which the warriors of the tribe may enter upon, are those necessitated by the making of weapons and the erection of wigwams or huts: the one, closely associated with war and the chase, demanding also the exercise of skill; and the other demanding both skill and strength-not the moderate strength shown in monotonous labour, but the great strength which has to be suddenly exerted. And these apparent ex ceptions furnish a verification; for they further show that the occupations held in contempt are those which, demanding relatively little power, physical or intellectual, can be carried on by the inferior. The contrast thus initiated between the sentiments with which these classes of occupations are regarded, has persisted with but small, though increasing, qualification, throughout the course of human progress; and it has thus persisted because the causes have in the main persisted. While the self-preservation of societies has most conspicuously de pended on the activities implied by successful war, such ~ activities have been held in honour; and, by implicati9n, industrial activities have been held contemptible. Only dur ing recent times-only no,v that national welfare is becom ing Inore and more dependent on superior powers of produc424 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS.

tion, and such superior powers of production are beconling more and more dependent .on the higher nlental faculties, are other occupations than militant ones rising into respecta 'bility; while simultaneously respectability is being acknowl edged in the accompanying capacity for persistent and Inonotonous application. Carrying this clue with us, we shall be able now to under stand better the ethics of labour, as changing from people to people and from age to age. § 168. The North American Indians furnish the simplest and clearest illustrations of predatory habits and associated sentiments. Schoolcraft says of the Chippewas :"They have regarded the use of the bow and arrow, the war-club and spea~, as the noblest employments of man.... To hunt well and to fight well. are the first and the last themes of their hopes and praises of the liv ing and the dead. . . . They have ever looked upon agricultural and me chanicallabors as degrading."

Of the Snake Indian, Levvis and Clarke "Trites:-" He would consider himself degraded by being compelled to walk any distance." Of kindred nature is Burton's account of the Dakotas :" The warrior, considering the chase as an ample share of the labour-curse, 'is so lazy that he will not rise to saddle or unsaddle his pony. . . . Like a wild beast he cannot be broken to work: he would rather die than employ himself in honest industry." By the Inore civilized Iroquois, too, the primitive feeling was displayed-" The ,varrior despised the toil of husbandry, and held aU labour beneath him.:' Even the unwarlike Esqui maux is said to exhibit a like aversion. "He hunts and fishes, but having brought his booty to land troubles himself no further about it; for it would be' a stigma on his character, if he so much as drew a seal out of the water." There being, perhaps, for this usage a plea like that possessed by the usage of the Chippewayans, among whom, "when the men kill any large beast, the women are always sent to bring it to the tent" -the plea, namely, that the chase, whether on sea or on land, is extrelnely exhausting.

INDUSTRY. 425 Passing to South America we meet with facts of kindred meaning. Men of the Guiana tribes take no share in industry, save in making clearance for the growing of food: each lies "indolently in his hammock until necessitated to fish, or use the more violent exercise of the chase, to provide for the wants of his family." And then of the Araucanialls, warlike but agricultural (apparently because there is but little scope for the chase), we are told that "the 'lord and master' does little but eat, sleep, and ride about." In the wording of this last statement, as by .implication in the other statements, we may see that in early stages the egoism of 1nen, unqualified by the altruism which amicable social intercourse generates, leads them to devolve on women all exertions which, unaccornpanied by the pleasures of achievement, are monotonous and wearisome. "The lord and master" does what he likes; and he likes to lllake the woman (or his WOlnan'as the case may be) do .all the dull and hard work. Proofs of this are multitudi nous. America furnishes· instances in the accounts of the Chippewayans, Creeks, Tupis, Patagonians; as witness these extracts :...:." This labourious task [dragging the sledges] falls mostly heavily on the women; nothing can more shock the feelings of a' person, accustomed to civilized life, than to witness the state of their degradation. H '" ~rhe women perform all the ]~bour, both in the house and field, and are, in fact, but slaves to the men."

"When they removed, the women were the beasts of burthen, and carried the hammocks, pots, wooden pestles and mortars, and all their other household stock." The lives of the Patagonian women are. (, one continued scene of labour •... They do everything, except hunting and fighting." Here, again, are testimonies given by travellers in Africa concerning the Hottentots, Bechuanas, Kaffirs, Ashantis, ,people of Fernando Po and the Lower Niger. The wife" is doomed to all the toil of getting and dressing provisions for" her husband. "herself and children ..... and to all the care and 'drudgery within doors, with a share of the fatigue in tending the cattle." "The women build the houses; plant and reap the corn; fetch water 426 THE INDUOTIONS OF ETHIOS. and fuel; and cook the food. It is very rarely that the men are seen helping the women, even in the most laborious work." "Besides her domestic duties, the women has to perform all the hard work; she is her husband's ox, as a Kaftr once said to me,-she has been bought, he argued, and must therefore labour."

"It may he remarked, that the weightiest duties generally devolve upon the wife, who is to be found 'grinding at the mill,' transacting busintjss in the market, or cultivating the plantation." "The females in Fernando Po have a fair portion of work assigned to them, such as planting and collecting the yam . . . but they are certainly treated with greater consideration and kindness than in any part of Africa we visited." On the lower Niger, "women are commonly employed in the petty retaH trade about the country; they also do a great deal of hard work, especially in the cultivation of the land." Of 'which extracts it may be remarked that the latter ones, which concern races of more advanced kinds, carrying on more settled industries, show that 'with theln the slavery of women is less pronounced. Beyond that dis11onou.rableness1vhich, in early stages, attaches to labour because it can be performed by women, who in most cases are incapable, or considered to be inca pable, of war and the chase; there is the further dishonour ableness which attaches to it because, as above pointed out, it is carried on also by conquered men or slaves-by men, that is, proved in one or other way to be inferior. In very early stages we sometimes find slaves thus used for the non-pre datory occupations which their lnasters find irksoITle. Even of the Ohinooks we read that "slaves do all the laborious work;" and they are often associated "with the women in this function. Says Andersson :"The Damaras are idle creatures. What is not done by the women is left to the slaves, who are either the descendants of impoverished mem bers of their own tribe or. . . captured Bushmen."

Describing the people of ErnbOluma on the Congo, Tuckey writes :"The cultivation of the ground is entirely the business of slaves and women, the King's daughter's and princes' wives being constantly thus employed." Burton tells us that in Dahomey" agriculture is despised, because slaves are employed in it;" but a great deal of it INDUSTRY. 427 seelns to be done by wonlen. And similarly of the Mishmees in Asia, we· read that "the women and sTaves do all the cultivation." Naturally, then, and, indeed, we may say necessarily, there gro,vs up in these early stages a profound prejudice against labour-a pro-ethical sentiment condemnatory of it. How this pro-ethical sentiment, having the sanction of ancestral usages, assumes this or that special character according to the habits which the environment determines, we are vari ously shown. Thus we read that~ The Bushmen "are sworn enemies to the pastoral life. Some of their maxims are, to live on hunting and plunder."

"The genuine Arabs disdain husbandry, as an employment by which they would be degraded." In "\vhich examples,as in many already given, we may see how a mode of life long pursued, determines a congruous set of feelings and ideas. And the strength of the prejudices which maintain inherited customs of this class, is shown by sundry anomalous cases. Livingstone tells us of the East Africans that"Where there 'are cattle, the women till the land, plant the corn, and build the huts. 1'he men stay at home to sew, spin, weave, and talk, and milk the cows." Still more strange is the settled division of labour between the sexes in Abyssinia. According to Bruce"It is infamy for a man to go to market to buy anything. He cannot carry water or bake bread; but he must wash the clothes belonging to both sexes, and, in this function, the women cannot, help him." In Cieza's account of certain ancient Peruvians, the Cafiaris, we find a kindred system :The women" are great labourers, for it is they who dig the land, sow the crops, and reap the harvests, while their husbands remain in the houses sewing and weaving, adorning their clothes, and performing other feminine offices. . . . Some Indians say that this arises from the dearth of men and the great abundance of women."

Possibly such anomalies as these have arisen in cases where surrounding conditions, causing decrease of predatory ac428 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. tivities while the labours of women continued to suffice for purposes of production, left the men to lead idle lives or lives filled with easy occupations. ,Ve may safely infer that among barbarous peoples, the men did not take to hard and monotonous labour until they were obliged. § 169. But where chronic militancy did not effectually keep down population, increase of it made peremptory the devotion of lllen to food-production; and with this change in social life there was initiated a change in the pro-ethical sentiments respecting labour. The Khonds furnish an ex ample. They" consider it beneath their dignity to barter or traffic, and ..• regard as base and plebeian all who are not either warriors or tillers of the soil." So of the J avans we are told that"They have a contempt for trade, and those of higher rank esteem it disgraceful to be engaged in it; but the common people are ever ready to engage in the labours ,of agriculture, and the chiefs to honour and encour age agricultural industry/' From various sources we learn that the Germanic tribes, both in their original habitats and in those ,vhich they usurped, became reconciled to husbandry as an alternative to hunting and marauding:. doubtless because by no other occupation could adequate sustenance be obtained.

Concerning these and kindred transitional states, two pass ing remarks may be ventured. One is that since industry, chiefly agricultural, is at first carried on by slaves and WOlnen, working under authority, it results that when freemen are forced by want of food to labour, they have a strong preju dice against labouring for others, that is, labouring for hire; since working under authority by contract, too much resembles working under authority by compulsion. While Schomburgk characterizes the Caribs as the most industrious race in Guiana, he says that only the extremest lleed can induce a Carib so far to lower his dignity as to· work for INDUSTRY. 429 wages for a European. This feeling is shown with equal or greater strength by some peaceful peoples to wholn subordi ,nation is unfarniliar or unknown. Speaking of Sou.-th-East India, Lewin says :" Among the hill tribes labour callnot be hired; the people work each one for himself. In 1865, in this district, a road· had to be cut; but although fabulous wages were offered, the hill-population steadily refused to work." .

And still more decided is the aversion to working under orders shown by the otherwise industrious Sonthal"The Sonthal will take service with no one, he will perform no work except for himself or his family, and should any attempt be made to coerce him, he flies the country or penetrates into the thickest jungle, where un~ known andllnsought, he commences clearing a patch of ground and erect ing his log hut." The other remark is. that the scorn for trade which, as above shown, at first coexists with the honouring of agri culture, is possibly due to the fact that it was Qriginally carried on chiefly by unsettled classes, who were detached, untrustworthy members of a community in which most men had fixed positions. But the growth of trade slowly brought a changed estirnate. As, in hunting tribes, ~gricult ure, relatively unessential, was despised, but became respect able when it became an indispensible means to maintenance o£ life ;so trade, at .first relatively unessential (since essential things were mostly made at home), similarly lacked the sanction of necessity and of ancestral custonl, but in cours~ of tinle, while growing intoilnportance, gradually ceased to excite that pro-ethical sentinlent whieh vents itself in contelnpt.

§ 170. With the growth of populous societies and the more and luoreiJnperati ve need for agriculture, the honour ableness of labour does not for long periods obtain recog nition, for the reasons indicated at the outset: it is car ried .on by slaves, or by serfs, or in later days by men 430 rfHE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. more or less inferior in body or mind. A strong associa tion in thought is thus establisheq; and the natural repug nance to work is enforced by the" belief that engagement in it is a confession of a low nature. Though, in the literatures of ancient civilized societies, we find the duty of labouring insisted on, it seems mostly to be the duty of subject men. The injunction contained in the Code of J\tIanu-" Daily perform thine own appointed work unweariedly," refers by implication to men under authority: "appointed" work implies a n1aster. So, too, according to the Book if the Dead (cxxv), the Egyptian, 'vhen questioned after death, had to declare-" I have not been idle," and, "I have not made delays, or dawdled." Froln the phras ing of the last sentence "ve 111ay fairly infer that the ·work diligently performed w·as work c0l11manded. Of the 1-1e brews the saIne may be concluded. Ren1elnbering that, being originally pastoral, they long continued to regard the care of cattle as relatively honourable (like the exist ing Arabs among WhOIIl, when the men are not raiding, their only fit occupation is herding); we may similarly gather that the obligation to work was mostly the obliga tion imposed on servants or slaves: slaves being usually the proper word. Though the third C0l11mandment applies to masters as well as to, servants, yet, even supposing the Conlmandments were indigenous, the fact that the life was still Inainly pastoral, implies that the work spoken of was pastoral work not n1anuallabour. It is true that in the legend of Adani's condemnation, the curse of labour is iD;lposed on all his descendants; but we have, in the ,first place, good reason for regarding this legend as of Babylonian origin, and we have, in the second place, the inference suggested by recent researches, that the Adami, a dark race, ·were slaves, and that the eating of the forbidden fruit reserved for the superior race, was a punishable trans gression; just as 'was, in ancient Peru, the 'eating of coca, similarly reserved for the Y nca class. So that possibly INDUSTRY.

among the Hebrews also, the duty of working was imposed on inferior men rather than on men as such. In Persian literature we do, indeed, meet with Inore distinct. recognition of the virtuousness of labour irrespective of conditions. Thus it is said:-" A. sower of seeds is as great in the eyes of Ormusd, as if he had given existence to a thousand creatures." And in The Parsees, by Dosabhoy Framjee, we read that " The Zoroastrian is taught by his religion to earn his bread by the sweat of his brow." § 171. The peoples of Europe from early days do'\vn to our; own, illustrate this relation between the kind of social activity and the prevailing senthnent about labour. We have first the evidence which the Greeks furnish. Plato, showing his feeling towards traders by saying that the legislator passes them over, while for agriculturists .he shows such respect as is iInplied by giving them laws, shows more fully in the Republic how degraded he holds to be all producers and distributors: comparing them to the basest parts of the indi vidual nature. Similar is· the belief ex pressed, and feeling manifested, by Aristotle, who says: "It is inlpossible for one who lives the life of a mechanic or hired servant to practice a life of virtue."

Nor has· it been otherwise •further West. In the Roman world, along with persistent and active militancy, there went an increasing degradation of the non-militant class-slaves and freedmen. And throughout "the dark ages," which collapse of the brutal civilization of Rome left behind, as well as throughout those ages during which perpet ually recurring wars at length established large and stable kingdolns, this contempt for industry, both bodily and mental, continued; so that not only unskilled labour and the skilled ·labour .of the craftsman, but also the intellectual labour of the educated man, were treated with contempt. Only in proportion as fighting ceased to be the exclusive business of life with aU but the subject classes, 29 432 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. and only as the subject . classes, shnultaneously growing larger,' gained a. larger share in the formation of opinion did the. honourableness of industry become in some measure recognized: any. praise of it previously given by the governing classes, being due to the consciousness that it conduced to their welfare.

In modern days, especially among ourselves and the Arnericans, the industrial part of society has so greatly outgrown the militant part, and has come to be so much l110re operative in fornling the sentilnents and ideas con cerning industry, that. these are almost reversed. Though unskilled labour is· still regarded with something like contenlpt, as implying inferiority of capacity· and of social position; .and though the labour of the artisan, more respected because of the higher mental power it. implies, is little respected because of its class associations; yet intellectual labour has in recent titnes acquired an honour able status. But the fact .chiefly to be. noted is that along ,vith the advance of industrialism towards social suprenlacy, there has arisen the ahnostuniversal· feeling that some kind of useful occupation is imperative. Con demnations of. the "idle ,rich" arenow-a-days uttered by the rich themselves.

It may be noted, however,. that· even still, among those "Tho represent the ancient regime-the military and naval officers-the old feeling survives; with the result that those among them who possess the highest culture-the medical officers, both military and naval, and the engineer officers-are regarded as standing on a lower level than the rest, and are treated with· less consideration by the authorities. § 172. Thus as in all the preceding chapters, so in this ehapter, we see that the ethical conceptions, or rather the pro-ethical conceptions, are determined by the forms of the social activities. Towards such activities as are most.

INDUSTRY. conspicuously conducive to the ,welfare :of the rsociety, sentiments of approbation are called forth, and conversely; the result being tpat the idea of right comes to be associated with. the ,presence of theln,and·. wrong .,.with the absence of them. Hence the general contrast sho'\vn from the earliest stages down to the latest, between the disgracefulness of labour in societies exclusively warlike, and the honourable ness of labour in peaceful societies, or in societies relatively peaceful. This contrast is significantly indicated by the contrast betw~een the ceremonies at the inauguration of a ruler. Among uncivilized militant peoples, in the formal act of lnaking or crowning a chief or king, weapons always figure: here he is raised on a shield above the shoulders of his followers, and there the sword is girded on or the spear handed to him. And since, in most cases, relatively peaceful societies have preserved in their traditions the ceremonies used in their exclusively militant days, it rarely happens that the inauguration of a ruler is free from .

symbols of this kind. But one significant case of freedom from them is supp!ed by that tribe in Africa, the Manansas, already named, who, driven by warlike tribes around into a hill-country, have devoted thenlselves to agriculture, and who say :-" We 'want not the blood of the beasts, much less do we thirst for the blood of men I" for among them, according to Holub, a new sovereign receives as tokens, some sand, stones, and a hammer, "symbolizing industry and labour." There is one remaining fact to be named and emphasized. Out of the pro-ethical sentiments which yield sanction to industry and make it honourable, there ~ventual1y emerges the ethical sentiment proper. This does not enjoin labour for its OWfi. sake, but enjoins it as implied by the duty of self-sustentation instead of sustentation by others. The virtue of work consists essentially in the performance of such actions· as suffice to meet the cost of maintaining 434 THE INDUCTIONS Olf ETHICS~ self and dependents and discharging social duties; while the disgracefulness of idleness essentially consists in the taking from the common stock the means of living, while doing nothing either to add to it or otherwise to further ' lnen's happiness.

CHAPTER XII. TEMPERANCE. § 173. Such ethical, or rather. pro-ethical, sentiments .. as attach to temperance, have primarily, like sundry of the associated pro-ethical sentiInents, religious origins. As sho,vn in The Principles of Sociology, § 140, the bearing of hunger becomes in many cases a virtue, because it is a sequence of leaving food for the ancestor, and, at a later stage, sacrificing food to the god. Where food is not abundant, relinquishments of it. involve either absolute fastings or stinted meals; and hence there arises an association in thought between n10deration in eating and a subordination which is either religious or quasi-religious. Possibly in some cases a kindred restraint is put on the drinking of liquors which are used as libations, since the quantities required for these also, restrict the quantities remaining for the sacrificers. If, as often happens, there is at every meal a throwing, aside of drink, as well as .:food, for the invisible beings around, it tends to become an hnplication that .. one who exceeds so far .as to become intoxicated, has disregarded these invisible beings, and is therefore to be blamed. It is true that, as we shall presently see, other ideas sometimes lead to· contrary beliefs . and sentiInents; but it· is possible that there may from this cause have originated the divine reprobation which is in some cases alleged.

Since the above paragraphs·were written, I have found 436 THE INDUOTIONS OF ETHIOS. clear proof that the suspicion they express is well founded. FrOln a people alnongwhom ancestor-worship, and the habitual sacrificing to ancestors, have been through all known ages zealously carried on, we get evidence that n1oderation in both food and drink, pushed even to asceticisnl, is a consequence of regard for the dead, to whom oblations are constantly made. Said Oonfucius: "He who aims to be a man of complete virtue, in his food does not seek to gratify his appetite." Here we have the virtue enunciated apart from its cause. But Confucius also said :-" I can find no flaw in the character of 1....-11. He·· used himself coarse food and drink, but displayed the utmost filial· piety towards the· spirits. His ordinary ·gar Inentswere poor, but he displayed the utlnost elegance· in his sacrificial cap and apron." Here we have the virtue presented in connexion with religious duty: the last being the cause, the· first the consequence.

Considered apart from supposed religious sanction, the virtue of temperance can of course have no other sanction than utility, as determined by experience. The observed beneficial effects of moderation and the observed detrimental effects of excess, form the bases for judgments, and the accompanying feelings. Rational ideas concerning temperance-especially temper ance in food-cannot be formed until we have glanced at those variations in the physiological requirements, entailed by variations in surrounding circumstances. § 174. What would al110ng ourselves be condemned as ,disgusting gluttony, is, under the· conditions to which certain raceso£' men are exposed, quite normal and indeed necessary. Where the habitat is such as at one time to supply very little food and at another time food in great abundance, survival depends on the ability to consume immense quantities "rhen the opportunities occur. A good instance is furnished by Sir George Grey's account TEMPERANCE. 43,7 of the orgies which follow the stranding of a whale in Australia.

"By and bye othernativesc~me>gaily trooping in from all quarters: by night they dance and sing, (:t;n<lbydaythey eat and sleep, and for days this revelry continues unchecked,until they at last fairly eat their way into the whale, and you seethem climbing in and about the stinking carcase choosing tit-bits ..... they remain by"tllecarcase for many days,rubbed from head to foot with stinking blubber, gorged to repletion wtth putrid meat . . .' When they at last quit their fea.st,they carry off as muchas they can stagger under." Living as the Australians do in a barren country, and often 'half' ·starved,·'thoseof· their' number 'who could not fnlI,Y' "utilize &n occasion like this would be the ,first to die duringtilnes of famine. Proof that this is the true inter pretatio Il, is furnished by, Christison'~. account ofa tribe of central Queensland. They. are great eaters "only at first; but when they h~ve, become used to rations and regular meals,including., bread or damper, they" are very mode:r:ate eaters, perhaps more Inoderate than Europeans."

In other cases what seems to us extreme and almost incredible excess, is .due ito'" the physiological .necessity for, producing heatiu' climates where the losso£ heat is very great. Hence. theexp]anatiollof the following story. '+PromKooilittiukL1.earnt a new Eskimaux luxury: hBhadeaten until he was, drunk,and >eyery"moment fell asleep, with· a flushed and· burning face, and his mouth open: by his side sat Arnalooa [his wife]. who was attending her cooking pot, and at short intervals awakened her spouse, ill order to cram as Jlluchas was possible of a large piece of half-boiled flesh into his mouth. with the assistance of her forefinger, and having filled it quite full,cut off the morsel c1oseto his lips. Thi$ he slowlychewed, and as soon as a small -vacancybeGameperceptible. this was filled again by a lump of raw blubber. During this operation the happy man moved no part of him but his jaws, not even opening" his eyes; but his extrenle satisfaction was occasionally shown by amostelC-pressivegrutlt,wheneverhe enjoyed sufficient room for the passage of sound."

Another case, equally astonishing,. '-c.omes from, .,. Northern Asia. Mr. Oochranesays :The Y"akutiand T.ongousi are ,great gluttons. ," I gave the child [a boy about five years olel]·a candle made of the most impure tallow, a second, and athird,-and all were devoured with avidity. The steersman then gave him several pounds of sour frozen butter; this also he immediately consumed;, 438 THE INDUOTIONS OF ETHIOS. lastly, a large piece of yellow soap; all went the same road . . . In fact, there is nothing in the way of fish or meat, from whatever animal, however putrid or unwholesome, but they will devour with impunity, and the quantity only varies from what they have, to what they can get. I have repeatedly seen a Yakut or a Tongouse devour forty pounds of meat in a day." The following testimony of Capt. Wrangell shows the physiological results of this enormous consurnption. " Even in Siberia, the J akuti are called ironmen, and I suppose that there are not any other people in the world who endure cold and hunger as they do. I have seen them frequently in the severe cold of this country, and when the fire had long been extinguished, and the light jacket had slipped off their shoulders, sleeping quietly, completely exposed to the heavens, with scarcely any clothing on, and their bodies covered with a thick coat of rime."

And now observe the remarkable and significant fact that where surv~val primarily depends on this ability to eat and digest enormous quantities of food, this ability acquires an ethical or pro-ethical sanction. According to Erman, a Yakut adage says :-" To eat much meat and to grow fat upon it, is the highest destiny of men." § 175. Passing froln this extreme instance of the "vay in "vhich the necessities of life generate corresponding ideas of right and ,vrong, and coming to the ordinary cases rneeting us in temperate and tropical climates, where son1e thing like an ethical sanction, as we ordinarily understand it, comes into play; we find no connexions between teln perancein food and other traits, unless it be a general asso ciation of gluttony ''lith degradation. Even· this qualified generalization may be held doubtful. Cook described the Tahitians as each consuming a "pro digious" quantity of food. Yet they were physically a fine race, intellectually superior to many, and, though licentious, were deBcribed by him as having sundry charac teristics to be adlnired. Conversely, the Arabs are rela ti vely abstemious in both food and drink. But while in their sexual relations they are about as low as the Tahitians, since they are continually changing wives, and say of thelnselves-" Dogs are better than we are," they are TEMPERANCE. 439 little to be adnlired in an:y. respect: being fanatically .revengeful and regarding skilful robbery as a qualification for marriage: At the same time that the unci vilized at large present no definite relations bet"reen temperance or intemperance in food and their other traits, they display .little or no senti ment in respect of one or the other which can be called ethical. Save in the above l~emarkable proverb y'uoted from the Yakuts, opinion on this Inatter has not taken shape among them., In some ancient semi-civilized societies, however, there had arisen' the consciousness that excess in food is wrong.

Iuthe Code of Manu it is written:" For gluttony is hat.eful, injures health, l\tIaylead to death, and surely'bars the road To holy merit and celestial bliss." The fact that in parts of the ¥ahabharata "heavenly blessedness" is described as without any kind of "sensual 'gratification," inlplies reprobation of excess in eating. This is of course implied ,also in the ascetic life on which the Indian sages insisted.' The Hebrews, too, displa.yed this con sciousness: there was occasional advocacy of abstemiousness, as shown in the proverb:"Be not among wine bibbers: among riotous eaters of flesh: for the drunkard and the glutton shall come to poverty: and drowsiness shall clothe a man with rags." (Prov. xxiii, 20-1.) By the Egyptians· gluttony ,vas recognizedasa vice, but was nevertheless deliberately practised. On the one hand, excess in food was set down among th~ forty-two chief sins of the Egyptians, while on the other handAt their "banquets the Egyptians do not seem to have been very moderate.

. Herodotus tells us (ii.78) that a small wooden image of a mummy W3S . carried round at their entertainments with the exhortion, ' Look on this, drink and be merry. When dead, thou wilt be as this is!' This admoni tion was not without its results. In the pictures on monuments we find not only men, but women, throwing up the ~urfeit of food and wine." But the general aspect of the evidence seems to imply that with the rise of settled societies,and with the generalizing 440 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. of experiences, there arose a utilitarian condemnation of excess in food. § 176. Excess in drinking·. isa phrase which, though applicable to drinking of unfermented liquors in injurious quantities, yet practically applies to liquors which are either fermented, and therefore intoxicating, or are otherwise intoxicating. Opinion concerning the. taking of them is determined nlainlyby recognition of the effects they pro duce - regarded here with approbation and therewith reprobation.

It is a mistake to suppose that the state of intoxication is everywhere condemned. Whether produced by alcohol or by other agent, it has been in early times lauded, and' still is so in some places. An interpretation is suggested by the remark of an Arafura, 'who, ,vhen belief in the Christian God was commended to him, and he was told that God is everywhere present, said :-" Then this God is certainly in your arrack, for I never feel happier than when I have drunk plenty of it." The idea thus\ implied \vasdistinctly and perpetually expressed by the ancient Indians in their praises of soma-drinking. The god Soma was supposed to be present in the juice of the plant called soma; intoxication resulted from being possessed by him; and the exalted state desired, produced, and gloried in, ,vas a state of religious blessedness : the gods themselves being supposed· to be thus. inspired by the god Soma. Says }'Iax Miiller :lVladakyut=such "a state of intoxication as was not incompatible with the character of the ancient gods.... We have no poetical word to ex press a high state of mental exeitementproduced by drinking theintoxi eating juice of the Soma or other plants, which has not something oppro brious mixed up with it, while in ancient times that state of excitement was celebrated. as a· blessing of the gods, as not unworthy of the gods themselves, nay as a r,tate in which both the warrior and the poet would perform their highest achievements."

So, too, by·· the Greeks it ,vas pelieved that the god TEMPER:A.NOE~"·' 441 Dionysus' 'was present 'in wine,and that" the Bacchic excitement," with ..'its accompanying . prophetic .power, was due to possessi~nbyhim. Hence there arose a religious sanction for drunkenness, as shown in the orgies. . Nor are'we'without cases in' ourOWIl tinles. The Dahomans, according to Burton, deem it a "duty to the gods to be drunk ;" 'arid the Ainos 'sanctify their intoxicationurider "the fiction of 'drinking to the gods: '" "the more sake the Ainos drink the more devout they are, and tIle better pleased are the gods.'.' Kindred idefl,s and sentiments exist in..Polynesia, in .connection with the. taking' of the intoxi eating ava, kava, .or yaqona. In Fiji the preparation and drinking ,.• ·are accompanied by .,prayers to the gols and chants, and participation in the ceremonies is regarded as honourable.

Evidently then, drunkenness, instead of having in all cases religious ,condemnation, has in some cases religious sanction; and thus comes to have a pro-ethical sentiment justifyiLg' it. This 'is very well shown by theA-inos, who refuse to associate with those who will not drink. § 177.;Either with, .or without this kind of sanction, inteln perance, under.,oneor.other form, is widely spread among the inferior races. Of the Kalmucks, PalIas·teHsusthat·· they are intern: perate iIi eating ·.and.•drinkingwhen. they have ·the chance. "The festivities 'of'theKhonds," '·says.Oarnpbell,"usually terrninatein universal drunkenness.',' Brett '. writes that the drunkenness of the natives of Guiana takes the shape of ":fearful excess at intervals." And we read of the existing Guatemalans th~t" the' greatest happiness of these people'consistsin drunkenness, . produced by the excessive 1lSe" of . .. ,chicha." These last testinlonies respecting American .' peoples at •....the present day, . recall kindred testimonies respecting > ancient American peoples.

Garcilasso says of· the' Peruvians:-"-" They . brought liquor 442 THE INDUOTIONS OF ETHIOS. in great quantity,. for this was one of the most prevalent vices alnong the Indians." Of the Yucatanese, Landa says: -" The Indians "rere very debauched, Jtnd often got drunk;" "the women got intoxicated at the banquets, but by themselves." And Sahagun writes of the Mexicans that" They said that the bad effects of drunkenness were produced by one of the gods of wine. Hence it appears that they did not consider as a sin what they had done while being drunk." But internperance is by no means universal among the uncivilized and selni-civilized :.sobriety being shown by some of the utterly primitive as well as by SOlne of the consider ably adyanced. Of the Veddahs we read :-" They do not sl11oke, and are very temperate, drinking water only." Says Campbell:" Fond of fermented and spirituous liquors, the Lepchas are nevertheless not given to drunkenness."

Of the SUluatran of the interior, only partially vitiated by contact with the Malays, Marsden tell~ us :-" He is temper ate and sober, being equally abstemious in Ineat and drink." Africa, too, supplies instances. ,. The Foolas and l\'Iandingos very strictly abstain from fermented liquors, and from spirits, which they hold in such abhorrence. that if a single drop were to fall upon a clean garment, it would be rendered unfit to wear until washed." And Waitz makes the general reluark that"Except where they have had much intercourse with whites the Negroes, cannot be accused of being specially addicted to intoxicating liquors." This last stateIuent, reminding us of the delnoralization which Europeans everywhere produce in the native races wholu they pretend to civilize, and reminding us more especially of the disastrous' effects which follow the supply ing of them with whisky or rum, shows how cautious ,ve Blust be in our inferences respecting the relations bet,veen drinking habits and social states. It is clear that in sonle cases, as in that of the Veddahs, sobriety may result from lack of intoxicants, and that in other cases insobriety does TEMPERANCE. 443 not naturally belong to the type or the tribe, but has been imported.

§ 178. Perhaps among European peoples, with their long histories, we may with most chance of success seek for such relation as exists between sobriety and social conditions. This relation seems but indefinite at best. Brutal as was their social system, the Spartans were ascetic in their regimen; and relnembering the .lessons which drunken helots were made to inculcate, it is clear that originally the Spartans reprobated drunkenness and were ordinarily sober. Meanwhile the Athenians, lunch more civilized as" they were in their social .state, and far superior in culture, were by no means so sober. Sonle scanty testimonies imply that among the European peoples ,vho at that time were socially organized in but low degrees, excesses in drinking were frequent. Of the early Gauls Diodorus says :-" They are so exceedingly given to ,vine, that they guzzle it down as'soon as it is imported by the merchant." And describing the primitive Germans~ Tacitus tells us that" to pass an entire day and night in drinking disgraces no one." Of course not much has·come down to us respecting men's drinking habits during "the dark ages;" but the prevalence of intemperance may be inferred from such indications as we Lavee One of the excesses occurring in the Merovingian .. period was that Bishop Eonius fell down drunk at mass; and we are told of .

Oharlemagne that he was temperate: the implication being that temperance was sOlnething exceptional. Of France it may be remarked that even ,vhen intoxication was not pro duced, wine was taken in great excess during many later centuries. Montaigne, while saying that drunkenness was less than when h~ was a boy, tells us that:"I have seen a gre.at lord of my time .•. who without setting himself to't, and after his ordinary rate of drinking at meals, swallowed down not mUGh less than fi~'e quarts of wine."

444 THE INDUCTIONS. OF ETHICS. Evidently, frOlTI' the days of Montaigne down to those of the modern French, the Inajority of whom water their ordinary weak wine, the decrease of intelnperance 'has been Inarked. And among ourselves there has. taken place, though vvith much irregularity, a kindred change. From old English and Danish times, when there was drunkenness among monks as well as others, down through the times of the N orlnans, ,,,ho soon became as intelnperate as those they had subjugated, and down through subsequent cen turies, the excesses in drinks of the less potent kinds wer-e great and general. At thebegin~ing of the last century, ,vhen the consumption of spirits increased greatly, rising to nearly a gallon per head of the population annually, and producing scenes such as Hogarth depicted in his "Gin Lane," there· came the .remedial Gin Act; which, however, was soon repealed after having done mischief. Then during the rest of the century, while "drunkenness was the comlllon vice of the middle and lower orders," wealthier people indulged so largely in wine for their entertainments, as not unfrequently to impoverish themsel ves.

§ 179. Evidently the relations between drinking habits and kinds of social life are· obscure. We cannot, as the teetotalers 'vvould like,· assert a regular proportion between telnperance and civilization, or between intemperance and moral degradation at large. Says Surgeon-Gen. Balfour - "Half of the Asiatic races ---: Arab, Persian, lIindu, Burman, Malay, Sialuese ... are abstinents;" and. yet no one will contend that, either in social type or social conduct, these races are superior to the races of. Europe ,vho areanythil1g but abstinents. Within Europe itself differences teach us the same lesson. Sober Turkey is not so high in its social life as whisky-drinking Scotland. Nor, on comparing Italy and Germany, do we see that along with the contrast between the small pota~ionsof the one, TEMPERANCE. 445 and' thegreat~ >potatienso[ the.other, there goes contrast between their >IDoraLstatesot the kind that might be looked for ....'" Putting 7 0n the ,one hand the Bedouin, who, habitual' robber as he is and ',. displayingnul11erous, vices, nevertheless ,drinks no '" ternlented liquors, and cries." Fie upon thee,.•drunkard ,.!" and .••.on 'the· other hand .the ,clever English, artisan, who ,occasionally drinks .to .excess (and the clever ones are most apt to do this) but who is o:£ten a good fellow iu other respects, we do not find any clear association between temperance and rectitude.

Some relation ''Ina y reasonab1y besl1pposedto exist between drunkenness and general wretchedness. Where the life is miserable there is a great tendency to drink, partly to get what .little momentary. pleasure. Dlaybe had, and ."partly·'to shut ·.o.ut•unhappy. thoughts,.'about. the. future. But if we recall, the drunkenness which prevailed among (;)l1f upper classes in the last century ,we cannot say that 'V\''1'etchedness,'"or' at.· allY Tate•physical .wretchedness,' was' its excuse. Ennui, "too, seems often an assignable cause, and •. may.have. produced ',. the prevailing inebriety· througho~t Europe ine~rlydays, when there was difficulty in passing thetiInenot occupied in fighting or hunting. Yet we .find various peoples whose lives are monotonousenongh, butwhQ do not drink. Manifestly various :influences co-operate ; .and it appears that the results 0:£ theluare too irregular to be generalized.

§180. But we.are.'chiefiycQIlCernedwith temperance and intern perance :asethically regarded., That intemperance, whether in fQod •. ordrink,iscondemnedby the, ethical sentiment proper, which refers, :not to. the extrinsic but to the intrinsic effects, as injurious :alike .to hody, and mind, goes without saying. BatH is . otherwise with .. the pro: ethical sentiment ..'.' Wehave '. mtitnycases showing that there comes. either approbation ·,or reprobation· of· intemperance) according to the .religious idea~~l) dsocialhabits. , 446 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. Already we have seen that intoxication may be sanctified by certain theological'"beliefs; and here we have to note that prevailing excess in drinking, and the current opinion which grows up along with it, may result in a social sanction. One of the uncivilized races shows us that a habit of taking a toxic agent may, where it is general, generate for itself not only a justification but something more. Says Yule of the Kasias:"In the people perhaps the first thing that strikes a stranger, is their extreme addiction to chewing pawn, and their utter disregard of the traces which its use leaves on their teeth and lips. Indeed they pride themselves on this, sayin~ that' Dogs and Bengalees have white teeth.'"

In records of ancient civilized races we find evidence of a kindred pride in excesses. Apart from its religious sanction,· the drunken elevation which followed soma drinking was gloried in by the Indian rishi; and aIIlong a neighbouring people, alcoholic excess was by SOine thought the reverse of disgraceful, as ~itness the epitaph of Darius Hystaspes, saying that he was a great conqueror and a great drinker, and as witness the self-commendation of Cyrus, who "in his epistle to the Spartans says, that in many other things he was more fit than his brother to be a king, and chiefly because he could bear abundance of wine." But modern Europe has yielded the clearest proofs that prevailing inebriety may generate a sentiment which justifies inebriety. 1'he drinking usages in Germany in past times, and do"wn to the present time among students, show that· along with an inordinate desire for fermented liquor, and the scarcely credible ability to absorb it, there had grown up a contelnpt for those who fell much below the average drinking capacity, and a glory in being able to drink the largest quantity in the shortest time. Among ourselves, too, in the last century, kindred ideas and £eel~ ings prevailed. The saying that-" It is a poor heart that never rejoices" was used as a justification for excess. The taking of salt to produce thirst, the use of wine-glasses which TEMPERANOE. 447 would not stand, and the exhortation "N0 heel-taps,"

clearly showed the disapproval of moderation which went along ,vith applause for the "three-bottle" luan. There are some still living who have taken part in orgies at which after .locking the door and placing a Durn ber of bottles of wine on the sideboard, the host announced that they had to be emptied before rising: the refusal to take the required share causing reprobation.* _ But while, in past generations, there was thus a certain pro-ethical sentiment upholding internperance, in o~r own generation temperance is upheld both by the ethical senti ment, and by a pro-ethical sentiment. Not only is drinking to excess universally reprobated, and to have been intoxicated even once leaves' a stain on a man's reputation, but we have no,,, a large class by whom even moderate drinking is con demned. While in America water is the universal beverage at meals an~ the taking of wine is regarded as' scarcely re spectable.

* 'rhe late Mr. John Ball, F.R.S., brought up in the neighbourhood of Belfast, was, when young, though nominally a Catholic, intimate with a wealthy family of Protestants, at the head of which was an old gentleman looked up to with reverence -by his descendants. 1\'11'. Ball told me that this patriarch took a fancy to him; and one day, when leaving the room after dinner, led him aside and patting him on the shoulder said-" My good young friend, I want. to talk to you about your wine. You don't drink enough. Now take my advic_e-make your head while you are young, and then you will be able to drink like a gentleman al~ your life." 80 \ . CHAPTER XIII. CHASTITY. § 181. Before we can understand fully the ethical aspects of chastity, we IllUst study its biological and sociological sanctions. Conduciveness to welfare, individual or social or both, being the ultimate criterion of evolutionary ethics, the demand for chastity has to be sought in its effects under given conditions.

Among men, as among inferior creatures, the needs of the species determine the rightn~ss. or wrongness of these or those sexual relations; for sexual relations unfavourable to the rearing of offspring, in resl?ect either of number or quality, must tend towards degradation and extinction. . The fact that sonle anitnals are polygamous "while others are monogamous is thus to be explained. In Part III of The Principle8 ifSooiology,treating of "Domestic Institutions," it was shown that the relation between· the sexes is liable to be determined into this or that form by environing conditions; and that certain inferior forms of the relation appear, under sonle conditions, to beCOllle necessary: non adoption of thenl being fatal to the society. A natural connexion was found to exist bet\veen polygamy and a life of perpetual hostilities, entailing great destruction of men; since of tribes which ITlutually slaughter their men, the one which, being monogamous, leaves many women unmarried and childless, must fail to maintain its population in face of the one which, being polygalllous, utilizes ~ll its women . CHASTITY. - 449 as motllers.(§ -307). We saw, too, ~that· in .·some cases~ especially in Thihet, polyandry appears~ more conducive to social \velfare than any other relation of the sexes. It receives approval from travellers, and even a Mo~avian plissionary defends it: the missionary' hold.jng that "su per~ abundant population, in an unfertile country, nlust be a great calamity, and produce' eternal warfare or eternal want.' "

(§ 301.) These inferior forms of ..'marriage are' not consistent with thatcon,ception of chastity ~hichaccon;lpanies thee settleq lnonogamy of advanced societies. As we understand it;' the word connotes either the' absence of any sexual relation, or the permanent· .sexual .relation of one nlanwith one woman. But we must not extend this higher conception of chastity to these lower societies. We must not aSSUlnethat there exists in them any snch ethical reprobation of these less-restricted relations as they excite in us. To see this clearly. we nlnst glance at the facts. § 182. Already in § 120 I have given sundry illustrations of the truth, startling to those, whose education has left them ignorant of multiform humanity, that the institution of poly~amy is in various places morally approved, while the opposite institution is condemned. This truth,' however; should-not cause surprise, considering that from childhood all have been familiar with the tacit approval of the usage in the book they regard as divine. The polygarny.of the patriarchs is spoken of as a matter of course, and there is hnp1ied approval of it by a wife who prompts herhllsband to take a concubine. But beyond' this we see, in the case of David,both the religious and the social sanction for a harem: the one being implied by the statement that David, to whom God had given his" master's wives," was a man "after his own heart," and the other by 'the fact that ",~hen Nathan reproached hirn, the. reproach was that he had taken the solitary wite o£Uriah, not that he 450 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS.

had already many wives (1 SaJn. xiii, 14; 2 Sa1n. xii). His many wives we may reasonably suppose constituted a mark of dignity, as do those of kings among savage and serni-civil ized peoples now.. Olearly, then, under certain social condi tions there is a pro-ethical sentiment supporting polygamy, and that species of unchastity implied by it. So, too, is it with polyandry. Various passages in the .Mahabharata inlply that it 'was a recognized institution among the early Indians, regarded by them as perfectly proper: practised, indeed, by those ,vho are upheld as lnodels of virtue. The heroine of the poem, Draupadi, is the wife of five husbands. Each of them had a house and garden of his own, and Draupadi dwelt with them" in turn for two days at a tiIne." }Ieanwhile, as we have already seen (§ 117), one of the husbands, Yudhishthira, unfortu nate notwithstanding his goodness, enunciates the doctrine that right is to be done regardless of consequences; while elsewhere Draupadi describes the virtues ,vhich ,she holds proper for a wife, and represents herself as acting up to them. }{indred evidence is yielded at the present tilne by some of the tribes in the valleys of the' Himalayas-the Ladakhis, and the Cham pas. Telling us that they practise polyandry, Drew says of the Ladakhis that they are "cheerful, willing, and good-tempered;" "they are not quarrelsome;" are "much given to truth-telling;" and he adds that the" social liberty of the women . . . I think it may be said, is as great as that of worknlen's ,vives in Eng land."

Rightly to interpret these facts, however, it should be added that the social state in which polyandry originally existed among the Indian peoples, had emerged from a social state still 10'wer in respect of the sexual relations . .Bad as were the gods of the Greeks, the gods of the ancient Indians were worse. In the Puranas as well as in the Hahabharata there are stories about the "adulterous amours" of Indra,V aruna, and other gods; at the sanle CHASTITY. 451 time that the "celestiaf nymphs are expressly declared to be courtezans," and are" sent by the gods froin time to time to seduce austere sages." A society having a theology of such a kind, cannot "veIl have been other than licentious. With the ascription even of incest to some of their gods, there. naturally went an utter disregard of restraints among thenlselves. In the JJfahabharata we read :-" Women were formerly unconfined, and roved about at their pleasure, independent. Though in their youthful innocence, they abandoned their husbands, they were guilty of no offence; for such was the rule in' early times."

And according to a tradition embodied in that poemThis condition of things was "abolished by Svetakehi" son of the ri8hi Uddalaka, who was incensed at seeing his mother led away by a strange .Brahman. His father told him there was no reason to he .aug-ry,as : ' The women of all castes on -earth are unconfined: just as cattle are situated, so are human beings, too, within their respective castes.' " Hence it may possibly be that polyandry arose as a limita tion of promiscuity; and that .therefore the ethical :sentiment existing in support of it, was really in support ~f:a relative chastity. § 183. Returning now fronl this half-parenthetical discus sion of those types of undeveloped chastity;which are implied by low types of marriage, and resuming the discussion of chastity and unchastity considered in their simple forms, let us first look at ~he evidence presented by various uncivilized peoples. And here, in pursuance of the course followed in . preceding chapters dealing ,vith other divisions of conduct, I am obliged to nalne facts which in the absence of a strong reason should be passed over. They are not, however, rnore objectionable than many 'which are reported in our daily papers with no better motive than ministering to a prurient curiosity.

The absolute or relative deficiency of chastity may be con veniently exemplified by a string of extracts fronl books of travel. We Inay begin with North Alnerica. The testimony 452 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. of Lewis and Olarke respecting the Chinooks, agreeing with that of Ross, as follows :" Among these people, as indeed among all Indians, the prostitution of unmarried women is so far from be.ing considered criminal or improper, that the females themselves solicit the favours of the other sex, with the entire approbation of their friends and connexions." Concerning the Sioux, these saIne travellers give us a fact equally significant:"The Sioux had offered us squaws, but while we remained there having declined, they followed us with offers of females for two days." Coming further south the Creeks may be nalned as, accord ing to Schoolcraft, no better than the Chinooks. Like evi dence is furnished by South Anlerican races, as the Tupis and Caribs:" Bands [of chastity] were broken without fear, and incontinence was not regarded as an offence."

Caribs" put no value on the chastity of unmarried women." These instances yielded by America, are associated with some in which the unchastity is of a qualified kind. To the fact that "among the Esquimaux it is considered a.. great mark of friendship for two TIlen to exchange wives for a day or two," may be added a like fact presented by the Chippewayans :"It is a very common custom among the men of this country to ex change a night's lodging with each other's wives. But this is so far from being considered as an act which is criminal, that it is esteemed by them as one of the strongest ties of friendship between two families." The Dakotas supply an example, like many found elsewhere, of the coexistence of laxity before marriage with strictness after it. "There are few nations in the world amongst whom this practice, origi nating in a natural desire not to ~ make a leap in the dark,' cannot be traced. Yet after marriage they will live like the Spartan matrons a life of austerity in relation to the other sex."

In ancient Nicaragua, as in various countries, there was another kind of compromise between chastity and un chastity. "On the occasion of a certain annual festival, it was permitted that all the women, of whatever condition, might abandon themselves to the arms CHASTITY. 453 of whomsoever they pleased.- Rigid fidelity, however; was exacted at· all other times." But there seems to have been no restraint at other times 'on the unmarried, as witness Herrera's statement:"Many of the women were beautiful, and their parents used, when the maidens were marriageable, to send them to earn their portions, and accordingly they ranged 'about the country in a shameful manner, till they had got enough to marry them off." Asia furnishes illustrations of another usage common among the uncivilized. The' Kamtschada]es . and .Aleuts lend their wives to guests; and sundry others of the Northern Asiatic races do the like. Pallas tells us that the Kalmucks are little jealous of their wives, and freely give them up to acquaintances. And then of an adjacent people we read" The relation between the sexes, among the Kirghizes, is altogether on a very primitive footing; mothers, fathers, and brothers regard any breach of morality with great leniency, and husbands even encourage their friends to close intimacy with their wives. • • . Like the Kirghizes, the Buruts are strangers to jealousy." .

So, too, of the ~longols Prjevalsky tells us that "adul teryis not even concealed, and is not regarded as a vice." From peoples further south, two inst~nces may be Gited" Among the Red Karens, chastity, both with married and unmarried, is reported as remarkably loose. The commerce of the sexes among young people is defended as nothing wrong, because' it is our custom.' " ." Prostitution is exceedingly common,while chastity is a rare virtue among Toda' women; and the ties of marriage and consanguinity are merely nominal." To all these instances from other regions nlay be added some froln Africa. In his Highland8 oj EtliJiop1~a, Harris writes :"The jewel chastity is here [in Shoa] in no repute; and the utmost extent of reparatjon to be' recovered in a court of justice for the most aggravated case of seduction is but fiye-pence sterling!" The nature of the sentiment prevailing near the Upper Congo is shown by this extract from Tuckey :--"Before marri~,g~, the father or brothers of a girl prostitute her to 454 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS.

every man that will pay two fathoms of cloth; nor does this derogate in any way from her character, or prevent her being afterwards married." And so is it with some unlike people further south. Among the Bushmen, H infidelity to the marriage compact is ..• not considered as a crime; it is scarcely regarded by the offended person ...• They seem to have no idea of the distinction of girl, maiden, and wife; they are all expressed by one word alone." In Polynesia "Te have the well-known evidence yielded by the Arreoi society of Tahiti; and from the same region, or rather from lilicronesia, conles yet other evidence. In his account of the inhabitants of the Ladrone Islands, Freycinet writes :" Souvent onavoit vu les peres vendre sans rougir les premices de leurs filIes ... les meres elles-memes engager leurs enfants a suivre l'impul~ sion de leurs sens... On possede encore une des chansons qu'elles chan toient aleurs filles en pareille circonstance.': The Pelevv Islanders furnish a like case: the universal prac tice being for the mother to instruct her newly-initiated daughter always to exact payment, and the explanation of the usage being" the avarice of parents as recognized by custorD."

Of the opposite trait a good many examples are furnished by primitive or uncultured peoples. Two of them come froln amid these generally lax tribes of North America. Catlin says of the Mandans :-" Their women are beautiful and modest,-and amongst the respectable families, virtue is as highly cherished and as inapproachable, as in any society whatever." And of the Chippewas Keating vvrites :" Ohastity is a virtue in high repute among the Ohippewas, and without which no woman could expect to be taken as a wife by a warrior." But he goes on to admit that there is a good deal of concealed irregularity. Africa, too, yields some instances. " A K.affer ,voman is both chaste and modest:" "instances of infidelity are said to be very rare;" and the like is said of the Bachassins. The Inost numerous examples of chas tity come froln the island races. Mariner tells us that in Tonga adultery is very rare. "Chastity prevails more CHASTITY. 455 perhaps among these [the Sumatrans] than' any other people," says Marsden. Similar is the statement of Low about the inland people of Borneo: "adultery is a crime unknown, and no Dyak (Land) ever recollected an instance of its occurrence." So in Dory, New Guinea, according to Rops, "chastity is held in high regard. . . . Adultery is un known." And Erskine testifies that the ,vornen of Uea, Loyalty Islands, "are strictl,Y chaste before marrjage, and faithful wives afterwards." Some peoples who are in other respects among the lowest are in this respect among the highest. Snow says that the Fuegian women at Picton Island are remarkably modest; and a fact worthy of special note is that among the rudest of the ~Iusheras of India, w~o have no formal marriage, " unchastity, or a change of lovers on either side, when once mutual appropriation has been lnade; is a thing of rare occurrence;" and when it does occur causes excollllnunication. The remaining two most marked instances are found among other peaceful tribes of the In dian hills. Says Hodgson of the Bodo and Dhhnal "Chastity is prized in man and woman, lnarried and unmar ried." And according to Dalton" The Santa! women are represented by all who have written about them as exceedingly chaste, yet the young people of the different sexes are greatly devoted to each other's society and pass much time together."

With these cases of indigenous chastity may be named cases of peoples who are being degraded by foreign influences. In a paper on the Veddahs, whose neighbours the Singhalese are extrelnely lax, Virchow quotes Gillings to the effect that adultery and polygamy are only heard of arnong thern where atternpts have been Inade to civilize them. And then, little as we should expect to meet with such a testitnony from a clergynlanconcerning a race so low as the Australians, yet of one tribe we are told by the Rev. R. W. Holden, as quoted by Taplin, that"The advent of the whites has made the aborigines much more degraded, more helpless, more-yea, much more-susceptible to all diseases. Before our coming amongst them their laws were ~trict, especially those regarding 456 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. young men and young women. It was almost death to a young lad or man who had sexual intercourse till married." .

But the like cannot be said of other Australian tribes. As thus presented by the uncivilized races, the facts do not fall into clear generalizations: they do not shoV\T distinct relations between chastity or unchastity and social forms or types of race. The evidence does, indeed, preponderate in favour of the relatively peaceful or wholly peaceful tribes, but this relation is not without exception; and conversely, though the standard of chastity is low in most of the fighting societies it is not low in .all. N or, when we con teIllplate special antitheses, do we get clear proof. Of the atrocious Fijians, exceeding in their cannibalisnl all other peoples, and who glory in lying, theft, and lllurder, we read in Erskine that the women are modest and that "female virtue may be rated at a high standard," while according to Seenlann, "adultery is one of the crimes generally pun ished with death." On the other hand, Cook describes the Tahitians as utterly devoid of the sentiment of chastity.

He says:They are" people who have not even the idea of indecency, and who gratify every appetite and passion before witnesses, with no more sense of impropriety than we feel w~en we satisfy our hunger at a social board with our family or friends." At the same time he speaks very favourably of their dis positions :"They seemed to be brave, open, and candid, without either suspicion or treachery, cruelty or revenge; so that we placed the same confidence in them as in our best friends." I-Iere are incongruities which appear quite irreconcilable with the ideas current alnong civilized peoples. § 184. Throughout the foregoing sections the ailll has been .. to ascertain by examination of the facts, what re lations, if any, exist between chastity and social type, as well as between this virtue and other virtues; but we must now consider specifically the prevailing ethical sentirnent~ CHASTITY:" 457 which go along with observance and nOli-observance of it. Already, in many of the quotations abov'e given, these sentirnents have been expressed or inlplied; but to complete the general argulnent it seems needful to observe definitely, the extreme deviation~ from what ,ve may consider normal, wh~ch they sometimes undergo. I will give three instances ..,,--oone from the uncivilized, another fronl a semi-civilized people now extinct, and a third from an existing civilized' people.

, Of the Wotyaks, a Finnish race, the German traveller Buch says:" Indeed it is even disgraceful for a girl if she is little sought after by the young men ... It is therefore only a logical result that it is honourable for a girl to have children. She then gets a wealthier husband, and her father is paid a higher kalym for her." Ooncerning the ancient Ohibchas, of Oentral America, we read:"Some 'Indians . . . did not much care that their wives. should be virgins. . •.. On the contrary, some, if they discovered that they had had no intercourse with men, thought them unfortunate and without luck, as they had not inspired affection in men: accordingly they disliked them as miserable women.", The civilized nation referred to as showing, in some cases, a feeling almost the reverse of that, so strongly pronounced among' .Western nations" we find in the Far East.. Says Dixon of the Japanese:,..-"It used to be no uncommon thing (and we have no clear evidence that the custom is obsolete) for a dutiful daughter to sell herself for a term of years to the proprietor of a house of ill-fame, in order that she might thus retrieve her father's fallen fortunes. When she returned to her home, no stigma attached to her; rather was she honoured for her filial devotion."

Though, in a work just published, The Real Japan,' Mr. Henry Norman denies this alleged return home with credit (in modern titnes at least) he verifies the earlier part of the statement, that daughters are sold for specific periods by their parents: the fact that such parents are tolerated being sufficiently indicative of the prevailing sentilnent. Here then we get proof that in respect of this division of 458 THE INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. conduct, as in respect of the divisions of conduct dealt,vith in preceding chapters, habits generate sentiments harmonizing with them. It is a trite remark that the individual who per sists in wrong-doing eventually loses all sense that it is wrong-doing, and at length believes that it is right-doing; and the like :holds socially-lnust, indeed, hold socially, since public opinion is but an aggregate of individual opinions. § 185. If, instead of comparing one society with another, we cOInpare early stages of those societies which have devel oped civilizations ·with later stages, we find very variable relations between chastity and social development. Only in modern societies can we say that this relation becomes tol erably clear.

Already we have seen how low in their sexual relations were the people of India in early days, and how, prorniscuity and polyandry having died out, poets and sages in later times endeavoured to explain away the traditional trans gressions of their gods, while existing Hindus show shaIne when reproached ·with the illicit amours of their ancient heroes and heroines. Here there seems to have been a prog,;. ress of the kind to be looked for. That, among adjacent societies, there took place some kin dred changes, seeIns implied in the fact that prostitution in temples, which prevailed among Babylonians, Egyptians, &c., and which, like other usages connected with religion, more persistent than general usages, probably indicated certain customs of earlier tilnes, disappeared partially if not ",~holly. It is to be observed, to·o, that along with wOlnan-stealing, comlnon during prinlitive stages of the civilized, as still anlong the uncivilized, there naturally went a degraded position of captured ,vomen (concnbinage being a usual concomitant), and that therefore, with the cessation of it, one cause of low sexual relations came to an end. That in the case of the IIebrews further advances took place seeins to OHASTITY. 459 be shown by the facts that though Herod the' Great had nine 'wives,and though in the .Mishnah polygamy is referred to as existing, yet the references in Eeelesiast,icus imply the generaf establishment of monogamy.

The relevant changes in the course of Greek civilization clearly do not warrant the assertion that better ll"elations of the sexes accompanied higher social' arranget!lents. The amount of cOllcubinage implied by the lliad,'wds less than that implied by the use of female slaves and servants in Athenian. households; and the established institution of hetairai, with the lnany distinguished of whom coexisted a •. multitude of undistinguished, the adding to the public revenue by a tax on houses of ill-falne, and the continuance of authorized prostitution in the temples of Aphrodite Pandemos,further prove that the relations of the s~xes had degenerated. On passing to Rome ,ve meet with an undeniable case of retrogression in sexualarrange~ ments and usages, going along .with that kind of social progress which. is implied by extension of' empire and increase of political organization. The contrast between the. regular relations of men to women in early ROlnan times, and the extremely irregular relations which pre vailed in the tilnes of the emperors, when the being modest was taken to imply being ugly, and when patrician ladies had to be stopped by law from becoming prostitutes, shows that nioral degradation of this kind may . accolnpany one type of adyancing civilization.

The reaction which comnlenced after these most cor rupt Roman tiInes, ,vas greatly furthered by Christianity .. The furtherance,however, cannot be ascribed to a true conception of the relations of the sexes, and a sentiment appropriate to it, but rather to an asceticism which rep~ robated the acceptance of pleasures and applauded the sub~ mission to pains. The prompting motive was an other worldly one more than an intrinsically moral one; though the other-worldly motive probably fostered the moral mo460 THE INDUCTIONS. OF ETHICS. ti vee But in this case, as in countless other cases, ." the general law of rhythrn was illustrated. Following this violent reaction canle in time a violent re-reaction; so that after a period of sexual restraints came a period of sexual excesses-a period in which the relation between action and reaction was further illustrated by the fact that the nominally-celibate clergy and nuns becalne worse than the laity who were not bound to celibacy.

It should be added that the peoples of Northern Europe, anlong wholn the relations of the sexes seem to have been originally good, also exhibited in course of time, though in a less marked degree, the sexual retrogression that may go along with some kinds of social progression. In mod ern days, however, the advance to higher political types and more settled social states, has been accompanied by an average improvement in this respect as in other respects. § 186. Satisfactory interpretation of these many strange contrasts and variations is impracticable: the causation is too complex. We may, however, note certain causes which Beenl to have been occasionally influential, though we cannot say to what extent. The extreme laxity of the Tahitians may possibly have been encouraged by the imnlensefertility of their habitat. Commenting on the abundance of food almost spontane ouslyproduced by their soil, .Cook says of the Tahitians:----.

~'They seerl1 to be exempted from the first general curse, that' man should eat his bread in the s,veat of his brow.'" Where self-maintenance and, by implication, the n1ain tenance of children, is thus extremely easy, it seems that comparatively little Ihischief results if a mother is left to rear. a child or children without the aid of a father; and in the absence of those evil effects on both parent and off spring which result where the necessaries of life are diffi cult to get, there lnay not tend to arise that social reproba:-CHASTITY. 461 tion of incontinence which arises where its Iniscliievous con~ .'# sequences are conspicuous. Africa furnishes us with, the hint of another cause of laxity which may sometimes operate. The fact 'that "the Dahoman, like almost 'all semi-barbarians, considers a nUlll erous family the highest blessing "-a fact which recalls kindred ones implied in the Bible-be~omes comprehensible, when werelnelnber that in early stages, characterized by constant antagonisms, internal and external, it is important to ,maintain not ,only the" n~nlbers of the tribe in face of other tribes, but also the numbers of the falnilies and, clans; since the weaker of these gO to the wall when struggles take place. Hence it results that not only is, barrenness a reproach but fertility a" ground of esteeln; and hence possibly the reason ,why in;EastAfrica "it is no disgrace for an' unmarried woman tobecolne ,the mother of a family: " the -remark of 'one traveller, which I cannot now find, concerning another tribe,: being that awonJan's irregu ...

larities are 'easily forgiven, if she bears luany children. 'This fact seems to point to the conclusion, pointed to by many preceding' facts; that there is a connexion bet\veen llllchastity and a militant regime; seeing that production Qf many children is a desideratum only where the mortality from "violence is great. For suspecting this connexion we find a further reason in the degraded" position of WOlnen which uniformly accompanies pronounced mili tancy (see Principles o.fSociology, Part" III, Chapter X, ~'The Status of Women"). Where, as among peoples constantly fighting, the hard work is done by slaves and women-where women are, spoils of ,var to be dealt with ~s th~victorsplea,se:-where, when not stolen or gained hy conquest, ,they are bought; it Jsmanifest that the 'wills of women being in abeyanGe, the unchecked ego... ~smof men must conflict with' the' growth of chastity~: ~i\.nd in the settled polygamy of societies which lose great n:umb~rs of Inen in battle, the large harems of kings and 462 THE INDUOTIONS OF ETHICS.

chiefs, the buying of female slaves-all of them character istic of the Inilitant type-we similarly see relations of the sexes adverse to any moral restrictions. If we reIllember that the extreme profligacy of ROIne was reached after long centuries of conquests; if we relllember that there survived during the feudal organization resulting froIn war, the jus primm noctis j if of Russia, exclusively organized for war, "we read that any girl on his estate was until recently, at the lord's disposal; "we see further reason for suspecting that the n1.ilitant type of. society is unfavourable to elevated relations of the sexes. We must not conclude, however, that chastity always characterizes societies of the non-lnilitant type. Though sundry of the above-named peaceful tribes are distinguished from uncivilized tribes at large by the purity of their sexual relations, it is not so with another peaceful tribe, the Todas: these are characterized rather by the opposite trait. The Esquirnaux, too, among ,vholn there is exchange of "wives, do not even know what war is.

§ 187. It remains only to emphasize the truth, discern ible anlid all complexities and varieties, that without a prevailing chastity ·we do not find a good social state. Though comparison of intermediate types of society does not make this clear, it is made clear by comparison of extreme types. Anl0ng the lowest we have such a group as the Ku-Ka-tha clan, inhabiting Western South Australia, whose chief characteristics are "treachery, ingratitude, lying and every species of deceit and cunning," who have "no property,"" no punishment of offenders," "no idea of right and wrong," and who show "absolute lack of the sentiment in question: "chastity or fidelity being quite unknown to them." At the other extreme COlne the most advanced societies of Europe and Anlerica, in which, along with a relatively high standard of chastity (for women at least), there exist high degrees· of the various CHASTITY. 463 traits required for social life which are ,vanting in these Australians. N or does comparison of different stages of civilized nations fail to furnish evidence; as witness the con trast between our ,own time and the time after the Rystora tion, in respect alike of chastity and of general welf~re.

There are three ways in which chastity furthers a superior social state. The first is that indicated at the outset-con duciveness to the nurture,()f offspring. - Nearly everywhere, but especially where the stress of competition makes the rearing of children difficult, lack of· help from the father must leave ··the :rr~other overtaxed, and entail inadequate nutrition of progeny. ',:unchastity, therefore, tends toward~ production of inferior illdividuals, 'and if it prevails' widely' must cause decay'of the society. ' , 'the second cause is that, conflicting as it does with the, establishment of norlnal monogamic 'relations, unchastity is adverse to those higher sentlments which prompt such relations. In societies characterized by inferiQr forms. of marriage, or by irregular connections, there cannot devel~p to any great extent that powerful combination of feelings~ affection, admiration, sympathy-which in 80 marvellous a manner has grown out of the sexual instinct. A~d in th~ absence of this complex passion, which manifestly pre~ supposes a relation between ,one man and ()ne "Yomall, the supreme interest in life disappears, and leaves behind relatively s11,bordinate interests. Evidently a prevalent unchastity severs the higher from the lower components of the sexual relation: the root may produce a fe,v leaves, but no true flower.

Sundry of the keenest resthetic pleasures must at the' same time be undermined. It needs· but to call to mind what a predominant part in fiction, the drama, poetry, and nlusic, is played by the romantic element.,in love,to see that anything ,vhich militates against it tends to diIninish,i£ not to de stroy, the chief gratifications which should fill the leisure part of life. '31 CHAPTER"' XIV. SUMMARY OF INDUCTIONS. § 188. Where the data are few and exact, definitecon w elusions can be drawn; but where -they are nurnerous and inexact, the conclusions drawn must be proportionately indefinite. Pure mathematics exemplifies the one extrerne, and Sociology the other. The" phenomena presented by individual life are highly complex, and still more complex are the phenomena presented by t11elife of aggregated individuals ; and ". their great' complexity is rendered still greater by the Inultiformity and "variability of surrounding conditions. -, To the difficulties iu the way of generalization hence arising, must be added the "" difficulties arising frorn un certainty of the evidence-the doubtfulness, incompleteness, and conflicting natures, of the statements with which we have to deal. Not all"travellers' are to be trusted. Sorne are bad observers, some are biassed by creed or custom, some by personal likings or dislikings; and all have but imper fect opportunities of getting at the truth. Similarly with historians. Very little of what they narrate is from imme diate observation." The greater part of it cornes through channels which colour, and obscure,and distort ; while everywhere party feeling, religious bigotry, and the" senti~ ment of patriotism, cause exaggerations and suppressions.

Testimonies concerning moral traits are hence liable to perversion. }'Iany of the peoples grouped under the same name SUMMARY OF INDUC'TIONS~ 465 present.· considerable .diversities of·.·:charae,ter.: instance:the Australians, ·of .whom it .. ·.is,"remarked that some ,tribes are quiet and 't~actablewhHe o.thersare· hoisterous, Bind difficult to deal with. Further, the conduct,sentiments, ,itndideas o.f nati vepeoples' .• often .. undergo .such changes<that"traveUers between whose "visits ·.•·many'year.s '. have.,· elapsed, .give.. quite different accounts. The original feeliogsand. beliefs are frequently. obscured . by.. missionary ..influences",and,.inastill greater degree, by contact with, white < .traders> and settlers. From all.··parts of the world. we get proofs that aborigines are· degraded by .intercourse' .. with: Europ~f;L:qs. ..Here;. theJl, arefurthercauseswhicu>'distort the;evidellce ..

Yet again ··,there are;the ·complications.· .consequent.on changes of:: habitats and. occupatiOJ1$.In .. this place tribes are forced into antagonism. with. their .. neighbours, and:in that.placetheyare led into· quiet lives.:. oneofthe.re&ults being that conceptions ··andfeelings .apprQpriate to an ante-: cedentstate,·.surviving·.for·a long time ina subsequent.state, appear incongruQuswith it~ Thus we must expect to meet withanomali~s, and fiuet.,be content withC0nclusions. which. hold. true.· on the,average. § 189. Before ·.we can 'fully understand the· significance of the inductions· dr3!wn;we 'Junst •.reconsider the. essential nature·o£social co",operatiol1.,A.s we pointed· out inc § 48, from.' thesQciological pointo~ view,.":ethics., becomesnoth ing,·else·ihan a.definite account. of.' the, forms. of conduct that are fitted' to .the associated state:;. "andin .' subsequent sections< itwasluade .' clear. that, rising.abovethoseearliest groups, in ,which. the •. individuals ,simply .. Iivein, contiguity, without mutual. interferen:ee .and .without '. mutual. aid, .the associated;stateccanbe .maintainedonly,byeffectualco-Qper ation:,now£or' external defence,uowfor.internal.sustentation.

That· is to . say"....the prosperity .of ,societies:' depends,.·,.... other things equal, on the extep.ts to which· there are .fulfilled .in them:the conditionstosuch>co~operation ......··Whence, thro~gh 466 THE INDUOTIONS OF ETHIOS. survival of the fittest, it follows that principles of conduct hnplying observance of these conditions, and sentiments en~ listed in support of such principles, become dominant; while principles of conduct which concern only such parts of the lives of individuals as do not obviously affect social cooperation, do not acquire sanctions of. such pronounced and consistent kinds. This appears to be the explanation of the fact which must have struck many readers of the last two chapters, that the ideas and sentiments respecting temperance and chastity, display less intelligible relations to social type and social developnlent, than do the ideas and sentiInents COl1cern ingco-operative conduct, internal and external. For if, scattered throughout the conlmunity, there are men who eat or drink to excess, such evils as are entailed on the community are indirect. There is, in the first place, no direct interference with military efficiency, so long as within the armed force there is no such drunkenness or gluttony as sensibly affects discipline. And in the second place, there is no direct interference with the process of social sustentation, so long as one who eats or drinks to excess does not aggr~ss upon his neighbour or in any way incon venience him. While erring in either of these ,vays, a man may respect the persons and property of his fellows and filay invariably fulfil his contracts-nlay, therefore, obey the fundamental principles of social cooperation. What ever detriment society receives frolll his conduct arises from the deterioration in one of its units. Much the same thing holds with disregard of chastity; there is no necessary or immediate interference ,vith the carrying on of coopera tions, either external or internal; but the evil caused is an ultimate lowering of the population in nUlnber or quality,.

In both these cases the social consciousness, not distinctly awakened to the social results, does not always generate consistent social sentiInents. It is otherwise with those kinds of conduct which directly SUMMARY OF INDUCTIONS. 4G1 and obviously transgress the conditions .to social coopera.. tion, external or internal. Cowardice,_,. or insubordination, diminishes in a very obvious way the efficiency of a fighting body; and' hence, in respect of these, there are readily established consistent ideas and sentilnents. So, too, the murdering or assaulting of fellow citizens, the taking away their goods, the breaking of contracts with them, are actions which so conspicuously conflict with the actions constituting social life, that reprobation of them is with tolerable regularIty produced. Hence, though there are wide divergences of opinion and of feeling relative to such classes o£ offences in different so'cieties, yet we find these related to divergences in the types of social activities -one or other set of reprobations being pronounced ac cor~ing ~s one or other set of activities is most domi nant.

Taken together, the preceding chapters show us a group of moral traits proper to a life .of external enmity. Where the predoluinant social cooperations take the form' of constant .fighting with adjacent peoples, there grows np a pride in aggression and robbery, revenge becomes an imperative duty, skilful lying is creditable, and (save in small tribes which do not develop) obedience to despotic leaders and rulers is the greatest virtue; at the same time there. is a contempt for industry, and only such smallre gard for justice within the society as is required to main tain its existence.' On the other hand, where the pre donlinant social cooperations have internal sustentation for their end, while cooperations against external enemies have either greatly diminished or disappeared, unprovoked aggression brings but partial applause or none at all; robbery, even of enenlies, ceases tQ be creditable; revenge is no longer thought a necessity; lying is unhrersally reprobated; justice in the transactions of citizens with OIle.another i~ insisted upon; political obedience is' so far qualified that sllblnission t() a despot is held contemptible; 468 THEINDUOTIONS OF ETHIOS.

and industry, instead of being considered disgraceful, is considered as, in some) form or other, hnperative on everyone. Of course the varieties of nature inherite4 by different kinds of men from the past, the effects of customs sanctified by age, the .influences of religious creeds, together with the cirCUlnstancespeculiar to each society, complicate and qualify these relations; but in their broad outlines they are" suffi ciently clear--as clear as we can expect thelll to be. §190. Hence the. fact that the ethical ,sentiments pre vailing'in different societies, and in the same society under different conditions, are sometimes diametrically opposed. Multitudinous.proofs of. this truth have, been given in pre ceding chapters, but it will be well here· to enforce it by a series of antitheses. Among-ourselves, to have committed a murder disgraces for all time a luan's memory, and disgraces for generations all who are related to him; but by thePathansaquite unlike senthnent is displayed. One who had killed a Mollah (priest), and failed· to find refuge froln the avengers, said at length :-' "I can but be a martyr. I will go and kill a Sahib." lIe was hanged after shooting a·sergeant,perfectly satisfied" at having expiated his offence."

The prevailing ethical sentiment in Englandis such that a man who should allow hiInsel£· to be taken possession oiand Inade an unresisting. slave, would be regarded with scorn; but the people of Drekete,a slave-district of Fiji, "said it was their duty tobeconle food and. sacrificesfof the chiefs," and " that they were honoured by being considered adequate to such a noble task." Less extreme, though akin in nature, is the contrast be tween the feelings which our own history has recorded 'vdthin these few centuries. In Elizabeth's time, Sir John Hawkins initiated the slave trade, and in commemoration of the achievelnent was allowed to put in his coat of arms" a 469 demi..moor'proper:bound'witha cord:" the honourableness of his action being' thusassumedbyhimsel£ 'and recognized by Queen and ,public. Eutin our days, the making slaves of men,cal1edby<Wesley·';the:snm of all villainies," iRrcgarded with "detestation ;and£or'manyyearsweluaintained:afleet to suppress the slave-trade.

Peoples who have enlerged from the primitive family ..and,clanorgariization"hold .', that' one who is" guiltyof 'a crime luusthimself bear the punishment, and,itis,thought 'extreme injustice; that the punishment .should fan upon anyone else; but our 'rernoteancestors thought and felt differently, as do still the Australians, 'whose" firstgreatprineiplewithregard to punishment is, that 'all therelativesofa culprit, in the evento£ his not 'being Iound,are iUlplicateddn his guilt :" "the brothers:of the criminal conceive themselves to be quite as guilty as he is." By the civilized, tlle individualities of WOlnen are so far recognized:,that' thelifeandJibertyof'a wi£e are not supposed' to ,be .,'bonnd'.' np with ,those,'of her husband ;, and shenow,having > obtained ,a, right to exclusive possession of property','contends:£orcomplete)ndependence, domestic and political. - ~ut" it is, .or 'was, otherwise ',in Piji. "The' wives of theFijian.chiefscoDsider< ita'sacredduty to suffer strangu lation on the deaths of their husbands. A wOluanwho had beenrescned .by Williams "escaped during the night, and, swimming across the river, and presenting h~rse]ftoher # own people, insisted: on the completion. of the sacrifice which she had 'iu" a moment of weakness ','reluctantly consented to forego; "andWilkesteHs 'ofanother who loadedherrescu~r "withabuse, arnd ever afterwards manifested the.most deadly hatred towards' him."

!Iere,all~l:,on' the:Continent, ,the religions,prohibition of the£tand thelegalpl1nishment ofjt,are joined with a strong .social reprobation ;80 that theoftenceof a thief is never condonedr ,In Beloochistan, however, quite contrary ideas and' feelings are.,current. 'There" a favourit~ couplet' is to 470 THE· INDUCTIONS OF ETHICS. the effect that the Biloch who steals and nlurders, secures hea'ven to seven generations of ancestors." In this· part of the world reprobation of untruthfulness is strongly expressed, alike by the gentleman and the labourer. But in many parts of the world it is not so. In Blantyre, for example, according to Macdonald, "to be called a liar is rather a compliment." English sentiment is such that the mere suspicion of in continence on the part of a woman is enough to blight her life; but there are peoples whose sentiments entail no such effect, and in some cases a reverse effect is produced: "un chastity is with the Wotyaks a virtue."

So that in respect of all the leading divisions of hUlnan conduct, different races of men, and the same races at differ ent stages, entertain opposite beliefs and display opposite Jeelings. § 191. I was about to say that the evidence set forth in foregoing chapters, brought to a focus in the above section, must dissipate once for all the belief in a Inoral sense as com monly entertained. But a long experience prevents me from expecting this. AUlong men at large, life-long convictions are not to be destroyed either by conclusive arguments or multitudinous facts. Only to those who are not by creed or cherished theory committed to the hypothesis of a supernaturally created humanity, will the evidence prove that the human mind has no originally implanted conscience. Though, as shown in ll}Y first work, Social Statics, I once espoused the doctrine of the intuitive Inoralists (at the outset in full, and in later chapters with some implied qualifications), yet it has gradually become clear to me that the qualifications re quired practically obliterate the doctrine as enunciated by them. I t has become clear to me that if, among our selves, the current belief is that a man ,vho robs and does not repent will be eternally danll1ed, while an accepted 471 proverb among the· Bilochs is that-" God ·will not favour a luan who does not steal and rob," it is impossible to hold that men have in common an innate perception of right and wrong.

But now, while we are shown that ·the moral-sense doctrine in its original form is not true, we· are also shown that it adumbrates a truth, and a nluch higher truth. For the facts cited, chapter after chapter, unite in proving that the -sentiments .and ideas current in each society become adjustea to the kinds of activity predominating in it. A life of constant external enmity generates a code. in which aggression, conquest, revenge, are inculcated, while peaceful occupations are reprobated. Conversely, a Hfeof settled internal amity generates a code inculcating the -virtues con ducing to harmonious cooperation-justice, honesty, veracity, regard for other's claims. And the hnplication is that if the life of internal amity continues unbroken from generation to generation, there" must result not only the appropriate code, but the appropriate emotional llature-a moral sense adapted to the moral requirements. Men-so conditioned will acquire to the degree needful· for complete guidance, ·that innate _conscience which the intuitive moralists errone ously suppose to be possessed by mankind at large. There needs but a continuance of absolute peace externally, and a rigorous insistence \on non-aggression internally, to -ensure the 'moulding of men into a form naturally characterized by all the virtues.

This general induction is reinforced by a special induc tion. Now as displaying this high trait of nature, now as displaying that, I have instanced those various uncivilized peoples who, inferior to us in-other .respects, are morally ,superior to us; and have _pointed out that they are one and all free from inter-tribal antagonisms. The peoples showing this connexion are of various races. In the Indian hills, we find some who are by origin Mongolian, Kolarian, Dravidian; in the forests _of lVIalacca,Burmah,and in secluded parts. of 472 THE INDUOTIONS OFETHIOS. China, exist such tribes of yet other bloods; in the East Indian Archipelago, are some belonging to the Papuan stock; in Japan there are the amiable ,Ainos, who "have no traditions of internecine strife;" and in North lVlexicoex ists yet another such people unrelated to the rest, the Pueblos. N o more conclusive proof could be wished than that supplied by these isolated groups of men "who, widely remote in, locality and differing in race, are alike in the two respects, that circumstances have long exempted them from war and that they are now organically good. .

The goodness which may be attained to under these con ditions. excites. the wonder of those who .·know only such goodness as is attained by peoples· who plume themselves on their superiority. Witness General FJtche'scomment on the .·report of Mr.O'Riley concerning the Let;..htas·:-" The account given by him of their appreciation of moral good ness, and the purity of their ·lives, as· compared with the semi-civilized tribes amongst whom they dwell, almost savours of romance." lfay'\ve not reasonably infer that the ·state reached by these snlalluncultured tribes maybe reached by the great cultured 'nations, when the life of internal amity shall be un qualified by the life of external enrnity? § 192~ .That the contemplation of suchan eventuality will be agreeable to all, I do not suppose. To the many who, in the East, tacitly assunle that Indians exist for the benefit of Anglo-Indians,it will give no pleasure. Such a condition will probably seem llndesirable to rnen who hire themselves out to shoot other men to order,asking nothing about the justice of their cause, and think themselves·· absolved by .a cOlnmand {rOlTI Downing Street. As, among anthropophagi, the. suppression. of man-eating is not favourably regarded; so in. sociophagous nations Jikeours, not luuch pleasure is caused by contemplating the cessation of conquests. No strong desire for such a state can be felt by our leading General,,;who ,says that tbe., duties O£'"a.:·soldier, "are the noblest ,that fall to ,man's]ot/' and whose motto· is--:-"Mal1is asa .wolf,towards ;hisJellow man."

N or, strange thQugh it appears, will this prospect be rejoiced.,overeven .by .,.those who. preach" peace and good will -,toj'men;;'~ Jor. the prospect is. not. presented inass()cia tion:with .their creed. ,The. belief ..'that hunlanity r~a~he made righteons<onlyhy- •.' acceptanceo£ theOhristian,seheme,. isdrreconcilable,,~ with the conclusio~ .that humanity;.may be', moulded· into an ddealform ,bythe.continued ..disciplineof peaceful cooperation. Better far to our· theologians seems the doctrine that man, intrinsically bad, can be made good only by promises of heaven and threats of hell, than does the doctrine that man, not intrinsically bad, will become good under conditions which' exercise the higher feelings and give no scope for the lower. Facts which apparently show that ,.unchristianized human nature is incurably vicious, give to them satisfaction as justifying their religion; and evid~nce tending to prove the contrary is repugnant as showing that their religion is untrue.

And it is by no means certain that their attitude is to be. regretted; for there has to be maintained a congruity between the prevailing cult and the social state and the average nature. If anyone says that the men who form the land-grabbing nations of Europe, cannot be ruled in their daily lives by an ethical sentiment, but must have it enforced by the fear of damnation, I am not prepared to contradict him. If a writer who, according to those "Tho know, represents truly the natures of the gentlemen we send abroad,sympathetically describes one" of them as saying to soldiers shooting down tribes fighting for their inde pendence-" Give 'em hell, men;" I think those are pos sibly right who contend that such natures are to be kept in check only by fear of a God who will "give 'eIn hell" jf they nlisbehave. It is, I admit, a tenable supposition that belief in a deity who calmly looks on while myriads of his 474 r.rHE INDUOTIONS OF ETHIOS.

creatures suffer eternal torments, m~y fitly survive dur ing a state of the world in which naked barbarians and barbarians in skins are being overrun by barbarians in broadcloth. But to the few who, looking back on the changes "vrhich past thousands of years have \vitnessed, look forward to the kindred changes which future thousands of years may be expected to bring, it will be a satisfaction to contemplate a humanity so adapted to harmonious social life that all needs are spontaneously and pleasurably fulfilled by each ,vithout injury to others.

PA.RT III. THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFEo COPYRIGHT, 1892, By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. PRINTED AT THE ApPLETON PRESS, U. S. A.

CHAPTER. I. INTRODUC'l'ORY. § 193. The foregoing fourteen· chapters have:shown that ethical sentiments and ideas are, in each place and time," determined 'by' the ;local. 'form 'of,', human nature, the social antecedents, ..... and ·thesurronnding ··'circumstances. Hence the .questionarises~HowfroJnall:which is '.' special and temporary 'shall'we 'separate ,that: which is general' and permaneut1 We have been 'showh, if· not overtly yet ~tacitly,thatthe very language used' in . speaking of moralqnestions,so involves the .' currenfbeliefs that men aTe.scarcely able'to think:awayfrom·them: thewordsnsed are' qnestion.;.beg ging:words. "Duty" and "6bligation,"Jorexample,carry with them the thought'Tjf< obedience,subordination,subjec tioD to authority; and thus, imply that right and wrong conduct are not such by '. their intrinsic .natures,' bntare' such by their' extrinsic enactments. How, then, shall we free 'onr..

selves from the influence of the' particular code we have '. been brollghtup under; and, the '. misleading 'connotations of 'our terms .~ Evidently we must for' a't~me 'ignore 'established' doctrines and expressions; .··We .Iunst .' go direct to the facts'Rndstudy them afresh, apart from all pre"'conceptions~I do-notmean that· the old ideas and the old words . are to ,. be rejected. Far from it .' We shall find that the greater part of them are well warranted and have to' be reinstated :iu' soniecases 478 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE. with added authority, and ill other cases with more or less of qualification. Ethical ideas and sentiments have to be considered as parts o£ the phenolnena o£ life at large. )Ve have to deal with !llan as a product o£ evolution, with Society as a pro duct o£ evolution, and with Moral Phenomena as products o£ evolution. Let no one anticipate any loss of authority.

Instead of finding that evolutionary ethics gives countenance to lower forms of conduct than those at present enjoined, we shall find that, contrariwise, evolutionary ethics is intolerant of much which those who profess to have the highest guid ance think harmless or justifiable. § 194. Integration being the primary process of evolution, we may expect that the aggregate of conceptions .constitut ing ethics enlarges, at the same tin1e that its cornponents acquire heterogeneity, definiteness, and that kind of cohesion 'which system gives to them. As fulfilling this exp'ectation, we may first note that while drawing within its range· of judgment numerous actions of men towards one another which at first were not recognized as right or wrong, it finally takes into its sphere the various divisions of private conduct-those actions of each individual which directly concern himself only, and in but remote ways concern his fellows.

Nearly all these actions are usually supposed to lie beyond ethical rule: not only those multitudinous ones which are indifferent, and, like onr movements from minute to minute, Inay be as well one way as another, but those numerous ones which bring some good or evil to self. But a theory of right and wrong which takes no cognizance of nine-tenths of the conduct by which life is carried on, is a folly. Life in general is a desideratum or it is not. If it is a desideratum, then all those modes o£ con duct which are conductive to a conlplete form of it are to be ,morally appro~ed. If,c~ntrariwise, life is not a desideratum, INTRODUCTORY. 47'9 the subject lapses: life should not be maintained, and an questions concerning maintenance of it, including the. ethical, disappear. As conlmonly conceived, ethics consists solely of interdicts on 'certain kinds of acts 'which men would like to do and of injunctions to perform, certain acts which they would like not to do. It says nothing about the great mass of acts constituting normal life; just as though these are neither warranted nor unwarranted. So influential are traditional sentiments and expressions, that the mass of readers will even now be unable to conceive that there can be an' ethical justification for the pursuit of positive gratifications. '"

Such private conduct as errs in the direction of sensual excess, li~e drunkenness, they do indeed include as subject to ethical· judgment and resulting condemnation: a perceived' injury, primarily to self and seconda;rily to others, being the ground for the condelnnation. But they ignore the truth that if injury to self is, in this case, a reason for Inoral repro bation, then benefit to self (so long .as there is no contingent injury to others or rernote injury to self) is a reason" for moral approbation. § 195. Far above other creatures though he is, Man re mains, in common with theIn, subject to the laws of life; and , the requirement for him, as fortheln, is conformity to these lavvs. By him, as by every living thing, self-preservation is the 'first. requisite; since without self-preservation, the dis charge of all other obligations, altruistic as well as egoistic, becomes impossible.

But self-preservation is effected only by the performance of actions which are prompted by desires. Therefore the satisfaction of these desires is to be enjoined if life should be maintained. That this is so with the sensations which prompt breathing, eating, drinking, and avoidance of extrenles of temperature, needs no proof: pain and death result from disobedience and pleasure from obedience. And as taking 82 480 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE. each or our primary pleasures directly furthers the vital activities, so, taking each of our secondary pleasures furthers them indirectly. Unquestionably, then, there is a division of ethics which yields sanctions to all the normal actions of individual life, while it forbids the abnorrnal ones. This Dlost general view, at once evolutionary and hedonistic, harmonizes with several more special views. § 196. As was pointed out in the preface, a disastrous effect is produced on the majority of minds by presenting ethics as a stern monitor, denouncing certain kinds of pleasures while giving no countenance to pleasures of other kinds. If it does not openly assert that all grati fications are improper, yet, by forbidding a nUlnber of thmn and saying nothing about the rest, it leaves the im pression that the rest, if not to be condemned, are not to be approved. By this one-sided treatment of conduct it alienates lnultitudes who ,,'"ould otherwise accept its teachings.

Assunling that general happiness is to be the aim (for if indifference or misery ·were to be the aim, non-existence would be preferable), then the implication is that the happiness of each unit is a fit aim; and a sequent implica tion is that for each individual, as a unit, his own happiness is a fit aim. Happiness as experienced by him, as much adds to the total amount as does happiness experienced by another; and if happiness may not be pursued for self, why may it be pursued for anyone else ~ If the totality of happiness could be made greater by each pursuing another's happiness, vvhile his own was pursued for hirn by others, something might be said for the theory of absolute altruisrn. But, in the first place, the greater part of the grateful consciousness possible for each is achievable only by himself--is a consciousness accompanying certain activities,and cannot exist without them. In the second INTRODUCTORY. 481 place, even were it otherwise, loss would arise if each pursued only the happiness of others; since as each of the others would have to do the like, there would be required the same amount of effort joined with a further alnount of effort consequent on misunderstandings from cross-purposes.

Imagine A feeding B while B fed A·, and so on ,vith C, D, &c., and instead of increase of satisfactions there would be decrease. The like would happen with the majority of other wants to be satisfied. As shown at the outset (§§ 82, 91), a system of ethics which insists on altruism and ignores egoism, is suicidal. Such a systelll' is, if the expression may be admitted, doubly suicidal; since, while its hnmediate operation must be detrimental, its remote operation must be still more detrimental. A' loss of capacity for happiness must be the effect produced on all. ]"01' lnany of our pleasures are organically bound up with performance of functions needful for bodily \velfare; and non-acceptance of them involves a lower degree of life, a decreased' strength, and a diminished ability to fulfil all duties. § 197. A further implication, almost universally ignored, must be here again emphasized. Already, in § 71, I have drawn attention to the obvious truth that the individual is not alone concerned in the matter, but that all his descend ants are concerned.

In the utter disregard of this truth we see more clearly than· usual how low is the average human intelligence. Sometimes, when observing on the Continent how the women, with faces unshaded, are, to keep out the bright sunlight, obliged to half-close their eyes and wrinkle up the corners of them, so producing, by daily repetition, crows-feet some ten or twenty years earlier than need be; I have thought it astonishing that, anxious though these women are to preserve beauty, they should have failed to perceive so silnple a relation between cause and effect.

482 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE. But it may be held that an instance of stupidity even more extreme (if the expression may pass), is furnished by the inability of people to see that disregard of self involves disregard of offspring. There are two ways in which it does this. Inability to proviqe for thelll adequately is one evil con sequence. Without bodily welfare in parents there cannot be effectual snstentation of children; and if the race should be maintained, then care of self with a vie"w to care of progeny becomes an obligation. This normal egoism must be such as results not merely in continued life, but in that vigorous life which gives efficiency. Nor is due care of self dernanded only because the duties of the bread-winner can not otherwise be fulfilled; but it is demanded also by regard for educational duties. Ill-health brings irritability and de pression; incapacities for right behaviour to children; and, by souring their tempers and deadening their sympathies, injures them for life.

Still more closely, however, is the welfare of descend ants bound up with self-welfare. Good or ill treatment of his or her body or mind by each person, influences for good or ill the constitutions of his or her progeny. Unless it be held that stalwart and robust men may be expected to come from stunted and unhealthy parents, or that high intelligences and noble characters are likely to be inherited from stupid and criIninal fathers and mothers, it must be admitted that any treatment of self which furthers bodily or mental development tends towards the benefit of the next generation (I say "tends" because there are com plicating influences due to atavism), and that any treat ment of self which undermines bodily health or injures the mind intellectually or emotionally, tends towards a lower ing of the nature in the next generation. Yet while people daily make· remarks about the likenesses of children to parents, and note the inheritance of this or that defect of mind or body, their criticisms on conduct entirely disregard INTRODUCTORY.

the implication. They iail to draw the inference that if constitutiolls are transmitted, the actions which damage constitutions or improve them influence for good or ill the physical· and m~ntal characters of. children and of children's children. In certain extreme cases there is, indeed, a distinct recognition of the mischiefs entailed by the transgressions of parents. Though reprobation ot those who have trans mitted acquired diseases to their children is not often heard, yet there can be no doubt that it is strongly felt . .Probably IHost will agree that, if the amount of suffering inflicted be used as a measure, murder is a smaller crime than is the .. giving· to offspring infected constitutions and consequent life-long· miseries. But even in its grossest form this transgression· is thought little of by the transgressors. There are, indeed, kindred cases in which the· sense of re-· sponsibility· sometimes serves as a deterrent-cases, for ex ample, ","here knowledge of the existence of insanity in the farnily causes abstentation froin 11larriage. Very generally, however, where the ",'"eaknesses,or disorders, or taints they are likely to communicate, are. of less conspicuous kinds, ·peo pIe, in a light-hearted way, are ready to inflict uncounted evils on descendants.

Still less is an allied consciousness of responsibility. There is no recognition of the truth that such persistent misuse·of body or mind as injures it,involves the injury of descendants·; and there·is consequently no recognition of the truth that it is a duty so to carryon life as to preserve all parts of the system in their normal states. These further reasons for due care of self have to be insisted upon. Each man's constitution should be regarded by him as an entailed estate, which he is bound to pass on in as good a condition as he received it, if not better. § 198. Beyond this special altruisln which n1akes in1pera tive a nornlal egoism, there is a general altruism which also 484 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL I.IFE. makes it in a measure obligatory. The obligation has both a negative and a positive aspect. Such care of self as is needful to exclude the risk of burdening others, is implied in a proper regard for others.

As, from those rude groups in which men lead lives so in dependent that they severally take the entire results of their own conduct, we advance to developed nations, fellow men become more and lllore inlplicated in our actions. Under a social system carried on by exchange of services, those on "w.,.hom undue self-sacrifice has brought incapacity are commonly obliged to break contracts partially or wholly, and so to inflict evil; and then any such incapacity as negatives bread-winning, ordinarily ilnposes, first on relatives and then on friends, or else on the pnblic, a tax in1plying extra labour. Everyone, therefore, is bound to avoid that thoughtless unselfishness which is apt to bring evils on others -evils that are often greater than those which entire selfish ness produces. The altruistic justification of egoism referred to as of a positive kind, results, firstly, from the obligation to expend some effort for the benefit of particular persons or for the benefit of society-an obligation which cannot be properly discharged if health has been ·undennined. And it results, secondly, fro"m the obligation to become, so far as inherited nature permits, a source of social pleasure to those around; to fulfil this requirement there must ordinarily be a flow of mental energy such as the invalid cannot maintain.

CHAPTER II. ACTIVITY .. § 199. In a systematic treatise the express statement of certain commonplaces is inevitable. A coherent body of geometrical theorelns, for instance, has to be preceded by self-evident axioms. This Inust be the excuse for here setting down certain farrliliar truths. The infant at first feebly moves about its little limbs; by and by itcra-wls on the •. floor; .presently it walks, and after a time runs. As it develops, its activities display themselves in games, in races, in long walks: the range of its excursions being gradually extended, as it approaches adult existence. lilanhood brings the ability to make tours and exploring expeditions; including passages from continent to continent, and occasionally round the world. When middle life is passed and vigour begins to decline, these extreme manifestations of activities become fewer. Journeys are shortened; .and presently they do not go beyond visits to the country or to the seaside. AR old age advances, the movements become linlited to the village and the surrounding fields; afterwards to the garden; later still to the house; presently to the room; finally to the bed; and at last, when the power to move, gradually decreasing, has ceased, the motions of the lungs and heart come to an end. Taken in its ensemble, life presents itself in the shape of movements which begin feebly, gradually increase up to maturity, and then culrninating, decrease until they end as feebly as they began.

486 '-'HE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE. Thus life is activity; and the complete cessation of activity is death. Hence arises the general implication that since the ITlOSt highly-evolved conduct is that which achieves the most cOlnplete life, activity obtains an ethical sanction, and inactivity an ethical condelnnation. This is a conclusion universally accepted and needing no enforcement. Even from those who habitually evade useful activities, there comes reprobation for such of their class as are too inert even to amuse themselves; absolute sloth is frowned on by all. § 200. The kind of activity with which we are here chiefly concerned, is the activity directed primarily to self sustentation, and secondarily to· sllste-:.1tationof fanlily. In the order of Nature the imperativeness of such activity effectually asserts itself. Alnong all sub-human creatures (excepting Inost parasites) individuals which lack it die, and after theln their offspring, if they have any. Those only survive which are adequately active; and, alnong such, a certain advantage in self-sustentation and sustenta tion of offspring is gained by those in \vhich activity is greater than usual: the general effect being to raise the activity to that limit beyond which disadvantage to the species is greater than advantage. Up to the time when men passed into the associated state, this la'v held of thelll as of the lower animals; and it held of them also through out early social stages. Before the Inaking of slaves began, no family could escape from the relation between labour and the necessaries of life. And the ethical sanc tion for this relation in primitive societies is implied in the fact that extreme inequality in the distribution of efforts and benefits between the sexes, must always have resulted in deterioration and eventual extinction.

Though, in the course of social evolution, there have arisen n1ultiplied possibilities of evading the normal relation between efforts and benefits, so as to get the benefits ACTIVITY. 487 without the· efforts; yet, bearing in mind the foregoing general law of life, we nlust infer that the evasions call for reprobation more or less decided, according to circum stances. Being here directly concerned only with the ethics of individual life, we need not take account of the inlplied relation. between the idle individual and the society in which he exists. Ignoring all other cases,·we may limit ourselves to those cases in which property equitablyac quired .by a parent, without undue tax on his energies, serves, when bequeathed, to support a son in idleness: cases in which there is no implied trespass on fellow citizens. On each of such cases the verdict is that though it is possible for the individual to fulfil the law of life, in so far as physical activities are concerned, by devoting· himself to sports and games,.and in so far as certain kinds of mental activities are concerned, by useless occupations; yet· there lack those mental activities, emotional arid intellectual,which should form part of his life as a social being; and in so far his life becomes an abnormal one.

§201. The chief question for us, however, is-What are the ethical aspects of labour considered in its immediate relations to pleasure and pain? From this point of view of absolute ethics, actions are right only when, besides being conducive to the future happiness of self, or others, or both, they are also·· immediately pleasurable. What t!len are .. we to say of necessary labour; most of which is acco111paniedby disagreeable feelings? Such labour· is warranted, or rather demanded, by the requirements of that relative ethics which is concerned not with the absolute right but with the least wrong. During the present transitional state of hUlnanity, submis sion to suchdispleasurable feeling as labour involves, is warranted as a Ineans of escaping from feelings which are 488 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDU AI.. I.IFE. still more displeasurable-a smaller pain to avoid a greater pain, or to achieve a pleasure, or both.

The state necessitating this compromise is the state of inlperfect adaptation to social life. The change from the irregular acti vities of the savage man to the regular activities of the civilized man, implies a re-moulding-a repression of some powers vvhich crave for action, and a taxing of other powers beyond the pleasurable linlit: the capacity for persistent effort and persistent attention, being one especially called for, and one at present deficient. This adaptation has to be undergone, and the accompanying sufferings have to be borne. And here seenlS a fit place for commenting on the vary ing amounts of displeasurable feeling, often rising to posi tive pain, necessitated by fulfilrnent of the obligation to work. The majority of people speak of effort, bodily or mental, as if the cost of it were the same to all. Though personal experience proves to thtln that 'when well and fresh, they put forth with ease a lTIuscular force which, when prostrate with illness or exhausted by toil, it is painful to put forth-though they find, too, that vvhen the mental energies are high they think nothing of a con tinuous attention which, when enfeebled, they are quite unequal to; yet they do not see that these temporary contrasts between their own states, are paralleled by per manent contrasts between states of different persons.

Ethical judgments must take account of the fact that the effort, bodily or mental, ~Thich is easy to one is labor ious to another. § 202. We come now to a question of special interest to us-Can the human constitution be so adapted to its pres ent conditions, that the needful alDount of labour to be gone through will be agreeable ~ An affirmative answer will, to most people, seem absurd. Limiting their observations to facts around, or at most ACTIVITY. 489 extending them to such further facts as the records of civiIized people furnish, they cannot believe in the required change of nature. Such evidence as that which, in the first part of this work (§§ 63-67), was assigned to prove that pleasures and pains are relative to the constitution of the organism, and that in virtue of the unlimited modi fiability of constitution, actions originally painful may become pleasurable, does not weigh witJl them. Though' they probably know some who so love work that it is diffi- ..

cult to restrain thenl,-though here and there they meet one who complains that a holiday is a weariness; yet it does not seem to theln reasonable to suppose that the due tendency to continuous labour, which is now an excep tional trait, may become a universal trait. It is undeniable that there are various expenditures of energy, bodily and mental-often extreme expenditures which are willingly entered upon and continued eagerly: witness field-sports, games, and the intellectual efforts made during social intercourse. In these cases the energy expended is often far greater than that expended in daily avocations. What constitutes the difference? In the one class of actions emulation makes possible the pleasurable consciousness which accompanies proved. efficiency, and the· pleasurable consciousness of the admiration given to efficiency; while, in the other class, the absence of emula tion, or at any rate of direct visible emulation, implies the absence of a large proportion of this pleasurable conscious ness. Nevertheless, what remains may become a power ful stimulus, making continuous application agreeable.

Hobbies exenlplify this truth. I can nalne two cases in which occupations of this kind are, without need, pursued so eagerly as scarcely to leave time for meals. Though in these cases the pleasurable exercise of skill is .a large factor, and though in many occupations there seems but small scope for this, yet, nearly everywhere, the satisfac tion attendant· on the doing of work in the most perfect 490 THE ETHIOS OF INDIVIDU.AL LIFE. manner, may be sufficient to render the ,vork agreeable, when joined with that overflowing energy which is to be anticipated as the concomitant of a norlnally developed nature. § 203.···It r.emains to consider whether, concluding that labour up to a certain lirnit is obligatory, there is any reason for concluding that beyond that limit it is the reverse of obligatory. The present phase of hunlan progress fosters the belief that the nlore work the more virtue; but this is an unwarranted belief.

Absolute ethics does not dictate more work than is re quisite for efficient self-sustentation, efficient nurture of dependents, and discharge of a due share of social duties. As in the lowest creatures, so in the highest, survival is the primary end to be achieved by actions; and though, in an increasing degree as we ascend, actions themselves with their associated feelings becolne secondary ends, yet pursued to the detriment of the primary end in all its ful ness-the leading of a life complete, not· in length only, but in breadth and depth. The hedonistic view, which is invol ved in the evolutionary view, implies an ethical sanction for that forln of conduct which conduces in the highest degree to self-happiness and the happiness of others; and it follows that labour which taxes the energies beyond the normal limit, or diminishes more than is needful the titne available for other ends, or both, receives no ethical sanction.

If adaptation to the social state Inust in time produce a nature such that the needful labour will be pleasurable, a concomitant conclusion is that it ,vill not produce a capacity for labour beyond this lilnit. Hence labour in ex cess of this limit will be abnormal and improper. For as labour inevitably' entails physical cost-as the waste involved by it has to be made good out of the total supply which the organic actions furnish ~ then superfluous labour, deducting ACTIVITY. 491 from this supply more than is. necessary, diminishes the amount available for life at large-diminishes the extent or the intensity of that life. Obviously, however, this reasoning refers to that fully evolved forlll of life which absolute ethics contemplates, rather than to the present form, which has to be guided· by relative ethics. In our transitional state, with its unde -veloped capacity for ,vork, frequent over-stepping of the limit is requisite, and must be regarded as incident to the further development of the capacity~ All ,,~e may fairly say is that, at present, the limit should not be so transgressed as to cause physical deterioration, and that it should be respected where there exists no weighty reason for going beyond it.

§ 204. Connected as each ulan's actions are with the ac tions of others in multitudinous ,vays, it follows that the ethics of individual life cannot be completely separated from the ethics of social life. Conduct of which the pri mary results are purely personal, has often secondary results which are social. Hence ,,"'e must in each case consider the ways in which acts that directly concern self indirectly con cern others. In the present case it scarcely needs saying that beyond that obligation to labour which is deducible from the laws of individual life, there is a social obligation reinforcing it. Though, in a primitive comulunity, it is possible for an indi vidual to take upon himself all the results of his inactivity; yet, in an advanced community, consisting of citizens not devoid of sympathy, it becomes difficult to let the idle individual suffer in full the results of his idleness, and still more difficult to let his offspring do this. Even should it be decided by fellow-citizens that the extreme consequences of idleness shall be borne, yet this decision must be at the cost of sylupathetic pain. In any case, therefore, evil is inflicted on others as well as on self, and the conduct 492 THE ETHICS· OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE.

inflicting it is, for this further reason, to be ethically repro bated. Reprobation, though quite of another quality, is also de served by conduct of the opposite kind-by the carrying of labour to such extreme as to cause illness, prostration, and incapacity. For by this conduct, too, burdens and pains are entailed on others. Hence altruistic nlotives join egoistic motives in prompting labour up to a certain liInit, but not beyond that limit.

CHAPTER III. REST. § 205. Though the ethically-enjoined limitations of life sustaining activities, specified to'wards the close of the last chapter, apparently implies that rest is ethically enjoined, and in a large measure does so, yet this corollary must be definitely stated and enlarged on for several reasons. The first is that there are various activities, not of a life sustaining kind,which may be entered on when the activities devoted to sustentation of life are ended; and hence the con· elusion drawn in the last chapter does not involve insistence upon absolute. rest. Further, we have to observe the several kinds of rest, which, if not complete, are approximately so; and the need for each of these kinds Inust be pointed out. Something has to be said under each of the several heads -rest at intervals during work; nightly rest ; rest of a day after a series of days; and occasional long rest at long inter vals.

§ 206. Rhythm, shown throughout the organic functions as elsewhere, has for its concomitant the alternation of waste and repair. Every contraction of' the heart, every inflation of the lungs, is followed by a momentary relaxa tion of the muscles employed. In the process of alimenta tion, we have the short rhythms constituting the peristaltic motion, compounded with the longer rhythrns implied by 494 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDU.AI~ LIFE. the periodicity of Ineals. Far deeper, indeed, than at first appears, is the confonnity to this law; for some organic actions which appear continuous are in truth discontinu ous. A muscle ","hich maintains for a tiIne a persistent contraction, and seems in a unifornl state, is made up of Inultitudinous units which are severally alternating be tween action and rest-these relaxing while those are contracting; and so keeping up a constant strain of the whole muscle by the inconstant strains of its competent fibres.

The law thus displayed in each organ and part of an organ, fr0111 InOlnent to moment, is displayed throughout the longer and larger cooperations of parts. COlnbined muscular strains ,vhich tax the poV\'"ers of the systen1. in any considerable degree, cannot with ilnpunity be con tinually repeated without cessation, even during the period devoted to activity. Waste in such cases over-rUllS repair to a considerable extent, and makes needful a cessation during which arrears may be in some measure made up an interval for "taking breath," as the expression is. Long unbroken persistence, even in lnoderate efforts, is injurious; and though such unresting action when occa sional does no permanent harm, if it recurs daily, loss of po·wer is the final result. Scriveners' palsy illustrates a local form of this evil; as do also various atrophies of over· used llluscles. Nor is this true of bodily actions only. It is true of mental actions also. A concentrated attention which is too continuous produces, after a tilne, nervous disturbance and inability. Daily occupation for ll1any hours in even so simple a thing as renloving the small defects in machine ulade lace, not unfrequently brings on chronic brain disorder.

Some single-line railways in the United States, the move ments of trains on which are regulated by telegraph from a central office, furnish a striking instance in the fact that the Inen \vho have thus to conduct the traffic, and cannot 495 for a momerit relax under' penalty of causing ,a.c~idents1 n~:V(jr last for more than a few years ; they become permanently .incapable. These -unduly' .persistentstrains,_-'bodi1$;and,~plen,t.al,..i\pe ahvaysindicated more orJesscleal"ly byth~pain:ful :feelipgs accompanying them. The sensations protest, 3i:ndtheirpro tests· cannot with irnpunity beigp.ored. § '207. Insistence, on the ,need for thatQomplete<r~st ,which we call·.sleep, is. not called. for ;:but.s()me;~hing may fitly be said. concerning .• its .·duration~l1g",.too, ,sIlla)l,J:10W too' great. Current criticisms on the .habits of those around,.imply the erroneous belief that for persons of. the&amese.~>~nd age, the same amount of sleep :is requireq~a p;rofe~~~ belief which . is, "l1evertheless,continuallytraversedqy. re Inarks on thellnlike ;numbers' of. hoursofrepQse which different persons cando with. Thetruth.is thatthe,re quired amount of sleep depends on t~ecpns,~itutipn.

According as the vigour is slnall or great, there may be taken ··nlanyhours to little purpose or ..fewhQllrs. to great 'purpose. To understand what .are the vital. requirements, )ahd, by itnplication, the habits which,. ftomQur pre~ent standpoint, 've regard as having ethic~l.sancti()n, >·.we Illustpause a moment, to look· at the. ·pllysi()logy.of·phe ··matter. ,. "Thedifference between waking -and sleeping '. is;,thl:tt jn the one waste gets ahead of repair, while in the.ot4~r repair gets ahead of waste. Proof. thatrepairis always,goipg on, but that it varies in rate, is. furnished Tbywhat,are known as photogenes. During early life, whiJ{Lt4e .blood is rich and the· circulation good, thedestructipn.pI nerye tissue produced ,by each ..impression;the ..•eye .receive.s,·.·...is made up for instantaneously, so that the eye is. at· ().yce ready to appreciate perfectly a new impression;.but in later life diminished vigour. is shown by the·g~~~ate;rJjple 88 496 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE.

required for restoring the sensitiveness of the retinal ele ments; and connected nerves, after each visual impression a time which is quite appreciable when the impression has been strong. The result is that a new imag-e received is-to some extent confused by the persistence of the preceding inlage, presented in its complementary colours. N ow these differences in the rates of repair at different stages in the life of the same individual, are paralleled by differences in the rates of repair in different individuals; and hence the unlike amounts of sleep required. There is a double cause for the unlikeness. In the vigorous person re pair during the waking state is relatively so rapid as not to fall very far in arrear of the ·waste caused by action; the consequence being that at the end of the day less repair is required. And then, from the same cause, it results that during sleep such repair as has to be made is more rapidly made. Conversely, in the individual with low nutrition and slow circulation, action is sooner followed by exhaustion, and the parts wasted by action take a longer rest to ma!te theln fit for action.

But while the inlplication is that not unfrequently one who is condemned as a sluggard is taking no more absolute rest than is required by hiln, and is rightly prompted to take it by his sensations, we must not infer that there is no such thing as sleep in excess. There is a very general tendency to take not only more than is needful but more than is beneficial. Passing a certain limit, the state of entire quiescence does not invigorate but prostrates. Lacking their stitnuli the vital organs flag, and when the quiescence is continued after repairs have been effected, a further fall in their activities disables them from carrying on the repairs needed during working life at the ordinary rate: a sense of weariness being the consequence. Probably for those whose systems are so far in a normal state that they sleep soundly, the first cOlnplete ,vaking marks the proper limit to the night's rest. SomeREST. 497 times a, day after sleep thus linlited is a day of unusual vivacity.

Here we have to recognize a seem'ing exception to the general law that for maintenance of bodily welfare the sensations are adequate guides. This lack of adjustment is 1110st likely associated with our transitional state, during which the average life is so uninteresting, and often 80 wearisorne, that the prospective rene,val of it on waking does not serve as a stimulus to get up, but rather theco~ trary; for everyone has found that when the forthcoming day promises an enjoyment, sayan excursion, there is no difficulty in rising earl.y. It may be, therefore, that greater adaptation to the social state and its needful occnpa tions, win render .easy that normal abridgment of sleep which is no"," difficult. But for a long time to come, it will be an implication of relative ethics that guidance by the sensations Inust here be supplemented by judgments based on experie~ce. § 208. Oivilized mankind have fallen into the habit of taking a further periodical rest-a weekly rest; and without accepting their reasons given· for taking it, we may adlnit the propriety of taking it for other reasons.

1vIonotony, no" Inatter of what kind, is unfavourable to life. Not only does there need some discontinuity in the activities carried on during the. waking state, and not only must· the activities be Inade discontinuous by intervals of sleep,but that continuity of activities which consists in repetition of days similarly occupied, also seenlS.to require breaking by days of rest. There is a cumulative weariness which is not lllet by tIle periodical cessations !Vhich -nights bring: there require larger periodical cessations at longer intervals. The persistent strain of daily occupations is in all cases a strain falling on some parts of the system more than on others; and that daily repair 'which suffices to bring the system at large into ,vorking order again, appears not '498 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE. to .suffice for bringing into working .. order again parts that have been specially taxed. So that a recurring day 'of rest has, if not' a religious sanction, still an ethical sanction.

We may, too, agree with the Sabbatarians so far as to ad mit that a periodical cessation.'of daily business is requisite as a means to mental. health. Even as it is, most people largely fail to emancipate themselves from those prosaic con ceptions of the world and life ,vhich nlechanical routine tends to produce; .and they would fail utterly were all their days passed in work. There require· intervals .of passivity during which the vast process of things amid which we live may be contemplated, and receptivity of the· appropriate thoughts and feelings fostered. § 209. I need not insist on the physical and mental bene fits gained frow those .longer intermissions of labour which now commonly recur annually. Not to dwell on the posi tive pleasures obtained by them (which, however, Inust be counted as effects to be deliheratelysought), it suffices to re call .. the re-invigoration and increased fitness for work which they usually produce, to show that they are ethically sanctioned, or rather, where circumstances permit, ethically enjoined.

Without .further elaboration .I pass to the altruistic reasons which justify rest, and show the taking of it in due amount to be obligatory. The claims of dependents and the claimeof' fellow-citizens with whom enRagements have been made, alike forbid excess of "'ork: energy must not be so wastefully expended .·asto jeopardize. fu~ filrnent of them. A. sane judg:rnent has to balance between the demand .for .. such. efforts as are required to meet these claims,~nd the demand for such rest aswillpreverit .exhaustion' and incapacity . Duty to others forbids overtax of self.' .But strong as is the i~lterdict hence arising, there' is·:a REST. 499 still stronger interdict-peremptory, if not for all, yet for those ,,,ho are likely to have offspring. As pointed out emphatically in the preliminary chapter, preservation of a sound body, as well as of a sound mind, is a duty to pos terity. Deterioration of physique must result from per sistence in undue activity. To suppose that whether a life which is physically normal ·has been led by a parent, or one' which is physically abnormal, matters not to children, is ab surd. If there has been hahitualdeficiency of rest and con sequent .deficiency of repair, the abnormality ·produced.must, like every other, leave its trace indescendants~not always conspicuously, since. each child, hesidesinl).eriting from two parents, inherits from :many lines o£ancestors; but, never theless,·in du~ degree some:where.

C.HAPTER IV. NUTRITION. § 210. Except perhaps in agreeing that gluttony is to be reprobated and that the gO~lr"met, as well as the gour'!Jnand, is a man to be regarded with scant respect, Inost people will think it is absurd to irnply, as the above title does, that ethics has anything to say about the taking of food. Though, by condemning excesses of the kinds just indicated, they im ply that Inen ought not to be guilty of them, and by the use of this word class them as wrong; yet they ignore the ob vious fact that if there is a wrong in respect of the taking of food there must also be a right. The truth appears to be that daily actions perforn1ed in ways "\vhich do not obviously deviate from the normal, cease to be thought of as either right or wrong. As the Inost familiar mathematical truths, such as twice two are four, are not ordinarily thought of as parts of mathematics-as the knowledge which a child gains of surrounding objects is not conlmonly included under education, though it forIns a highly important part of it; so this all-essential ministration to life by fO,od, carried on as a matter of course, is dropped out of the theory of conduct. And yet, as being a part of.

conduct which fundan1entally affects welfare, it cannot properly be thus dropped. How improper is the ignoring of it as a subject-Inatter for ethical judgments, we shall see on observing the ways in which current opinion respecting it goes wrong. § 211. Already, in § 174, the extrelne instances furnished by the EsquiInaux, the Yakuts, and the Australians, have NUTRITION. 501 shown us that enornlOUS quantities of food are proper under certain conditions, and that satisfaction of the seem ,ingly inordinate desires for them is not only warranted but imperative: death being the consequence of inability to take a sufficient quantity to meet the expenditure entailed by severe climate or by long fasts. To ,vhich here let me add the· experiences of Arctic voyagers, who, like the natives of the Arctic regions, acquire great appetites for blubber. Mention of these facts is a fit/preliminary to the question whether, in respect of food, desires ought or ought not to be obeyed. As already said, treatment of· this inquiry as ethical will be demurred to by most, and by many ridi culed. Though, when not food but drink is ,in question, their judgrnents, very strongly expressed, are of the kind they class as moral; yet they do not see that since the question concerns the effect of things swallowed, it is absurd to regard the conduct which causes these effects as nloral or immoral when the things are liquid but not when they are solid.

Adaptation goes on. everywhere and always, in the hunlan race as in inferior races, and, among other results, is the adjustment of the desire for Iood to the need for food. Even were this not shown us by the extreme in stances above given, it 'would be an inevitable corollary from the law of the survival of the fittest. Every mal adjustment of the two must have been injurious, and, other things equal, the tendency nlust ever have been for mal-adjustnlent to cause the dying-out of individuals in which it existed. On the average, then, there must be a fair balance: what there is of deviation from the norlnal, bearing but a small ratio to what there is of normal. Some deviation. doubtless occurs. We still· see inherit ance of traits appropriate to the primitive wild life and inappropriate to settled civilized life; and among such traits is that tendency to take food in excess of iInmediate 502 THE ETHIOS OF· INDIVIDUAL LIFE.

need,which was good in the· irregularly-living savage but which is not good in the regularly-living European. Further, it maybe adrnitted that men who lead nlonot onouslives, as most do, presenting much to bear and little to enjoy, are apt to prolong unduly the few actions which are· pleasurable; and of these eating is one. When the occupation to be entered upon at the end of a meal is pleasurable, there is comparatively little -wish to eke out the meal. But the" more or less of excess apt to result from these causes, is consequent not upon obedience to the sensations naturally arising, but rather from solicitation of the sensa tions: a perverting factor made possible by that hnagilla tion 'which has evil effects as'well as good effects. It is not that an immediate desire prompts the action, but that the action is prompted by the hope of experiencing the agreeable feeling 'which accompanies fulfihnent of adesil'e.

There are kindred evils arising from sitting down to table when appetite does not suggest-partaking of periodically recurring meals whether hungry or otherwise. Very often people eat as a lnatter of course, not in conforlnity with their sensations but notwithstanding the protests of their sensations~ And then, oddly enough, there comes fronl these -transgressors the assertion that sensations are not fit guides! Having suffered from constantly disobey ing· thenl,· they infer that they are not to be obeyed! It· is doubtless ·true that those who are out of health occasionally entail on·· thenlselves mischiefs by eating as much as they desire; and· some who are not in obvious ways unwell, now and then do the like. But a denlurrer dra-\v'n from these experiences is not sustainable. In such cases the adjustments bet\veen all the 'various needs of the organism, and the various sensations which prompt fulfil ment of them,have been chronically deranged by dis obedience. When by persistent indoor life, or by overw'ork, or -by ceaseless· rnental worry, or by· inadequate· clothing, NUTRITION. 503 or by breathing bad air, the, bodily functions have been perverted, guidance by the "sensations ceases' to be reliable.

It then becomes needful either, as in· some cases, to restrain appetite,or,as in other cases, to' take foodwithoutappe tite: 'all abnormal state having-been bronghtaboutby' physiological sins, artificial regulation is called for 'to suppletuent natural regulation. But this proves nothing. After'prolonged: starvation, satisfaction of ravenous ·hunger by a good meal·issaidto be.£atal. The prostration is so great that any considerable quantity of foodbannot be digested, and administration in small quantities is needful. But' it is not· thence inferred' that satisfaction of appetite by a· good meal will ordinarily be fatal. Similarly is it throughout. The evils which occasionally arise:£rom taking asml:lch asappetiteprompt8, lnust be ascribed to the luul titndinous preceding. disobediences to.·sensations,,and not to this particular obedience' to them. While there: is recognition of the evils resulting from excesses"'in "eating, there •is little reoognition of the, evils cOrisequenton eating too little. The~scetie bias'givenby thefrreligion alldby their education, leads most people to think:themselves meritorious if they do with as little food as possible and tempts them to restrict the food of others.

Disastrous', effects .follo'v.· Inadequate nutrition, especially while' gro,vth is:going on, is an unquestionable cause ,of imperfect development, either in "s.ize,or in quality of tissue, orinbotl:r; and pa.rentswho are responsible "for it are respollsiblefor invalid lives. No cattle-breeder: or :horse breeder dreams of obtaining a fine animal-on a stinted diet. No '"possessor,of 'a ..' fine· animal expects him to do good iservice on the rbador in the field unless he is well :fed~ Science· and C0J111Uon.sense unite· in recognizing the truth' that growth. and ;'vigour are alike dependent on a gOod. supply of the materials from which body and brain" areblliltup:when young and rep~iredwhen adult. The taking 'of an adequate quantity of food is insured if appe..

504 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE. tite is 0 beyed, while if the supply is restricted spite of the denlands of appetite, there will inevitably be lllore or less of defect in size or in strength. Speaking generally, then, we may say that there is an ethical sanction for yielding in full to the desire for food; both because satisfaction of the desire is itself one element to be counted alnong the nornlal gratifications life offers, and because satisfaction of it indirectly conduces to sub sequent fulness of life and the power of discharging all the obligattons. of life. § 212. One who conlplains of the monotony of his meals and is thereupon reproached for seeking the enjoyments which change of diet gives (I name a fact), is, by the reproach, tacitly condemned from a moral point of view. Whence the implication is that a doctrine of right and wrong has something to say respecting the propriety or impropriety of yielding to the wish for variety. Everyone, therefore, who does not agree in the opinion of the pious Scotchwolnan just referred to) must hold the opposite opinion: the desire for variety of food should be gratified -has a sanction like that of the desire for due quantity of, food.' This is of course not a fit place for entering on the topics-of variety, quality, and preparation of food-topics the mere mention of which will seem out of place to those \vho have not accepted the doctrines hnplied in the first chapter of this work, that every part of conduct which directly or indirectly affects welfare has an ethical aspect.

Here, what has to be said or hinted under the three heads named, may come under the one general head of satisfac tion of the palate, as distinguished from the satisfaction of the appetite-distinguished in a measure but not wholly; since the lone serves as a n orInal stirnulus to the other. Partly as a further sequence of asceticism, and partly as a reaction against the gross sensualism which history OCCOr NUTRITION. 505 sionally records from Roman days down to recent days, it has come to be thought that the ple~sures of the table· are to b~ reprobated; or, if not positively reprobated, yet passed over as not proper to be regarded. Those who take this view are, indeed, like others, discontent ,vith insipid food; and are no less ready than others to dismiss cooks who cannot prepare enjoyable din~ers. But while prac tically they pursue gastronomic satisfactions, they refuse to recognize their theoretical legitimacy.

Here, I cannot imitate this uncandid mode of dealing with the matter; and find nlyself obliged to assert that due regard for the needs of the palate is not only proper but disregard of them is wrong. The contrary view involves the belief that it Inatters not to the body whether it is the seat of pleasurable feelings, or indifferent feelings, or pain ful feelings. But it matters very much. As asserted in an early chapter (§ 36), pleasures raise the tide of life while pains lower it; and alnong the pleasures which do this are gustatory pleasures. There are two reasons why, ,vhen food is liked, digestion of it is furthered, and when disliked is hindered. In common with every agreeable sensation an agreeable taste raises the action of the heart, and, by implication, the vital functions at large; while siInultaneously, it excites in a more direct way the strnct.:. ures which secrete the digestive fluids. It needs but to relnember the common observation that an appetizing odour makes the mouth water, to understand that the alimentary canal asa whole is lnade active by a pleasurable stimulation of the palate, and that digestion is thus aided And since on good digestion depends good nutrition, and on.

good nutrition depends the energy needed for daily ,york, it follows that dne regard to gratification of· the palate is demanded. Those wllo have had any experience of invalid life, know well how slnall a quantity can be eaten of food which is indifferent or distasteful, and hO¥l trying is the digestion of 506 THE ETHICS.' OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE. such food, while the converse holds of food which is grate ful: the resulting adequate meals of such food better di gested, being a condition to recovery and the resulnpti~n of responsibilities. And if the benefit of such ministrations to the palate is made thus manifest \vhere the vitality is .low, it unquestionably exists, though less Inanifestly,where the vitality is high.· Ofoourse, as in respect of quantity. so in respect of quality and variety, there may be, and often is, excess: the last kind of excess being conducive to the first. But no more in this case than in any other case is abuse an argument against use.

§ 213. Before ending this· chapter, \vhich I must now do lest it should become a chapter on dietetics, I Inust say some thing on the altruistic bearings of the conclusions drawn; only making, in further. repudiation of the ordinary ascetic view, the rClnark' that the Hebrew myth \vhich represents the eating of the apple by Eve as prompted by the serpent, seeIns in Inany minds to have been expanded into a general theory of our relations to food: their asceticisrn tacitly implying that gustatory prolnptings are suggestions of the devil. Of the altruistic bearings to be noted, the first concerns the indirect .effects of excess, suffered by those around, from the· occasional illness and more frequent ill-telnper which it produces : injuries to others the prospect of which should serve as a deterrent, no less than prospecti ve injury to self. And then a more remote altruistic bearing is seen in the effect wrought on the· cOlnmunity if excess is general. Remem bering that the stock of food· \vhich a cOlnmunity obtains is a· lilnited quantity, it results that if its members consume more than is needful for complete self-sustentation, they diminish the amount of human life proper to the inhabited area. Olearly, if people at large eat, let us say, one-sixth more than is required for full life NUTRITION. 501 and vigour-if ten millions of people eat as much as would satisfactorily support twelve millions; then, assuming human life to be a desideratum, a wrong is done by thus prevent ing its increase. The share of each individual in the wrong may be inappreciable; but the aggregate wrong-prevent ing the existence of two millions of people'-is appreciable enough.

The remaining alt,fuistic· be~ring is that which concerns offspring. Chronic innutrition of parents injures children. In the case of mothers the inevitableness of this result is clear. Building-up of the fretus has to go on simul taneously with the carrying on of maternal life, and nutri tive' materials are used· upforbothprocesses.>/ Though, in the competition', between the two; thenrsthas ·'a·· certain priority, .and is effected' at great cost to thesecond;y~t, where the· supply of nutritive materials is; inadequate, f~tal growth is checked,as well"Rslnaternalenfeeblelnent caused. A stinted development ··of the infant· .and".a 'sub sequent faUing short of fullHfeare the . consequences. Regard for. posterity-· thus .•... peremptorily· demands. good feeding.

CHAPTER V. STIMULATION. § '214. To write sundry chapters on the ethics of individ uallife and to say nothing about the taking of stirnulants, is out of the question. While, on large parts of private con duct, most rnen pass no moral judgments, and aSSUlne that they are subject to none; over that part of private conduct which concerns the drinking of fermented liquors, lnost men, passing strong Illoral judgments, unhesitatingly aSSUlne that ethics exercises peremptory rule; and the inclusion ,vithin the domain of ethics of questions concerning alcoholic stimulants, is follo'wed by inclusion of questions concerning opiurn-eating. We may observe here, as we have observed before, that the reprobation of practices which, in excess, are certainly injurious, and are held by many to be injurious altogether, is practically limited to practices which are primarily pleasur able. A man nlay bring on hinlself chronic rheumatism by daily careless exposure, or an incurable nervous disorder by over-application; and though he may thus vitiate his life and dilninish his usefulness in a far greater degree than by occasionally taking too much ,vine, yet his physical trans gression rneets with only nlild disapproval, if even that. But in these cases the transgression is displeasurable, whereas excess in \vine is pleasurable; and the dalnnable thing in the misconduct is the production of pleasure by it.

If it be said that this contrast of moral estimates is due to STIMULATION. 509 the perception that there is danger of falling into injurious habits which are primarily pleasurable, while there is no dan ger of falling into injurious habits which are prilnarily pain ful; the reply is that though we naturally suppose this to be true, yet it is not true. The obligations men are under, or suppose themselves to be under, lead them in multitudinous cases to persist in sedentary lives, to work too Inany hours, to breathe impure air, and so forth, spite of the feelings which protest-spite of continual proofs that they are injur ing themselves. Clearly it is the vague notion that gratifi cation is vicious, which c~uses the condemnation of gratifying transgressions ,vhile ullgratifying transgressions are con demned but slightly or not at all. Here we have to consider the matter, as far as we can, apart from popular judgments, and guided only byphysiological considerations, ' § 215. It cannot, I think, be doubted that from the point of view of absolute ethics, stimulants of every kind must be reprobated; or, at any rate, that daily use of them nlust be reprobated. Few, if any, will contend that they playa need ful part in complete life.

All normal ingesta subserve the vital processes either by furnishing materials which aid in the formation and ,repair of tissues, or 'materials which, during their trans formations, yield heat and force, or the material-,vater --which serves as a vehicle. A stilnulant, alcoholic or other, is neither tissue-food, nor heat-food, nor force-food. It simply affects the rate of rnolecular change-exalting it and then, under ordinary circumstances, if taken in con siderable quantity, depressing it. Now matters which can be used neither for building up the body nor as stores of -force, do not increase the sum of vital manifestations, but , only alter· the distribution of them. And since, in a being fully fitted for the life it 4as to lead, the functions are already adjusted to the require:ments, it does not seem that any ad· 510 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE. vantage can be obtained by changing the established bal ance.

This inference is far-reaching-carrie~. us beyond the point to which the total-abstainers from fermented· liquors wish to go. Tea and coffee also must be, excluded from dietaries. The vegeto-alkalies, to which they owe their effects, are just as little akin to food properly so c~lled, as is alcohol; ,and, like alcohol, simply modify. for a time the rate of lllolecular change, causing greater genesis of energy during one interval with the effect of diminishing it .during another. From the physiological· point of view, therefore, the use of these must be condemned if the· uS(j of alcohol. is condemned. Should it be said that the . condemnation ,of the last is evoked by the liability to abuse, it may be replied that the liability to abuse holds of the others also; though·the· mis chiefs wrought are neither so frequent nor so conspicuous. In France there are occasional deaths from coffee-drinking, and in England undue drinking of tea not infrequently causes nervousness.

§ 216. But ,vhile, from the point of view.of absolute ethics, the use of stimulants seems indefensible, we may still ask ,vhether relative ethics affords any justification for it whether, under existing conditions, imperfectly adapted as we are to the social state, and obliged to diverge from natural requirements, we may.not use, stimulants to countervail· the consequent .mischiefs. It is a fact of some significance that throughout the world, among unallied races· and in all stages 0:£ progress, we find in· use one or other agent which agreeably affects the nervous system-opium in China, tobacco among the American Indians, bang in India, hashish in sundry Eastern places, a narcotic .fungus in Northern Asia, kava. among the Polynesians, chicaandcoca in Ancient Peru, and various fermented· liquors besides the~ne of. Europeans, STIMULATION. 511 84 and the beer of various African tribes-the soma of the prirniti ve Aryans and the pulque of the Mexicans. Not that this universality of habits' of stimulation justifies them in face of the evidence that diseases often result; but it suggests the question wThether there is not a con nexion between the use of some exciting or sedative agent, and the kind of life circumstances entail-a life here monotonous, there laborious, and in other places full of privations. Possibly these drugs and liquors may some times make tolerable an existence which would be other wise intolerable; or, at any rate, so far mitigate the bodily or mental pains caused, as to diminish the mischiefs done by them.

Various testimonies are to the effect that where the daily life is one entailing much wear and tear of brain, the seda tive influence of tobacco is useful-serves to check that nerv ous waste which otherwise the continuance of thought and > anxiety would produce. > In a normal state, those parts of the system which have been taxed cease to act when the strain is over: the supply of blood is shut' off, and they be come quiescent. But in the abnormal states established -in many by overwork, it is otherwise. The parts which have been active become congested, and remain active when action is no longer demanded. Thinking and feeling cannot be stopped, and there occurs an expenditure which is not only useless but injurious. Hence a justification for using an agent which prevents waste of tissue and economizes the energies. Again, where the constitutional powers are flagging, and a day's work proves so· exhausting that the ability to digest partially fails, it n1ay be held' that vascular action and nervous discharge may advantageously be raised by alcohol to the extent needful for effectually dealing with food; since a good meal well digested serves to render the sys tem fit for another day's work, which otherwise it would not be.

512 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE. There are those, too, in whom undue application estab lishes a state of nervous irritation which is mitigated or ended by a dose of opiurn; and the life may sOlnetimes be such that the state thus dealt with frequently recurs. If this happens the use of the relnedy appears justified. § 217. Even total abstainers admit that alcoholic bever ages may rightly be used for medicinal purposes; and their admission, consistently interpreted, ilnplies that, as above contended, stimulants in general nul,y properly be employed, not only where positive illness exists, but where there is inability to cope with the requirements of life. For if a very conspicuous departure from the normal state may often be best treated by brandy or wine, it cannot well be denied that a less conspicuous departure, occurring perhaps daily, may similarly be treated. Constitutional debility, or the debility ·which comes vvith advancing years, may, like the debility. of an invalid, be advantageously met by temporarily raising the power of the system at times when it has to do work conducive to restoration-that is, when food has to be digested, and sometimes when sleep has to be obtained. But there hence results a defence only for such uses of stimu lants as aid the systenl in repairing itself. 'Vhen, as by taking alcoholic liquors between meals, or by the hypoder mic injection of morphia, there is achieved a telnporary exaltation of power or feeling, "Thich conduces to no restora tive end, reprobation rightly takes the place of approbation.

In the order of nature, normal pleasures are the concolni tants of normal activities, and pleasures which are achieved by gratuitous deviations from the normal have no ethical sanctions. One exception only should be made. Stimulants may be taken with advantage when the monotony of ordinary life is now and then broken by festive entertainments. As im plied in a preceding chapter, daily repetition of the same activities, which in our state are inevitably specialized, necesSTIMULATION. 513 sitates undue taxing of certain parts· of the system. Breaches in the uniformity therefore yield benefits by furthering restoration of equilibrium. The functions, chronically kept out of balance, are aided in returning to a balance. Hence it happens that .. social lneetings at which, along with mental exhilaration, there goes the taking of abundant and varied food, and wine even in large quantity, often prove highly salutary-are not followed by injurious reactions but leave behind invigoration. Such m~ans used for such ends, how ever, Inust be used but occasionally: if often repeated they defeat themselves.

§ 218. To SUlll up what has been said in a tentative wa.y on this difficult question :-we may, in the first place, con clude that absolute ethics, in so far as it concerns individual life, can give no countenance to. the daily use of stimulants. They can have no place in a perfectly norlnal order. In such approxitnately normal life as that enjoyed during their early days by vigorous persons, there is also no place for them. So long as there is nothing to prevent the full discharge of all the organic functions, there can be no need for agents which telnporarily exalt them. What ethics has to say in the matter must take the· form of an interdict. Only when the excessive obligations which life often entails produce more or less of daily prostration, or when from constitutional feebleness or the diminished strength of old age, the ordinary tax on the energies is somewhat greater than can be effectually Inet, does there seeln a valid reason for using· exciting agents, alcoholic or other; and then only when they are taken in such wise as to aid repara tive processes.

Beyond this there is a defence for such.occasional uses of these agents as serves, when joined with raised nutrition and enli vening circumstances, to. take the system out of its rou tine, which in all cases diverges somewhat, if not much, from· a perfect balance. CHAPTER VI. CULTURE. § 219. Taken in its widest sense, culture means prepara tion for complete living. It includes, in the first place, all such discipline and all such knowledge as are needful for, or conducive to, efficient self-sustentation and sustentation of family. And it includes, in the second place, all such de velopment of the faculties at large, as fits them for utilizing those various sources of pleasure which Nature and Hu manity supply to responsive minds. The first of these two divisions of culture has more than an ethical sanction: it is ethically enjoined. Acquisition of fitness for carrying on the business of life is primarily a duty to self and secondarily a duty to others. If under the head of this fitness we COIn prise, as we 11lust, such skill as is needful for those who are to be manually occupied, as well as skill of every higher kind, it becomes manifest that (save with those who have sustentation gratis) lack of it makes a healthy physical life impracticable, and makes impracticable the nurture of dependents. Further, the neglect to acquire a power of adequately lllaintaining self and offspring, neces sitates either the burdening of others in furnishing aid, or else, if they refuse to do this, necessitates that infliction of pain upon them which the contemplation of misery causes.

Concerning the second division of culture, peremptory obligation is not to .be alleged. Those who take an ascetic view of life have no reason for that discipline of faculties CULTURE. 515 which aims to increase one or other refined pleasure; and, as among the Quakers, we see that there does in fact result a disregard of, and often a reprobation of, such dis cipline, or of parts of it. Only those.who accept hedonism can consistently advocate this exercise of intellect and feel ing which prepares the 'way for various gratifications fill ing leisure hours. They only can regard it as needful for attaining complete life, and as therefore having an ethi cal sanction. From these general ideas of culture, essential and non essential, let us go on to consider the several divisions of it. § 220. There is a part of culture, usually neglected, which should be recognized alike by those to whom it brings means of living and by those who do not seek material profit from it, which may fitly stand first. I mean the acquirement of manual dexterity.

That this is a proper' preparation for life aUlong, those occupied in productive industry, will not be disputed; though at present, even the boys "\1\Tho may need it are but little encouraged -to acquire manipulative skill: only those kinds of skill '\Thich games give are cultivated. But luanipulati ve skill and keenness of perception ought to be acquired by those also who are to have careers of higher kinds. Awkwardness of limb and inability to use the fingers deftly, continually entail small disasters and occa sionally great OIles; while expertness frequently comes in aid of welfare, either of self or others. One who has been well practised in the uses of his senses and his muscles, is less likely than the unpractised to meet with accidents; and, when accidents occur, is sure to be Illore efficient in rectify ing mischiefs. Were it not that this obvious truth is ignored, it would be absurd to point out that, since limbs and senses exist to the end ofadjusHng the actions to surrounding ob jects andmoveluents, it is the business of everyone to gain skill in the perforlnance of such actions.

516 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE .. Let it not be supposed that I am here advocating the extension of fOTlnal culture in this direction: very llluch to the contrary. The shaping of all education into lessons is one of the vices of the time. Culti vation of manipu lati ve skill, in common with expertness' in general, should he acquired in the process of achieving ends otherwise de sired. In any rationally-conducted education there must be countless occasions for the exercise of those faculties 'which the artisan and the experiInenter bring perpetually into play. § 221. Intellectual culture under its prinlary aspect links on to the culture just described; for as discipline of the limbs and senses is a fitting of theln for direct dealings with things around, so intelligence, in its successive grades, is an agent for guiding dealings of indirect kinds, greater and greater in their complexity. The higher acquisitions and achievements of intellect have now become so remote from practical life, that their" relations to it are usually lost sight of. But if we remember that in the stick employed to heave up a stone, or the paddle to propel a boat, we have illustrations of the uses of levers; while in the pointing of an arrow so as to allow for its fall during flight, certain dynamical principles are tacitly recognized; and that from these vague early cognitions the progress nlay be traced step by step to the generalizations of nlathematicians and astronomers; we see that science has gradually enlerged from the crude knowledge of the savage. And if ,ve re Inember that as this crude knowledge of the savage served for silnple "guidance of his life-sustaining actions, so the de veloped sciences of mathenlatics and astronomy serve for guidance in the workshop and the counting-house and for steering of vessels, while developed physics and chemistry preside over all manufacturing processes; we see that at the one extreme as at the other, furtherance of men's ability to deal effectually 'with the surrounding "rorld, and so to CULTURE. 517 'satisfy their wants, is that purpose of intellectual culture which precedes all others.

Even for these purposes' we distinguish as practical, that intellectual culture which makes us acquainted with the natures of things, should be wider than is commonly thought needful. Preparation for this or that kind of business is far too special. There cannot be adequate knowledge of a particular class of natural facts without ~ome knowledge of other classes. Every object and every action simultaneously presents various orders of phenomena-mathematical, physical, chelnical,-,vith, in luany c.ases, others which are vital; and these phenolnena are so interwoven that fullcornprehension of any group involves partial comprehension of the rest. Though at first sight the extent of intellectual culture thus suggested as requisite luay seem impracticable, it is not so. When education is rightly carried on, the cardinal truths of each science Inay be clearly communicated. and firmly grasped, apart from the many corollaries cor~monly' taugb.t along with them. And after there has been gained such famil iarity with these cardinal truths of the several sciences as renders their chief implications comprehensible, it becomes possible to reach rational conceptions of anyone group of phenornena, and to be fully prepared for a special occup.ation.

That division of intellectual culture which comprises knowledge of the sciences, while having an indirect ethical sanction as conducing to self-sustentation and sustentation of others, has also a direct sanction irrespective of practical ends. To the servant-girl, the ploughboy, the grocer, nay even to the average classical scholar or rnan of letters, the world, living and dead, 'with the universe around it, present no such grand ·panorama "as they do to those who' h~ve gained some conception of the actions, infinite and infinitesi mal, every,vhere going on, and can contemplate them. under 'other aspects than the technical. If we imagine that into a gorgeously..:decorated hall a rush-light is· brought, and, 518 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE. being held near to some part of the ,vall, luakes visible the pattern over a snlall area of it, while everything else remains in darkness; and If, instead of this,' we imagine that electric lights turned on reveal simultaneously the whole room with its varied contents; we may forD} some idea of the different appearance under 'which Nature is contemplated by the utterly uncultured nlind and by the highly cultured lllind. Whoever duly appreciates this irn mense contrast will see that, rightly assiInilated, science brings exaltation of mental life.

One further result rnust be recognized. That study of all orders of phenomena 'which, while it gives adequate gen eral conceptions of theIn, leads, now in this direction and now in that, to limits which no exploration can transcend, is needful to Inake us aware of our relation to the ultilnate mystery of things; and so to awaken a consciousness which ,ye may properly consider germane to the ethical con sciousness. § 222. In its fuII' acceptation, kno'wledge of science in cludes knowledge of social science; and this includes a cer tain kind of historical knowledge. Such of it as is needful for political guidance, each citizen should endeavour to obtain. Though the greater parts of the facts from which true 8n ciological generalizations lllay be drawn, are presented only by those savage and semi-civilized societies ignored in our educational courses, there are also re quired some of the facts furnished by the histories of devel oped nations.

But beyond the impersonal elements of history which chiefly demand attention, a certain attention lnay rightly be given to its personal elements. Commonly these oc cupy the entire attention. The great-luan-theory of his tory, tacitly held by the ignorant in all ages and in recent times definitely enunciated by }ill'. Carlyle, implies that knovyledge of history is constituted by knowledge of rulers CULTURE. 519 'and their doings; and by this theory' there is fostered in the Inass of nlinds a love of gossip about dead indi viduals, not much nlore respectable than the love of gossip about individuals now Iiving. But V\rhile no information concerning kings and popes, and ministers and generals, even when joined to exhausti ve acquaintance with in trigues and treaties, battles and sieges, gives any insight into the la-ws of social evolution-while the single fact that division of labour has been progressing in all advanc ing nations regardless of the wills of law-Inakers, and un observed by them, suffices to show that the forces which mould societies ·work out their results apart from, and often in spite of, the aims of leading men ; yet a certain moderate number of leading lHen and their actions may properly be contelnplated. The past stages in human progress, which everyone should know· sOInething about, would be con ceived in too shadowy a fornl if wholly divested of ideas of the persons and events associated with theIne More over, some amount of such kno,vledge is requisite to enlarge adequately the conceptio~ of hiunan nature in general to show the extrelnes, occasionally good but lllostly bad, which it is capable of reaching.

With culture of this kind there naturally goes purely literary culture. That a fair amount of this should be included in the preparation for cOluplete living, needs no saying. Rather does it need saying that in a duly pro portioned education, as well as in adult life, literature should be assigned less space· than it now has. Nearly all are prone to mental occupations of easy kinds, or kinds which yield pleasurable excitements with small efforts; and history, biography, fiction, poetry, are, in' this respect, more attractive to the majority than science-In ore attrac~ tive than that knowledge of the order of things at large ,which serves for guidance. Still, we must· not here forget that from the hedonistic point of view, taking account of this pleasure directly 520 THE ErrHICS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE. obtained, literary culture has a high claim; and we may also admit that, as conducing to wealth and force of ex pression by furnishing Inaterials for metaphor and allusion, it increases luental power and social effectiveness.. In the absence of it conversation is bald.

§ 223. In culture, as in other things, TIlen tend towards one or other extrelue. Either, as with the great majority, culture is scarcely pursued at all, or, as with the few, it is pursued almost exclusively, and often with disastrous results. Emerson says of the gentleluan that the first requisite is to be a good animal, and this is the first requisite for everyone. A course of life which sacrifices the animal, though it may be defensible under special conditions is not defensible as a general policy. Within the sphere of our positive knowledge we nowhere see mind without life; we nowhere see life without a body; we nowhere see a full life-a life which is high alike in respect of intensity, breadth, and length-without a healthy body. Every breach of the laws of bodily health produces a physical damage, which eventually damages in some way, though often in an invisible way, the mental health.

, Culture has therefore to be carried on subject to other needs. Its amount must be such as consists with, and is con ducive to, physical welfare; and it must be also such as consists with, and is conducive to, normal activity not only of the mental powers exercised, but of all others. When carried to an extent which diminishes vivacity, and pro duces indifference to the various natural enjoyments, it is an abuse; and still luore is it an abuse when, as often happens, it is pushed so far as to produce disgust with the subjects over which attention has been unduly strained. Especially in the case of women is condemnation of over culture called for, since iInlnense mischief is done by it. We are told that the higher education, as now carried on ~t Girton and Newnham, is not inconsistent with nlainteCULTURE. 521 nance of good health; and if we omit those who are obliged to desist, this appears to be true. I say advisedly "appears to be true." There are various degrees of what is called good health. Oommonly it is. alleged and admitted where no physical disturbance is manifest;· but there. is a wide space between this and that full health which show's itself in high spirits and overflo'wing energy.

In women, especiaIl.y, there may be maintained a health ,vhich seems good, and yet falls short of the requireluents of the race. For in 'women, much more than in men, there is constitutionally provided a surplus vitality devoted to continuance of the species. When the system is over taxed the portion thus set aside is considerably diminished before the portion which goes to carryon individual life is manifestly trenched upon. The cost of activity, and espeeially of cerebral activity, which is very costly, has to be met; and if expenditure is excessive it cannot be met without deduction from that reserve power 'which should go to race-maintenance. The reproductive capacity is dhnin ished in various degrees~soInetimes to the extent of inability to bear children, more frequently to the extent of inability to yield milk, and in numerous cases to a snlaller extent 'which I must leave. unspecified. I have good authority for saying that one of the remoter results of over-culture, .very frequently becomes a cause of domestic alienation.

Let me add that an adequately 'high culture, alike of Inen and 'VOlnen, might be compassed without mischief were our (Jurri(JuZ.urn more rational. If the worthless knowl edge included in what is now supposed to be a good education were omitted, all that 'which i'8 needful for guidance, most of that which is desirable for. general en lightenment, and a good deal of that which is distinguished as decorative, might be acquired without injurious reactions. § 224. To the egoistic llloti ves for culture have to be added the altruistic motives. A human being devoid of 522 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE. knowledge, and with none of that intellectual life which discipline of the faculties gives, is utterly uninteresting. To becolne a pleasure-yielding person is a social duty. Hence culture, and especially the culture which conduces to enlivenment, has an ethical sanction and sonlething more. Especially is this true of resthetic culture, of which no note has thus far been taken. While it is to be enjoined as aiding that highest development of self required for the fullest life and happiness, it is also to be enjoined as increasing the ability to gratify those around. Though practices in the plastic arts, in music, and in poetry, are usually to he encouraged chiefly as producing suscepti bility to pleasures, which the resthetically uncultured can not have; yet those who are endowed with something more than average ability, should be led to develop it by Inotives of bene~olence also. In the highest degree this is so with music; and concerted music, subordinat ing as it does the personal element, is above all other kinds to be cultivated on altruistic grounds. It should be added, however, that excess of resthetic culture, in common with excess of intellectual culture, is to be reprobated; not in this case because of the overtax entailed, but be cause of the undue expenditure of time-the occupation of too large a space in life. ,Vith multitudes of people, especially women, the pursuit of beauty in one or other form is the predolninant pursuit. To the achievement of prettiness much more important ends are sacrificed. Though resthetic culture has to be recognized as ethically sanctioned, yet instead of elnphasizing the denland for it, there is far greater occasion for condemning the excess of it. There needs a trenchant essay on ffisthetic vices, which are every where shown in the subordination of use to appearance.

OHAPTER VII.. AMUSEMENTS. § 225. I have closed the last chapter with a division, the subject Inatter of which links it on to the subject nlat ter Qf this chapter. We pass insensibly from the activities and passivities implied py msthetic culture, to sundry of those which come under the head of relaxations and amuse ments. These we have now to .consider from the ethical point of view. To the great majority, who have imbibed nlore or less of that asceticism which, though appropriate to times of chronic militancy and also useful as a curb to ungoverned senualism, has swayed too much men's theory of life, it will seem an absurd supposition that amusements are ethically warranted. Yet unless, in common with the Quakers and some extreme evangelicals, they hold them to be positively wrong, they must either say that amusements are neither right norwrong, or, they n1ust say that they are positively right-are to be morally approved.

That they are sanctioned by hedonistic ethics goes with out saying. They are pl~asure-giving activities; and that . is their sufficient justification, so long as they do not unduly interfere with activities which are obligatory. Though most of our· pleasures are to be accepted as concomitants of those various expenditures of energy con ducive to self-sustentation and sustentation of family; yet the pursuit of pleasure for pleasure's sake is to be sanc524 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE. tioned, and even enjoined, when primary duties have been fulfilled. So, too, are they to be approved frorn the physiological point of vie\\r. Not only do the emotional satisfactions which accolllpany normal life-sustaining labours exalt the vital functions, but the vital functions are exalted by those satisfactions which accornpany the superfluous expenditures of energy. implied by amusements : rnuch rnore exalted in fact. Such satisfactions serve to raise the tide of life, and taken in due proportion conduce to every kind of effi ciency.

Yet once Inore there is the evolutionary justification. In § 534 of The Principles of Psychology, it was shown that whereas, in the lowest creatures, the small energies which exist ar:e wholly used up in those actions which serve to maintain the individual and propagate the species; in creatures of successively higher grades, there arises an 'increasing amount of unused energy: every improvement of organizatioil achieving some economy, and so augnlent ing the surplus power. This surplus expends itself in the activities we call play. Among the superior vertebrata the tendency to these superfluous activities becomes con spicuous; and it is especially conspicuous in JYIan, when so conditioned that stress of competition does not make the sustentation of self and family too laborious. The ilnpli cation is that in a fully developed fonn of human life, a . considerable space will be filled by the pleasurable exer cise of faculties which have not been exhausted by daily activities.

§ 226. In that division of The Principles of Psychology above referred to (§§ 533-540), in which I have drawn this distinction between life-sustaining activities and activities not of a life-sustaining kind, which are pur sued for pleasure's sake, I have not drawn the further distinction between those of the sensory structures and .

AMUSEMENTS. 525 those of the motor structures. There isa distinction between gratifications which ffisthetic perceptions yield and those yielded by gaInes and sports. This distinction it was left for Mr. Grant A.llen to point out in his Physiologi cal .LEsthetics. It cannot be made an absolute distiIl~tion, however; since gratifications derived {roIn certain excite ments of the senses are often associated with, and de pendent upon, muscular actions; and since the gratifi cations of .muscular actions, whatever their kind, are achieved. under guidance of the senses. Moreover, with each of them there usually exists a large emotional accom paniment more important than either. Still the division is a natural one, and }\tIr. Grant Allen has established it beyond question. Even ascetically-minded people do not repudiate those en joyments, intellectual and emotional, ,vhich travelling yields.

Pursuit of the ffisthetic delights derived from beautiful scenery, the mountains, the sea-primarily those due to the visual. impressions which forms and colours give, but sec ondarily .and mainly those due to the poetical sentiments aroused by association-is approved by all. So, too, in a -measure, is pursuit of the gratifications yielded byexplora,. tion of the unknown forms of human life and its products~ foreign peoples, their towns, their ways. One is sometirnes . saddened to think what a vast rnajority of meil come into the world and go out of it again knowing scarcely at all what kind of world it is. And this thought suggests that while· it is to be sanctioned for gratification's sake, travel ling is to be further sanctioned for the sake of culture; since the accompanying enlargement of the experiences 'profoundly affects the general conceptions and rationalizes them. Modern social changes and changes of belief, are in considerable measure due to facilitation of intercourse with unlike forms of life, and character, and habit, which railways have brought abont.

After the pleasures given' by actual presentations of new 526 THE ETHIOS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE. scenes, may fitly be named the pleasures yielded by pictorial representations of thein. While in lnany cases these fall short of those which the realities give, in rnanyother cases they exceed then1. By its reproduction on canvas there is given to a rural view or a dOinestic interior an artificial interest; so that sOlnething intrinsically commonplace is transfigured into something beautiful: possibly because the mind in presence of the object itself was so Inuch occupied with its other aspects as to give no attention to its resthetic aspects. Be the cause what it may, however, works of art open new fields of delight, and" by hedonisru acceptance of this delight is sanctioned, or rather enjoined. Few pleas ures are nl0re entirely to be approved, and less open to abuse, than those yielded by paintings, and of course also by sculptures.

It seems undesirable to insist that there is an ethical sanc tion for the pleasures given by light literature, seeing that there is so general a tendency to excess in the pursuit of them. Perhaps such exaltation of feeling as the reading of good poetry produces, is not sought in an undue degree; but, unquestionably, there is far too much reading of fiction; often excluding, as it does, all instructive reading, and caus ing neglect of useful occupations. While ethical approval must be given to occasional indulgence in that extreme gratification produced by following out the good and ill fortunes of inlaginary persons n1ade real by vivid charac ter-dravving; yet there much IYlOre needs ethical reproba tion of the too frequent indulgence in it which is so COIU luon: this elnotional debauchery undermines mental health. Nor let us omit to note that while sanction may rightly be claimed for fiction of a humanizing tendency, there should be nothing but condelnnation for brutalizing fiction -for that culture of bloodthirst to which so many stories are devoted.

Of course much that has just been said concerning fiction may be said concerning the draina. Higher even AMUSEMENTS. 52'7 than the gratification yielded by a good novel, is that yielded by a good play; and the demoralization caused by excess of it would be still greater were there the sallie opportunity for continuous absorption. Pleasures which are intense must be sparingly partaken of. The general law of \vaste and repair implies that in proportion to the excitement of a' faculty must be its subsequent prostration and unfitness for action-an unfitness which continues until repair has been rnade. lIenee, overwhelming-sym pathy felt for personages in a fiction or drarna, is felt at the cost of some subsequent callousness. As. the eye by exposure to a vivid light is nlomentarily incapacitated for appreciating those feeble lights through which objects around are distinguished; so, after a tearful fellow-feeling ,vith the sufferers of imaginary woes, there is for a time a lack of fellow-feeling with persons around .. Much theatre going, like much novel-reading, is therefore to be ethically reprobated.

Perhaps among gratifications of the oosthetie class, that which nlusic yields is that which may be indulged in Inost largely without evil consequences. Though after a concert, as after a fiction or a play, life in general seems tame; yet there is a less marked reaction, because the feelings excited are more rernotely akin to those associated with daily inter course. Still, the pleasures of music are frequently enjoyed to an excess which, if not otherwise injurious, is injurious by the implied occupation of time-by the filling of too large a space in life. § 22'7. Throughout the foregoing class of pleasures, result ing from the superfluous excitements of faculties, the indi vidual is mainly passive. We turn now to the class in which Ire is mainly active; which again is subdivisible into two classes-sports and games. With sports, ethics has little concern beyond graduating its degrees of reprobation. Such of them as involve the direct infliction of pain, especially on 35 528 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE.

fellow-beings, are nothing but means to the gratification of feelings inherited frorn savages of the baser sort. That after these thousands of years of social discipline, there should still be so Inany who like to see the encounters of the prize ring or witness the goring of horses and riders in the arena, shows how slowly the instincts of the barbarian are being subdued. No condenlnation can be too strong for these sanguinary amuseluents which keep alive in IneH the worst parts of their natures and thus profoundly vitiate social life. Of course in a Ineasure, though in a smaller measure,condemnation Inust be passed on field sports-in smaller measure because the obtainment of food affords a partial motive, because the infliction of pain is leEs conspicuous, and because the chief pleasure is that derived frolH successful exercise of skill. But it cannot be denied that all activities with which there is joined the conscious ness that other sentient beings, far inferior though they may be, are made to suffer, are to some extent demoralizing.

The sympathies do, indeed, admit of being' so far special ized that the same person who is unsympathetic towards wild anhnals nlay be in large lueasure sympathetic towards fellow-men; but a full amount of sympathy cannot well be present in the one relation and absent in the other. It lnay be added that the specializing of the sympathies has the effect that they become smaller as the renloteness from human nature becomes greater; and that hence the killing of a· deer sins against them more than does the killing of a fish. Those expenditures of energy which take the form of games, yield pleasures from which there are but small, if any, dra"rbacks in the entailed pains. Certain of them, indeed, as football, are as much to be reprobated as sports, than some of which they are more brutalizing; and there cannot be much ethical approbation of those gaInes, so called, such as boat-races, in which a painful and often injurious overtax of the systelu is gone through to achieve .AMUSEMENTS. 529 a -victory, pleasurable to one side and entailing pain on the other. But there is ethical· sanction for those games in ,vhich, with a moderate amount of Inuscular effort, there is joined the excitement of a competition not too intense, kept alive from moment to llloment by the changing inci dents of the contest. Under these conditions the muscular actions are beneficial, the culture of the perceptions is useful, while the einotional pleasure has but srnall drawbacks. And here"I am pronlpted to denounce the practice, now so gen eral, of substituting gymnastics for games~violent rnuscular actions, joined with slnall concomitant pleasures, for Inoder ate muscular actions joined vvith great pleasures. '. This usurpation is a sequence of that pestilent asceticism ·which thinks that pleasure is of no consequence; and that if the same anlount of exercise be taken, the same benefit is gained: the truth being that to the exaltation of the vital functions ","'hich the pleasure produces, half the benefit is due.

Of indoor games which chiefly demand quickness of perception, quickness of reasoning, and quickness of judg ment, general approval may be expressed with qualifica tions of no great importance. For young people they are especially desirable as giving to various of the intellectual faculties a valuable training, not to be given by other llleans. Under the stress of competition, the abilities to observe rapidly, perceive accurately, and infer rightly, are increased; and in addition to the immediate pleasures gained, there are. gained powers of dealing III ore effectually withlnany of the incidents of life. It should be added that such drawbacks as there are, .from the elnotions ac companying victory and defeat, are but small in games which involve chance as a considerable factor, but are very noticeable where there is no chance. Chess, for ex ,ample, which pits together two intelligences in such a w"ay as to show unmistakably the superiority of one to the other in respect of certain '··powers, produces, mu~h more than 530 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUA.L LIFE.

whist, a feeling of hUlniliation in the defeated, and if the sympathies are keen this gives some annoyance to the victor as well as to the vanquished. Of. course, such ethical sanction as is given to games, cannot be given where gambling or betting is an accom paniment. Involving, as both do, in a very definite way, and often to an extrerne degree, the obtainment of pleasure at the cost of another's pain, they a!e to be condemned both for this irnmediate effect and for their remote effect-the repression of. fellow-feeling. § 228. Before passing to the altruistic aspect of amuse ments, there should be noted a less fanliliar egoistic aspect. Unless they have kept up during life an interest in pastimes, those who have broken down from overwork (perhaps an overwork entailed on them by irnperative duties) usually find thelnselves incapable of relaxing in any satisfactory \-vay: they are no longer amusable. Capacities for all other pleas ures are atrophied, and the only pleasure is that \vhich busi ness gives. In such cases recovery is, if not prevented, greatly retarded by the lack of exhilarating occupations.

Frequently dependents suffer. This last consideration shows that these, like other classes of actions which prin1arily concern the individual, concern, to some extent, other indi viduals. But they concern other individuals in more direct and constant ways also. On each person there is imposed not only the peremptory obHgation so to carryon his life as to avoid inequitably interfering with the carrying on of others' lives, and not only the less perelnptory obligation to aid under various circuulstances the carrying on of their lives, but there is imposed some obligation to increase the pleasures of their lives by sociality, and by the cultivation of those powers vvhich conduce to sociality. A man Inay be a good economical unit of society, while renla~ning other wise an almost \vorthless unit. If he has-no knowledge of AMUSEMENTS. 531 the arts, no resthetic feelings, no interest in fiction, the drall1a, poetry, or music-if he cannot join in any of those arIlusements which daily and at longer intervals fill leisure spaces in life-if he. is thus one to wholn others cannot readily give pleasure, at the saIne time that he can give no pleasure to others; he becolnes in great measure a dead unit, and unless he has SOUle special value might better be out of the way.

Thus, that he may add his share to the general happiness, each should culti vate in due measure those superfluous activities which primarily yield self-happinesso CHAPTER VII~. MARRIAGE. § 229. Up to the present point there has been maintained, if not absolutely yet with tolerable clearness, the division between the ethics of indi vidual life and the ethics of social life; but we COlne, in this chapter and the chapter which follows it, to a part of ethics which is in a sense intermediate. For in the relations of marriage and parenthood, othe~s are concerned, not contingently and indirectly, but in ,vays that are necessary and direct. The implied divisions of conduct, while their primary ethical sanctions refer to the proper ful filment of individual life, are yet inseparable from those divisions which treat of conduct that is to be ethically approved or disapproved because of its effects on those around.

Let us glance first at the general obligation under which the individual lies to aid in Inaintaining the species, while fulfilling the needs of his own nature. § 230. In Tlw Principles ifBiology (§§ 334-351) was ex plained the necessary antagonisnl between· individuation and reproduction-between the appropriation of nutriment and en ergy for the purposes of indi vidual life, and the appropriation of them for the initiation, development, and nurture of other lives. Extrelne cases in which, after an existence of a few hours or a day, the body of a parent divides, or else breaks up into numerous germs of new individuals, and less extreme cases in which a brief parental existence ends by the transMARRIAGE. 533 formation of the skin into a protective case, ,vhile the in terior is wholly transforlned into young ones, illustrate in an unmistakable way the sacrifice of individual life for the maintenance of species life. It was shown that as we ascend to creatures of more complex structure and greater activity, and especially as we ascend to creatures of which the young have to be fostered, the expenditure of parental life in pro ducing and rearing other lives becolnes gradually less. And then, in TlwPrinciples of Sociology (§§ 275-277), when considering. the "diverse interests of the species, of the parents, and of the offspring," we saw that in mankind there is reached such conciliation of these interests that along with preservation of the race there go moderated jndi vidual sacri fices; and further, that with the ascent froID lower to higher types of Dleu, we tend towards an ideal falnily in which "the mortality between birth and the reproductive age falls to a nlinimum, while the lives of adults have their subordi nation to the rearing of children reduced to the smallest pOl::lsible."

To the last, however, the antagonism between individua tion and reproduction holds-holds in a direct 'way, because of the physical tax which reproduction necessitates, and holds in an indirect way because of the tax, physical and mental, necessitated by rearing children: a tax which, though it is pleasurably paid in fulfilment of the appropriate. instincts and emotions, and is in so far a fulfilment of in dividuallife, is nevertheless a tax which restricts individual developnlent in various directions. But here the truth which it chiefly concerns us to not~ is that, assuming the preservation of the race to be a de8~~dera tum, there results a certain kind of obligation to pay this tax and to submit to this sacrifice. lVIoreover, something like natural equity requires that as each individual is indebted to past individuals for the cost of producing and rearing him, he shall be at some equivalent cost for the benefit of future individuals.

534 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE. In tribes and small societies, where maintenance of num~ bel's is important, this obligation becolnes appreciable; and, as we see in the reproach of barrenness, failure to fulfil it brings disapproval. But of course in large nations whel e rnultiplication is rather an evil than a benefit, this obligation lapses; and the individual may, in nlany cases, fitly discharge his or her indebtedness in some other way than by adding to the population. § 231. Leaving here these considerations which pertain, perhaps, lnore to the ethics of social life than to the ethics of individ ual life, and returning to the consideration of mar riage as a part of individual life, we. have first to note its ethical sanctions as so considered. All activities fall into two great groups-those which constitute and sustain the life of the individual, and those which further the life of the race; and it seems inferable that if for full health the structures conducive to the one must severally perform their functions, so must the structures conducive to the other. Such part of the organization as is devoted to the production of off spring, can scarcely be left inert and leave the rest of the organization unaffected. The not infrequent occurrence of hysteria and chlorosis shows that women, in whom the reproductive function bears a larger ratio to the totality of the functions than it does in luen, are apt to suffer grave constitutional evils froln that incolnpleteness of life which celibacy implies: grave evils to which there probably correspond smaller and unperceived evils in numerous cases.

As before relnarked, there are wide limits of deviation in what we call good health; and there are everywhere, in men and women, many shortcomings of full health which are not percei ved to be such-shortcomings, however, which may be recognized on renlembering the contrast between the ordinary state of body and mind, and that which is shown after an invigorating holiday. That the physiological effects of a cornpletely celibate life on either sex are to some extent MARRIAGE. 535 injurious, seems an almost necessary ilnplication of the nat ural conditions. But whether or not there be disagreement on this point, there can be none respecting the. effects of a celibate life as mentally injurious. A large part of the nature-partly intellectual but chiefly emotional-finds its sphere of action in the marital relation, and afterwards in t~e parental rela tion; and if this sphere be closed, sonle of the higher feel ings lllUSt remain inactive and others but feebly active.

Directly, to special elements of the mind, the relation estab lished by marriage is the normal and needful stimulus, and indirectly to all its elements. There is in the first place to be recognized an exaltation of the energies. Continuous and strenuous efforts to suc ceed in life are often excited by an engagement to lnarry -efforts which had previously not been thought of. Then, subsequently, the consciousness of family respo:qsibilities when these have arisen, serves as a sharper spur to exer tion: often, indeed, a spur so sharp that in the absence of prudential restraints it leads to overwork. But the most noteworthy fact is that under these conditions, an amount of activity becomes relatively easy, and even pleasurable, which before 'was difficult and repugnant. The imrnediate cause of this greater energy is the in creased quantity of emotion which the Inarital relation, and after it the parental relation, excite; and there is to be recognized both a greater body of emotion, and a higher form of emotion. To the lower egoistic .feelings which previously formed the chief, if not only, stimuli, are now added those higher egoistic feelings which find their satisfaction in the affections, together with those altruistic feelings which find their satisfaction in the happiness of others. What potent influences on character thus come into play, is shown in the moral transformation which rnarriage frequently effects. Often the vain and thoughtless girl, caring onl~ for amusements, becomes changed into the 536 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAl, r.IFE.

devoted wife and mother; and often the man who is ill ternpered and unsympathetic, becomes changed into the self-sacrificing husband and careful father. To which add that there is usually exercised, more than before, the dis cipline of self-restraint. Some effect, too, is wrought on the thinking faculties; not, perhaps, in their powTer, but in their balance. In women the intellectual activity is frequently diIninished; for the antagonisln bet",-reen individuation and reproduc tion, which is in them most pronounced, tells more especiall.y on the brain. But to both husband and wife there daily come many occasions for exercises of judg lnent, alike in their relations to domestic affairs, to one another, and to children-exercises of judgment "'Thich in the celibate state 'were not called for; and hence an in crease of intellectual stability and sense of proportion. It Inust, however, be relnarked that the beneficial effects to be expected fronl marriage, as gi ving a sphere to a large part of the nature otherwise relatively inert, presuppose a normal 111arriage-a marriage of affection. If, instead, it is one of the kind to be ethically reprobated a mercantile marriage-there may follow debasernent rather than elevation.

§ 232. But now comes a difficult question. If, on the one hand, as being a condition to fulfilment of individual life, marriage is ethically sanctioned and, indeed, ethically enjoined; and if, on the other hand, there is ethical repro-: batioD for all acts which will certainly or probably entail evil-reprobation if the evil is likely to come on self, and still more if it is likely to come on others; then what are we to say of irnprovident nlarriages ~ There needs no insistence on the truth that if domestic responsibilities are entered upon ,vithout a fair prospect of efficiently discharging them, a wrong is done: espe cially to children and, by inlplication, to the race. To MARRIA.GE. 537 take a step froln which will result a poverty-stricken household, containing a half-starved and half-clothed fam ily, is, if estin1ated by entailed miseries, something like a crime. When, after long years of pain, anxiety, cold and hunger, to adults and young, some out of the lnany born have been reared to lnaturity, ill-grown, unhealthy, and incapable of the· efforts needed for self-support; it becomes Inanifest that there have been produced beings who are at once curses to then1selves and to the cpmmunity. Severe c<;>ndemnation'Inustbe passed on the conduct which has such consequences.

. And-yet, on the other hand, what would happen if no marriages took place without a satisfactory prospect of lnaintaining a family? Suppose that an average delay· of ten years were submitted to, so that there l1light be no such risks of evil as are now commonly run. The usual suppo sition is that such persistent self-restraint w'ould be purely beneficialo This is far frOID being true, however. Ido not refer to the fact that ten years of partially ahnor~ mal life is a serious evil'; although this should be taken ac count of in estimating the total results. N or am I thi:tlking of the increased liability to domestic dissension which arises when added years have given to each of the married pair greater fixity of beliefs and diminished. modifiability of feel ings. But I am thinking chiefly of the effects on progeny. The tacit a~umption made by those who advocate the Mal thusian remedy for over-population, is, that it luatters not to children ·whether they are born to young parents or to old parents. This is a mistake.

Because many factors co-operate, the evidence is so ob scured that attention is not commonly drawn to theef fects indicated; but they certainly arise. The antagonism between individuation and reproduction implies, alnong other' things, that the surplus vitality available for the maintenance of species-life is that which remains after the maintenance of individual life. Hence the effects on ofI538 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE. spring of early, medium, and late lnarriages, are not con stant; because the surplus, though it has a general rela tion to age, is not constant at any age. But from this general relation it results, in the first place, that children born of very early marriages are injuriously affected; since where the developnlent of parents, or more espe cially the mother, is not complete, the available surplus is less than that which exists after it is cOlllplete. It results also that where maternal vigour is great and the surplus vitality consequently large, a long series of children may be borne before any deterioration in their quality becomes D1arked; ,vhile, on the other hand, a lnotherwith but a snlall surplus may soon cease altogether to reproduce.

Further, it results that variations in the states of health of parents, involving variations in the surplus vitality, have their effects on the constitutions of offspring, to the extent that offspring borne during greatly deranged lnaternal health are decidedly feebler. And then, lastly and chiefly, it results that after the constitutional vigour has culminated, and there has cOlnmenced that gradual decline which in sonle twenty years or so brings absolute infertility, there goes on a gradual decrease in that surplus vitality on which the production of offspring depends, and a conse quent deterioration in the quality of such offspring. This, which is an a priori conclusion, is verified a posteriori. }tIr.. J. Matthews Duncan, in his work on Fecundity, Fer til1:ty, 6"Yterility,and allied topics, has given results of sta tistics which show that mothers of five-and-twenty bear the finest infants, and that from mothers whose age at lnarriage ranges frolll twenty to five-and-t,venty, there COlne infants which have a lower rate of mortality than those resulting frotn marriages cOlnmenced when the mother's age is either snlaller or greater: 'the apparent slight incongruity between these two staternents, being due to the fact that whereas marriages comlnenced be tween twenty and five-and-twenty cover the whole of the MARRIAGE. 539 period of highest vigour, marriages commenced at five ,and-twenty cover a period which lacks the years during which vigour is rising to its climax, and includes only the years of decline frorn the climax.

Now this fact that infants born of mothers married between twenty and five-and-twenty have a lower rate of mortality than infants born. of lllothers married earlier or later, shows that the age of marriage is not a matter of indif ference to the race, and that the question of early or late marriages is less simple than appears. While the children of a relatively early marriage hnprovidently entered upon, may suffer from inadequate sustentation; the children of a late marriage are likely to' suffer from initial imperfection ,-imperfection which may be consistent ,vith good health and fair efficiency, but yet may negative that high effi ciency requisite for the best and most successful life. For especially nowadays, under our tregirne of keen competi tion, a small falling-short of constitutional vigour nlay entail failure. Thus, except in the positive reprobation of marriages at an earlier age than twenty'(among the higher races of m,an kind) ethical considerations furnish but indefinite guidance.

Usually there has to be a compromise of probabilities. While recklessly improvident marriages must be strongly condemned, yet it seenlS that in many cases some risk Ina.y rightly be run, lest there should be entailed the evils fiow-ing frolll too long,a delay. § 233. But what has ethics to say concerning choice in lnarriage-the selection of wife by husband and husband by ,vife,~ It has very decisive things to say. Current conversation proves how low is current-thought and sentiment about these questions. "It will be a very good lllatch for her," is the remark you hear respecting some young lady engaged to a wealthy lnan. Or concern ing the choice of sonle young gentleman it is said-" She 540 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE. is an accomplished girl and well-connected; and her friends will help to ad vance him in his profession." Another en gaged pair are described as well-suited: he is a domestic man, and she does not care luuch for society. Or, perhaps, the inlpending marriage is applauded on the ground that the lady will be a good housekeeper, and luake the best of a small income; or that the proposed husband is good-tem pered and not too fastidious. But about the fitness of the connexion as considered not extrinsically but intrinsically, little or nothing is said.

The first ground of ethical judgn1ent is the reciprocal state of feeling prompting the union. Where there exists none of that mutual attraction 'which should be the incentive, evo lutionary ethics and hedonistic ethics alike protest; 'what ever ethics otherwise derived may do. Marriages of this class are reversions to marriages of earlier types, such as those found alnong the rudest savages. The 1nariage de convenancehas been called, with some sho\v of reason, legal ized prostitution. But passing over the interdict which ethics utters on Inarriages which are mercantile, or which arise from other motives than affection, vve have to notice its further in terdicts physiologically originating. Here we see, as ,vas pointed out in the preliulinary chapter, how prevalent is the blindness to all effects save proximate ones: unques tionable as may be the genesis of rernoter effects. Only in extreme cases do either those directly concerned or their friends, think of the probable quality of the offspring ",~hen discussing the propriety of a marriage. Disapproval, perhaps rising to reprobation, may be expressed when the proposed union is between cousins, or is a union with one . who probably inherits insanity; but. consideration of the effects to be borne by descendants goes scarcely beyond ,this. A feeble' mind or a bad physique is but rarely thought a sufficient reason for rejecting a suitor. Thin, flat-chested girls, debilitated men perpetually ailing, some MARRIAGE. 541 who are constitutionally wanting in bodily energy, others who have no activity either of intellect or feeling, and many who are from this or that defect so inferior as to be unfit to carryon the battle of life, are ordinarily considered good enough for marriage and parenthood. In a Inanner that seenlS almost deliberate there are thus entailed households in which illness and dulness and bad-temper IJrevail, and out of which there come unhealthy and incapable children and grandchildren.

Ethical considerations should here serve as rigid re straints. Though guidance by the feelings is to be so far l'espected that marriages not pronl pted by thelTI must be condernned, yet guidance by the feelings must not there fore be regarded as so authoritative that all marriages prompted by them should be approved. A certain per version of sentiInent has to be guarded against. Relative ,veakness, appealing for protection, is one of the traits in wOmen which excites in nlen the sentiment of affection "the tender emotion," as Bain styles it; and sonletimes a degree of relative weakness which exceeds the natural, strongly excites this feeling: the pity which is akin to love ends in love. There are converse cases in which. a woman of unusual power of nature. becolnes attached to a man who is feeble in body or mind. But these devia tions from normal inclinations have to be resisted. Ethics demands that judgment shall here come in aid of instinct and control it.

§ 234. There remains a question uniformly passed over (because difficult to discuss, but the ignoring of which is fraught with untold disasters-a· question concerning which Ethics, in its comprehensive form, has a verdict to give, and cannot without falling short of its functions decline to give it. The sa.ying "that the letter killeth but the spirit giveth life," is exemplified not only by the way in which observance 542 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE. of religious ceremonies replaces observance of the essential injunctions of religion, but it is exemplified everywhere. A.s in the primitive legal system of the Romans, before it was qualified by infusion of the JU8 Genti'u1n,the essential thing was fulfilment of formalities rather than maintenance of right-as, among ourselves, the sacrifice of justice to the technicalities of la,v, led to the supplementary systeln of equity, intended to rectify the entailed injustices-as, again, in the system of equity the observance of rules and conform ing to orders, ever cOluplicating, became in course of time so burdensome that equity, lost sight of, was replaced by in equity, or iniquity; so is it throughout. Wherever require ments which have their roots in the order of Nature, come to be enforced by an extrinsic authority, obedience to that extrinsic authority takes the place of obedience to the natural requirements.

It is thus in a considerable degree with marriage. I do not mean merely that unions of an essentially illegitimate kind are supposed to be legitimized by a church service or a registration; but I mean' more. I luean that when the civil requirements have been fulfilled, and the ecclesiastical sanc tion has been obtained, it is supposed that no further control has to be recognized-that when the religious restraints and the social restraints on the relations of the sexes have been duly respected, there remain no other restraints. The physi ological restraints, not having received official recognition, are not supposed to exist, or are' disregarded. Hence a vast alnount of evil. The antagonism between individuation and reproduc tion comes into play throughout the entire process of ra~e luaintenance. It is true that the fulfilment of individual life largely consists in furthering species-life; but it is none the less true that from beginning to end, the last puts a limit to the first. We have but to eonsider that, delighted as the rnother is in yielding food to her infant, she yet suffers a serious physieal tax in addition to the physieal tax MARRIAGE. 543 entailed by production of it, to see tbat great though the Inaternal gratification filay be, it entails loss of gratifications which a more developed individual life rnight have brought; and that when many children are produced and reared, the sacrifices of individual life and of the pleasures which ,a higher development would bring, becorne very great. This law inevitably holds throughout the entire reproductive function front beginning to .end-with the initial part as with the terminal part ; and ignorance of, or indifference to, it entails profound injuries, physical and mental. . If the physiological restraints are not respected the life is under mined in all ways.

When, out of the total resources which the sustaining organs furnish in materials and forces, the part required for the carrying on of individual life is trenched upon beyond the normal ratio, by the part constitutionally appro priated to species-life, there comes a diminution of energy, whichaf1ects the vital processes and all dependent processes~ Chronic derangements of health supervene, diminished bodily activity, decline of mental power, and sometimes even insanity. Succeeding the ITlischiefsthus caused, even. when they. are not so extrerne, there come the lnischiefs entailed on family and others; for inability to discharge. obligations, depression of spirits, and perturbed mental state, inevit ably injure those around. Several specialists, who have good means of judging, agree in the opinion that the aggregate evils arising from excesses of this kind are greater .than those arising from excesses of all other kinds put together.

If, then, Ethics as rightly conceived has to pass jndg ment on all conduct which affects the well-being, immediate or remote, of self or others, or both; then the lack of self restraint which it condelnns in other cases, it must eondelnn in this case also. 36 OHAPTER IX. PARENTHOOD. § 235. The subject-matter of this chapter is of course only in part separable from the subject-matter of the last chapter. But though in discussing the Ethics of Marriage, as primarily concerning the relations of parents to each other, it has been needful to take account of the relations of parents to offspring, it has seerned best to reserve the full consideration of these last relations for a distinct chapter. Already it has been pointed out that in the order of Nature-~' so careful of the type ... so careless of the single life "-the welfare of progeny takes precedence of the welfare of those who produce theIne Though the happiness or misery of the married pair is ordinarily the result chiefly contemplated, this result must be held of secondary importance in comparison with the results reached in offspring-the superiority or inferiority of the children born and reared to maturity. For in proportion as race-maintenance is ·well or ill achieved in each case, must be the tendency of the species or variety to' prosper or decline.

Henee all requirements touching the proximate' end, nlarriage are to be considered in subordination to re quirements touching the ultimate end-the raising up Inembers of a new generation. Evolutionary ethics de mands that this last end shall be regarded as the supreme end. § 236. Obviously the parental instincts in large measure secure fulfilment of this supreme end; since any species or PARENTHOOD •. 545 variety in vvhich they are not strong enough to do this, must presently become extinct. Here, then, we are introduced to the truth that achievernent of those pleasures which parent hood brings, has a double sanction-that which the ethics of individual life directly yields, and that which is yielded in directly by the ethics oi social liie. F'But satisfaction of the parental affections, while not to be ignored as an end in itself, is, as above implied, chiefly to be regarded as a spur to the discharge of parental responsi bilities. The arrangements of things are dIslocated if the two are not kept in relation--if the responsibilities, instead of being discharged by parents, are shouldered upon others.

It might have been thought that this truth is too obvious to need enunciation; but, unhappily, it is far other~"ise. We have fallen upon evil times, in which it has come to be an accepted doctrine that part of the responsibilities are to be discharged not by parents but by the publica part which is gradually becoming a larger part and threatens to become the whole. Agitators and legislators have united in spread ing a theory which, logically followed ont, ends in the monstrous conclusion that it is for parents to beget children and for society,to take care of theIne The political ethics now in fashion, makes the unhesitating assumption that while each man, as parent,. is not responsible for the' mental culture of his own offspring, he is, as citizen, along with other citizens, responsible for the nlental culture of all other men's offspring! And this absurd doctrine has now become so well established that people raise their eyebro'vs in aston islunent if you deny it. A self-evident falsehood has been transformed into a self-evident truth !Along with the almost universal superstition that society is a manufacture and not a growth, there goes the un"ravering belief that leg islators, prompted by electors, can with advantage set aside one of the fundamental arrangements under wl~ich organic nature at large, and human nature in particular, has evolved thus far! Men who have proved cunning in business-specu546 THE ETHIOS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE.

lation, men "rho ride well to hounds and are popular in their counties, men ,vho in courts of justice are skilled in making the worse cause appear the better, filen who once wrote good Latin verses or proved themselves learned about the misbe haviour of the Greek gods, unite in trying to undo organized dependencies resulting from millions of years of discipline. Men whose culture is so little relevant to the functions they have assumed, that they do not even see that everything in social life originates from certain traits of individual life, that individual hUlnan life is but a specialized part of life at large, and that therefore until the leading truths presented by life at large are comprehended, there can be no· right comprehension of society-men ,vho are thus ignorant of the great facts which it chiefly concerns them to know, have prolnised to do the behests of men "rho are ignorant not only of such facts but of most other things. The half-blind elected by the wholly blind take upon themselves the office of creation-menders! Daily accuston1ed to discover that established laws are bad and must be repealed "by Act of Parlifnnent, they have unawares extended their thought to laws not of human origin, and calmly undertake to repeal by Act of Parliament a law of Nature!

But this ignoring of the truth that only by due dis charge of parental responsibilities has all life on the Earth arisen, and that only through the better discharge of them have there gradually been made possible better types of life, is in the long run fatal. Breach of natural law· will in this case, as in all cases, be followed in· due tilne by Nature's revengea revenge which will be terrible in proportion as the breach has been great. A system under ·which parental duties are performed wholesale by thos"e who are not the parents, under the plea that many parents cannot or will not perform their duties-a systeln which thus fosters the inferior children of inferior parents at the necessary cost of superior parents and consequent injury of superior children -a systerH which thus helps incapables to multiply-and hinPARENTIIOOD. 547 ders the multiplications of capables, or diminishes their capa bility, must bring decay and eventual extinction.· A society which persists in such a system must, other things equal, go to the, wall,in the cOlnpetition with a society which does not commit the folly of nurturing its worst at the expense of its best.

The ethical code of Nature, then, allows of no escape of parents from their obligations. While under its hedonistic aspect it sanctions in an emphatic way the gratification of parental .affections, under its evolutionary aspect it per emptorily requires fulfilment of all those actions by which the young are prepared for the battle of life. And if the circumstances are such that part of these actions must be performed by deputy, it still requires that the implied cost and care shall be borne, and not transferred to others' shoulders. §237. The time will come 'when, along with full recog nition of parental duties, there will go an unyielding resist ance to the usurpation of those. duties. While the parent, as be ought tobe,.will conscientiously satisfy all ~the de lllands which his parenthood entails, he, will sternly deny the right of any assemblage of men to take his children from him and mould them as they please.W e have out grown the stage during which the despot, with an army at his back,.could impose his will' on all citizens; but ,ve have not yet outgrown the stage during which a Inajority of citizens, with police at their back, can iInpose their will, 'concerning all lllatters ,vhatever, upon citizens not of their number. But when' there has passed away this contempti ble superstition tl~at, having the power, the majority h~ve the right, to do as they please with the persons, and prop erty and. actions of those who happen to be' in themi nority-when it is understood that governnlental orders a,re limited by ethical injunctions; every parent will hold his sphere as one into which the State may not intrude.

548 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE. And if under such conditions there occasionally, though rarely, happens a non-performance of parental duties, the entailed evil brings, in Nature's stern way, its own cure. lTor with mankind as with lower kinds, the ill-nurtured offspring of the inferior fail in the struggle for existence with the well-nurtured offspring of the superior; and in a generation or two die out, to the benefit of the species. A harsh discipline this, most 'will say. True; but Nature has much discipline which is harsh, and which lTIUst, in the long run, be submitted to. The necessities which she imposes on us are not to be evaded, even by the joint ef forts of university-graduates and "vorking-men delegates; and the endeavour to escape her harsh discipline results in a discipline still harsher. Measures which prevent the dwindling away of inferior individuals and fatnilies, lnust, in the course of generations, cause the nation at large to dwindle away.

At the same time that intrusion into the parental sphere must, in a normal social state, be resented as a trespass, it will be further resented as a deprivation of those daily pleasures yielded by furthering the development of the young in body and mind. For when there have died out the stupidities of an education which may be briefly described as denying the mind that "which it wants and forcing upon it that which it does not want, there will have COlne a tilne when the superintendence of education, at any rate in all its simpler parts, will be at once easy and enjoyable. The general la"w that through successive stages of organic evolution, there is an elongation of the period during which parental care is giyen, shown :finally in the contrast between the hurnan race and inferior races, as well as in the contrast between uncivilized and civilized, is a law which, involving as now a long and careful physical nurturing of the young by t~eir parents, will hereafter involve a long and careful psychical nurturing P ARJ1JNTHOOD. 549 by them; and .though the higher and more special educa tional functions ,vill have to be discharged by proxy, yet the proxy-discharge will be under parental superintend ence.

People feel no adequate, pride in bringing to maturity fine human beings. It is true that the mother, exhibiting each infant with triunlph, and during the childhood of each pleasing herself by presenting it to visitors prettily clothed and with hair on which much time has been spent Inorning and evening, is not wholly neglectful of diet, and takes-care that the day's lessons' are attended to.· It :Is true, also, that the father, cOlnmonly leaving fashion to determine the' places of education for his boys, sometirnes makes inquiries and exercises independent judgment; and, moreover, looks with satisfaction on a 'well-grown youth and one who has brought home prizes. But it is never theless true that scarcely anY'where do we see proper selieltude. Grave mischiefs are daily done in almost' every family by ignorance of physiological requirements; and in the absence of guiding knowledge in parents, in numerable children grow up with constitutions. damaged for life. .At the same time there is no such thoughtful ministration to the mind of each child as is called for no search for a course of intellectual culture which is rational in matter and -method, and nothing beyond a rough and ready moral discipline. On observing what energies are, expended by father and mother to ac.hieve wordly success and fulfil social ambitions, weare reminded how relatively small is· the space occupied by the ambi tion to make their descendants physically, morally, and intellectually, superior. Yet this is the alnbition which will replace those they now. so eagerly pursue; and which, instead of perpetual disappointluents, will bring permanent satisfactions.

And then, following on the discharge of these high 550 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE. parental functions, will COlne that reward in old age con..: sisting of an affectionate· care by children, luuch greater than is now known. § 238. Anything like due fulfilment of pp.rental func tions as thus conceived, is possible only under conditions commonly disregarded-conditions the disregard of which is supposed not to fall within the range of ethical judg ments. "Providence has sent me a large family," is a remark which may occasionally be heard fr.om one who has more children than he can provide for. Though) in other direc tions, he does not profess an oriental fatalism, in this direc tion he does. "God has willed it so," appears-to be his thought; and thinking this, he holds himself absolved fronl blame in bringing about the distresses of a poverty stricken household. If, however, improvident marriages are to be reprobated -if to bring children into the world when there will probably be no nleans of nlaintaining any, is a course calling for condelnnation; then there must be condemna tion for those who bring many children into the world when they have means of properly rearing only a few.

Improvidence after marriage cannot be considered right, if improvidence before marriage is considered wrong. The .stunted and ill-forlued bodies of dwellers in_ the East end of London, tell of the lueagre diet and deficient clothing from which the many children of parents with narrow means, have suffered during their early days; and even in country villages, where the sanitary conditions are relatively good, one may see in feeble and sickly people, the results of attempting to rear large families on Snlan wages. This reckless nlulti plication, while it inflicts the daily-recurring pains of unsatisfied appetites and the miseries of insufficient warlnth-while it is to be debited "\\"ith that lack of bodily strength which makes efficient PARENTHOOD .. 551 work impracticable, cOlnrnonly involves also a stupidity which negatives all but the most Inechanical functions; for mental power' cannot be got from ill-fed brains.

Unhappy and wearisome lives are thus entailed by parents who beget more children than they can properly bring up. lVlatters are made worse, too, by the undue tax brought on the parents themselves--,-on the father, if he is ~ consci... entious· by an injurious amount of labour; and still more on the mother, whose system, exhausted by the bearingc/ of many children, is still further exhausted bJ the cares which all day long the many children •need. l'Ianifestly hedQnistic ethics if we regard it as contemplating,· more es.. pecially, immediate effects on happiness, severely. denounces conduct wl~ich thus creates n1iseries all round;· while evolu tionary ethics, if we consider it as Inore especially contem... plating future results, severely denounces conduct which thus bequeaths lower natures instead of higher to subs~quent gen erations. Even "rhere parents have means sufficient to provide abundantly for the bodily welfare of many children, there must still be an insufficient provision for their mental weI...

~fare. Though, in a family of several, the children ,amuse and teach one another, and thus mutually aid Inental growth; yet, when the number is large, the parental attention they severally need becomes too lnnch subdivided; and the daily display of parental affection, ·which is a large factor in the moral development. of children, cannot be given in adequate aillount to each. § 239. With the ethical censure of this· improvident lin}... Hplication, must be joined a like censure of an improvi dence ha1?itually associated with it, and in large measure the cause .of it. The nature .of this will best be shown by citing some facts·furnished by races ·which, being uncivil ized, are regarded as therefore in all respects our inferiors.

552 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE. The first of thern comes from a society utterly brutal in most of its usages-Uganda. " The· women rarely have more than two or three children, an:d the law is that when a woman has borne a child she must live apart from her husband for two years,at which age the children are weaned." In a still more brutal society-that of the Fijians-we meet with a kindred fact. Says Seemann"A.fter childbirth, husband. and wife keep apart for three, even four years, so that no other baby may interfere with the time considered necessary for suckling children .... I heard of a white man, who being asked how many brothers and sisters he had, frankly replied, •Ten!' 'But that could not be,' was the rejoinder of the natives~ 'one mother could scarcely have so many children.' When told that these children were born at annual intervals, and that such occurrences were common in Europe, they were very much shocked, and thought it explained sufficiently why so many white people were 'mere shrimps.' "

In these. cases, however, polygamy prevails: in Uganda, for instance, the enormous preponderance of 'women, due partly to the destruction of men in war and partly to the capture of ,vornen by war, rendering it almost universal. Here, therefore, the usage, in so far as it affects men, is not so remarkable. But in two leading districts of New Gui nea, there are monogamo-n,s peoples among whom a like rule holds. The Rev. J. Chalmers tells us that in Motu-Motu, the parents, after the birth of a child, "do not Iive together again until the child is strong, walking, and weaned, and all that time he [the husband] sleeps in dubu. His friends cook food for him." Similarly of the Motu tribe, he tells us that the parents keep apart" until the child walks and is weaned." To ascertain the current opinion on the Inatter he asked the question-" If another child is born before the first is big and able to walk, are they ashamed? " To which he got the answer-" Yes, terribly; and all the village will be talking about it."

Even these warlike and sanguinary peoples then, and PARENTHOOD. 553 . still more these trading, peaceful, and· monogamous tribes of New Guinea, show us a deep consciousness of the truth that too frequent child-bearing is injurious to the race tells against the fullest development of both the already born child and the child to be presently born. Beyond that constant surplus vitality which, in the female econolny, remains after meeting the expenditure of individual life, there is also what we may call a reserve· of vital capital, accumulated' during intervals in which the surplus is not being demanded. This reserve,. used up during the interval in which an infant is being developed, takes some time to replace-a time shorter or longer according as the con stitutional vigour is great or small. And if, much before the. end of that time, the reproductive system is again called into action, the double result is an overtax of the maternal systenl, and an infant which falls short of the fullest development; at the sarne time that its predecessor is too early deprived of its natural supply of food. These are necessary consequences. They are collateral results of that general cause which Inakes reproduction jmpossible before and after certain ages.

Here then, as in· sundry preceding cases, evolutionary ethics utters an interdict which current ethics, from what ever source derived, shows no signs of uttering. § 240. Ho,v then are there to be reconciled the interests of the individual and the interests of the race ~ This ques tion, which here unavoidably presents itself, is one diffi· cult, if not impossible to answer-perhaps they cannot be reconciled. As already many times said, men have been long in ~ course of acquiring fitness for that social state into which increase of numbers has forced them, and have still but partially acquired fitness for it. In multitudinous ways the survival of instincts appropriate to the pre-social stage, lIas been a chronic cause of Iniseries; and in multitudinous 554 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE. ways the lack of sentiInents appropriate to the social stage, has been a chronic cause of other miseries.

While it has continually increased that pressure of population which has been a cause of progress, excess of fertility, has been among the chief factors in the produc tion of these llliseries, and must long continue to be such; but, as is shovvn in The Principles of Biology, §§ 373-374, the implication of the general law traceable throughout the whole animal kingdom, is that still a higher develop ment of mind, brought about by still increasing pressure of population, and still greater cerebral activity entailed by it, ,vill gradually diminish the fertility, until the excess prac tically disappears: the highest degree of individuation entailing the lo,vest degree of reproduction. And the further implication, there pointed out, is that this degree of individuation, especially shown in a more exalted mental life-wider intelligence and more intense feelings-will not involve conscious stress, but will be the natural outcome of an organization adjusted to the requirements of a .more costly self-sustentation. lIenee, if there are deprivations which ethics dictates, they must step by step be accompanied by compensations, probably greater in amount.

Only in the slow course of ages, however, can any such such change of balance be wrought. Whether, in the mean time, there may arise any qualifications of the process, it is impossible to say. One thing, however, is certain. No conclusion can be sustained which does not conform to the ultilllate truth that the interests of the race must predomi nate over the interests of the individual.

CHAPTER X. GENERAL CONCLUSIONS. § 241. The title of this division-" The Ethics of Indi. vidual Life" -has excited a publicly-expressed curiosity re· specting the possible nature of its contents. Nothing beyond prudential admonitions could, it was thought,be meant; and there was evident surprise that ethical sanction should be claiIned for these. The state of mind thus implied is not, Ibelieve,excep tional. Ordinary individual life, when it is such as not directly to affect others for good or evil, is supposed to lie outside the sphere of ethics; or rather, there is commonly entertained no thought about the matter. Ethics, as usually conceived, having made no formal claim to regu late this part of conduct is assulned to be unconcerned with it. It is true that now and then come expressions , hnplying a half-conscious belief to the contrary. " You ought not to have overtaxed your strength by so gt:eat an exertion;" "you ought not to have gone so long without food;" are not unfrequent utterances. " You were quite right to throw up the situation if your health was giving way," is said to one; while on another is passed the criti cism-" He is wrong in idling away his time, wealthy though he nlay be." And we occasionally hear insistence on the duty of taking a holiday to avoid an illness: especially in view of responsibilities to be discharged. That is to say, 'the words ought, right, Iwrong, duty, 'are used inconnexion 556 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL LIFE.

with various parts of private conduct; and such useS of these words, ,,,,,hich in other cases have ethical significance, implies that they have ethical significance in these cases also. Moreover, as pointed out in the opening chapter, there are some modes of individual life concerning which ethical convictions of the most pronounced kinds prevail-excess in drinking, for example. Recognition of the immense evils entailed by this prompts strong reprobation. But there is no consciousness of the obvious truth that if, because of its mischievous consequences, this deviation fronl normal life is to be condemned; so, too, are all deviations which have mis chievous consequences, however relatively small. It must be admitted that, conceived in its fully developed forIll, ethics has judgments to give upon aU actions which affect individual welfare. Throughout the foregoing series of chapters, it has, I think, been made sufficiently manifest that there is great need for ethical rule over this wider territory.

§ 242. Doubtless this rule must be of an indefinite kind may be compared rather with that of a suzerain than vdth that of an acting governor. For throughout the greater part of this territory, there have to be effected cOlnpromises among various requirements; and in the majority of cases ethical considerations can do little lllore than guide us to wards rational compromises. This will probably be regarded as a reversion to the ancient doctrine of the nlean-a doctrine expressed in a Inanner generally vague, but occasionally distinct, by Confucius, and definitely elaborated by Aristotle. And it lllust be admitted that throughout most classes of actions which do not directly affect other persons, paths lying between extremes have to be sought and followed. The doctrine of the mean is not, as Aristotle adtnitted, universally applicable; and its inapplicability is conspicuGENER.AL CONCLUSIONS.

OUS .in respect ~f that part of conduct, which stands above all others in importance-justice; not, indeed, justice as legally formulated, nor justice as it is conceived by com munists and others such, but justice as deducible from the conditions which must be maintained for the carrying on of harillonious social cooperation. Ethics does not suggest partial fulfilment of a contract, as being the mean between non-fulfilment and complete fulfihnent. It does not counte nance IIloderate robbery of your neighbour, rather than the taking from hhn everything or the taking nothing. Nor does it dictate the assault of a fellow-man as intermediate between murdering him and not touching him. Contrari wise, in respect of justice Ethics insists on the extreme-en joins cOlllplete fulfilment of a contract, absolute respect for' property, entire desistance froIn personal injury. So like ,vise is it with veracity. The right does not lie between the t,vo extremes of falsehood and truth: complete adherence to fact is required. And there are sundry kinds of conduct classed as vices, which are also not contemplated by the doc trine; since they are to be interdicted not partially but wholly. In respect of ordinary private life, however, the doctrine of the mean may be considered to hold in the ma jority of cases.

But admitting this, there still presents itself the ques tion-How to find the mean ~ Unti! the positions of the extremes have been ascertained, the. position of the mean ,cannot be known. As has rightly been remarked, "it is impracticable to define the. position of that, which is excess ive on the one hand, and defective on the other, till excess and defect have been themselves defined." And here it is that the Ethics of Individual Life finds its subject matter. ,The guidance of uncultured sense, ordinarily Iollo,ved throughout private conduct, it replaces by a guidance which, though still mainly elllpirical, is relatively trustworthy; since it results from a deliberate and ~nethodic study of the ,requirements-a study which dissipates misapprehensions 558 THE ETHIOS OF INDI.VIDUAL LIFE. and reduces vague ideas to definite ones. In respect of nutrition, for instance, it is doubtless true that abstinence on the one hand, and gluttony on the other, are to be avoided-that food is to be taken in moderation. But it may rightly be contended that eating is not to be guided by observation of the mean between these two extrenles; but is to be guided by reaching that which may, in a sense, be called an extreme-the conlplete satisfaction of appetite.' And here we are sho\\Tn the need for critical inquiry. For the conception of a n1ean between abstinence and gluttony, is confounded with the conception of a mean between no satisfaction of appetite and complete satisfac tion of appetite; and in consequence of the confusion this last mean is by some prescribed. But the notion, not infrequently expressed, that it is best to leave off eating while still hungry, would never have been euuu eiated were there not so many people who lead abnormal lives, and so rnany people who eat before appetite prompts.

In that state of health which exists where there has not been, on the part of either self or ancestors, a chronic dis regard of physiological needs, proper nutrition is achieved not by partial fulfilment of the desire for food but by entire fulfilment of it-by going up to the limit set by inclination. Remembrance of the various conclusions dra,vn in preced ing chapters, such as those which concern activity and rest, culture and amusement, will lnake it clear that it is every where the business of the Ethics of Individual Life thus to dissipate erroneous beliefs, by systernatic observation and analysis of private conduct and its results. § 243. Remen1brance of these conclusions suggests that beyond giving a definite conception of the mean, when the mean is to be adopted, the Ethics of Iudi vidual Ijfe gives definiteness to.a kindred idea-the idea of proportion. I do . not refer to that proportion ,vhich is hnplied by the doctrine GENERAL OO]fCLUSIONS. 559 of the mean, and connotes a jlJst estimation· of excess and defect; but I mean that proportion which obtains among different parts of conduct.

While, within each division of the activities, the middle place Inay be 111l1.r regarded, tl1ere may be no due regard for· proportion among the se'veral divisions of the}activities. There are .various kinds of bodily action, SOllIe needed for self-sustentation· and some not; there are various kinds or mental· action, aiding· in different ways and degrees the main tenanceofindividuallife, and various others which do notaid this maintenance, or do so in but remote ways.. And then, beyond the preservation of a right proportion between the life.:.subservingoccupations and the occupations "rhich do not directly subserve life, there is the preservation of right pro portions among the subdivisions of these last-right pro portions between culture and amusement and bet"veen dif..: ferentkinds of culture and different kinds of amusements. The conception of a mean does not touch the numerous, problems thus presented; since it implies a compromi.se be tween two things, and nota number of compromises among nlany· things.

Anyone on glancing round may see that the great majority of lives are more or less distorted by failure to maintnin bal anced amounts· of the activities, bodily and nlental, required for cOlllplete health and happiness;, .and that there are here, therefore, many problems ,vith which the Ethics of Individual Life has to concern itself. § 244. But while this di vision of ethics which has the control of private conduct for its function, may, by its ordered judgments, serve to prevent each kind of activity from diverging very far on either side of moderatio!1; and while it may serve to. prevent extreme disproportions among the different kinds of activities; it cannot be ex·~ pected to produce by-its injunctions a perfectly-regulated conduct. 3'; 560 THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDU .A.L. LIFE. Only by the gradual re-Inoulding of human nature -intQ fitness for the social state, can either the private Jifeor the public life of each man, be rnade what it should be.

In respect of private life, especially, the problems pre sented are so conlplex and so variable, that nothing -like definite solutions of them can be reached by any intel lectual processes, however Inethodic and however careful. They can be completely solved only by the organic ad justment of constitution to conditions. .A.1\..11 inferior creat ures, incapable of elaborating reasoned codes of conduct, are guided entirely by the promptings of instincts and desires, severally adapted to the needs of their lives. In each species the feelings are kept duly adjusted in their strengths to - the requirements, and duly proportioned to one another, by direct or indirect equilibration, or by both; since, inevitably, the individuals in which the balance of them is not good, disappear, or fail to rear progeny. There are many who, while they recognize this necessity as operative throughout sub-human life, tacitly deny that it is "'operative throughout human life, or, at any rate, ignore its operation; and they do this notwithstanding their knowledge of the immense divergences of habits and sentiments, which multiform human nature itself has acquired under the different circumstances it has been subject to. .A.ny one, however, who contelnplates the contrast between those who ,vitness with pleasure the tortures of men and aninlals, and those who cannot be induced to witness such tortures because of the sympa thetic pain they experience, may inf~r from this single c·ontrast, a capacity for. modification which makes possible an approximately-complete adjustment of the nature to the life which has to be led-an adjustment towards which there will be appreciable progress, when there have died out the fatuous legislators who are continually iInpeding it.

Eventually, then, the degree of each of the activities COll- \ GENERAL CONCLUSIONS. 561 stituting private conduct, and the proportions among the different activities, must be spontaneously regulated by the natural promptings. In the meantime, all which the Ethics of Individual Life can do, is to keep clearly in view, and con tinually to emphasize) the needs to which the nature has to be adjusted. § 245. Finally, there must be uttered a caution against striving too strenuously to reach the Ideal-against straining the nature too much out of its inherited forln. For the nor mal re-moulding can go on but slowly. As there Inust be mod eration in other things, so there must be moderation in self-criticism. Perpetual cOlltemplation of our o~n actions produces. a morbid consciousness, quite unlike that normal consciousness accompanying right actions spontaneously done; and from a state of unstable equilib rium long lnaintained by effort, there is apt to be a fall to,vards stable equilibrium, in which the priInitive nature re-asserts itself. Retrogression rather than progression may hence result.

END OF VOL. I.

R EF ERE NeE S. To find the authority for any statement in the text, the reader is to proceed as follows :-Observing the number of the· section in which the .statement occurs, he will· first look out, in the following pages, the cor responding number, which is printed in conspicuous type. Among the references. succeeding this number,he will then look for the name of the person, tribe, people, or nation boncerning which· the statement is made (the names in the references standing in the same order as that which they have in the text); and that it may more readily catch the eye, each such name is printed in Italics. In the parentheses following the name, will be found the volume and page of the work referred to, preceded by the first three or four letters of the author's name; and when more than one of his works has been used, the first three or four letters of the title of the one containing the particular statement. , The meanings of these ab breviations, employed to save the space that would be occupied by fre quent repetitions of full titles, is shown at the end of· the references; where will be found arranged in alphabetical order, these initial syllables of authors' names, &c., and. opposite to them the full titles of the works referred to.

REFERENOES TO VOL. I. § 13. Aristotle (Arist. Nicom. Ethics, I, 7; Ib. I, 8, Gillies' translation ). § 14. Hutcheson (Hutch. ch. IV). § 14 * Blessed (Matthew v 7 9' Psalms, xli,· 1). § 18. Dymond (nyu;.. prel ix; ch. II). § 52. .Bod~ and ])Mmals (J. A. S. B. xviii, 741); § 60. Plato (PIa. Rep., Davies and Vaughan's trans. xxix)-.Aristotle. (Arist. Nic. Eth. I, 8; lb. X, 7)-Jew8 (Psalms, xvii, 2)-Eflrly Ohristians (Colossians, iv, 1)-A1'istotle (Arist. Nic. _Eth. V, 1). § 74.'4Love thy nei!Jl~bmtr" (Leviticus, xix, 18). § 89. Kant (Kant, 54-5). § 106. Socrates (Xen.Mem. III, 9)-Plato (Grote, Plato, i, 420, 479)-.A.ri.~totle (Arist. Nic. Eth. III, 4, Williams' trans.)-Stoics (Zeller, The Stoic:~, Epicureans, and Sceptics, translated by Reichel, pp. 253-4) -hPicuru8 (Zeller,456)-Kant errant, 54-5). § 112. Veddahs (Bailey in (068) 564 REFERENCES. T. E. S. L. N.S. ii, 302)-Zulus (CalL pt. ii, 14f!>-7)-Australians (Smyth, i, 107) -Tonoans (Mar. ii, 100)-Gotd Ooast (Ellis, T-S.P. ll)-Anc. Mexicans (Zur.

138-141)-Hebrews (Schenk. v, 431; Bruch, 368; Fritz. v, xxxiv)-Ri[l-Veda (R. V. i, 33, 4, 5; vi, 14, 3; x, 81, 7; iv, 17, 16)-Ramcses (R. P. ii, 70) Ohr!Jses(Hom. "Iliad," Lang, bl\:. i, 2)-Med . .Europe (Brace, 230). § 113. Asslirians (R. P. N.S. iv, 56; R. P. v, 8; xi, 49; ix, 42)-BU.lJptians (R. P. ii, 70-;/2). ~ 114. Karens (Mason in J. A. S. B., xxxvii, Pt. ii, 143)-Dakotas (Scho. iv, 70)-Iroquois (Morg. 119)-Anc. Indians (Maha. xiii, ~880; Bha ravi, in Wil. 4fi9; Cural, in Con. 220)-Ohinese (Alex. 117, 254-5)-Egyptians (Renouf,72). § 115. Bp. of D~6rharn (Herald of Peace, Dec. 1890)-L. Oranbrook (Standard, July 12, 1889)-Dr. Moorlwuse (Manchester Examiner, )fay 14, 1887)-German Emperor (Daily Papers, June 18, 1888). § 116. .--Malagasy(Drury, 192)-Hebrew.'l (Bruch, 311)-Egyptians(Poole in Oont. Rev. Aug. 1881, p. 286)-Mill (Mill, 124). § 11 7. Otaheitans (Hawke. ii, 101-2)-Anc. Indians (Maha. iii, 1124, etc.)-Ramayana (Rich. 149)-Ohinese (Edkins, 85, 179). § 120. Arabs (Palg. 10-11)-Russians(Nicmo. ii, 167) -Matelhapees (Licht. ii, 306)-Arabs (Baker, 263)-Jlakololo (Liv. Zambo 285) I -Eq. Africans (Reade, 260)-Ar~Htcanians (Smith, 214)~01dnooks (Lewis & C. 439)-Chukclli (Erm. ii, 530, note)-Malwbharata (Wheel. i, 121)-French (Leber, xiii, 10-11)-Patagonians <Falk. 125)-Dakotas (Irving, 1.34)-Esqui ma~tx (Crantz, i, 154)-Oaffers (Thomp. ii, 354)-Ma,yorunas (Reade, 158) Bambarans (CailUe, i, ?98)- Wa-kavirondo (Thorn. 487)-Arab.~ (Peth. 151) Klwnds (Macpherson in Perc. 345)-Taldtians (Cooke in Hawlre. ii, 203)Vatean.~ ('rurn. "P. R." 450)-Fijians (Wilkes, iii, 100). § 121. lnnuits (Hall, ii, 315)-Ancient Peruvians (Garci. bk. ii, ch. 12). § 126. Bushmen (Liv. "Miss. Trav." 159)-Uganda (Wils. & Fel. i,224)-Bedouins (Burt.

"Pilg." iii. 66-7)-Kukis (Rown. 187)-Pathans (Temp. "Rep." 6R). § 127.' Ancient Indians (R. V. i, 74; vii, 6, 2; vii, 32, 7; Maha. xii, .5290; V. 5617) -Assyrians (R. P. i, 49, 78; v, 9; lb. N.S. ii, 137, 143, 153; iv, 61)-Suevi (Coosa1', iv, 2; vi, 21)-Mottoes (Various Peerages)-lVolsele.'l ('Volse. 5). § 128. Ancie'(l.t India·ns (Maha. xiii, 5571, in Wil. 448; Jones, Works, iii, 242)-Persians (Sadi, i, st. 33; ii, st. 4)-Ollinese (Lao-Tsze, xxxi; Conf. Anal. xii, 19; Mencius, bk. i, pt. i,ch. 6; lb. iv, i, 14)-S~6matrans (Mars. 173) 'l'1u),rus (Nesfield in Oalc. Rev. 1885, lxxx, 41)-11'oq'uois (Morg. 92, 330). ~ 129. Fijians (Ersk. 247; vVill. i, 218, 246-7)- Waganda (Wils. & Fel. i, 201)-Oharlemagne (Hallam, 16). § 131. Comanches (Moll. i, 185) Patagonians (Snow, ii, 233)-E. Africans (Liv. "Miss. Trav." 526)-Kalmucks (Pallas, i, 105)-Kirghis (Atkin. "Amoor," 206; lb. Sib. 506)-1J'ferv Turco mans (O'Don. ii, 407, 278)-Pathans (Temp. "Rep." 62)-Afridi (Rown.

123-4)-Kukis (Dalt. 45)-Mongols (Gil. 273)-Angamis (Stewart, in J. A. S.B. xxiv, 652)-Oltinooks (Waitz, iii, :137)- Waganda (Wils. & Fel. i, 224) Fijians (Will. i, 127). § 132. Vishnu (R. V.i, 61, 7)-Tvashtri & Indra (Muir, O. S. T. v, 229; Wheel. i, 244)-Norse (Dasent, xxxiv)-Prim. (-J-e1'm',Zns (Crosar, vi, 21)-French (Ste. Pal. ii, 47)-Thirty Years' Wm' (Gind. ii, 3\J3·7). § 133. Wood-Veddahs (Hartshorne in .Fort. Rev. Mar. 1876, p. 416)-Esq'uimaux (King in J. E. S. 1848, i, 131)-Fu~qians (Darwin in Fitz. iii, 242; Snow, i, 328)-New (-J-ninea (Macgil. i, 270; Earl, 80)-Lette (Kolff, 61)- Vera ()ruz Indians (Baker in P. R. G. S. Sept. 1887, p. 571 )-Tluir'us (Nesfield in Calc. Re1). lxxx, 1, 41)-Iroquois (Morg. 333). § 135. Aus tralwns (Grey, ii, 240)-Sioux (Burt. C. S. 125)-(-J-uiana (Schorn. i, 158) Fijian.'l (Will. i, 186)-New Zealanders (Thoms. ii, 86)-Kukis (Macrae in As. Res. vii, 189)-Arabs (Peth. 27)-E. Africans (Burt. C. A. ii, 329)-Japanese (Dening, pt. ii, 81)-Anc. Indians (R. V. x, 87; vii, 104; vVhcel. i~ 287-8, 290). § 136. Anc. Indians (Manu, ii, 161 ; vi, 47-8, in Wil. 283; Cural, in Con. 427)-Persians (Con. 2.26; Sadi, ii, st. 41; Hafiz, in Jones, iii, 244) -Oltinese (Lao-1.'sze, lxiii; Mencius, bk. v, pt. i, ch. iii; Conf. Anal. xiv, REFERENCES. 565 gS). ~ lS7.Lepehas (Oampbell in J. E. S. L. July, 1869, pp.100-1).

§ 139. Pltilip. Islands (Fore. 213)--Quianflanes (P. S. M. July, 1891, p. 390) -Arabs (Burck. 84-5). § 140. Guiana (1m Thurn,213-4). § 141. Anc. Indians (Wheel. i, 102,103 note)-Todas (Shortt in T. E. S. L. N.S. vii, 241)-Bodo &; Dhimals (J. A. S. B. xv.iii, pt. ii, 744)-Hos (Hayes in Dalt.194) ~Pueb1os (Ban. i, 555, 547)-Manansas (Holub, ii; 206-11)-Tlulru,y (Nesfield in Dale. Rev. lxxx, 41)-Let-ktas (Fytcbe, i, 343). § 144. Arabs (Palg. i, 37)-Ki'i-phiz (Atkin. Sib. 506) E. Africans (Burt. C. A. ii, 274)-Fijians (Wilkes, iii, 77; Jackson, in Ersk. 4(0)-Ainos (Bird, ii, 101)-.Australians (T. E. S. L. N.S. iii, 246)-Samoans (Jackson, in Ersk. 415)-Kq1firs (Licht. i, 272)-.Ajricans (Wint. i, 213)-~ .American IndianS (Morg. 321)-New Zea landers (Angas,ii,2.2.; Thoms. i, 1«;)1, «;)8)....:.-St.Augustine Island (Turn. Samoa, 292-3). § 145. Bushmen (Burch. ii, 54)-Hottenl()ts (Burch. ii, 349; Kol ben, i, 165)-East-Africans (Liv. "M.iss.Trav." 601)-Loango (Proyart in Pink. xvi,565)-Australians (T. E. S.L. N.s.iii,. 2'1~)-"-.sand. Islanders (Van.

iii, 21)-Guiana (Brett, 276)-Tltibet (Bogle, 110).. " .. § 146. Australians (Eyre, i, 278; Sturt, i, 114; ii, 105)-T~manians (¥ered. i, 201)-Tonoans (Mart i, 228). § 147. Anc.. Indians. (R. V. x,: 107,'.2, 5, &c.; Manu, iii, 105, 106; iv, 29; iii, 98)-Apastamba (Buhler, 114, 1l9)~Persians (Sha.yast, xii, 4, in West, 341; Sadi, viii, 60; lb. viii, .. 2)-:"Ohinese.(Conf. Anal. vi, 28 ; viii, 11; x, 15). § 148. Early Gennans (Tac. Germ. xxi)-Ohristians (Lecky, ii, 93; Browne, pt. ii,' § 2).. § 149. New. Zealanders (Angas, i, 312; Cook in Hawke. iii, 447; Thoms. i, 149)-East Africans {Burt. C. A. ii, 333)-Fijians (Will. i, 55, 133)-:-Dacotas (Burt. C. S. 124-5)-Nagas (Butler, 58'>-:-Steins(Colq. Shans, 160}-Ohryse (Colq. Ohryse, ii, 120, 268)-Malayan Tribes (Favre, 97-100, 8, 73, 72, 100-2)-.Araf'ltras (Kolff, 161-3). § 150. Bushmen (Moffat, 58; Licht.· ii, 195; Moffat, 156)-Hottentots (Kolben, i, 332, 165, 142, 318)-Dyaks (Boyle, 223.) § 151. Kare'JUJ (Mason ill J. A. So B.

xxxvii, pt. ii, 144)-Honduras (Herr. iv, 141)-Loando (Monte, i, 244)-.Daho mans (Burt. "Miss." i, 195, note; lb. ii, 190, note)-4shantees (Burt. W. & W. 121, 128)-.Damaras (Baines, "243; Galt. 190)-IJahomans (Burt. "Miss." i, 345)-Marutse (Holub, ii, 297)':""West Africans (W01seley in Fort. Rev. Dec. 1888)-Prairie Indians (Burt. C. S. 124-5)-Oomancltes (Bollaert in J. E. S. 1850, ii, 269). ~ 152. G1'eeks (Grote, ii, 32). § 1.53. Veddahs (Tenn. ii, 445)-Tannese {Turn. "P. R." 92)-Papuans (Jukes, ii,248)-Dyaks (Boyle, 215)-Malagasy (Drury, 230)-Esquimaux (Hall, ii, 312)-11'oquois(Morg.171) -Ohippewas (Scho. ii, 139)-.Araucanians (Thomps. i, 416, 40H)-Mandinoos (Park in Pink. xvi, 871}-Luan (Kolff, 127). ~ 154. .Anc. Indians (Maha. iii, 16782, 16796, 16619, &c.)-Zend-.Avesta (Haug, 242)-Persians (Sadi, i, st. 10)-E!JJJptians (Dunck. i, 203; Poole in Oont. Rev. Aug. 1881, p. 287) Ohinese (Legge, R. of Ch, 224; Conf. D. of Mean, ch.xx; Mencius, bk. ii, pt. i, ch. 6; bk. i,. pt. i, ch, 7).. § 155. Km'ens (Mason in J. A. S. B.

xxxvii, pt. ii, 152)-Afridis (MacGreg. i, 27)-Fijians (Will. i, 128-9)- Ved dahs (Tenn. ii, 444; Pride 460). § 157. Dakotas (Burt. C. S. 1aO) Mishmis (Grif.40)-Kirghiz (Vali. 279)-Fijiam ('Nill. i, 124)-Fganda (Wils. & Fel. i, 224)-Oent. Amm'icans (Laet, bk. ix, ch, 2; Dun. 336)-Pldlip. I Islands (Fore, 186-7). § 158~ Greeks (Mahaf. 27, 150)-Merovingian Period' (Mart. ii, '709; Salvo iv, c. 14)-Em 4 l.1J Feudal Pe'i'iod (Mart.ii, 709)..., French Monm'chy (Crowe, ii, 201)-.Lecky (Lecky, i, 138). § 159. Kois (MorriS, 89)-Sowralts (Shortt, pt. iii, 38)-Oent. Indians (Fors. 164)-Ramos£s (Sinclair in I. A. July, 1874, 186)-SontluJ'zs (Sherwill inJ. A. S. B. xx, 554; Man, 21)-Puluyan (Oppert in ~!. J. L. S. 1887-8, p. 104)- Wood-Vedaahs (Bailey inTo E. S. L. N.S. ii, 291)-Ostiaks, &c. (Hev. Sib. ii, 130)-Hot tentots (Barrow, i, 101; Kolben, i, 59)-Iroquois (Morg. 335)- Pataoonians (~now, ii, 2?'S)-Khonds (Macpherson in J. R. A. S. vii, •196)-KoUs (Sinclair, in I. .A. July.. 1874, p. 188)-Khonds (Macph. ieport, 27). § 160.

566 REFERENCES. Mexicans (Tern. v, 102)-E Africans (Liv. Zambo 309; )-Egyptians (St. John, 77)-France (Mich. i, 341)-llnglisll, (Kirkus in Fort. Rev. Nov. 1866, p. 644). § 162. Araucanians (Smith, 2U1)-Arawaks (Hillhouse in J. R. G. S. ii, 229)-Dakotas (Burt. C. S. 131)-E. Africans (Burt, C. A. ii, 333) -Bedouins (Burck. 201, 56)-Cldppewayans (Hear. 345)-Karntschadalcs (Kotze. ii, 16)-Dakotas (Burt. C. S. 131 )-]i~jians, Will. i, 177)-Hottentots (Kolben, i, 123)-Zuhts (Thomp. ii, 418)-Km<ens (Mason in J. A. S. B. xxxvii, pt. ii, 144) -h'squimaux (Hall, ii, 314). ~ 163. ASlwrians (Smith, 14)-Hindus (MUl ler, H. L. H33-4)-Ohinese (Con£. Anal. i, 2; Edkins, 155; Legge, R. of Ch. 104) -llgypt (Poole in Oont. Rev. Aug. 1881, p. 286). ~ 164. Khonds (Rown. 101) -Bhils (Hunter in J. R. A. S. viii, 189; Mal. C. I. ii, ] 80-Kalrnucks (Pal las, i, 106)-Sgau.~ (Mason in J. A. S. B. xxxv, pt. ii, 12)-Cldnese (Conf. Anal.

I, 7; X, 4)-Persian.~ (Sadi, i, st. 28,31; lb. I, 25)-Anc. Indians (Manu, vii, 8)-Egyptians (R. P. N.S. iii, 21; Dunek. i, 184)-Mottoes (Burke's & Debrett's Peerages). § 165. Mexican.~ (Herr. iii, 203; Tern. ii, 195; Herr. iv, 126) -1i'ijians (Ersk. 208,456 j Will. i, 30)-Dalwmans (Ellis, E.-S. P. 162-3; Dalzel, 69; Ellis, 1. c.)-Fl'ederickIl (Gould, ii, 302)-1ihtnce ( ). § 168. Chippewas (Scho. v, 150)-Snakes (Lewis, R08)-Dakotas (Burt. C. S. 126) I;<oquois (Morg. 329)-Esq'ldmaux (Crantz, i, 154)-Oldppcwayans (Hear. 90) Guiana Tribes (Brett. 27)-Araucanians (Smith, 214)-CMppewa,llans (Frank. Journey, 161)-01'eeks (Scho. v, 272)-Tupis (Sou. i, 250)-Patagonians (Falk. 125)-Hottentots (Kolben, i, 159)-Beclmanas (Burch. ii, 564)-Ka.tfi1's (Shoo. 79)-Ashanti' (Beech. 129)-Fernando Po (J. E. S. 1850, ii, 114)-Lmcer Niger (Allen & T. i, 396)-Ohinooks (Ross, Oregon, 92)-Damaras (And. Ngami, 231) -Oongo (Tuck. 120)-Dalwme (Burt. ":Miss." ii, 248)-Mishmees (Coop. 207) Bushmen (Spar. i, 198)'=-Arabs (Niebuhr, in Pink. x, 131 )-E. Africans (Liv.

~amb. 67)-Abyssinict (Bruce, iv, 474)-Oanaris (Cieza, ch. 44). § 169. J{1wnds (Camp. 50)-Javans (Raf. i, 246)-Oaribs (Schorn. ii, 427-8)-8. E. India (Lew. 90-1)-Santals (Sherwill in J. A. S. B. xx,554).. § 170. Manu, (Manu iv, 238, in Wil. 285)-Book of the Dead (Bunsen, v, 254-;:,)-Persians (Alb. 21 ; Fram. 48). B171. Greeks (Arist. Pol. bk. iii, eh.. 5). § 172..Manan sas (Holub, ii, 211). § 173. Oonfucius (Anal. I. 14; VIII. 21), § 174. Australians (Grey, ii, 277-8; Christison in J. A. 1. vii, 148)-E!)quirn:mx (Lyon, 181-2)- Yakuts, etc. (Coch. i, 254; 'Nrang. 384; Erm. ii, 361). § 175. 1a ltitians (Cook in Hawke. ii, 202)-Arabs (Palg. i, 10)-Ancients (Manu, ii, 57 ; Muir, O. S. T. V. 324)-llgyptians (Dunek. i, 225). § 176. Arafuras (Kolff, 161 )-Ancient Indians and Greeks (Muller, R. V. i, 118; Muir, O. S. T. v,260)-Dahornans (Burt. "Miss." ii, 250)-Ain fl s (Bird, ii, 96, 102)-Polyne sians (Will. i, 141-5 )-Ainos (Bird, ii, 68). § 177. Kalmucks (Pallas, i, 131) ~Klwnds (Camp. 164)-G~tiana (Brett, 349)-Guaternalans (Haef. 406)-Peru vians (GareL bk. vi, eh. 22)- Yncatanese (Landa, §§ xxii, xxxii)-Mexicans (Saha.

bk. i, ch. 22)- Veddahs (Bailey in T.E. S. L. N.S. ii, 291)-Lepchas (Campbell in J. E. S. L. July, 1869, p. 147)-Sumatrans (Mars. 173)-Foolas, etc. (Wint. i, 72)-Negrocs (Waitz, ii, 86). § 178. Gauls (Diod. v, 2)-Prim. Germans (Tae. xxii)-Eonius (Greg. v, 41)-Charlemagne (Egin.eh. 24)-French (Mont. ii, 14)-English (Massey, ii, 60). § 179. Asiatics (Balf. i, 164)-Bedouins (Burt. Pilg. iii, 93). § 180. Kasias (Yule in J. A. S. B. xiii, 620)-C:1jrus (Plut. Symp. lib. I. quo iv). § 181. '1'hibet (Wilson, 235). § 182. Early Indians (Wheel. i, 131-6, 142; Maha. v, 14667, &c.)-Ladakhis (Drew, 287, 239, 240, 250)-Ancient Indians (Muir, O. S. T. iv, 41; v, 324; Malia. i, 4719 R 22, in Muir, O. S. T. ii, 336). § 183. Oll,inooks(Lewis, 4~9; Ross, 92) ~Sio'Ux (Lewis, 77)-Oreeks (Scho. v, 272)-Tupis (Sou. i, 241)-Caribs(Waitz, iii, 382)~-.B8quimaux (Lubb. 556)-Ohippewayans (Hear. 129)-Dakotas (Burt.

C. S. 142)-Nicaragua (Pula. 120; Herr. iii, 340-1 )-KarntsC1wdale.'1,&:c. (Ploss, i, 2tJ3)-Kalrnucks (Pallas, i, l05)-Kirghizes (ValL 85)-Mongols (Prjev. i, 70) -Karenf$ (Mason in J. A. S. B. xxxv, pt. ii, 19)-Todas (Shortt in T. E. S. L. <Jii< TITLES OF WORKS. 567 vii; 240}--Shoa (Harris·, iii; 16~1)-Upper Gongo (Tuck. 181)-Bu.~1~men (Licht. ii, 48-9~Ladrone Isl.(Frey. ii, 369)-Pelew 1sl. (Kubary, oO-l)-Mandans (Cat. i, 121)-Oltippewas (Keat. ii, 165)-Kaffi1's ,(Barrow, i, 160)-Tongans (Mar. ii, 161)~Sumatrans (Mars. 222)-Borne~ (Low, 300)-Dor.'IJ (Kops in Earl, 81) Loyalty Isl. (Ersk. 341)-Fuegians (Snow in T. E. S. L. i, 262)-Muslteras (Oalc~ Rev. April, 1888, p. 222)-Bodo &.- ])himdls (Hodgson in J. A. S. B. xviii, 719) -Santals (Dalt. 217)- Veddahs (Virchow in A. k. A. W. 1881, 21)-Austra lians (Tap. 19)-Fijians (Ersk. 255; See. 191-2)-Tahitians (Cook in Hawke. ii, 196, 188). ,,' § 184. Wotyales (Buch, 45)-Ohibchas (Simon, 254)--.,;Japanese (Dixon, 472-3). § 186. TaMtians (Cook in Hawke. ii, 186)-Dalwmans (Burt. "Miss." i, 83)-.E:Ajricans (Burt. C. A. ii, 332). § 187. Ku-ka-tha (Tap. 101,.94, 95, 93). § '190. Pathdns (Oliv.139-40)--Jitjians (Ersk.

461-4)-Australians (Grey, ii, 239)-Fijians(Ersk. 228)-Bilochs (Oliv. 29)Blantyre (MacDon. i, 185)- Wotyales(Buch, 46). § 191. Bilochs (Oliv. 24) -Ainos (Bird, ii, 103)-Let.htas (Fytche, i, 343). ~ 192. Wolseley (,,yolse. 0; Debreit). § 239. Uganda (Wils. and Fel. i, 186-7)-Fijians (See. 190) -Motu-Motu (Chalm. 162-3).' § 242. Mean (I. G. Smith, 57). TITLES OF WORKS. ,A. k. A.W.-Abl~andlu1lgen de'r KoniglichenAkademie der Wissenschaften. Berlin. AIb.-Albitis (F.) The Morality,oj'all Nations., 1850. . . Alex.-Alexander (G. G.) Oonjucius, tlte Great Teaclter. 1890. Allell.-Allen (Wm.) and Thomson (T. R.H.) A Narrative oj' tl~e Expedition to the River Niger in 1841. 2 vols. 1S48~ And.-Andersson (C. J.) Lake Ngami. 1856. Angas.-Angas{G.F.) SavageLije and Scenesin Aus!ralia andNew Zealand. 1847. Arist.-Aristotle's Politics. " ,,}!licomacl~ean ElMcs. As. Res.-Asiatic Researches. Atkin.-Atkinson (T. W.) Oriental and Western Siberia. 1858.

Atkin.-Atkinson (T. W.) Travels in the Regions of the Upper and Lower Am.oor, etc. 1860. Baines.-Baines (T.) Explo'rationsin Soutl~- West Ajrica. 1864. Baker.-Baker (Sir S.) The Nile Tributa1'iesoj Abyssinia. 1867. Balf.-BalfOur (E.) Oyclopce.diaof India. 3rd Ed. ' 3 vois. .1875. Ban.-Bancroft (H. H.) Native Races of tl~e Pacific ,"States oj North .Amer~ca. 5 vols. 1875. Barrow.-Barrow (Sir J.) Travels into the Interio'r of Southern Africa. Beech.-Beecham (J.) Ashantee and tlte Gold Ooast. 1841. Bird.-Bird (Isabella) Unbeaten Traclesin Japan. 2 vols. 1880. BogIe.-BQgle, Narratives oj the Mission oj George Bogle, to Thibet, &c. Ed. C. R.Markham. 187tl. B()yle.~Boyle (F.) Adventures among the D.1jaks oj Bm·neo. 1865. Brace.-Brace (C. L.) Gesta Ohristi. 2nd Ed. 1886. Brett.-Brett (Rev. W. H.) 'J'he Indian Tribes of Guiana. 1868. Browne.-Browne (Sir T.) RelifJio ...M'edici~ 1656. Bruce.-Bruce (J.) Travels to discoverthe Source oj the Nile. 1804.

Bruch.--Bruch (J.Fr.) Weisheitslehreder Hebriier., Strassburg, 1801. Buch.-Buoh (M.) Die Wotjaken. Helsingfors, 1882. Biihler.-Biihler (G.) Tlw Sacred Laws oj tlte Aryas. Oxf. Bun~en.-Bunsen (DaronC~C. J.) E.q,llpt'sPlace in Universal History. Trans. by C. 1I. Cottrell. ~vols. 1848·6'7. Burcb.,...-Burchell (W. J.y T't(:tvels in the Interim' of Southern Africa. 2 vols. 1822-4. 4to. Burck.-Burckhardt (f.L.) NOtes on the Bedouins and Wahdhys. 1829. 4to., 568 TITLES OF WORKS. Burt.-Burton (R. F.) The City of the Saints, &:c. 186l. Burt.-Burton (R. F.) The Lake Regions of Oentral Africa. 2 vols. 1860. Burt.-Burton (R. F.) A Mission to Gelele, King of IJahorne. 1864. Burt.-Burton (R. F.) Personal Narrative of a Pilgrimage to El.Medinah and Meccah. 3 vols. 1855, etc. Burt.-Burton (R. F.) Wit and lVisdomfrom West Africa. 1865. Butler.-Butler (:Maj.J.) Travels and Adventures in the Province of Assam. 1855.

Cresar.-Cresar (C. Jul.) Gommentarii de Bello Gallico. Caillie.-Caillie (Rene) Travels through Central Africa to Timbuctoo. 2 vols. Calc. Rev.-The Oalcutta Revie1.o. Call.-Callaway (Rev. H.) The Religious System of tl~e Amazulu. 3 Parts. Natal, 1869. Camp.-Campbell (Maj.-Gen.J.) A Personal Narrative of Thirteen years' Service amongst tl~e Wild Tribes of Khondistan. 1864. Cat.-Catlin (G.) Letters and Notes on the Manners, C1.t8toms, and Condition of the North American Indians. 2 vols. 1841. Chalm.-Chalmers (J.) Pioneering in ~}lew G'u,inea. 1887. Cieza.-Cieza de Leon (P. de) Travels, A.D. 1532-50. Trans. by C. R. Mark ham. 1864. Coch.-Cochrane (J. D.) A Narrative of a Pedestrian Journey through Russia and Siberian Tal·targ. 4th Ed. 2 vols. 1825. Colq.-Colquboun (A. R.) Across Ch1oyse. 2 vols. 1883. Colq.-Colquhoun (A. R.) Among the Shans. Con.-Conway (M. D.) Tlw Sacred Anthology. 1874. Con.-Confucius, The Analects and The Doctrine of the Mean. (In Legge's Ohinese Classict~. V01. I.) Cont. Rev.-The Contemporar.llReview.

Coop.-Cooper (T. T.) The Mishmee Hills. 1873. Crantz.-Crantz (D.) History of Greenland. Translated. 2 vols. 1820. Crowe.-Crowe (E. E.) The History of France. 5 vols. 1858-68. Dalt.-Dalton (E. T.) Descriptive l1Wmolog.1/of Bengal. Calc. 1872. Dalzel.-Dalzel (A.)Tlw Histor.1J of Dahome.1J. 1793. 4to. Dasent.-Dasent (Sir G. W.) The Story of Burnt Njal. 2 vols. 1861. Dening.-Dening (W.) The Life of Miyamoto M1.t8a~hi. 2 Pts. 1887. Diod.-Diodorus SiculUf~, The Historical ~ib1'ary of, made English by G. Booth. 2 vols. 1814. Dixon.-Dixon (W. G.) 17te Land of tl~e Morning. Edin. 1882. Drew.-Drew (F.) The Jummoo and Kashmir Territories. 1875. Drury.-Drury (R.) Madagascar. 1729. Dunck.-Duncker (Max) The Hist01'.'I of Antiquity. Trans. by E. Abbott. 6 vols. 1879, etc. Dun.-Dunlop (R. G.) Travels in Central America. 1847. 4to. Dym.~Dymond (J.) Essa.1Js on tlte Principles of Mor.ality. 7th Edit. Earl.-Earl (G. W.) Native Races of the Indian Archipelago.' Papuans. 1853.

Edkins.-Edkins (J.) The ReligiO'l.ts Condition of the CMnese. 1859. Egin.-Eginhardus, Life of the Emperor Karl the Great. Trans. by W. Glaister. 1877. Ellis.-Ellis (A. B.) The Ewe-SpeakingPeoples of the Slave Coastof West Africa. 1890. ElIis.-Ellis (A. B.) 17~e Tshi-SpeakinfJPeoplesof tlte Gold Coast of lVestAfrica. 1887. Erm.-Erman (G. A.) T1·avel.~ in Siberia. Trans. by Cooley. 2 vols. 1845. El'sk.-Erskine (J. E.) Journal of a Cruise among the Islands of the Western Pac~fic. 1853. Eyre.-Eyre (E. J.) Journal of Expeditions of lJiscovery into Central Australia. 2 vols. 1845.

TITLES' OF WORKS. 569 Falk.~Falkner (T.) A Description of Patagonia. Hereford, 1'7'74. Favre.-Favre (Abbe) An Account oj the Wild 'Tribes inhabiting the :Jlalayan Peni'llsula. Paris, 1865. Fitz.-Fitzroy (Adm. R.) Narrative oj tlte Survelling Voyages oj His Majesty's Ships Adventurer and Beagle. .3 vols. 1839-40. 'Fore.-:fi'oreman (J.) The Philippine Islands. 1890. Fors.-Forsyth (Capt.J.) Higltlands oj Oentral India. 2nd Ed. Fort. Rev.- 'I'lw p'ortnightly Review. ·Fram.~Framjee (Dosabhoy) The Parsees. 1858. Frank -Franklin (Capt. J.) Narrative of a Journey to the Slwres of tILe Polar Sea. 1823. 4to. Frey.-Freycinet (~. C. D. de) Voyage autour d~t Monde. Paris, 182'7. Fritz.-Fritzsebe (0. F.) & Grimm (C. L. W.)Kurzgej'asstes exegetischesHandb~tch zu den Apocryphen des Alten Testaments. 6 Parts. 1851-60. Fytche.-Fytche (Gen. A.) Burma, Past and Present.. 2 vols. 1878. Galt.-Galton (F.) .l.Varrativeof an Exploration in Tropical South Africa.

Garci.-GarciIasso de Ia Vega, First Part oj tlte Ropal Gommentm'ies of tILe , Yncas [1604]. Tran. by C. R. Markham. 2vols. 1869-71. 'Gil.-Gilmour (J.) Among tILe Mongols. Gind.-Gindely (A.) History of the Thirty Years' War. Trans. by Ten Brook. 2 vols. N. Y. 1884. Gould.-Gould (S. Baring-) Germany Present and Past. 2 vols. Greg.-Gregory (of Tours) Histoire ecctesiastique'des Francs. Translated. 3 . vols~ Paris, 1836-8. Grey.-Grey (Sir G.) Journals of Two Expeditions of Discovery in North· West and Western Aust'ralia. 2 vols. 1841. Grif.-Griflith(W.) Journals oj Travels in Assam. Calc. 1847. Grote. Grote (G.) History of Greece. 4th Ed. 10 vols. 1872. Haef.-Haefkens (T.) Gent'raalAmerika; Dordrecht, 1832. HnIl.~Hall (Capt. C.F.) Life with the Esquimaux. 2 vols. 1864. Hallam.-Hallam(H.) Europe dU1-ingtheMiddle Ages. 4th Ed. 1869. Uarris.'-"I-Iarris (Sir W. C.)·'The Highlands of ~thiopia. 3 vols. 1844.

Haug.-Haug (M.) .Essayson the Sacred Language, lVritings, and Religion of the parsee.~. 1878. Hawke.-Hawkeswortb (J.) A,1 Account oj tlteVoyage.~ undertaken . .. b.1J Gomm. Byron, Gapt. l-Vallis)Gapt. Om-teret)and Gapt. Gook,etc.. 3 vols. 1773. 4to. Hear.-Hearne (S.) Journey from Prince of lJlales'sFort, etc. Dub. 1796. Herr.---;Herrera (A. de) The. GeneralHistory oj the Vast Oontinent and islands oj America [1601]. Trans. by J. Stevens. 6 vols. 1725-6. It HoIub.-Holub (Emil) Seven Years in South Africa. 2 vols. ]881. Hom.- Homer, The Iliad, done into English prose by A. Lang and others., 1883. Hutch.-:"I-Iutcbeson (F.) A System oj Moral Philosophy. T. A.----TlLeIndian Antiquary. Bombay. Irving.-Irvin~ (Washington) Astoria. lE50. J. A. I.-Journal of the AntlLropologicalInstitute. J. A. S. B.-Journal of tILe Asiatic Somet.l}, Bengal. J. E. S.L.-Journal of tILe .EllmologicalSociety, London~ Jones.--:-Jones (Sir Will.) Works. 13 vols. 1807.

J. R. A. S.-Journal of tILe Royal Asiatic Society, London. 'J. R. G. S.-Journal oj the Royal GeograplLicalSociety, London. Jukes.---Jukes (J. B.) Na1"rative oj the Surveying Voyage of H.M.S. "Fly," . 1842-6. 2 vols. 184'7. ' Kant.~Kant (E.) Gritique of Practical Reason and otlLer Works on the TILeory oj EtMes. Trans. by T. K. Abbott. Keat.-Keatin~ (\V. H.) Narrative of an Expedition to the So?t1'ce 0/ St. Peter's River, Lake Winnepeck, etc. in 1823.. 2 vols. 1825.

5'70 TITLES OF WORKS. Kolben.-Kolben (P.) The Present State of tlte Cape of Good Hope. Trans. by Medlev. 2 vols. 1731. Kolff.-Kolff(D. H.) Voyages of the IJutch Brig the "IJourga." Trans. by Earl. 1840. Kotze.-Kotzebue (Otto von) New Voyage Round the World. 1830. Kubary.-Kubary (J. S.) htkrwgraphische Beitrage zur Kenntniss der Karoli nischen Inselgruppe. Berlin, 1885. Laet.---Laet (J. de) Novus Orbis. 1633. Landa.-Landa (D. de) Relation des clwses de Yitcatan [1566]. Texte et Tra duction par Brasseur de Bourbourg. Paris. 1864. Lao-Tsze.-Lao-Tsze, The Tao-teJ~.king. Various translations. Leber.-Leber (J. M. C.) Collection des meilleures dissertations . .. relatifs a l'histoire de France. 20 vols. .Paris, 1826-38. Lecky.-Lecky (W. E. H.) Histo'ry of European Morals. 3rd Ed. 2 vols. 1877. Legge.~Legge (James) The Chinese Classics. 5 vols. 1869, etc. Legge.-Legge (James) The Religious of China. 1880.

Lew.-Lewin (Capt. T. H.) Wild Races of South Eastern India. 1870. Lewis.-Lewis (Capt. M.) & Clarke, Travels to the Source of the Missouri River. 1814. 4to. Licht.-Lichtenstein (H.) Travels in Southern Africa in the Years 1803-1806. 2 vols. 1812-15. 4to. Liv.-Livingstone (D.) Jlissionar.?JTravels and Researches. 1857. Liv.-Livingstone (D. & C.) Narrative of an Expedition to the Zambesi. 1865. Low.-Low (Hugh) Barawak, its Inhabitants and Productions. 1848. Lubb.-Lubbock (Sir J.) Pre-Historic Times. 2nd Ed. Lyon.-Lyon (Capt.G. F.) Private Journal. 1824. MacDon.-MacDonald (Duff) Africana. 2 vols. 1882. Macgil.-lIacgillivray (J.) Narrative of the Voyage of H.M.S. Rattlesnake. 1846-ilO. 2 vols. 1852. MacGrcg.-MacGregor (Gen.) Central Asia. Part I. 2 vols. Calc. 1873. Macph.-Macpherson (Lieut.) Report on the Klwnds of Ganjam and Cuttack. Calc. 1842. Maha.- The Mahabharata. Various translations.

~Iahaf.-Mahaffy (J. P.) Social Life in Greece. 1874. Mal.-Malcolm (Sir J.) Memoir of Central India. 1823. Man.-Man (E. G.) Sontlutlia and the Bontlwls. 1867. Manu.-The Laws of Hamt. Various translations. Mar.-Mariner's (W.) An Account of the .LYatives of the Tonga Islands. By J. Martin. 2 vols. 1818. Mars.-Marsden (W.) The History of Sumat'J·a. 1783. 4to. Mart.....:-:M:artin(H.) Histoire de la ~F'rance. 1844. Massey.·-Massey (W. N.) A History of England dm-ing the Reign of GeorgeIlL Mencius.-The lVorks of Mencius. (In Legge's Cl~inese Classics. Vol. II.) Mered.-Meredith (Mrs. C. L. A.) My Home in Tasmania. 2 vols. Mich.-Michelet (J.) History of France. 2 vols. Trans. by G. H. Smith. Mil1.-Mill (J. S.) An .Examination of Sir lVilliamHamilton's Philosophy. 3rd Ed. 1867. M. J. L. S.-The Madras Journal of Literature and Science. 1l0ll.-Mollhausen (B.) Diar!J of a Journey from the Missi,f;sippito tlte Goa.'~ts of the Pacific. 2 vols. 1858.

~Iofffl.t.-Moffat (R.) j}Iissionary Labours and SCfnes in Southern Africa. 4th Ed. 1842. Mont.-Montaigne (M. de) Essays. Trans. by Cotton. 3 vols. Monte.-Monteiro (J. J.) Angola and the River Congo. 2 vols. 1875. Morg.-Morgan (L. H.) League of the . ~ . Iroq,ltois. Roch. U.S.A. 1851.

TITLES OF WORKS. 571 Morris.-Morris (D.) A· descriptive and historical Account of the Godavery.Di8 trict. 1878. Miiller.-Miiller (F. Max) Hibbert Lectures. On. the Origin and G'J'owtl" of Religion in India. 18'18. Miiller.-Miiller (F. 1.fax) Rig-Veda Sanldta. .Trans. &c. by F. M. M. Muir.-Muir (John) Metrical Tran8lationsfrom Sanskrit Writers. 1878. Muir.-Muir (John) Original Sanskrit Texts. 5 vols. Nieb.-Niebuhr (C.) Travels in Arabia. (In Pinkerton, vol. X.) Niemo.-Niemojowski (L.) Siberian Pictures. Ed. by Szulczewski. 2 vols. O'Don.-O'Donovan (E.) The Merv Oasis. 2 vols. Oliv.-Oliver (E. E.) Over the Border, or Pathan and Bihch. 1890. Pala.-Palacio. San Salvador and Honduras in 15'16. (In Squier's Collection of Rare and Original Documents. Vol. I.) N: Y. 1860. Palg.-Palgrave (W. G.) Na1'rative of a Year's Journey th'J'ough Gentral and Eastern Arabia. 2 vols. Pallas.-Pallas (P. S.) Sammhmg historischer Nachricltten uber die Mongolisclten Volkerscltaften.. 2 vols. St. Petersburg, 1776.

Park.-Park (Mungo) Travels in the h~terior .Di,<;trictsof Africa. Perc.-Percival (P.) Tlte Land of the .Veda. 1854. Peth.-Petherick(J.) llgypt, The Soudan, and Gentral Africa. 1861. Pink.-Pinkerton (John) General Oollectionof Voyages. 17 vols. 1808-14. Plato.-Plato,· .Dialogues. Translated. Ploss.-Ploss (lI. If.) .Das Weib. 2 Bde. Leipzig, 1887.. Plut.-Plutarch. Syrnposiacs. (Translated in Morals, vol. III, edited by W. W. Goodwin.) 1870. Prid.--Pridham (C.) An Historical, Political, and Statistical Account of Ceylon. 2 vols. 1849. Prjev.-Prjevalsky (N.) Mongolia. Trans. by E. D. Morgan. 2 vols. 1876. P. R. G. S.-Proceedings of the Ro.lfal GeographicalSociety. Lond. P. S. M.-The Popular Science Monthly. New York. . Raf.~Raffles (SirT. S.) History of Java. . 2 vols. 181'7. Reade.-Reade (W. W.) Savage Africa. 1863. Renouf.-Renouf (B. Ie. Page) The Hibbert Lectures, 18'19. Rev. Sib.-Revelations of Sibm·ia. Ed. by Col. Lach-Szyrma. 2 vols. 1852.

Rich.-Richardson (F.) The Iliad oj the Bast. 1870. Ross.-Ross (Alex.) Adventures .•• on the Oregon or COlumbia River. 1849. Rown.-Rowney (H. B.) Tlte lVild Tribe.~ of In<f,ia. 1882. R. P.-Records of the Past. Ed. by S. Birch. 1873, etc. R.P.-Records of the Past. New Series. 1888, etc. R. V.-Rig-Veda Sanhita. . Various translations. Sadi.-SadLThe Gulistan. Eastwick's and other translations. Saha.-Sahagun (B. de) Historla General de las Oosas de Nueva Espana. 3 tom. Mexico, 1829-30. . St. John.-St. John (B.) Two Years' Residencein a Levantine Family. 1856. Ste. Pal.-Sainte-Palaye (De la Curne de) Memoires sur l'ancienne chevalerie. 3 vols. 1781. Salv.-Salvianus (Bislwp of Marseilles).De GubernationeDei. Paris, 1684. Schenk.-Schenkel (D.) Bibellexikon. 5 Bde.. Leipzig, 1860-'75. Scho.-Schoolcraft .(H. R.) Historical and Statistic InjO'J'rnationrespecting tlte ... Indian Tribes of the United States. 5 vols.. Philad. 1851-60. 4to.

Schom.-Schomburgk (Sir· R. H.) Reisen in Britisclt-Guiana, 1840-44. 3 vols. Leipzig, 184'1, &c" See.-Seemann (B.) Viti. Camb. 1862. Shoo.-Shooter (Rev. J.) 'l'he Kafirs of Natal and tlte Zulu Country. 1807. Shortt.-Shortt (Dr. J.) The Hill Ranges of Southern India. ~ladras, 18'70.

572 TITLES OF WORKS. Simon.-Simon (P.) Cum·ta Noticia Historical de las Oonquistas de Tierra Firme, etc. 1624. (In Aglio's Antiquities of Mexico, Vol. VIII.) Smith.-Smith (E. R.) The Araucanians. N. Y. 1855. Smith.-Smith (Geo.) Ancient History from the Monuments. Assy'ria. 1875. Smith.-Smith (Rev. I. G.) The Ethics of A Tistotle. 1889. Smy.-Smyth (R. B.) The Aborigines of Victoria. 2 vols. Melbourne, 1878. Snow.-Snow (W. P.) A Two Years' Cruise oi! Tierra del ~F'uego. 2 vols. 1857. Sou.-Southey (R.) History of Brazil. 3 vols. 1810-19. 4to. Spar.-Sparrman (J.) A Voy(tge to the Cape of Good Hope. 2 vols. 1785. Sturt.-Sturt (Capt. C. H.) 'J.'woB'xpeditions into . .. Southern Australia. 2 vols. 1833. Tac.-Tacitus (C. C.) Germania. Tap.-Taplin (Rev. G.) 17/,e Folklore, Manners, Customs, and Languages of the South Australian Aborigines. Adelaide, 187~. Temp.-Temple (Sir R.) Repm·t .•. on the North-West Frontier of tILe Pl1lnjab, &:c. Lahore, 1865.

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About this edition

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Title: The Principles of Ethics, Volume I

Author: Herbert Spencer

First published: 1896

Publisher: D. Appleton and Company, New York

Source file: The Principles of Ethics, Volume I.pdf

Source page: https://freecapitalists.org/books/the-principles-of-ethics-volume-i/

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Table of Contents

- Title Page
- General Preface
- Preface to Vol. I
- Preface to Part I
- Contents of Vol. I

- Part I. The Data of Ethics

- II. The Evolution of Conduct
- III. Good and Bad Conduct
- IV. Ways of Judging Conduct
- V. The Physical View
- VI. The Biological View
- VII. The Psychological View
- VIII. The Sociological View
- IX. Criticisms and Explanations
- X. The Relativity of Pains and Pleasures
- XI. Egoism Versus Altruism
- XII. Altruism Versus Egoism
- XIII. Trial and Compromise
- XIV. Conciliation
- XV. Absolute and Relative Ethics
- XVI. The Scope of Ethics
- Appendix to Part I

- Part II. The Induction of Ethics

- I. The Confusion of Ethical Thought
- II. What Ideas and Sentiments are Ethical
- III. Aggression
- IV. Robbery
- V. Revenge
- VI. Justice
- VII. Generosity
- VIII. Humanity
- IX. Veracity
- X. Obedience
- XI. Industry
- XII. Temperance
- XIII. Chastity
- XIV. Summary of Inductions

- Part III. The Ethics of Individual Life

- I. Introductory
- II. Activity
- III. Rest
- IV. Nutrition
- V. Stimulation
- VI. Culture
- VII. Amusements
- VIII. Marriage
- IX. Parenthood
- X. General Conclusions

- References

- About this edition