A Manual of Moral Philosophy Part 2

The affections, benevolent and malevolent, are common to man with lower animals. Love and hatred are manifested by all of them whose habits are open to our inspection; anger, by not a few; grat.i.tude, kindness, pity, sympathy, resentment, and revenge, by the more intelligent; envy, by those most completely domesticated; reverence, perhaps, by the dog towards his master.

The affections all prompt to action, and do not discriminate the qualities of actions. Hence they need the control and guidance of reason, and can safely be indulged only in accordance with the principles which reason recognizes as supreme in the conduct of life.

Chapter III.

THE GOVERNING PRINCIPLES OF ACTION.

The appet.i.tes, desires, and affections const.i.tute the *impelling force* in all action. Were we not possessed of them, we should not act. There is no act of any kind, good or bad, n.o.ble or base, mental or bodily, of which one or another of them is not the proximate cause. They are also imperative in their demands. They crave immediate action,-the appet.i.tes, in procuring or using the means of bodily gratification; the desires, in the increase of their objects; the affections, in seeking or bestowing their appropriate tokens or expressions, whether good or evil. Were there no check, the specific appet.i.te, desire, or affection to which circ.u.mstances gave the ascendency for the time being, would act in its appropriate direction, until counteracted by another, brought into supremacy by a new series of circ.u.mstances. This is the case with brutes, so far as we can observe their modes of action. Here, in man, reason intervenes, and takes cognizance of the tendencies and the qualities of actions.

*Reason* considers actions under two points of view,-interest and obligation,-expediency and right. The questions which we inwardly ask concerning actions all resolve themselves into one of these,-Is the act useful or desirable for me? or, Is it my right or my duty? He who is wont to ask the former of these questions is called a prudent man; he who habitually asks the latter is termed a virtuous or good man. He who asks neither of them yields himself, after the manner of the brutes, to the promptings of appet.i.te, desire, and affection, and thus far omits to exercise the reason which distinguishes him from the brutes.

There can be no doubt that *expediency and right coincide*. Under the government of Supreme Benevolence, it is impossible that what ought to be done should not conduce to the welfare of him who does it. But its beneficent results may be too remote for him to trace them, nay, may belong to a life beyond death, to which human cognizance does not reach; while what ought not to be done may promise substantial benefit so far as man's foresight extends. Then, too, it is at least supposable that there may be cases, in which, were they solitary cases, expediency might diverge from right, yet in which, because they belong to a cla.s.s, it is for the interest of society and of every individual member of society that general laws should be obeyed. It is obvious also, that there are many cases, in which the calculation of expediency involves details too numerous and too complicated to be fully understood by a mind of ordinary discernment, while the same mind can clearly perceive what course of conduct is in accordance with the strict rule of right. Still farther, in a question of conduct in which appet.i.te, desire, or affection is concerned, we cannot take as calm and dispa.s.sionate a view of our true interest, as we should of the interest of another person in like case. The impelling force may be so strong, that for the time being we sincerely regard it as expedient-though we know that it is not right-to yield to it.

For these reasons there is an *apparent conflict between the useful and the right*. Though a perfectly wise and dispa.s.sionate man might give precisely the same answer in every instance to the question of interest and that of duty, men, limited and influenced as they are, can hardly fail in many instances to answer these questions differently. The man who makes his own imagined good his ruling aim does many things which he would not defend on the ground of right; the man who determines always to do right sometimes performs acts of reputed and conscious self-denial and self-sacrifice.

Nor yet can more *general* considerations of *expediency*, reference to the good of others, to the greatest good of the greatest number, serve as a guide to the right or a test of the right. We have less foresight as regards others than as regards ourselves; the details involved in the true interest of any community, society, or number of persons, are necessarily more numerous and complicated than those involved in our own well-being; and, if not appet.i.te or desire, the benevolent or malevolent affections are fully as apt to warp our judgment and to misdirect our conduct in the case of others as in our own case.

We perceive then that *expediency*, whether with reference to ourselves or to others, *is not a trustworthy rule of conduct*. Yet while it cannot hold the first place, it occupies an important place; for there are many cases in which the question before us is not what we ought to do, but what it is best for us to do. Thus, if there be several acts, all equally right, only one of which can be performed, we are evidently ent.i.tled to perform the act which will be most pleasing or useful to ourselves. If there be an end which it is our right or duty to attain, and there be several equally innocent modes of attaining it, the question for us is, by which of these modes we may find the least difficulty or gain the highest enjoyment or advantage. If there be several duties inc.u.mbent upon us at the same time and place, all of which have equal intrinsic claims, yet one of which must necessarily take precedence of the rest, the question which shall have precedence is a question of expediency, that by which we may do the most good being the foremost duty.

*Expediency is not a characteristic of actions.* An act is not in itself expedient or inexpedient, but is made one or the other by varying circ.u.mstances alone; while there are acts in themselves good which no possible circ.u.mstances could make bad, and there are acts in themselves bad which no possible circ.u.mstances could make good. If, therefore, there be a science which has for its province the intrinsic qualities of actions, questions of expediency have no place in such a science.

*Moral Philosophy, or Ethics* (synonymous terms), is the science which treats of human actions. The term _morals_ is often applied to external actions; but always with reference to the intentions from which they proceed. We can conceive of the treatment of actions under various aspects, as wise or unwise, agreeable or disagreeable, spontaneous or deliberate; but by the common consent of mankind, at least of the civilized and enlightened portion of mankind, the distinction of actions as right or wrong is regarded as of an importance so far transcending all other distinctions, as to render them of comparatively little moment.

Therefore Moral Philosophy confines itself to this single distinction, and takes cognizance of others, only as they modify this, or are modified by it. The questions which Moral Philosophy asks and answers are these:-What const.i.tutes the right? How is it to be ascertained? Wherein lies the obligation to the right? What are the motives to right action? What specific actions, or cla.s.ses of actions are right, and why? What specific actions, or cla.s.ses of actions are wrong, and why?

Chapter IV.

THE RIGHT.

Every object, by virtue of its existence, has its *appropriate place, purpose, uses, and relations*. At every moment, each specific object is either in or out of its place, fulfilling or not fulfilling its purpose, subservient to or alienated from its uses, in accordance or out of harmony with its relations, and therefore in a state of _fitness_ or _unfitness_ as regards other objects. Every object is at every moment under the control of the intelligent will of the Supreme Being, or of some finite being, and is by that will maintained either in or out of its place, purpose, uses, or relations, and thus in a state of fitness or unfitness with regard to other objects. Every intelligent being, by virtue of his existence, bears certain definite relations to outward objects, to his fellow-beings, and to his Creator. At every moment, each intelligent being is either faithful or unfaithful to these relations, and thus in a state of fitness or unfitness as regards outward objects and other beings. Thus fitness or unfitness may be affirmed, at every moment, of every object in existence, of the volition by which each object is controlled, and of every intelligent being, with regard to the exercise of his will toward or upon outward objects or his fellow-beings. Fitness and unfitness are the ultimate ideas that are involved in the terms _right_ and _wrong_. These last are metaphorical terms,-right (Latin, _rectus_), straight, upright, according to rule, and therefore _fit_; wrong, _wrung_, distorted, deflected, twisted out of place, contrary to rule, and therefore _unfit_.

We are so const.i.tuted that we cannot help regarding fitness with complacency and esteem; unfitness, with disesteem and disapproval, even though we ourselves create it or impersonate it.

*Fitness* is the only standard by which we regard our own actions or the actions of others as good or evil,-by which we justify or condemn ourselves or others. Duty has fitness for its only aim and end. To whatever object comes under our control, its fit place, purpose, uses, and relations are _due_; and our perception of what is thus due const.i.tutes our _duty_, and awakens in us a sense of obligation. To ourselves, and to other beings and objects, our fidelity to our relations has in it an intrinsic fitness; that fitness is _due_ to them and to ourselves; and our perception of what is thus due const.i.tutes our _duty_, and awakens in us a sense of obligation.

*Right and wrong are not contingent on the knowledge of the moral agent.*

Unfitness, misuse, abuse, is none the less intrinsically wrong, because it is the result of ignorance. It is out of harmony with the fitness of things. It deprives an object of its due use. It perverts to pernicious results what is salutary in its purpose. It lessens for the agent his aggregate of good and of happiness, and increases for him his aggregate of evil and of misery. In this sense-far more significant than that of arbitrary infliction-the well-known maxim of jurisprudence, "Ignorance of the law excuses no one,"(2) is a fundamental law of nature.

There is, however, an important distinction between *absolute and relative right*. In action, the absolute right is conduct in entire conformity with beings and objects as they are; the relative right is conduct in accordance with beings and objects as, with the best means of knowledge within our reach, we believe them to be. The Omniscient Being alone can have perfect knowledge of all beings and things as they are. This knowledge is possessed by men in different degrees, corresponding to their respective measures of intelligence, sagacity, culture, and personal or traditional experience. In the ruder conditions of society, acts that seem to us atrociously wrong, often proceed from honest and inevitable misapprehension, are right in their intention, and are therefore proper objects of moral approbation. In an advanced condition of intelligence, and especially under high religious culture, though the realm of things unknown far exceeds that of things known, there is a sufficiently clear understanding of the objects and relations of ordinary life to secure men against sins of ignorance, and to leave in their wrong-doing no semblance or vestige of right.

The distinction between absolute and relative right enables us to *reconcile two statements that may have seemed inconsistent* with each other, namely, that "the character of an action, whether good or bad, depends on the intention of the agent," and "that unfitness, misuse, abuse, is none the less wrong because the result of ignorance." Both these propositions are true. The same act may be in intent right and good, and yet, through defect of knowledge, wrong and evil; and it may, in virtue of its good intent, be attended and followed by beneficent results, while at the same time the evil that there is in it may be attended or followed by injurious consequences. We may best ill.u.s.trate this double character of actions by a case so simple that we can see through it at a single glance.

I will suppose that I carry to a sick person a potion which I believe to be an efficient remedy, but which, by a mistake for which I am not accountable, proves to be a deadly poison. My act, by the standard of absolute right, is an unfitting and therefore a wrong act, and it has its inevitable result in killing the patient. But because my intention was right, I have not placed myself in any wrong relation to G.o.d or man. Nay, if I procured what I supposed to be a healing potion with care, cost, and trouble, and for one whose suffering and need were his only claim upon me, I have by my labor of love brought myself into an even more intimate relation, filial and fraternal, with G.o.d and man, the result of which must be my enhanced usefulness and happiness. If on the other hand I had meant to poison the man, but had by mistake given him a healing potion, my act would have been absolutely right, because conformed to the fitness of things, but relatively wrong, because in its intention and purpose opposed to the fitness of things; and as in itself fitting, it would have done the sick man good, while, as in its purpose unfitting, it would have thrown me out of the relations in which I ought to stand both with G.o.d and man.

*Mistakes as to specific acts of duty* bear the closest possible a.n.a.logy to the case of the poison given for medicine. The savage, who sincerely means to express reverence, kindness, loyalty, fidelity, may perform, in the expression of those sentiments, acts that are utterly unfitting, and therefore utterly wrong; and if so, each of these acts produces its due consequences, it may be, baleful and lamentable. Yet because he did the best he knew in the expression of these sentiments, he has not sunk, but risen in his character as a moral being,-has become better and more capable of good.

*Ignorance of the right*, however, *is innocent, only when inevitable*. At the moment of action, indeed, what seems to me fitting is relatively right, and were I to do otherwise, even though my act were absolutely right, it would be relatively wrong. But if I have had and neglected the means of knowing the right, I have violated the fitnesses of my own nature by not employing my cognitive powers on subjects of vital importance to my well-being. In this case, though what are called the sins of ignorance may be mistakes and not sins, the ignorance itself has all the characteristics that attach themselves to the term _sin_, and must be attended with proportionally *harmful consequences to the offender*.

Chapter V.

MEANS AND SOURCES OF KNOWLEDGE AS TO RIGHT AND WRONG.

Section I.

Conscience.

*Conscience is a means*, not a source, *of knowledge*. It is a.n.a.logous to sight and hearing. It is the power of perceiving fitness and unfitness.

Yet more, it is consciousness,-a sense of our own personal relation to the fitting and the unfitting, of our power of actualizing them in intention, will, and conduct. It is in this last particular that man differs from the lower animals. They have an instinctive perception of fitness, and an instinctive impulse to acts befitting their nature. But no brute says to himself, "I am acting in accordance with the fitness of things;" while man virtually says to himself, in every act, "I am doing what it is fit for me to do," or, "I am doing what it is unfitting for me to do."

*Conscience is a judicial faculty.* Its decisions are based upon such knowledge as the individual has, whether real or imagined, and from whatever source derived. It judges according to such law and evidence as are placed before it. Its verdict is always relatively right, a genuine verdict (_verum dictum_), though, by the absolute standard of right, it may be wrong, through defect of knowledge,-precisely as in a court of law an infallibly wise and incorruptibly just judge may p.r.o.nounce an utterly erroneous or unjust decision, if he have before him a false statement of facts, or if the law which he is compelled to administer be unrighteous.

We may *ill.u.s.trate the function of conscience* by reference to a question now agitated in our community,-the question as to the moral fitness of the moderate use of fermented liquors. In civilized society, intoxication is universally known to be opposed to the fitnesses of body and mind, an abuse of alcoholic liquors, and an abuse of the drinker's own personality; and it is therefore condemned by all consciences, by none more heartily than by those of its victims. But there still remains open the question whether entire abstinence from fermented liquors be a duty, and this is a question of fact. Says one party, "Alcohol, in every form, and in the least quant.i.ty, is a virulent poison, and therefore unfit for body and mind." Says the other party, "Wine, moderately used, is healthful, salutary, restorative, and therefore fitted to body and mind." Change the opinion of the latter party, their consciences would at once take the other side; and if they retained in precept and practice their present position, they would retain it self-condemned. Change the opinion of the former party, their consciences would a.s.sume the ground which they now a.s.sail. Demonstrate to the whole community-as it is to be hoped physiology will do at no distant day-the precise truth in this matter, there would remain no difference of conscientious judgment, whatever difference of practice might still continue.

*Conscience*, like all the perceptive faculties, *prompts to action in accordance with its perceptions*. In this respect it differs not in the least from sight, hearing, taste. Our natural proclivity is to direct our movements with reference to the objects within the field of our vision, to govern our conduct by what we hear, to take into our mouths only substances that are pleasing to the taste. Yet fright, temerity, or courage may impel us to incur dangers which we clearly see; opiniativeness or obstinacy may make us inwardly deaf to counsels or warnings which we hear; and motives of health may induce us to swallow the most nauseous drugs. In like manner, our inevitable tendency is to govern our conduct by the fitness of things when clearly perceived; but intense and unrestrained appet.i.te, desire, or affection may lead us to violate that fitness, though distinctly seen and acknowledged.

*Men act in opposition to conscience only under immediate and strong temptation.* The great majority of the acts of bad men are conscientious, but not therefore meritorious; for merit consists not in doing right when there is no temptation to evil, but in resisting temptation. But, as has been said, it is as natural, when there is no inducement to the contrary, to act in accordance with the fitness of things, as it is to act in accordance with what we see and hear. It is the tendency so to act, that alone renders human society possible, in the absence of high moral principle. In order to live, a man must so act with reference to outward nature; still more must he so act, in order to possess human fellows.h.i.+p, physical comfort, transient enjoyment, of however low a type; and the most depraved wretch that walks the earth purchases his continued being and whatever pleasure he derives from it by a thousand acts in accordance with the fitness of things to one in which he violates that fitness.

*Conscience*, like all the perceptive faculties, *is educated by use*. The watchmaker's or the botanist's eye acquires an almost microscopic keenness of vision. The blind man's hearing is so trained as to supply, in great part, the lack of sight. The epicure's taste can discriminate flavors whose differences are imperceptible to an ordinary palate. In like manner, the conscience that is constantly and carefully exercised in judging of the fit and the unfitting, the right and the wrong, becomes prompt, keen, searching, sensitive, comprehensive, microscopic. On the other hand, conscience, like the senses, if seldom called into exercise, becomes sluggish, inert, incapable of minute discrimination, or of vigilance over the ordinary conduct of life. Yet it is never extinct, and is never perverted. When roused to action, even in the most obdurate, it resumes its judicial severity, and records its verdict in remorseful agony.

Conscience is commonly said to be educated by *the increase of knowledge*

as to the relations of beings and objects, as to the moral laws of the universe, and as to religious verities. This, however, is not true.

Knowledge does not necessarily quicken the activity of conscience, or enhance its discriminating power. Conscience often is intense and vivid in the most ignorant, inactive and torpid in persons whose cognitive powers have had the most generous culture. Knowledge, indeed, brings the decisions of conscience into closer and more constant conformity with the absolute right, but it does not render its decisions more certainly in accordance with the relative right, that is, with what the individual, from his point of view, ought to will and do. It has the same effect upon conscience that accurate testimony has upon the clear-minded and uncorrupt judge, whose mind is not made thereby the more active or discriminating, nor his decision brought into closer accordance with the facts as they are presented to him. Knowledge is indeed an indispensable auxiliary to conscience; but this cannot be affirmed exclusively of any specific department of knowledge. It is true of all knowledge; for there is no fact or law in the universe that may not in some contingency become the subject-matter or the occasion for the action of conscience. Nothing could seem more remote from the ordinary field of conscience than the theory of planetary motion; yet it was this that gave Galileo the one grand opportunity of his life for testing the supremacy of conscience,-it may be, the sole occasion on which his conscience uttered itself strongly against his seeming interest, and one on which obedience to conscience would have averted the only cloud that ever rested on his fame.

Section II.

Sources Of Knowledge. 1. Observation, Experience, And Tradition.