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-} -h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6 { -font-weight: normal; -} -table { -margin-left: auto; -margin-right: auto; -} -.tablecaption { -text-align: center; -}.pagenum, .linenum { -speak: none; -} -</style> - -<style type="text/css"> -.masthead { -font-family: sans-serif; -font-size: xx-large; -line-height: 2.2ex; -text-align: center; -padding-bottom: 0.5ex; -} -.price { -font-weight: bold; -font-size: large; -text-align: center; -} -.adline { -font-style: italic; -text-align: center; -} -.titlelarge { -font-size: x-large; -text-align: center; -} -.titlemedium { -font-size: large; -text-align: center; -} -.titlesmall { -font-size: small; -text-align: center; -} -/* CSS rules generated from @rend attributes in TEI file */ -.xd21e125 -{ -width:20%; -} -.xd21e126 -{ -text-align:center; -} -.xd21e127 -{ -width:20%; text-align:right; -} -.xd21e165 -{ -text-align:right; -} -.xd21e255 -{ -text-align:center;width:60%; -} -.xd21e111width -{ -width:480px; -} -.xd21e118width -{ -width:419px; -} -.xd21e124 -{ -width:100%; -} -.xd21e130 -{ -font-weight:bold; -} -.xd21e146 -{ -padding-top:10ex; -} -.xd21e160 -{ -padding-top:6ex; text-align:center; -} -.xd21e162 -{ -text-align:center; -} -.xd21e164 -{ -padding-left:0; -} -.xd21e265 -{ -vertical-align:middle; -} -.xd21e281 -{ -text-align:center; -} -.xd21e1316 -{ -font-size:x-large; -} -.xd21e1372 -{ -text-align:center;font-size:x-large; -} -.xd21e1391 -{ -font-size:xx-large; -} -.xd21e1396width -{ -width:287px; -} -.xd21e1422 -{ -text-align:center;font-size:large; -} -.xd21e1426 -{ -text-align:center;font-size:large; font-weight:bold; -} -.xd21e1430 -{ -text-align:center;font-size:xx-large; -} -.xd21e1432 -{ -text-align:center;font-size:72pt; font-weight:bold; -} -.xd21e1439width -{ -width:426px; -} -.xd21e1453 -{ -text-align:right;font-size:x-large; -} -@media handheld -{ -} -</style> -</head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Scientific Basis of Morals, and other -essays., by William Kingdon Clifford - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Scientific Basis of Morals, and other essays. - -Author: William Kingdon Clifford - -Release Date: October 12, 2015 [EBook #50189] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCIENTIFIC BASIS OF MORALS *** - - - - -Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net/ for Project -Gutenberg (This file was produced from images generously -made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<div class="front"> -<div class="div1 cover"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= -"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="par first"></p> -<div class="figure xd21e111width"><img src="images/new-cover.jpg" alt= -"Newly Designed Front Cover." width="480" height="720"></div> -<p class="par"></p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div1 titlepage"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= -"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="par first"></p> -<div class="figure xd21e118width"><img src="images/titlepage.jpg" alt= -"Original Title Page." width="419" height="720"></div> -<p class="par"></p> -<p class="par price">Price, 15 Cents.</p> -<div class="table"> -<table class="xd21e124"> -<tr> -<td class="xd21e125 cellLeft cellTop cellBottom"></td> -<td class="masthead xd21e130 xd21e126 cellTop cellBottom">HUMBOLDT -LIBRARY.</td> -<td class="masthead xd21e127 cellRight cellTop cellBottom">[No. -55.</td> -</tr> -</table> -</div> -<p class="par"></p> -<p class="par adline">☞ <i>Supplied to the Trade</i>, -<span class="sc">Returnable</span>, <i>by the News Companies</i>.</p> -<p class="par titlemedium xd21e146">THE SCIENTIFIC BASIS</p> -<p class="par titlesmall">OF</p> -<p class="par titlelarge">MORALS,</p> -<p class="par titlemedium">AND OTHER ESSAYS.</p> -<p class="par titlesmall">BY</p> -<p class="par titlemedium"><span class="sc">William Kingdon Clifford, -F.R.S.</span></p> -<p class="par xd21e160">CATALOGUE OF THE LIBRARY.</p> -<p class="par xd21e162">(Continued from last page of cover.)</p> -<div class="table"> -<table class="xd21e164"> -<tr> -<td class="xd21e165 cellLeft cellTop"><b>Nos. 50, 51.</b></td> -<td class="cellRight cellTop"><b>Money and the Mechanism of -Exchange.</b> <span class="sc">By W. Stanley Jevons, F.R.S.</span></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="xd21e165 cellLeft"><b>52.</b></td> -<td class="cellRight"><b>The Diseases of the Will.</b> <span class= -"sc">By Th. Ribot. Translated from the French by J. Fitzgerald, -A.M.</span></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="xd21e165 cellLeft"><b>53.</b></td> -<td class="cellRight"><b>Animal Automatism, and Other Essays.</b> -<span class="sc">By Prof. T. H. Huxley, F.R.S.</span></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="xd21e165 cellLeft cellBottom"><b>54.</b></td> -<td class="cellRight cellBottom"><b>The Birth and Growth of Myth.</b> -<span class="sc">By Edward Clodd, F.R.A.S.</span></td> -</tr> -</table> -</div> -<p class="par"></p> -<p class="tb"></p> -<p class="par"></p> -<p class="par xd21e162">Covers for the <span class="sc">Library</span>, -to hold firmly any number of copies from one to twelve, Price, 60 -cents; to Subscribers, 35 cents.</p> -<p class="tb"></p> -<p class="par"></p> -<p class="par titlemedium">J. FITZGERALD, PUBLISHER,<br> -20 LAFAYETTE PLACE,<br> -NEW YORK. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e228" href="#xd21e228" -name="xd21e228">1</a>]</span></p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div1 titlepage"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= -"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="par first masthead">HUMBOLDT LIBRARY</p> -<p class="par titlesmall">OF</p> -<p class="par titlemedium"><i><span class="sc">Popular Science -Literature</span></i>.</p> -<div class="table"> -<table class="xd21e124"> -<tr> -<td class="xd21e125 cellLeft cellTop cellBottom">No. 55.]</td> -<td class="xd21e126 cellTop cellBottom">NEW YORK: J. FITZGERALD.</td> -<td class="xd21e127 cellRight cellTop cellBottom">[<span class= -"sc">Fifteen Cents.</span></td> -</tr> -</table> -</div> -<p class="par"></p> -<div class="table"> -<table class="xd21e124"> -<tr> -<td class="xd21e125 cellLeft cellTop cellBottom">April, 1884.</td> -<td class="xd21e255 cellTop cellBottom">Entered at the New York -Post-Office as Second-Class Matter.</td> -<td class="xd21e165 cellRight cellTop cellBottom"> -<div class="table"> -<table> -<tr> -<td rowspan="2" class="xd21e265 cellLeft cellTop"><img src= -"images/lbrace2.png" alt="" width="12" height="40"></td> -<td class="cellRight cellTop">$1.50 per Year.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="cellLeft cellRight cellBottom">(12 Numbers.)</td> -</tr> -</table> -</div> -</td> -</tr> -</table> -</div> -<p class="par"></p> -<p class="par titlemedium xd21e146">THE SCIENTIFIC BASIS</p> -<p class="par titlesmall">OF</p> -<p class="par titlelarge">MORALS,</p> -<p class="par titlemedium">AND OTHER ESSAYS;</p> -<p class="par xd21e281"><span class="sc">Viz.</span>: <span class= -"sc"><a href="#ch2">Right and Wrong</a></span>; <span class= -"sc"><a href="#ch3">The Ethics of Belief</a></span>; <span class= -"sc"><a href="#ch4">The Ethics of Religion</a></span>.</p> -<p class="par xd21e281"><span class="sc">By WILLIAM KINGDON CLIFFORD, -F.R.S.</span></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="body"> -<div id="ch1" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= -"#xd21e1279">Contents</a>]</span> -<div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="main">I. ON THE SCIENTIFIC BASIS OF MORALS.</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="par first">By Morals or Ethic I mean the doctrine of a -special kind of pleasure or displeasure which is felt by the human mind -in contemplating certain courses of conduct, whereby they are felt to -be <i>right</i> or <i>wrong</i>, and of a special desire to do the -right things and avoid the wrong ones. The pleasure or displeasure is -commonly called the moral sense; the corresponding desire might be -called the moral appetite. These are facts, existing in the -consciousness of every man who need be considered in this discussion, -and sufficiently marked out by these names; they need no further -definition. In the same way the sense of taste is a feeling of pleasure -or displeasure in things savory or unsavory, and is associated with a -desire for the one and a repulsion from the other. We must assume that -everybody knows what these words mean; the feelings they describe may -be analyzed or accounted for, but they cannot be more exactly defined -as feelings.</p> -<p class="par">The maxims of ethic are recommendations or commands of -the form, ‘Do this particular thing because it is right,’ -or ‘Avoid this particular thing because it is wrong.’ They -express the immediate desire to do the right thing for itself, not for -the sake of anything else: on this account the mood of them is called -the categorical imperative. The particular things commanded or -forbidden by such maxims depend upon the character of the individual in -whose mind they arise. There is a certain general agreement in the -ethical code of persons belonging to the same race at a given time, but -considerable variations in different races and times. To the question -‘What is right?’ can therefore only be answered in the -first instance, ‘That which pleases your moral sense.’ But -it may be further asked ‘What is generally thought right?’ -and the reply will specify the ethic of a particular race and period. -But the ethical code of an individual, like the standard of taste, may -be modified by habit and education; and accordingly the question may be -asked, ‘How shall I order my moral desires so as to be able to -satisfy them most completely and continuously? What <i>ought</i> I to -feel to be right?’ The answer to this question must be sought in -the study of the conditions under which the moral sense was produced -and is preserved; in other words, in the study of its functions as a -property of the human organism. The maxims derived from this study may -be called maxims of abstract or absolute right; they are not absolutely -universal, ‘eternal and immutable,’ but they are -independent of the individual, and practically <span class= -"pagenum">[<a id="xd21e318" href="#xd21e318" name= -"xd21e318">2</a>]</span>universal for the present condition of the -human species.</p> -<p class="par">I mean by Science the application of experience to new -circumstances, by the aid of an order of nature which has been observed -in the past, and on the assumption that such order will continue in the -future. The simplest use of experience as a guide to action is probably -not even conscious; it is the association by continually-repeated -selection of certain actions with certain circumstances, as in the -unconsciously-acquired craft of the maker of flint implements. I still -call this science, although it is only a beginning; because the -physiological process is a type of what takes place in all later -stages. The next step may be expressed in the form of a hypothetical -maxim,—‘If you want to make brass, melt your copper along -with this blue stone.’ To a maxim of this sort it may always be -replied, ‘I do not want to make brass, and so I shall not do as -you tell me.’ This reply is anticipated in the final form of -science, when it is expressed as a statement or proposition: brass is -an alloy of copper and zinc, and calamine is zinc carbonate. Belief in -a general statement is an artifice of our mental constitution, whereby -infinitely various sensations and groups of sensations are brought into -connection with infinitely various actions and groups of actions. On -the phenomenal side there corresponds a certain cerebral structure by -which various combinations of disturbances in the sensor tract are made -to lead to the appropriate combinations of disturbances in the motor -tract. The important point is that science, though apparently -transformed into pure knowledge, has yet never lost its character of -being a <i>craft</i>; and that it is not the knowledge itself which can -rightly be called science, but a special way of getting and of using -knowledge. Namely, science is the getting of knowledge from experience -on the assumption of uniformity in nature, and the use of such -knowledge to guide the actions of men. And the most abstract statements -or propositions in science are to be regarded as bundles of -hypothetical maxims packed into a portable shape and size. Every -scientific fact is a shorthand expression for a vast number of -practical directions: if you want so-and-so, do so-and-so.</p> -<p class="par">If with this meaning of the word ‘Science,’ -there is such a thing as a scientific basis of Morals, it must be true -that,—</p> -<ul> -<li>1. The maxims of Ethic are hypothetical maxims.</li> -<li>2. Derived from experience.</li> -<li>3. On the assumption of uniformity in nature.</li> -</ul> -<p class="par"></p> -<p class="par">These propositions I shall now endeavor to prove; and in -conclusion, I shall indicate the direction in which we may look for -those general statements of fact whose organization will complete the -likeness of ethical and physical science.</p> -<p class="par"><i>The Tribal Self.</i>—In the metaphysical sense, -the word ‘self’ is taken to mean the conscious subject, -<i lang="de">das Ich</i>, the whole stream of feelings which make up a -consciousness regarded as bound together by association and memory. -But, in the more common and more restricted ethical sense, what we call -<i>self</i> is a selected aggregate of feelings and of objects related -to them<span class="corr" id="xd21e347" title="Not in source">,</span> -which hangs together as a conception by virtue of long and repeated -association. My self does not include all my feelings, because -habitually separate off some of them, say they do not properly belong -to me, and treat them as my enemies. On the other hand, it does in -general include my body regarded as an object, because of the feelings -which occur simultaneously with events which affect it. My foot is -certainly part of myself, because I get hurt when anybody treads on it. -When we desire anything for its somewhat remote consequences, it is not -common for these to be represented to the mind in the form of the -actual feelings of pleasure which are ultimately to flow from the -satisfaction of the desire; instead of this, they are replaced by a -symbolic conception which represents the thing desired as doing good to -the complex abstraction <i>self</i>. This abstraction serves thus to -support and hold together those complex and remote motives which make -up by far the greater part of the life of the intelligent races. When a -thing is desired for no immediate pleasure that it can bring, it is -generally desired on account of a certain symbolic substitute for -pleasure, the feeling that this thing is suitable to the self. And, as -in many like cases, this feeling, which at first derived its -pleasurable nature from the faintly represented simple pleasures of -which it was a symbol, ceases after a time to recall them and becomes a -simple pleasure itself. In this way the self becomes a sort of center -about which our remoter motives revolve, and to which they always have -regard; in virtue of which, moreover, they become immediate and simple, -from having been complex and remote.</p> -<p class="par">If we consider now the simpler races <span class= -"pagenum">[<a id="xd21e355" href="#xd21e355" name= -"xd21e355">3</a>]</span>of mankind, we shall find not only that -immediate desires play a far larger part in their lives, and so that -the conception of self is less used and less developed, but also that -it is less definite and more wide. The savage is not only hurt when -anybody treads on his foot, but when anybody treads on his tribe. He -may lose his hut, and his wife, and his opportunities of getting food. -In this way the tribe becomes naturally included in that conception of -self which renders remote desires possible by making them immediate. -The actual pains or pleasures which come from the woe or weal of the -tribe, and which were the source of this conception, drop out of -consciousness and are remembered no more; the symbol which has replaced -them becomes a center and goal of immediate desires, powerful enough in -many cases to override the strongest suggestions of individual pleasure -or pain.</p> -<p class="par">Here a helping cause comes in. The tribe, -<i>quâ</i> tribe, has to exist, and it can only exist by aid of -such an organic artifice as the conception of the tribal self in the -minds of its members. Hence the natural selection of those races in -which this conception is the most powerful and most habitually -predominant as a motive over immediate desires. To such an extent has -this proceeded that we may fairly doubt whether the selfhood of the -tribe is not earlier in point of development than that of the -individual. In the process of time it becomes a matter of hereditary -transmission, and is thus fixed as a specific character in the -constitution of social man. With the settlement of countries, and the -aggregation of tribes into nations, it takes a wider and more abstract -form; and in the highest natures the tribal self is incarnate in -nothing less than humanity. Short of these heights, it places itself in -the family and in the city. I shall call that quality or disposition of -man which consists in the supremacy of the family or tribal self as a -mark of reference for motives by its old name <i>Piety</i>. And I have -now to consider certain feelings and conceptions to which the existence -of piety must necessarily give rise.</p> -<p class="par">Before going further, however, it will be advisable to -fix as precisely as may be the sense of the words just used. Self, -then, in the ethical sense, is a conception in the mind of the -individual which serves as a peg on which remote desires are hung and -by which they are rendered immediate. The individual self is such a peg -for the hanging of remote desires which affect the individual only. The -tribal self is a conception in the mind of the individual which serves -as a peg on which those remote desires are hung which were implanted in -him by the need of the tribe as a tribe. We must carefully distinguish -the tribal self from society, or the ‘common -consciousness;’ it is something in the mind of each individual -man which binds together his gregarious instincts.</p> -<p class="par">The word <i>tribe</i> is here used to mean a group of -that size which in the circumstances considered is selected for -survival or destruction <i>as a group</i>. Self-regarding excellences -are brought out by the natural selection of individuals; the tribal -self is developed by the natural selection of groups. The size of the -groups must vary at different times; and the extent of the tribal self -must vary accordingly.</p> -<p class="par"><i>Approbation and Conscience.</i>—The tribe has -to exist. Such tribes as saw no necessity for it have ceased to live. -To exist, it must encourage piety; and there is a method which lies -ready to hand.</p> -<p class="par">We do not like a man whose character is such that we may -reasonably expect injuries from him. This dislike of a man on account -of his character is a more complex feeling than the mere dislike of -separate injuries. A cat likes your hand and your lap, and the food you -give her; but I do not think she has any conception of <i>you</i>. A -dog, however, may like <i>you</i> even when you thrash him, though he -does not like the thrashing. Now such likes and dislikes may be felt by -the tribal self. If a man does anything generally regarded as good for -the tribe, my tribal self may say, in the first place, ‘I like -that thing that you have done.’ By such common approbation of -individual acts the influence of piety as a motive becomes defined; and -natural selection will in the long run preserve those tribes which have -approved the right things; namely, those things which at that time gave -the tribe an advantage in the struggle for existence. But in the second -place, a man may as a rule and constantly, being actuated by piety, do -good things for the tribe; and in that case the tribal self will say, I -like <i>you</i>. The feeling expressed by this statement on the part of -any individual, ‘In the name of the tribe, I like you,’ is -what I call <i>approbation</i>. It is the feeling produced in pious -individuals by that sort of character which seems to them beneficial to -the community. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e394" href="#xd21e394" -name="xd21e394">4</a>]</span></p> -<p class="par">Now suppose that a man has done something obviously -harmful to the community. Either some immediate desire, or his -individual self, has for once proved stronger than the tribal self. -When the tribal self wakes up, the man says, ‘In the name of the -tribe, I do not like this thing that I, as an individual, have -done.’ This Self-judgment in the name of the tribe is called -Conscience. If the man goes further and draws from this act and others -an inference about his own character, he may say, ‘In the name of -the tribe, I do not like my individual self.’ This is remorse. -Mr. Darwin has well pointed out that immediate desires are in general -strong but of short duration, and cannot be adequately represented to -the mind after they have passed; while the social forces, though less -violent, have a steady and continuous action.</p> -<p class="par">In a mind sufficiently developed to distinguish the -individual from the tribal self, conscience is thus a necessary result -of the existence of piety; it is ready to hand as a means for its -increase. But to account for the existence of piety and conscience in -the elemental form which we have hitherto considered is by no means to -account for the present moral nature of man. We shall be led many steps -in that direction if we consider the way in which society has used -these feelings of the individual as a means for its own -preservation.</p> -<p class="par"><i>Right and Responsibility.</i>—A like or a -dislike is one thing; the expression of it is another. It is attached -to the feeling by links of association; and when this association has -been selectively modified by experience, whether consciously or -unconsciously, the expression serves a <i>purpose</i> of retaining or -repeating the thing liked, and of removing the thing disliked. Such a -purpose is served by the expression of tribal approbation or -disapprobation, however little it may be the conscious end of such -expression to any individual. It is necessary to the tribe that the -pious character should be encouraged and preserved, the impious -character discouraged and removed. The process is of two kinds; direct -and reflex. In the direct process the tribal dislike of the offender is -precisely similar to the dislike of a noxious beast; and it expresses -itself in his speedy removal. But in the reflex process we find the -first trace of that singular and wonderful judgment by analogy which -ascribes to other men a consciousness similar to our own. If the -process were a conscious one, it might perhaps be described in this -way: the tribal self says, ‘Put yourself in this man’s -place; he also is pious, but he has offended, and that proves that he -is not pious enough. Still, he has some conscience, and the expression -of your tribal dislike to his character, awakening his conscience, will -tend to change him and make him more pious.’ But the process is -not a conscious one: the social craft or art of living together is -learned by the tribe and not by the individual, and the purpose of -improving men’s characters is provided for by complex social -arrangements long before it has been conceived by any conscious mind. -The tribal self learns to approve certain expressions of tribal liking -or disliking; the actions whose open approval is liked by the tribal -self are called right actions, and those whose open disapproval is -liked are called wrong actions. The corresponding characters are called -good or bad, virtuous or vicious.</p> -<p class="par">This introduces a further complication into the -conscience. Self-judgment in the name of the tribe becomes associated -with very definite and material judgment by the tribe itself. On the -one hand, this undoubtedly strengthens the motive-power of conscience -in an enormous degree. On the other hand, it tends to guide the -decisions of conscience; and since the expression of public approval or -disapproval is made in general by means of some organized machinery of -government, it becomes possible for conscience to be knowingly directed -by the wise or misdirected by the wicked, instead of being driven along -the right path by the slow selective process of experience. Now right -actions are not those which are publicly approved, but those whose -public approbation a well-instructed tribal self would like. Still, it -is impossible to avoid the guiding influence of expressed approbation -on the great mass of the people; and in those cases where the machinery -of government is approximately a means of expressing the true public -conscience, that influence becomes a most powerful help to -improvement.</p> -<p class="par">Let us note now the very important difference between -the direct and the reflex process. To clear a man away as a noxious -beast, and to punish him for doing wrong, these are two very different -things. The purpose in the first case is merely to get rid of a -nuisance; the purpose in the second case is to improve the character -either of the man himself or of those who will observe this public -expression of disapprobation. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e410" -href="#xd21e410" name="xd21e410">5</a>]</span>The offense of which the -man has been guilty leads to an inference about his character, and it -is supposed that the community may contain other persons whose -characters are similar to his, or tend to become so. It has been found -that the expression of public disapprobation tends to awake the -conscience of such people and to improve their characters. If the -improvement of the man himself is aimed at, it is assumed that he has a -conscience which can be worked upon and made to deter him from similar -offenses in future.</p> -<p class="par">The word <i>purpose</i> has here been used in a sense to -which it is perhaps worth while to call attention. Adaptation of means -to an end may be produced in two ways that we at present know of; by -processes of natural selection, and by the agency of an intelligence in -which an image or idea of the end preceded the use of the means. In -both cases the existence of the adaptation is accounted for by the -necessity or utility of the end. It seems to me convenient to use the -word <i>purpose</i> as meaning generally the end to which certain means -are adapted, both in these two cases, and in any other that may -hereafter become known, provided only that the adaptation is accounted -for by the necessity or utility of the end. And there seems no -objection to the use of the phrase ‘final cause’ in this -wider sense, if it is to be kept at all. The word ‘design’ -might then be kept for the special case of adaptation by an -intelligence. And we may then say that since the process of natural -selection has been understood, <i>purpose</i> has ceased to suggest -<i>design</i> to instructed people, except in cases where the agency of -man is independently probable.</p> -<p class="par">When a man can be punished for doing wrong with approval -of the tribal self, he is said to be <i>responsible</i>. Responsibility -implies two things:—(1) The act was a product of the man’s -character and of the circumstances, and his character may to a certain -extent be inferred from the act; (2) The man had a conscience which -might have been so worked upon as to prevent his doing the act. Unless -the first condition be fulfilled, we cannot reasonably take any action -at all in regard to the man, but only in regard to the offense. In the -case of crimes of violence, for example, we might carry a six-shooter -to protect ourselves against similar possibilities, but unless the fact -of a man’s having once committed a murder made it probable that -he would do the like again, it would clearly be absurd and unreasonable -to lynch the man. That is to say, we assume an uniformity of connection -between character and actions, infer a man’s character from his -past actions, and endeavor to provide against his future actions either -by destroying him or by changing his character. I think it will be -found that in all those cases where we not only deal with the offense -but treat it with moral reprobation, we imply the existence of a -conscience which might have been worked upon to improve the character. -Why, for example, do we not regard a lunatic as responsible? Because we -are in possession of information about his character derived not only -from his one offense but from other facts, whereby we know that even if -he had a conscience left, his mind is so diseased that it is impossible -by moral reprobation alone to change his character so that it may be -subsequently relied upon. With his cure from disease and the restored -validity of this condition, responsibility returns. There are, of -course, cases in which an irresponsible person is punished as if he -were responsible, <i>pour encourager les autres</i> who are -responsible. The question of the right or wrong of this procedure is -the question of its average effect on the character of men at any -particular time.</p> -<p class="par"><i>The Categorical Imperative.</i>—May we now say -that the maxims of Ethic are hypothetical maxims? I think we may, and -that in showing why we shall explain the apparent difference between -them and other maxims belonging to an early stage of science. In the -first place ethical maxims are learned by the tribe and not by the -individual. Those tribes have on the whole survived in which conscience -approved such actions as tended to the improvement of men’s -characters as citizens and therefore to the survival of the tribe. -Hence it is that the moral sense of the individual, though founded on -the experience of the tribe, is purely intuitive; conscience gives no -reasons. Notwithstanding this, the ethical maxims are presented to us -as conditional; if you want to live together in this complicated way, -your ways must be straight and not crooked, you must seek the truth and -love no lie. Suppose we answer, ‘I don’t want to live -together with other men in this complicated way; and so I shall not do -as you tell me.’ That is not the end of the matter, as it might -be with other scientific precepts. For obvious reasons it is -<i>right</i> in this case to reply, ‘Then in <span class= -"pagenum">[<a id="xd21e441" href="#xd21e441" name= -"xd21e441">6</a>]</span>the name of my people I do not like you,’ -and to express this dislike by appropriate methods. And the offender, -being descended from a social race, is unable to escape his conscience, -the voice of his tribal self which says, ‘In the name of the -tribe, I hate myself for this treason that I have done.’</p> -<p class="par">There are two reasons, then, why ethical maxims appear -to be unconditional. First, they are acquired from experience not -directly but by tribal selection, and therefore in the mind of the -individual they do not rest upon the true reasons for them. Secondly, -although they are conditional, the absence of the condition in one born -of a social race is rightly visited by moral reprobation.</p> -<p class="par"><i>Ethics are based on Uniformity.</i>—I have -already observed that to deal with men as a means of influencing their -actions implies that these actions are a product of character and -circumstances; and that moral reprobation and responsibility cannot -exist unless we assume the efficacy of certain special means of -influencing character. It is not necessary to point out that such -considerations involve that uniformity of nature which underlies the -possibility of even unconscious adaptations to experience, of language, -and of general conceptions and statements. It may be asked, ‘Are -you quite sure that these observed uniformities between motive and -action, between character and motive, between social influence and -change of character, are absolutely exact in the form in which you -state them, or indeed that they are exact laws of any form? May there -not be very slight divergences from exact laws, which will allow of the -action of an “uncaused will,” or of the interference of -some “extra-mundane force”?’ I am sure I do not know. -But this I do know: that our sense of right and wrong is derived from -such order as we can observe, and not from such caprice of disorder as -we may fancifully conjecture; and that to whatever extent a divergence -from exactness became sensible, to that extent it would destroy the -most widespread and worthy of the acquisitions of mankind.</p> -<p class="par"><i>The Final Standard.</i>—By these views we are -led to conclusions partly negative, partly positive; of which, as might -be expected, the negative are the most definite.</p> -<p class="par">First, then, Ethic is a matter of the tribe or -community, and therefore there are no ‘self-regarding -virtues.’ The qualities of courage, prudence, etc., can only be -<i>rightly</i> encouraged in so far as they are shown to conduce to the -efficiency of a citizen; that is, in so far as they cease to be -self-regarding. The duty of private judgment, of searching after truth, -the sacredness of belief which ought not to be misused on unproved -statements, follow only on showing of the enormous importance to -society of a true knowledge of things. And any diversion of conscience -from its sole allegiance to the community is condemned <i>à -priori</i> in the very nature of right and wrong.</p> -<p class="par">Next, the end of Ethic is not the greatest happiness of -the greatest number. Your happiness is of no use to the community, -except in so far as it tends to make you a more efficient -citizen—that is to say, happiness is not to be desired for its -own sake, but for the sake of something else. If any end is pointed to, -it is the end of increased efficiency in each man’s special work, -as well as in the social functions which are common to all. A man must -strive to be a better citizen, a better workman, a better son, husband, -or father.</p> -<p class="par">Again, Piety is not Altruism. It is not the doing good -to others as others, but the service of the community by a member of -it, who loses in that service the consciousness that he is anything -different from the community.</p> -<p class="par">The social organism, like the individual, may be healthy -or diseased. Health and disease are very difficult things to define -accurately: but for practical purposes, there are certain states about -which no mistake can be made. When we have even a very imperfect -catalogue and description of states that are clearly and certainly -diseases, we may form a rough preliminary definition of health by -saying that it means the absence of all these states. Now the health of -society involves among other things, that right is done by the -individuals composing it. And certain social diseases consist in a -wrong direction of the conscience. Hence the determination of abstract -right depends on the study of healthy and diseased states of society. -How much light can be got for this end from the historical records we -possess? A very great deal, if, as I believe, for ethical purposes the -nature of man and of society may be taken as approximately constant -during the few thousand years of which we have distinct records.</p> -<p class="par">The matters of fact on which rational ethic must be -founded are the laws of <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e470" href= -"#xd21e470" name="xd21e470">7</a>]</span>modification of character, and -the evidence of history as to those kinds of character which have most -aided the improvement of the race. For although the moral sense is -intuitive, it must for the future be directed by our conscious -discovery of the tribal purpose which it serves.</p> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch2" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= -"#xd21e1289">Contents</a>]</span> -<div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="main">II. RIGHT AND WRONG:</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE SCIENTIFIC GROUND OF THEIR DISTINCTION.<a class= -"noteref" id="xd21e477src" href="#xd21e477" name= -"xd21e477src">1</a></h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="par first">The questions which are here to be considered are -especially and peculiarly everybody’s questions. It is not -everybody’s business to be an engineer, or a doctor, or a -carpenter, or a soldier; but it is everybody’s business to be a -citizen. The doctrines and precepts which guide the practice of the -good engineer are of interest to him who uses them and to those whose -business it is to investigate them by mechanical science; the rest of -us neither obey nor disobey them. But the doctrines and precepts of -morality, which guide the practice of the good citizen, are of interest -to all; they must be either obeyed or disobeyed by every human being -who is not hopelessly and forever separated from the rest of mankind. -No one can say, therefore, that in this inquiry we are not minding our -own business, that we are meddling with other men’s affairs. We -are in fact studying the principles of our profession, so far as we are -able; a necessary thing for every man who wishes to do good work in -it.</p> -<p class="par">Along with the character of universal interest which -belongs to our subject there goes another. What is everybody’s -practical business is also to a large extent what everybody knows; and -it may be reasonably expected that a discourse about Right and Wrong -will be full of platitudes and truisms. The expectation is a just one. -The considerations I have to offer are of the very oldest and the very -simplest commonplace and common sense; and no one can be more -astonished than I am that there should be any reason to speak of them -at all. But there is reason to speak of them, because platitudes are -not all of one kind. Some platitudes have a definite meaning and a -practical application, and are established by the uniform and -long-continued experience of all people. Other platitudes, having no -definite meaning and no practical application, seem not to be worth -anybody’s while to test; and these are quite sufficiently -established by mere assertion, if it is audacious enough to begin with -and persistent enough afterward. It is in order to distinguish these -two kinds of platitude from one another, and to make sure that those -which we retain form a body of doctrine consistent with itself and with -the rest of our beliefs, that we undertake this examination of obvious -and widespread principles.</p> -<p class="par">First of all, then, what are the facts?</p> -<p class="par">We say that it is wrong to murder, to steal, to tell -lies, and that it is right to take care of our families. When we say in -this sense that one action is right and another wrong, we have a -certain feeling toward the action which is peculiar and not quite like -any other feeling. It is clearly a feeling toward the action and not -toward the man who does it; because we speak of hating the sin and -loving the sinner. We might reasonably dislike a man whom we knew or -suspected to be a murderer, because of the natural fear that he might -murder us; and we might like our own parents for taking care of us. But -everybody knows that these feelings are something quite different from -the feeling which condemns murder as a wrong thing, and approves -parental care as a right thing. I say nothing here about the -possibility of analyzing this feeling, or proving that it arises by -combination of other feelings; all I want to notice is that it is as -distinct and recognizable as the feeling of pleasure in a sweet taste -or of displeasure at a toothache. In speaking of right and wrong, we -speak of qualities of action which arouse definite feelings that -everybody knows and recognizes. It is not necessary, then, to give a -definition at the outset; we are going to use familiar terms which have -a definite meaning in the same sense in which everybody uses them. We -may ultimately come to something like a definition; but what we have to -do first is to collect the facts and see what can be made of them, just -as if we were going to talk about limestone, or parents and children, -or fuel.</p> -<p class="par">It is easy to conceive that murder and theft and neglect -of the young might be considered wrong in a very simple state of -society. But we find at present that the condemnation of these actions -does not stand alone; it goes with the condemnation of a great number -of other actions which seem to be included with the obviously criminal -action, in a sort of general rule. The wrongness of murder, for -<span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e489" href="#xd21e489" name= -"xd21e489">8</a>]</span>example, belongs in a less degree to any form -of bodily injury that one man may inflict on another; and it is even -extended so as to include injuries to his reputation or his feelings. I -make these more refined precepts follow in the train of the more -obvious and rough ones, because this appears to have been the -traditional order of their establishment. ‘He that makes his -neighbor blush in public,’ says the Mishna, ‘is as if he -had shed his blood.’ In the same way the rough condemnation of -stealing carries with it a condemnation of more refined forms of -dishonesty: we do not hesitate to say that it is wrong for a tradesman -to adulterate his goods, or for a laborer to scamp his work. We not -only say that it is wrong to tell lies, but that it is wrong to deceive -in other more ingenious ways; wrong to use words so that they shall -have one sense to some people and another sense to other people; wrong -to suppress the truth when that suppression leads to false belief in -others. And again, the duty of parents toward their children is seen to -be a special case of a very large and varied class of duties toward -that great family to which we belong—to the fatherland and them -that dwell therein. The word <i>duty</i> which I have here used, has as -definite a sense to the general mind as the words <i>right</i> and -<i>wrong</i>; we say that it is right to do our duty, and wrong to -neglect it. These duties to the community serve in our minds to explain -and define our duties to individuals. It is wrong to kill any one; -unless we are an executioner, when it may be our duty to kill a -criminal; or a soldier, when it may be our duty to kill the enemy of -our country; and in general it is wrong to injure any man in any way in -our private capacity and for our own sakes. Thus if a man injures us, -it is only right to retaliate on behalf of other men. Of two men in a -desert island, if one takes away the other’s cloak, it may or may -not be right for the other to let him have his coat also; but if a man -takes away my cloak while we both live in society, it is my duty to use -such means as I can to prevent him from taking away other -people’s cloaks. Observe that I am endeavoring to describe the -facts of the moral feelings of Englishmen, such as they are now.</p> -<p class="par">The last remark leads us to another platitude of -exceedingly ancient date. We said that it was wrong to injure any man -in our private capacity and for our own sakes. A rule like this differs -from all the others that we have considered, because it not only deals -with physical acts, words and deeds which can be observed and known by -others, but also with thoughts which are known only to the man himself. -Who can tell whether a given act of punishment was done from a private -or from a public motive? Only the agent himself. And yet if the -punishment was just and within the law, we should condemn the man in -the one case and approve him in the other. This pursuit of the actions -of men to their very sources, in the feelings which they only can know, -is as ancient as any morality we know of, and extends to the whole -range of it. Injury to another man arises from anger, malice, hatred, -revenge; these feelings are condemned as wrong. But feelings are not -immediately under our control, in the same way that overt actions are: -I can shake anybody by the hand if I like, but I cannot always feel -friendly to him. Nevertheless we can pay attention to such aspects of -the circumstances, and we can put ourselves into such conditions, that -our feelings get gradually modified in one way or the other; we form a -habit of checking our anger by calling up certain images and -considerations, whereby in time the offending passion is brought into -subjection and control. Accordingly we say that it is right to acquire -and to exercise this control; and the control is supposed to exist -whenever we say that one feeling or disposition of mind is right and -another wrong. Thus, in connection with the precept against stealing, -we condemn envy and covetousness; we applaud a sensitive honesty which -shudders at anything underhand or dishonorable. In connection with the -rough precept against lying, we have built up and are still building a -great fabric of intellectual morality, whereby a man is forbidden to -tell lies to himself, and is commanded to practice candor and fairness -and open-mindedness in his judgments, and to labor zealously in pursuit -of the truth. In connection with the duty to our families, we say that -it is right to cultivate public spirit, a quick sense of sympathy, and -all that belongs to a social disposition.</p> -<p class="par">Two other words are used in this connection which it -seems necessary to mention. When we regard an action as right or wrong -for ourselves, this feeling about the action impels us to do it or not -to do it, as the case may be. We may say that the moral sense acts in -this case as a motive; meaning by moral sense <span class= -"pagenum">[<a id="xd21e504" href="#xd21e504" name= -"xd21e504">9</a>]</span>only the feeling in regard to an action which -is considered as right or wrong, and by motive something which impels -us to act. Of course there may be other motives at work at the same -time, and it does not at all follow that we shall do the right action -or abstain from the wrong one. This we all know to our cost. But still -our feeling about the rightness or wrongness of an action does operate -as a motive when we think of the action as being done by us; and when -so operating it is called <i>conscience</i>. I have nothing to do at -present with the questions about conscience, whether it is a result of -education, whether it can be explained by self-love, and so forth; I am -only concerned in describing well-known facts, and in getting as clear -as I can about the meaning of well-known words. Conscience, then, is -the whole aggregate of our feelings about actions as being right or -wrong, regarded as tending to make us do the right actions and avoid -the wrong ones. We also say sometimes, in answer to the question, -‘How do you know that this is right or wrong?’ ‘My -conscience tells me so.’ And this way of speaking is quite -analogous to other expressions of the same form; thus if I put my hand -into water, and you ask me how I know that it is hot, I might say, -‘My feeling of warmth tells me so.’</p> -<p class="par">When we consider a right or a wrong action as done by -another person, we think of that person as worthy of moral approbation -or reprobation. He may be punished or not; but in any case this feeling -toward him is quite different from the feeling of dislike toward a -person injurious to us, or of disappointment at a machine which will -not go.</p> -<p class="par">Whenever we can morally approve or disapprove a man for -his action, we say that he is morally responsible for it, and <i>vice -versâ</i>. To say that a man is not morally responsible for his -actions is the same thing as to say that it would be unreasonable to -praise or blame him for them.</p> -<p class="par">The statement that we ourselves are morally responsible -is somewhat more complicated, but the meaning is very easily made out; -namely, that another person may reasonably regard our actions as right -or wrong, and may praise or blame us for them.</p> -<p class="par">We can now, I suppose, understand one another pretty -clearly in using the words right and wrong, conscience, responsibility; -and we have made a rapid survey of the facts of the case in our own -country at the present time. Of course I do not pretend that this -survey in any way approaches to completeness; but it will supply us at -least with enough facts to enable us to deal always with concrete -examples instead of remaining in generalities; and it may serve to show -pretty fairly what the moral sense of an Englishman is like. We must -next consider what account we can give of these facts by the scientific -method.</p> -<p class="par">But first let us stop to note that we really have used -the scientific method in making this first step; and also that to the -same extent the method has been used by all serious moralists. Some -would have us define virtue, to begin with, in terms of some other -thing which is not virtue, and then work out from our definition all -the details of what we ought to do. So Plato said that virtue was -knowledge, Aristotle that it was the golden mean, and Bentham said that -the right action was that which conduced to the greatest happiness of -the greatest number. But so also, in physical speculations, Thales said -that everything was Water, and Heraclitus said it was All-becoming, and -Empedocles said it was made out of Four Elements, and Pythagoras said -it was Number. But we only began to know about things when people -looked straight at the facts, and made what they could out of them; and -that is the only way in which we can know anything about right and -wrong. Moreover, it is the way in which the great moralists have set to -work, when they came to treat of verifiable things and not of theories -all in the air. A great many people think of a prophet as a man who, -all by himself, or from some secret source, gets the belief that this -thing is right and that thing wrong. And then (they imagine) he gets up -and goes about persuading other people to feel as he does about it; and -so it becomes a part of their conscience, and a new duty is created. -This may be in some cases, but I have never met with any example of it -in history. When Socrates puzzled the Greeks by asking them what they -precisely meant by Goodness and Justice and Virtue, the mere existence -of the words shows that the people, as a whole, possessed a moral -sense, and felt that certain things were right and others wrong. What -the moralist did was to show the connection between different virtues, -the likeness of virtue to certain other things, the implications which -a thoughtful man could find in the common <span class="pagenum">[<a id= -"xd21e523" href="#xd21e523" name="xd21e523">10</a>]</span>language. -Wherever the Greek moral sense had come from, it was there in the -people before it could be enforced by a prophet or discussed by a -philosopher. Again, we find a wonderful collection of moral aphorisms -in those shrewd sayings of the Jewish fathers which are preserved in -the Mishna or oral law. Some of this teaching is familiar to us all -from the popular exposition of it which is contained in the three first -Gospels. But the very plainness and homeliness of the precepts shows -that they are just acute statements of what was already felt by the -popular common sense; protesting, in many cases, against the formalism -of the ceremonial law with which they are curiously mixed up. The -Rabbis even show a jealousy of prophetic interference, as if they knew -well that it takes not one man, but many men, to feel what is right. -When a certain Rabbi Eliezer, being worsted in argument, cried out, -‘If I am right, let heaven pronounce in my favor!’ there -was heard a Bath-kol or voice from the skies, saying, ‘Do you -venture to dispute with Rabbi Eliezer, who is an authority on all -religious questions?’ But Rabbi Joshua rose and said, ‘Our -law is not in heaven, but in the book which dates from Sinai, and which -teaches us that in matters of discussion the majority makes the -law.’<a class="noteref" id="xd21e525src" href="#xd21e525" name= -"xd21e525src">2</a></p> -<p class="par">One of the most important expressions of the moral sense -for all time is that of the Stoic philosophy, especially after its -reception among the Romans. It is here that we find the enthusiasm of -humanity—the <i lang="la">caritas generis humani</i>—which -is so large and important a feature in all modern conceptions of -morality, and whose widespread influence upon Roman citizens may be -traced in the Epistles of St. Paul. In the Stoic emperors, also, we -find probably the earliest example of great moral principles -consciously applied to legislation on a large scale. But are we to -attribute this to the individual insight of the Stoic philosophers? It -might seem at first sight that we must, if we are to listen to that -vulgar vituperation of the older culture which has descended to us from -those who had everything to gain by its destruction.<a class="noteref" -id="xd21e535src" href="#xd21e535" name="xd21e535src">3</a> We hear -enough of the luxurious feasting of the Roman capital, how it would -almost have taxed the resources of a modern pastry-cook; of the cruelty -of gladiatorial shows, how they were nearly as bad as -<i>autos-da-fé</i>, except that a man had his fair chance and -was not tortured for torture’s sake; of the oppression of -provincials by people like Verres, of whom it may even be said that if -they had been the East India Company they could not have been worse; of -the complaints of Tacitus against bad and mad emperors (as Sir Henry -Maine says); and of the still more serious complaints of the modern -historian against the excessive taxation<a class="noteref" id= -"xd21e546src" href="#xd21e546" name="xd21e546src">4</a> which was one -great cause of the fall of the empire. Of all this we are told a great -deal; but we are not told of the many thousands of honorable men who -carried civilization to the ends of the known world, and administered a -mighty empire so that it was loved and worshiped to the furthest corner -of it. It is to these men and their common action that we must -attribute the morality which found its organized expression in the -writings of the Stoic philosophers. From these three cases we may -gather that Right is a thing which must be done before it can be talked -about, although after that it may only too easily be talked about -without being done. Individual effort and energy may insist upon -getting that done which was already felt to be right; and individual -insight and acumen may point out consequences of an action which bring -it under previously known <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e549" href= -"#xd21e549" name="xd21e549">11</a>]</span>moral rules. There is another -dispute of the Rabbis that may serve to show what is meant by this. It -was forbidden by the law to have any dealings with the Sabæan -idolaters during the week preceding their idolatrous feasts. But the -doctors discussed the case in which one of these idolaters owes you a -bill; are you to let him pay it during that week or not? The school of -Shammai said ‘No; for he will want all his money to enjoy himself -at the feast.’ But the school of Hillel said, ‘Yes, let him -pay it; for how can he enjoy his feast while his bills are -unpaid?’ The question here is about the consequences of an -action; but there is no dispute about the moral principle, which is -that consideration and kindness are to be shown to idolaters, even in -the matter of their idolatrous rites.</p> -<p class="par">It seems, then, that we are no worse off than anybody -else who has studied this subject, in finding our materials ready made -for us; sufficiently definite meanings given in the common speech to -the words right and wrong, good and bad, with which we have to deal; a -fair body of facts familiarly known, which we have to organize and -account for as best we can. But our special inquiry is, what account -can be given of these facts by the scientific method? to which end we -cannot do better than fix our ideas as well as we can upon the -character and scope of that method.</p> -<p class="par">Now the scientific method is a method of getting -knowledge by inference, and that of two different kinds. One kind of -inference is that which is used in the physical and natural sciences, -and it enables us to go from known phenomena to unknown phenomena. -Because a stone is heavy in the morning, I infer that it will be heavy -in the afternoon; and I infer this by assuming a certain uniformity of -nature. The sort of uniformity that I assume depends upon the extent of -my scientific education; the rules of inference become more and more -definite as we go on. At first I might assume that all things are -always alike; this would not be true, but it has to be assumed in a -vague way, in order that a thing may have the same name at different -times. Afterward I get the more definite belief that certain particular -qualities, like weight, have nothing to do with the time of day; and -subsequently I find that weight has nothing to do with the shape of the -stone, but only with the quantity of it. The uniformity which we -assume, then, is not that vague one that we started with, but a -chastened and corrected uniformity. I might go on to suppose, for -example, that the weight of the stone had nothing to do with the place -where it was; and a great deal might be said for this supposition. It -would, however, have to be corrected when it was found that the weight -varies slightly in different latitudes. On the other hand, I should -find that this variation was just the same for my stone as for a piece -of iron or wood; that it had nothing to do with the kind of matter. And -so I might be led to the conclusion that all matter is heavy, and that -the weight of it depends only on its quantity and its position relative -to the earth. You see here that I go on arriving at conclusions always -of this form; that some one circumstance or quality has nothing to do -with some other circumstance or quality. I begin by assuming that it is -independent of everything; I end by finding that it is independent of -some definite things. That is, I begin by assuming a vague uniformity. -I always use this assumption to infer from some one fact a great number -of other facts; but as my education proceeds, I get to know what sort -of things may be inferred and what may not. An observer of scientific -mind takes note of just those things from which inferences may be -drawn, and passes by the rest. If an astronomer, observing the sun, -were to record the fact that at the moment when a sun-spot began to -shrink there was a rap at his front door, we should know that he was -not up to his work. But if he records that sun-spots are thickest every -eleven years, and that this is also the period of extra cloudiness in -Jupiter, the observation may or may not be confirmed, and it may or may -not lead to inferences of importance; but still it is the kind of thing -from which inferences may be drawn. There is always a certain instinct -among instructed people which tells them in this way what kinds of -inferences may be drawn; and this is the unconscious effect of the -definite uniformity which they have been led to assume in nature. It -may subsequently be organized into a law or general truth, and no doubt -becomes a surer guide by that process. Then it goes to form the more -precise instinct of the next generation.</p> -<p class="par">What we have said about this first kind of inference, -which goes from phenomena to phenomena, is shortly this. It proceeds -upon an assumption of uniformity in nature; and this assumption is not -fixed and made once for all, but is a <span class="pagenum">[<a id= -"xd21e557" href="#xd21e557" name="xd21e557">12</a>]</span>changing and -growing thing, becoming more definite as we go on.</p> -<p class="par">If I were told to pick out some one character which -especially colors this guiding conception of uniformity in our present -stage of science, I should certainly reply, Atomism. The form of this -with which we are most familiar is the molecular theory of bodies; -which represents all bodies as made up of small elements of uniform -character, each practically having relations only with the adjacent -ones, and these relations the same all through—namely, some -simple mechanical action upon each other’s motions. But this is -only a particular case. A palace, a cottage, the tunnel of the -underground railway, and a factory chimney, are all built of bricks; -the bricks are alike in all these cases, each brick is practically -related only to the adjacent ones, and the relation is throughout the -same, namely, two flat sides are stuck together with mortar. There is -an atomism in the sciences of number, of quantity, of space; the -theorems of geometry are groupings of individual points, each related -only to the adjacent ones by certain definite laws. But what concerns -us chiefly at present is the atomism of human physiology. Just as every -solid is built up of molecules, so the nervous system is built up of -nerve-threads and nerve-corpuscles. We owe to Mr. Lewes our very best -thanks for the stress which he has laid on the doctrine that -nerve-fiber is uniform in structure and function, and for the word -<i>neurility</i>, which expresses its common properties. And similar -gratitude is due to Dr. Hughlings Jackson for his long defense of the -proposition that the element of nervous structure and function is a -sensori-motor process. In structure, this is two fibers or bundles of -fibers going to the same gray corpuscle; in function it is a message -traveling up one fiber or bundle to the corpuscle, and then down the -other fiber or bundle. Out of this, as a brick, the house of our life -is built. All these simple elementary processes are alike, and each is -practically related only to the adjacent ones; the relation being in -all cases of the same kind, viz., the passage from a simple to a -complex message, or <i>vice versâ</i>.</p> -<p class="par">The result of atomism in any form, dealing with any -subject, is that the principle of uniformity is hunted down into the -elements of things; it is resolved into the uniformity of these -elements or atoms, and of the relations of those which are next to each -other. By an element or an atom we do not here mean something -absolutely simple or indivisible, for a molecule, a brick, and a -nerve-process are all very complex things. We only mean that, for the -purpose in hand, the properties of the still more complex thing which -is made of them have nothing to do with the complexities or the -differences of these elements. The solid made of molecules, the house -made of bricks, the nervous system made of sensori-motor processes, are -nothing more than collections of these practically uniform elements, -having certain relations of nextness, and behavior uniformly depending -on that nextness.</p> -<p class="par">The inference of phenomena from phenomena, then, is -based upon an assumption of uniformity, which in the present stage of -science may be called an atomic uniformity.</p> -<p class="par">The other mode of inference which belongs to the -scientific method is that which is used in what are called the mental -and moral sciences; and it enables us to go from phenomena to the facts -which underlie phenomena, and which are themselves not phenomena at -all. If I pinch your arm, and you draw it away and make a face, I infer -that you have felt pain. I infer this by assuming that you have a -consciousness similar to my own, and related to your perception of your -body as my consciousness is related to my perception of my body. Now is -this the same assumption as before, a mere assumption of the uniformity -of nature? It certainly seems like it at first; but if we think about -it we shall find that there is a very profound difference between them. -In physical inference I go from phenomena to phenomena; that is, from -the knowledge of certain appearances or representations actually -present to my mind I infer certain other appearances that might be -present to my mind. From the weight of a stone in the -morning—that is, from my feeling of its weight, or my perception -of the process of weighing it, I infer that the stone will be heavy in -the afternoon—that is, I infer the possibility of similar -feelings and perceptions in me at another time. The whole process -relates to me and my perceptions, to things contained in my mind. But -when I infer that you are conscious from what you say or do, I pass -from that which is <i>my</i> feeling or perception, which is in my mind -and part of me, to that which is not my feeling at all, which is -outside me altogether, namely, <i>your</i> feelings and perceptions. -<span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e579" href="#xd21e579" name= -"xd21e579">13</a>]</span>Now there is no possible physical inference, -no inference of phenomena from phenomena, that will help me over that -gulf. I am obliged to admit that this second kind of inference depends -upon another assumption, not included in the assumption of the -uniformity of phenomena.</p> -<p class="par">How does a dream differ from waking life? In a fairly -coherent dream everything seems quite real, and it is rare, I think, -with most people to know in a dream that they are dreaming. Now, if a -dream is sufficiently vivid and coherent, all physical inferences are -just as valid in it as they are in waking life. In a hazy or imperfect -dream, it is true, things melt into one another unexpectedly and -unaccountably; we fly, remove mountains, and stop runaway horses with a -finger. But there is nothing in the mere nature of a dream to hinder it -from being an exact copy of waking experience. If I find a stone heavy -in one part of my dream, and infer that it is heavy at some subsequent -part, the inference will be verified if the dream is coherent enough; I -shall go to the stone, lift it up, and find it as heavy as before. And -the same thing is true of all inferences of phenomena from phenomena. -For physical purposes a dream is just as good as real life; the only -difference is in vividness and coherence.</p> -<p class="par">What, then, hinders us from saying that life is all a -dream? If the phenomena we dream of are just as good and real phenomena -as those we see and feel when we are awake, what right have we to say -that the material universe has any more existence apart from our minds -than the things we see and feel in our dreams? The answer which -Berkeley gave to that question was, No right at all. The physical -universe which I see and feel, and infer, is just my dream and nothing -else; that which you see is your dream; only it so happens that all our -dreams agree in many respects. This doctrine of Berkeley’s has -now been so far confirmed by the physiology of the senses, that it is -no longer a metaphysical speculation, but a scientifically established -fact.</p> -<p class="par">But there is a difference between dreams and waking -life, which is of far too great importance for any of us to be in -danger of neglecting it. When I see a man in my dream, there is just as -good a <i>body</i> as if I were awake; muscles, nerves, circulation, -capability of adapting means to ends. If only the dream is coherent -enough, no physical test can establish that it is a dream. In both -cases I see and feel the same thing. In both cases I assume the -existence of more than I can see and feel, namely, the consciousness of -this other man. But now here is a great difference, and the only -difference—in a dream this assumption is wrong; in waking life it -is right. The man I see in my dream is a <i>mere</i> machine, a bundle -of phenomena with no underlying reality; there is no consciousness -involved except my consciousness, no feeling in the case except my -feelings. The man I see in waking life is more than a bundle of -phenomena; his body and its actions are phenomena, but these phenomena -are merely the symbols and representatives in my mind of a reality -which is outside my mind, namely, the consciousness of the man himself -which is represented by the working of his brain, and the simpler -quasi-mental facts, not woven into his consciousness, which are -represented by the working of the rest of his body. What makes life not -to be a dream is the existence of those facts which we arrive at by our -second process of inference; the consciousness of men and the higher -animals, the sub-consciousness of lower organisms and the quasi-mental -facts which go along with the motions of inanimate matter. In a book -which is very largely and deservedly known by heart, ‘Through the -Looking-glass,’ there is a very instructive discussion upon this -point. Alice has been taken to see the Red King as he lies snoring; and -Tweedledee asks, ‘Do you know what he is dreaming about?’ -‘Nobody can guess that,’ replies Alice. ‘Why, about -<i>you</i>,’ he says triumphantly. ‘And if he stopped -dreaming about you, where do you suppose you’d be?’ -‘Where I am now of course,’ said Alice. ‘Not -you,’ said Tweedledee, ‘you’d be nowhere. You are -only a sort of thing in his dream.’ ‘If that there King was -to wake,’ added Tweedledum, ‘you’d go out, bang! just -like a candle.’ Alice was quite right in regarding these remarks -as unphilosophical. The fact that she could see, think, and feel was -proof positive that she was not a sort of thing in anybody’s -dream. This is the meaning of that saying, <i>Cogito ergo sum</i>, of -Descartes. By him, and by Spinoza after him, the verb <i>cogito</i> and -the substantive <i>cogitatio</i> were used to denote consciousness in -general, any kind of feeling, even what we now call sub-consciousness. -The saying means that feeling exists in and for itself, not as a -quality or modification or state or manifestation of anything else. -<span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e607" href="#xd21e607" name= -"xd21e607">14</a>]</span></p> -<p class="par">We are obliged in every hour of our lives to act upon -beliefs which have been arrived at by inferences of these two kinds; -inferences based on the assumption of uniformity in nature, and -inferences which add to this the assumption of feelings which are not -our own. By organizing the ‘common sense’ which embodies -the first class of inferences, we build up the physical sciences; that -is to say, all those sciences which deal with the physical, material, -or phenomenal universe, whether animate or inanimate. And so by -organizing the common sense which embodies the second class of -inferences, we build up various sciences of mind. The description and -classification of feelings, the facts of their association with each -other, and of their simultaneity with phenomena of -nerve-action,—all this belongs to psychology, which may be -historical and comparative. The doctrine of certain special classes of -feelings is organized into the special sciences of those feelings; thus -the facts about the feelings which we are now considering, about the -feelings of moral approbation and reprobation, are organized into the -science of ethics and the facts about the feeling of beauty or ugliness -are organized into the science of æsthetics, or, as it is -sometimes called, the philosophy of art. For all of these the -uniformity of nature has to be assumed as a basis of inference; but -over and above that it is necessary to assume that other men are -conscious in the same way that I am. Now in these sciences of mind, -just as in the physical sciences, the uniformity which is assumed in -the inferred mental facts is a growing thing which becomes more -definite as we go on, and each successive generation of observers knows -better what to observe and what sort of inferences may be drawn from -observed things. But, moreover, it is as true of the mental sciences as -of the physical ones that the uniformity is in the present stage of -science an <i>atomic</i> uniformity. We have learned to regard our -consciousness as made up of elements practically alike, having -relations of succession in time and of contiguity at each instant, -which relations are in all cases practically the same. The element of -consciousness is the transference of an impression into the beginning -of action. Our mental life is a structure made out of such elements, -just as the working of our nervous system is made out of sensori-motor -processes. And accordingly the interaction of the two branches of -science leads us to regard the mental facts as the realities or -things-in-themselves, of which the material phenomena are mere pictures -or symbols. The final result seems to be that atomism is carried beyond -phenomena into the realities which phenomena represent; and that the -observed uniformities of nature, in so far as they can be expressed in -the language of atomism, are actual uniformities of things in -themselves.</p> -<p class="par">So much for the two things which I have promised to -bring together; the facts of our moral feelings, and the scientific -method. It may appear that the latter has been expounded at more length -than was necessary for the treatment of this particular subject; but -the justification for this length is to be found in certain common -objections to the claims of science to be the sole judge of mental and -moral questions. Some of the chief of these objections I will now -mention.</p> -<p class="par">It is sometimes said that science can only deal with -what is, but that art and morals deal with what ought to be. The saying -is perfectly true, but it is quite consistent with what is equally -true, that the facts of art and morals are fit subject-matter of -science. I may describe all that I have in my house, and I may state -everything that I want in my house; these are two very different -things, but they are equally statements of facts. One is a statement -about phenomena, about the objects which are actually in my possession; -the other is a statement about my feelings, about my wants and desires. -There are facts, to be got at by common sense, about the kind of thing -that a man of a certain character and occupation will like to have in -his house, and these facts may be organized into general statements on -the assumption of uniformity in nature. Now the organized results of -common sense dealing with facts are just science and nothing else. And -in the same way I may say what men do at the present day, how we live -now, or I may say what we ought to do, namely, what course of conduct, -if adopted, we should morally approve; and no doubt these would be two -very different things. But each of them would be a statement of facts. -One would belong to the sociology of our time; in so far as men’s -deeds could not be adequately described to us without some account of -their feelings and intentions, it would involve facts belonging to -psychology as well as facts belonging to the physical sciences. But the -other would be an account of a particular class of our feelings, -namely, those which <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e617" href= -"#xd21e617" name="xd21e617">15</a>]</span>we feel toward an action when -it is regarded as right or wrong. These facts may be organized by -common sense on the assumption of uniformity in nature just as well as -any other facts. And we shall see farther on that not only in this -sense, but in a deeper and more abstract sense, ‘what ought to be -done’ is a question for scientific inquiry.</p> -<p class="par">The same objection is sometimes put into another form. -It is said that laws of chemistry, for example, are general statements -about what happens when bodies are treated in a certain way, and that -such laws are fit matter for science; but that moral laws are -different, because they tell us to do certain things, and we may or may -not obey them. The mood of the one is indicative, of the other -imperative. Now it is quite true that the word <i>law</i> in the -expression ‘law of nature,’ and in the expressions -‘law of morals,’ ‘law of the land,’ has two -totally different meanings, which no educated person will confound; and -I am not aware that any one has rested the claim of science to judge -moral questions on what is no better than a stale and unprofitable pun. -But two different things may be equally matters of scientific -investigation, even when their names are alike in sound. A telegraph -post is not the same thing as a post in the War Office, and yet the -same intelligence may be used to investigate the conditions of the one -and the other. That such and such things are right or wrong, that such -and such laws are laws of morals or laws of the land, these are facts, -just as the laws of chemistry are facts; and all facts belong to -science, and are her portion forever.</p> -<p class="par">Again, it is sometimes said that moral questions have -been authoritatively settled by other methods; that we ought to accept -this decision, and not to question it by any method of scientific -inquiry; and that reason should give way to revelation on such matters. -I hope before I have done to show just cause why we should pronounce on -such teaching as this no light sentence of moral condemnation: first, -because it is our duty to form those beliefs which are to guide our -actions by the two scientific modes of inference, and by these alone; -and, secondly, because the proposed mode of settling ethical questions -by authority is contrary to the very nature of right and wrong.</p> -<p class="par">Leaving this, then, for the present, I pass on to the -most formidable objection that has been made to a scientific treatment -of ethics. The objection is that the scientific method is not -applicable to human action, because the rule of uniformity does not -hold good. Whenever a man exercises his will, and makes a voluntary -choice of one out of various possible courses, an event occurs whose -relation to contiguous events cannot be included in a general statement -applicable to all similar cases. There is something wholly capricious -and disorderly, belonging to that moment only; and we have no right to -conclude that if the circumstances were exactly repeated, and the man -himself absolutely unaltered, he would choose the same course.</p> -<p class="par">It is clear that if the doctrine here stated is true, -the ground is really cut from under our feet, and we cannot deal with -human action by the scientific method. I shall endeavor to show, -moreover, that in this case, although we might still have a feeling of -moral approbation or reprobation toward actions, yet we could not -reasonably praise or blame men for their deeds, nor regard them as -morally responsible. So that, if my contention is just, to deprive us -of the scientific method is practically to deprive us of morals -altogether. On both grounds, therefore, it is of the greatest -importance that we should define our position in regard to this -controversy; if, indeed, that can be called a controversy in which the -practical belief of all mankind and the consent of nearly all serious -writers are on one side.</p> -<p class="par">Let us in the first place consider a little more closely -the connection between conscience and responsibility. Words in common -use, such as these two, have their meanings practically fixed before -difficult controversies arise; but after the controversy has arisen -each party gives that slight tinge to the meaning which best suits its -own view of the question. Thus it appears to each that the common -language obviously supports their own view, that this is the natural -and primary view of the matter, and that the opponents are using words -in a new meaning and wrestling them from their proper sense. Now this -is just my position. I have endeavored so far to use all words in their -common every-day sense, only making this as precise as I can; and, with -two exceptions, of which due warning will be given, I shall do my best -to continue this practice in future. I seem to myself to be talking the -most obvious platitudes; but it must be remembered that those who take -the opposite view will think I am perverting the English language. -<span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e632" href="#xd21e632" name= -"xd21e632">16</a>]</span></p> -<p class="par">There is a common meaning of the word -‘responsible,’ which though not the same as that of the -phrase ‘morally responsible,’ may throw some light upon it. -If we say of a book, ‘A is responsible for the preface and the -first half, and B is responsible for the rest,’ we mean that A -wrote the preface and the first half. If two people go into a shop and -choose a blue silk dress together, it might be said that A was -responsible for its being silk and B for its being blue. Before they -chose, the dress was undetermined both in color and in material. -A’s choice fixed the material, and then it was undetermined only -in color. B’s choice fixed the color; and if we suppose that -there were no more variable conditions (only one blue silk dress in the -shop), the dress was then completely determined. In this sense of the -word we say that a man is responsible for that part of an event which -was undetermined when he was left out of account, and which became -determined when he was taken account of. Suppose two narrow streets, -one lying north and south, one east and west, and crossing one another. -A man is put down where they cross, and has to walk. Then he must walk -either north, south, east, or west, and he is not responsible for that; -what he is responsible for is the choice of one of these four -directions. May we not say in the present sense of the word that the -external circumstances are responsible for the restriction on his -choice? We should mean only that the fact of his going in one or other -of the four directions was due to external circumstances, and not to -him. Again, suppose I have a number of punches of various shapes, some -square, some oblong, some oval, some round, and that I am going to -punch a hole in a piece of paper. <i>Where</i> I shall punch the hole -may be fixed by any kind of circumstances; but the shape of the hole -depends on the punch I take. May we not say that the punch is -responsible for the shape of the hole, but not for the position of -it?</p> -<p class="par">It may be said that this is not the whole of the meaning -of the word ‘responsible,’ even in its loosest sense; that -it ought never to be used except of a conscious agent. Still this is -part of its meaning; if we regard an event as determined by a variety -of circumstances, a man’s choice being among them, we say that he -is responsible for just that choice which is left him by the other -circumstances.</p> -<p class="par">When we ask the practical question, ‘Who is -responsible for so-and-so?’ we want to find out who is to be got -at in order that so-and-so may be altered. If I want to change the -shape of the hole I make in my paper, I must change my punch; but this -will be of no use if I want to change the position of the hole. If I -want the color of the dress changed from blue to green, it is B, and -not A, that I must persuade.</p> -<p class="par">We mean something more than this when we say that a man -is <i>morally</i> responsible for an action. It seems to me that moral -responsibility and conscience go together, both in regard to the man -and in regard to the action. In order that a man may be morally -responsible for an action, the man must have a conscience, and the -action must be one in regard to which conscience is capable of acting -as a motive, that is, the action must be capable of being right or -wrong. If a child were left on a desert island and grew up wholly -without a conscience, and then were brought among men, he would not be -morally responsible for his actions until he had acquired a conscience -by education. He would of course be <i>responsible</i>, in the sense -just explained, for that part of them which was left undetermined by -external circumstances, and if we wanted to alter his actions in these -respects we should have to do it by altering him. But it would be -useless and unreasonable to attempt to do this by means of praise or -blame, the expression of moral approbation or disapprobation, until he -had acquired a conscience which could be worked upon by such means.</p> -<p class="par">It seems, then, that in order that a man may be morally -responsible for an action, three things are necessary:—</p> -<p class="par">1. He might have done something else; that is to say, -the action was not wholly determined by external circumstances, and he -is responsible only for the choice which was left him.</p> -<p class="par">2. He had a conscience.</p> -<p class="par">3. The action was one in regard to the doing or not -doing of which conscience might be a sufficient motive.</p> -<p class="par">These three things are necessary, but it does not follow -that they are sufficient. It is very commonly said that the action must -be a <i>voluntary</i> one. It will be found, I think, that this is -contained in my third condition, and also that the form of statement I -have adopted exhibits more clearly the reason why the condition is -necessary. We may say that an action is involuntary either when it is -instinctive, or when one motive is so strong that there is no voluntary -choice between <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e664" href="#xd21e664" -name="xd21e664">17</a>]</span>motives. An involuntary cough produced by -irritation of the glottis is no proper subject for blame or praise. A -man is not responsible for it, because it is done by a part of his body -without consulting <i>him</i>. What is meant by <i>him</i> in this case -will require further investigation. Again, when a dipsomaniac has so -great and overmastering an inclination to drink that we cannot conceive -of conscience being strong enough to conquer it, he is not responsible -for that act, though he may be responsible for having got himself into -the state. But if it is conceivable that a very strong conscience fully -brought to bear might succeed in conquering the inclination, we may -take a lenient view of the fall and say there was a very strong -temptation, but we shall still regard it as a fall, and say that the -man is responsible and a wrong has been done.</p> -<p class="par">But since it is just in this distinction between -voluntary and involuntary action that the whole <i>crux</i> of the -matter lies, let us examine more closely into it. I say that when I -cough or sneeze involuntarily, it is really not I that cough or sneeze, -but a part of my body which acts without consulting me. This action is -determined for me by the circumstances, and is not part of the choice -that is left to me, so that I am not responsible for it. The question -comes then to determining how much is to be called -<i>circumstances</i>, and how much is to be called <i>me</i>. Now I -want to describe what happens when I voluntarily do anything, and there -are two courses open to me. I may describe the things in themselves, my -feelings and the general course of my consciousness, trusting to the -analogy between my consciousness and yours to make me understood; or I -may describe these things as nature describes them to your senses, -namely in terms of the phenomena of my nervous system, appealing to -your memory of phenomena and your knowledge of physical action. I shall -do both, because in some respects our knowledge is more complete from -the one source, and in some respects from the other. When I look back -and reflect upon a voluntary action, I seem to find that it differs -from an involuntary action in the fact that a certain portion of my -character has been consulted. There is always a suggestion of some -sort, either the end of a train of thought or a new sensation; and -there is an action ensuing, either the movement of a muscle or set of -muscles, or the fixing of attention upon something. But between these -two there is a consultation, as it were, of my past history. The -suggestion is viewed in the light of everything bearing on it that I -think of at the time, and in virtue of this light it moves me to act in -one or more ways. Let us first suppose that no hesitation is involved, -that only one way of acting is suggested, and I yield to this impulse -and act in the particular way. This is the simplest kind of voluntary -action. It differs from involuntary or instinctive action in the fact -that with the latter there is no such conscious consultation of past -history. If we describe these facts in terms of the phenomena which -picture them to other minds, we shall say that in involuntary action a -message passes straight through from the sensory to the motor center, -and so on to the muscles, without consulting the cerebrum; while -involuntary action the message is passed on from the sensory center to -the cerebrum, there translated into appropriate motor stimuli, carried -down to the <span class="corr" id="xd21e683" title= -"Source: moter">motor</span> center, and so on to the muscles. There -may be other differences, but at least there is this difference. Now on -the physical side that which determines, what groups of cerebral fibers -shall be set at work by the given message, and what groups of motor -stimuli shall be set at work by these, is the mechanism of my brain at -the time; and on the mental side that which determines what memories -shall be called up by the given sensation, and what motives these -memories shall bring into action, is my mental character. We may say, -then, in this simplest case of voluntary action, that when the -suggestion is given it is the character of <i>me</i> which determines -the character of the ensuing action; and consequently that I am -responsible for choosing that particular course out of those which were -left open to me by the external circumstances.</p> -<p class="par">This is when I yield to the impulse. But suppose I do -not; suppose that the original suggestion, viewed in the light of -memory, sets various motives in action, each motive belonging to a -certain class of things which I remember. Then I choose which of these -motives shall prevail. Those who carefully watch themselves find out -that a particular motive is made to prevail by the fixing of the -attention upon that class of remembered things which calls up the -motive. The physical side of this is the sending of blood to a certain -set of nerves—namely, those whose action corresponds to the -memories which are to be attended to. The sending of blood is -accomplished by <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e691" href= -"#xd21e691" name="xd21e691">18</a>]</span>the pinching of arteries; and -there are special nerves, called vaso-motor nerves, whose business it -is to carry messages to the walls of the arteries and get them pinched. -Now this act of directing the attention may be voluntary or involuntary -just like any other act. When the transformed and re-enforced -nerve-message gets to the vaso-motor center, some part of it may be so -predominant that a message goes straight off to the arteries, and sends -a quantity of blood to the nerves supplying that part; or the call for -blood may be sent back for revision by the cerebrum, which is thus -again consulted. To say the same thing in terms of my feelings, a -particular class of memories roused by the original suggestion may -seize upon my attention before I have time to choose what I will attend -to; or the appeal may be carried to a deeper part of my character -dealing with wider and more abstract conceptions, which views the -conflicting motives in the light of a past experience of motives, and -by that light is drawn to one or the other of them.</p> -<p class="par">We thus get to a sort of motive of the second order or -motive of motives. Is there any reason why we should not go on to a -motive of the third order, and the fourth, and so on? None whatever -that I know of, except that no one has ever observed such a thing. -There seems plenty of room for the requisite mechanism on the physical -side; and no one can say, on the mental side, how complex is the -working of his consciousness. But we must carefully distinguish between -the intellectual deliberation about motives, which applies to the -future and the past, and the practical choice of motives in the moment -of will. The former may be a train of any length and complexity: we -have no reason to believe that the latter is more than engine and -tender.</p> -<p class="par">We are now in a position to classify actions in respect -of the kind of responsibility which belongs to them; namely we -have—</p> -<p class="par">1. Involuntary or instinctive actions.</p> -<p class="par">2. Voluntary actions in which the choice of motives is -involuntary.</p> -<p class="par">3. Voluntary actions in which the choice of motives is -voluntary.</p> -<p class="par">In each of these cases what is responsible is that part -of my character which determines what the action shall be. For -instinctive actions we do not say that <i>I</i> am responsible, because -the choice is made before I know anything about it. For voluntary -actions I am responsible, because I make the choice; that is, the -character of me is what determines the character of the action. In -<i>me</i>, then, for this purpose, is included the aggregate of links -of association which determines what memories shall be called up by a -given suggestion, and what motives shall be set at work by these -memories. But we distinguish this mass of passions and pleasures, -desire and knowledge and pain, which makes up most of my character at -the moment, from that inner and deeper motive-choosing self which is -called Reason, and the Will, and the Ego; which is only responsible -when motives are voluntarily chosen by directing attention to them. It -is responsible only for the choice of one motive out of those presented -to it, not for the nature of the motives which are presented.</p> -<p class="par">But again, I may reasonably be blamed for what I did -yesterday, or a week ago, or last year. This is because I am permanent; -in so far as from my actions of that date an inference may be drawn -about my character now, it is reasonable that I should be treated as -praiseworthy or blamable. And within certain limits I am for the same -reason responsible for what I am now, because within certain limits I -have made myself. Even instinctive actions are dependent in many cases -upon habits which may be altered by proper attention and care; and -still more the nature of the connections between sensation and action, -the associations of memory and motive, may be voluntarily modified if I -choose to try. The habit of choosing among motives is one which may be -acquired and strengthened by practice, and the strength of particular -motives, by continually directing attention to them, may be almost -indefinitely increased or diminished. Thus, if by <i>me</i> is meant -not the instantaneous me of this moment, but the aggregate me of my -past life, or even of the last year, the range of my responsibility is -very largely increased. I am responsible for a very large portion of -the circumstances which are now external to me; that is to say, I am -responsible for certain of the restrictions on my own freedom. As the -eagle was shot with an arrow that flew on its own feather, so I find -myself bound with fetters of my proper forging.</p> -<p class="par">Let us now endeavor to conceive an action which is not -determined in any way by the character of the agent. If we ask, -‘What makes it to be that action and no other?’ we are -told, ‘The man’s Ego.’ The words are here used, it -seems <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e719" href="#xd21e719" name= -"xd21e719">19</a>]</span>to me, in some non-natural sense, if in any -sense at all. One thing makes another to be what it is when the -characters of the two things are connected together by some general -statement or rule. But we have to suppose that the character of the -action is not connected with the character of the Ego by any general -statement or rule. With the same Ego and the same circumstances of all -kinds, anything within the limits imposed by the circumstances may -happen at any moment. I find myself unable to conceive any distinct -sense in which responsibility could apply in this case; nor do I see at -all how it would be reasonable to use praise or blame. If the action -does not depend on the character, what is the use of trying to alter -the character? Suppose, however, that this indeterminateness is only -partial; that the character does add some restrictions to those already -imposed by circumstances, but leaves the choice between certain actions -undetermined, and to be settled by chance or the transcendental Ego. Is -it not clear that the man would be responsible for precisely that part -of the character of the action which was determined by his character, -and not for what was left undetermined by it? For it is just that part -which was determined by his character which it is reasonable to try to -alter by altering him.</p> -<p class="par">We who believe in uniformity are not the only people -unable to conceive responsibility without it. These are the words of -Sir W. Hamilton, as quoted by Mr. J. S. Mill:—<a class="noteref" -id="xd21e723src" href="#xd21e723" name="xd21e723src">5</a></p> -<p class="par">‘Nay, were we even to admit as true what we cannot -think as possible, still the doctrine of a motiveless volition would be -only casualism; and the free acts of an indifferent are, morally and -rationally, as worthless as the pre-ordered passions of a determined -will.’</p> -<p class="par">‘That, though inconceivable, a motiveless volition -would, if conceived, be conceived as morally worthless, only shows our -impotence more clearly.’</p> -<p class="par">‘Is the person an <i>original undetermined</i> -cause of the determination of his will? If he be not, then he is not a -<i>free agent</i>, and the scheme of Necessity is admitted. If he be, -in the first place, it is impossible to <i>conceive</i> the possibility -of this; and in the second, if the fact, though inconceivable, be -allowed, it is impossible to see how a cause, undetermined by any -motive, can be a rational, moral, and accountable cause.’</p> -<p class="par">It is true that Hamilton also says that the scheme of -necessity is inconceivable, because it leads to an infinite -non-commencement; and that ‘the possibility of morality depends -on the possibility of liberty; for if a man be not a free agent, he is -not the author of his actions, and has, therefore, no -responsibility—no moral personality at all.’</p> -<p class="par">I know nothing about necessity; I only believe that -nature is practically uniform even in human action. I know nothing -about an infinitely distant past; I only know that I ought to base on -uniformity those inferences which are to guide my actions. But that man -is a free agent appears to me obvious, and that in the natural sense of -the words. We need ask for no better definition than -Kant’s:—</p> -<p class="par">‘Will is a kind of causality belonging to living -agents, in so far as they are rational; and freedom is such a property -of that causality as enables them to be efficient agents independently -of outside causes determining them; as, on the other hand, necessity -(<i>Naturnothwendigkeit</i>) is that property of all irrational beings -which consists in their being determined to activity by the influence -of outside causes.’ (‘Metaphysics of Ethics,’ chap. -iii.)</p> -<p class="par">I believe that I am a free agent when my actions are -independent of the control of circumstances outside me; and it seems a -misuse of language to call me a free agent if my actions are determined -by a transcendental Ego who is independent of the circumstances inside -me—that is to say, of my character. The expression ‘free -will’ has unfortunately been imported into mental science from a -theological controversy rather different from the one we are now -considering. It is surely too much to expect that good and serviceable -English words should be sacrificed to a phantom.</p> -<p class="par">In an admirable book, ‘The Methods of -Ethics,’ Mr. Henry Sidgwick has stated, with supreme fairness and -impartiality, both sides of this question. After setting forth the -‘almost overwhelming cumulative proof’ of uniformity in -human action, he says that it seems ‘more than balanced by a -single argument on the other side: the immediate affirmation of -consciousness in the moment of deliberate volition.’ ‘No -amount of experience of the sway of motives ever tends to make me -distrust my intuitive consciousness that in resolving, after -<span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e755" href="#xd21e755" name= -"xd21e755">20</a>]</span>deliberation, I exercise free choice as to -which of the motives acting upon me shall prevail.’</p> -<p class="par">The only answer to this argument is that it is not -‘on the other side.’ There is no doubt about the -deliverance of consciousness; and even if our powers of -self-observation had not been acute enough to discover it, the -existence of some choice between motives would be proved by the -existence of vaso-motor nerves. But perhaps the most instructive way of -meeting arguments of this kind is to inquire what consciousness ought -to say in order that its deliverances may be of any use in the -controversy. It is affirmed, on the side of uniformity, that the -feelings in my consciousness in the moment of voluntary choice have -been preceded by facts out of my consciousness which are related to -them in a uniform manner, so that if the previous facts had been -accurately known the voluntary choice might have been predicted. On the -other side this is denied. To be of any use in the controversy, then, -the immediate deliverance of my consciousness must be competent to -assure me of the non-existence of something which by hypothesis is not -in my consciousness. Given an absolutely dark room, can my sense of -sight assure me that there is no one but myself in it? Can my sense of -hearing assure me that nothing inaudible is going on? As little can the -immediate deliverance of my consciousness assure me that the uniformity -of nature does not apply to human actions.</p> -<p class="par">It is perhaps necessary, in connection with this -question, to refer to that singular Materialism of high authority and -recent date which makes consciousness a physical agent, -‘correlates’ it with Light and Nerve-force, and so reduces -it to an objective phenomenon. This doctrine is founded on a common and -very useful mode of speech, in which we say, for example, that a good -fire is a source of pleasure on a cold day, and that a man’s -feeling of chill may make him run to it. But so also we say that the -sun rises and sets every morning and night, although the man in the -moon sees clearly that this is due to the rotation of the earth. One -cannot be pedantic all day. But if we choose for once to be pedantic, -the matter is after all very simple. Suppose that I am made to run by -feeling a chill. When I begin to move my leg, I may observe if I like a -double series of facts. I have the feeling of effort, the sensation of -motion in my leg; I feel the pressure of my foot on the ground. Along -with this I may see with my eyes, or feel with my hands, the motion of -my leg as a material object. The first series of facts belongs to me -alone; the second may be equally observed by anybody else. The mental -series began first; I willed to move my leg before I saw it move. But -when I know more about the matter, I can trace the material series -further back, and find nerve-messages going to the muscles of my leg to -make it move. But I had a feeling of chill before I chose to move my -leg. Accordingly, I can find nerve-messages, excited by the contraction -due to the low temperature, going to my brain from the chilled skin. -Assuming the uniformity of nature, I carry forward and backward both -the mental and the material series. A uniformity is observed in each, -and a parallelism is observed between them, whenever observations can -be made. But sometimes one series is known better, and sometimes the -other; so that in telling a story we quite naturally speak sometimes of -mental facts and sometimes of material facts. A feeling of chill made a -man run; strictly speaking, the nervous disturbance which co-existed -with that feeling of chill made him run, if we want to talk about -material facts; or the feeling of chill produced the form of -sub-consciousness which co-exists with the motion of legs, if we want -to talk about mental facts. But we know nothing about the special -nervous disturbance which co-exists with a feeling of chill, because it -has not yet been localized in the brain; and we know nothing about the -form of sub-consciousness which co-exists with the motion of legs; -although there is very good reason for believing in the existence of -both. So we talk about the feeling of chill and the running, because in -one case we know the mental side, and in the other the material side. A -man might show me a picture of the battle of Gravelotte, and say, -‘You can’t see the battle, because it’s all over, but -there is a picture of it.’ And then he might put a chassepot into -my hand, and say, ‘We could not represent the whole construction -of a chassepot in the picture, but you can examine this one, and find -it out.’ If I now insisted on mixing up the two modes of -communication of knowledge, if I expected that the chassepots in the -picture would go off, and said that the one in my hand was painted on -heavy canvas, I should be acting exactly in the spirit of the new -materialism. For the material facts are <span class="pagenum">[<a id= -"xd21e761" href="#xd21e761" name="xd21e761">21</a>]</span>a -representation or symbol of the mental facts, just as a picture is a -representation or symbol of a battle. And my own mind is a reality from -which I can judge by analogy of the realities represented by other -men’s brains, just as the chassepot in my hand is a reality from -which I can judge by analogy of the chassepots represented in the -picture. When, therefore, we ask, ‘What is the physical link -between the ingoing message from chilled skin and the outgoing message -which moves the leg?’ and the answer is, ‘A man’s -Will,’ we have as much right to be amused as if we had asked our -friend with the picture what pigment was used in painting the cannon in -the foreground, and received the answer, ‘Wrought iron.’ It -will be found excellent practice in the mental operations required by -this doctrine to imagine a train, the fore part of which is an engine -and three carriages linked with iron couplings, and the hind part three -other carriages linked with iron couplings; the bond between the two -parts being made out of the sentiments of amity subsisting between the -stoker and the guard.</p> -<p class="par">To sum up: the uniformity of nature in human actions has -been denied on the ground that it takes away responsibility, that it is -contradicted by the testimony of consciousness, and that there is a -physical correlation between mind and matter. We have replied that the -uniformity of nature is necessary to responsibility, that it is -affirmed by the testimony of consciousness whenever consciousness is -competent to testify, and that matter is the phenomenon or symbol of -which mind or quasi-mind is the symbolized and represented thing. We -are now free to continue our inquiries on the supposition that nature -is uniform.</p> -<p class="par">We began by describing the moral sense of an Englishman. -No doubt the description would serve very well for the more civilized -nations of Europe; most closely for Germans and Dutch. But the fact -that we can speak in this way discloses that there is more than one -moral sense, and that what I feel to be right another man may feel to -be wrong. Thus we cannot help asking whether there is any reason for -preferring one moral sense to another; whether the question, -‘What is right to do?’ has in any one set of circumstances -a single answer which can be definitely known.</p> -<p class="par">Clearly, in the first rough sense of the word, this is -not true. What is right for me to do now, seeing that I am here with a -certain character, and a certain moral sense as part of it, is just -what I feel to be right. The individual conscience is, in the moment of -volition, the only possible judge of what is right; there is no -conflicting claim. But if we are deliberating about the future, we know -that we can modify our conscience gradually by associating with people, -reading certain books, and paying attention to certain ideas and -feelings; and we may ask ourselves, ‘How shall we modify our -conscience, if at all? what kind of conscience shall we try to get? -what is the <i>best</i> conscience?’ We may ask similar questions -about our sense of taste. There is no doubt at present that the nicest -things to me are the things I like; but I know that I can train myself -to like some things and dislike others, and that things which are very -nasty at one time may come to be great delicacies at another. I may -ask, ‘How shall I train myself? What is the <i>best</i> -taste?’ And this leads very naturally to putting the question in -another form, namely, ‘What is taste good for? What is the -<i>purpose</i> or <i>function</i> of taste?’ We should probably -find as the answer to that question that the purpose or function of -taste is to discriminate wholesome food from unwholesome; that it is a -matter of stomach and digestion. It will follow from this that the best -taste is that which prefers wholesome food, and that by cultivating a -preference for wholesome and nutritious things I shall be training my -palate in the way it should go. In just the same way our question about -the best conscience will resolve itself into a question about the -purpose or function of the conscience—why we have got it, and -what it is good for.</p> -<p class="par">Now to my mind the simplest and clearest and most -profound philosophy that was ever written upon this subject is to be -found in the 2d and 3d chapters of Mr. Darwin’s ‘Descent of -Man.’ In these chapters it appears that just as most physical -characteristics of organisms have been evolved and preserved because -they were useful to the individual in the struggle for existence -against other individuals and other species, so this particular feeling -has been evolved and preserved because it is useful to the tribe or -community in the struggle for existence against other tribes, and -against the environment as a whole. The function of conscience is the -preservation of the tribe as a tribe. And we shall rightly train our -consciences if we learn to approve those actions which tend to -<span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e784" href="#xd21e784" name= -"xd21e784">22</a>]</span>the advantage of the community in the struggle -for existence.</p> -<p class="par">There are here some words, however, which require -careful definition. And first the word <i>purpose</i>. A thing serves a -purpose when it is adapted to some end; thus a corkscrew is adapted to -the end of extracting corks from bottles, and our lungs are adapted to -the end of respiration. We may say that the extraction of corks is the -purpose of the corkscrew, and that respiration is the purpose of the -lungs. But here we shall have used the word in two different senses. A -man made the corkscrew with a purpose in his mind, and he knew and -intended that it should be used for pulling out corks. But nobody made -our lungs with a purpose in his mind, and intended that they should be -used for breathing. The respiratory apparatus was adapted to its -purpose by natural selection—namely, by the gradual preservation -of better and better adaptations, and the killing off of the worse and -imperfect adaptations. In using the word purpose for the result of this -unconscious process of adaptation by survival of the fittest, I know -that I am somewhat extending its ordinary sense, which implies -consciousness. But it seems to me that on the score of convenience -there is a great deal to be said for this extension of meaning. We want -a word to express the adaptation of means to an end, whether involving -consciousness or not; the word purpose will do very well, and the -adjective <i>purposive</i> has already been used in this sense. But if -the use is admitted, we must distinguish two kinds of purpose. There is -the unconscious purpose which is attained by natural selection, in -which no consciousness need be concerned; and there is the conscious -purpose of an intelligence which designs a thing that it may serve to -do something which he desires to be done. The distinguishing mark of -this second kind, design or conscious purpose, is that in the -consciousness of the agent there is an image or symbol of the end which -he desires, and this precedes and determines the use of the means. Thus -the man who first invented a corkscrew must have previously known that -corks were in bottles, and have desired to get them out. We may -describe this if we like in terms of matter, and say that a purpose of -the second kind implies a complex nervous system, in which there can be -formed an image or symbol of the end, and that this symbol determines -the use of the means. The nervous image or symbol of anything is that -mode of working of part of my brain which goes on simultaneously and is -correlated with my thinking of the thing.</p> -<p class="par">Aristotle defines an organism as that in which the part -exists for the sake of the whole. It is not that the existence of the -part depends on the existence of the whole, for every whole exists only -as an aggregate of parts related in a certain way; but that the shape -and nature of the part are determined by the wants of the whole. Thus -the shape and nature of my foot are what they are, not for the sake of -my foot itself, but for the sake of my whole body, and because it wants -to move about. That which the part has to do for the whole is called -its function. Thus the function of my foot is to support me, and assist -in locomotion. Not all the nature of the part is necessarily for the -sake of the whole: the comparative callosity of the skin of my sole is -for the protection of my foot itself.</p> -<p class="par">Society is an organism, and man in society is part of an -organism according to this definition, in so far as some portion of the -nature of man is what it is for the sake of the whole—society. -Now conscience is such a portion of the nature of man, and its function -is the preservation of society in the struggle for existence. We may be -able to define this function more closely when we know more about the -way in which conscience tends to preserve society.</p> -<p class="par">Next let us endeavor to make precise the meaning of the -words <i>community</i> and <i>society</i>. It is clear that at -different times men may be divided into groups of greater or less -extent—tribes, clans, families, nations, towns. If a certain -number of clans are struggling for existence, that portion of the -conscience will be developed which tends to the preservation of the -clan; so, if towns or families are struggling, we shall get a moral -sense adapted to the advantage of the town or the family. In this way -different portions of the moral sense may be developed at different -stages of progress. Now it is clear that for the purpose of the -conscience the word community at any time will mean a group of that -size and nature which is being selected or not selected for survival as -a whole. Selection may be going on at the same time among many -different kinds of groups. And ultimately the moral sense will be -composed of various portions relating to various groups, the function -or purpose of each portion being the advantage of that group -<span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e806" href="#xd21e806" name= -"xd21e806">23</a>]</span>to which it relates in the struggle for -existence. Thus we have a sense of family duty, of municipal duty, of -national duty, and of duties toward all mankind.</p> -<p class="par">It is to be noticed that part of the nature of a smaller -group may be what it is for the sake of a larger group to which it -belongs; and then we may speak of the <i>function</i> of the smaller -group. Thus it appears probable that the family, in the form in which -it now exists among us, is determined by the good of the nation; and we -may say that the function of the family is to promote the advantage of -the nation or larger society in some certain ways. But I do not think -it would be right to follow Auguste Comte in speaking of the function -of humanity; because humanity is obviously not a part of any larger -organism for whose sake it is what it is.</p> -<p class="par">Now that we have cleared up the meanings of some of our -words, we are still a great way from the definite solution of our -question, ‘What is the best conscience? or what ought I to think -right?’ For we do not yet know what is for the advantage of the -community in the struggle for existence. If we choose to learn by the -analogy of an individual organism, we may see that no permanent or -final answer can be given, because the organism grows in consequence of -the struggle, and develops new wants while it is satisfying the old -ones. But at any given time it has quite enough to do to keep alive and -to avoid dangers and diseases. So we may expect that the wants and even -the necessities of the social organism will grow with its growth, and -that it is impossible to predict what may tend in the distant future to -its advantage in the struggle for existence. But still, in this vague -and general statement of the functions of conscience, we shall find -that we have already established a great deal.</p> -<p class="par">In the first place, right is an affair of the community, -and must not be referred to anything else. To go back to our analogy of -taste: if I tried to persuade you that the best palate was that which -preferred things pretty to look at, you might condemn me <i>à -priori</i> without any experience, by merely knowing that taste is an -affair of stomach and digestion—that its function is to select -wholesome food. And so, if any one tries to persuade us that the best -conscience is that which thinks it right to obey the will of some -individual, as a deity or a monarch, he is condemned <i>à -priori</i> in the very nature of right and wrong. In order that the -worship of a deity may be consistent with natural ethics, he must be -regarded as the friend and helper of humanity, and his character must -be judged from his actions by a moral standard which is independent of -him. And this, it must be admitted, is the position which has been -taken by most English divines, as long as they were Englishmen first -and divines afterward. The worship of a deity who is represented as -unfair or unfriendly to any portion of the community is a wrong thing, -however great may be the threats and promises by which it is commended. -And still worse, the reference of right and wrong to his arbitrary will -as a standard, the diversion of the allegiance of the moral sense from -the community to him, is the most insidious and fatal of social -diseases. It was against this that the Teutonic conscience protested in -the Reformation. Again, in monarchical countries, in order that -allegiance to the sovereign may be consistent with natural ethics, he -must be regarded as the servant and symbol of the national unity, -capable of rebellion and punishable for it. And this has been the -theory of the English constitution from time immemorial.</p> -<p class="par">The first principle of natural ethics, then, is the sole -and supreme allegiance of conscience to the community. I venture to -call this <i>piety</i> in accordance with the older meaning of the -word. Even if it should turn out impossible to sever it from the -unfortunate associations which have clung to its later meaning, still -it seems worth while to try.</p> -<p class="par">An immediate deduction from our principle is that there -are no self-regarding virtues properly so called; those qualities which -tend to the advantage and preservation of the individual being only -morally <i>right</i> in so far as they make him a more useful citizen. -And this conclusion is in some cases of great practical importance. The -virtue of purity, for example, attains in this way a fairly exact -definition: purity in a man is that course of conduct which makes him -to be a good husband and father, in a woman that which makes her to be -a good wife and mother, or which helps other people so to prepare and -keep themselves. It is easy to see how many false ideas and pernicious -precepts are swept away by even so simple a definition as that.</p> -<p class="par">Next, we may fairly define our position in regard to -that moral system which has deservedly found favor with the great mass -of our countrymen. In the common <span class="pagenum">[<a id= -"xd21e835" href="#xd21e835" name="xd21e835">24</a>]</span>statement of -utilitarianism the end of right action is defined to be the greatest -happiness of the greatest number. It seems to me that the reason and -the ample justification of the success of this system is that it -explicitly sets forth the community as the object of moral allegiance. -But our determination of the purpose of the conscience will oblige us -to make a change in the statement of it. Happiness is not the end of -right action. My happiness is of no use to the community except in so -far as it makes me a more efficient citizen; that is to say, it is -rightly desired as a means and not as an end. The end may be described -as the greatest efficiency of all citizens as such. No doubt happiness -will in the long run accrue to the community as a consequence of right -conduct; but the right is determined independently of the happiness, -and, as Plato says, it is better to suffer wrong than to do wrong.</p> -<p class="par">In conclusion, I would add some words on the relation of -Veracity to the first principle of Piety. It is clear that veracity is -founded on faith in man; you tell a man the truth when you can trust -him with it and are not afraid. This perhaps is made more evident by -considering the case of exception allowed by all -moralists—namely, that if a man asks you the way with a view to -committing a murder, it is right to tell a lie and misdirect him. The -reason why he must not have the truth told him is that he would make a -bad use of it; he cannot be trusted with it. About these cases of -exception an important remark must be made in passing. When we hear -that a man has told a lie under such circumstances, we are indeed ready -to admit that for once it was right<span class="corr" id="xd21e840" -title="Source: .">,</span> <i>mensonge admirable</i>; but we always -have a sort of feeling that it must not occur again. And the same thing -applies to cases of conflicting obligations, when for example the -family conscience and the national conscience disagree. In such cases -no general rule can be laid down; we have to choose the less of two -evils; but this is not right altogether in the same sense as it is -right to speak the truth. There is something wrong in the -circumstances, that we should have to choose an evil at all. The actual -course to be pursued will vary with the progress of society; that evil -which at first was greater will become less, and in a perfect society -the conflict will be resolved into harmony. But meanwhile these cases -of exception must be carefully kept distinct from the straightforward -cases of right and wrong, and they always imply an obligation to mend -the circumstances if we can.</p> -<p class="par">Veracity to an individual is not only enjoined by piety -in virtue of the obvious advantage which attends a straightforward and -mutually trusting community as compared with others, but also because -deception is in all cases a personal injury. Still more is this true of -veracity to the community itself. The conception of the universe or -aggregate of beliefs which forms the link between sensation and action -for each individual is a public and not a private matter; it is formed -by society and for society. Of what enormous importance it is to the -community that this should be a true conception I need not attempt to -describe. Now to the attainment of this true conception two things are -necessary.</p> -<p class="par">First, if we study the history of those methods by which -true beliefs and false beliefs have been attained, we shall see that it -is our duty to guide our beliefs by inference from experience on the -assumption of uniformity of nature and consciousness in other men, -<i>and by this only</i>. Only upon this moral basis can the foundations -of the empirical method be justified.</p> -<p class="par">Secondly, veracity to the community depends upon faith -in man. Surely I ought to be talking platitudes when I say that it is -not English to tell a man a lie, or to suggest a lie by your silence or -your actions, because you are afraid that he is not prepared for the -truth, because you don’t quite know what he will do when he knows -it, because perhaps after all this lie is a better thing for him than -the truth would be, this same man being all the time an honest -fellow-citizen whom you have every reason to trust. Surely I have heard -that this craven crookedness is the object of our national detestation. -And yet it is constantly whispered that it would be dangerous to -divulge certain truths to the masses. ‘I know the whole thing is -untrue: but then it is so useful for the people; you don’t know -what harm you might do by shaking their faith in it.’ Crooked -ways are none the less crooked because they are meant to deceive great -masses of people instead of individuals. If a thing is true, let us all -believe it, rich and poor, men, women, and children. If a thing is -untrue, let us all disbelieve it, rich and poor, men, women, and -children. Truth is a thing to be shouted from the housetops, not to be -whispered over rose-water after dinner when the ladies are gone away. -<span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e855" href="#xd21e855" name= -"xd21e855">25</a>]</span></p> -<p class="par">Even in those whom I would most reverence, who would -shrink with horror from such actual deception as I have just mentioned, -I find traces of a want of faith in man. Even that noble thinker, to -whom we of this generation owe more than I can tell, seemed to say in -one of his posthumous essays that in regard to questions of great -public importance we might encourage a hope in excess of the evidence -(which would infallibly grow into a belief and defy evidence) if we -found that life was made easier by it. As if we should not lose -infinitely more by nourishing a tendency to falsehood than we could -gain by the delusion of a pleasing fancy. Life must first of all be -made straight and true; it may get easier through the help this brings -to the commonwealth. And Lange, the great historian of materialism, -says that the amount of false belief necessary to morality in a given -society is a matter of taste. I cannot believe that any falsehood -whatever is necessary to morality. It cannot be true of my race and -yours that to keep ourselves from becoming scoundrels we must needs -believe a lie. The sense of right grew up among healthy men and was -fixed by the practice of comradeship. It has never had help from -phantoms and falsehoods, and it never can want any. By faith in man and -piety toward men we have taught each other the right hitherto; with -faith in man and piety toward men we shall never more depart from -it.</p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= -"xd21e477" href="#xd21e477src" name="xd21e477">1</a></span> Sunday -Lecture Society, November 7, 1875. <a class="fnarrow" href= -"#xd21e477src">↑</a></p> -<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= -"xd21e525" href="#xd21e525src" name="xd21e525">2</a></span> Treatise -Baba Bathra, 59 <i>b.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href= -"#xd21e525src">↑</a></p> -<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= -"xd21e535" href="#xd21e535src" name="xd21e535">3</a></span> Compare -these passages from Merivale (‘Romans under the Empire,’ -vi.), to whom ‘it seems a duty to protest against the common -tendency of Christian moralists to dwell only on the dark side of Pagan -society, in order to heighten by contrast the blessings of the -Gospel’:—</p> -<p class="par footnote">‘Much candor and discrimination are -required in comparing the sins of one age with those of another ... the -cruelty of our inquisitions and sectarian persecutions, of our laws -against sorcery, our serfdom and our slavery; the petty fraudulence we -tolerate in almost every class and calling of the community; the bold -front worn by our open sensuality; the deeper degradation of that which -is concealed; all these leave us little room for boasting of our modern -discipline, and must deter the thoughtful inquirer from too confidently -contrasting the morals of the old world and the new.’</p> -<p class="par footnote">‘Even at Rome, in the worst of times ... -all the relations of life were adorned in turn with bright instances of -devotion, and mankind transacted their business with an ordinary -confidence in the force of conscience and right reason. The steady -development of enlightened legal principles conclusively proves the -general dependence upon law as a guide and corrector of manners. In the -camp, however, more especially, as the chief sphere of this purifying -activity, the great qualities of the Roman character continued to be -plainly manifested. This history of the Cæsars presents to us a -constant succession of brave, patient, resolute, and faithful soldiers, -men deeply impressed with a sense of duty, superior to vanity, -despisers of boasting, content to toil in obscurity and shed their -blood at the frontiers of the empire, unrepining at the cold mistrust -of their masters, not clamorous for the honors so sparingly awarded to -them, but satisfied in the daily work of their hands, and full of faith -in the national destiny which they were daily -accomplishing.’ <a class="fnarrow" href= -"#xd21e535src">↑</a></p> -<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= -"xd21e546" href="#xd21e546src" name="xd21e546">4</a></span> Finlay, -‘Greece under the Romans.’ <a class="fnarrow" href= -"#xd21e546src">↑</a></p> -<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= -"xd21e723" href="#xd21e723src" name="xd21e723">5</a></span> -Examination, p. 495, 2d ed. <a class="fnarrow" href= -"#xd21e723src">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch3" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= -"#xd21e1299">Contents</a>]</span> -<div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="main">III. THE ETHICS OF BELIEF.</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="par first"><i>I. The Duty of Inquiry.</i>—A shipowner -was about to send to sea an emigrant-ship. He knew that she was old, -and not over-well built at the first; that she had seen many seas and -climes, and often had needed repairs. Doubts had been suggested to him -that possibly she was not seaworthy. These doubts preyed upon his mind, -and made him unhappy; he thought that perhaps he ought to have her -thoroughly overhauled and refitted, even though this should put him to -great expense. Before the ship sailed, however, he succeeded in -overcoming these melancholy reflections. He said to himself that she -had gone safely through so many voyages and weathered so many storms -that it was idle to suppose she would not come safely home from this -trip also. He would put his trust in Providence, which could hardly -fail to protect all these unhappy families that were leaving their -fatherland to seek for better times elsewhere. He would dismiss from -his mind all ungenerous suspicions about the honesty of builders and -contractors. In such ways he acquired a sincere and comfortable -conviction that his vessel was thoroughly safe and seaworthy; he -watched her departure with a light heart, and benevolent wishes for the -success of the exiles in their strange new home that was to be; and he -got his insurance-money when she went down in mid-ocean and told no -tales.</p> -<p class="par">What shall we say of him? Surely this, that he was -verily guilty of the death of those men. It is admitted that he did -sincerely believe in the soundness of his ship; but the sincerity of -his conviction can in no wise help him, because <i>he had no right to -believe on such evidence as was before him</i>. He had acquired his -belief not by honestly earning it in patient investigation, but by -stifling his doubts. And although in the end he may have felt so sure -about it that he could not think otherwise, yet inasmuch as he had -knowingly and willingly worked himself into that frame of mind, he must -be held responsible for it.</p> -<p class="par">Let us alter the case a little, and suppose that the -ship was not unsound after all; that she made her voyage safely, and -many others after it. Will that diminish the guilt of her owner? Not -one jot. When an action is once done, it is right or wrong forever; no -accidental failure of its good or evil fruits can possibly alter that. -The man would not have been innocent, he would only have been not found -out. The question of right or wrong has to do with the origin of his -belief, not the matter of it; not what it was, but how he got it; not -whether it turned out to be true or false, but whether he had a right -to believe on such evidence as was before him.</p> -<p class="par">There was once an island in which some of the -inhabitants professed a religion teaching neither the doctrine of -original sin nor that of eternal punishment. A suspicion got abroad -that the professors of this religion had made use of unfair means to -get their doctrines taught to children. They were accused of wresting -the laws of their country in such a way as to remove children from the -care of their natural and legal guardians; and even of stealing them -away and keeping them concealed from their friends and relations. A -certain number of men formed themselves into a society for the purpose -of agitating the public about this matter. <span class= -"pagenum">[<a id="xd21e874" href="#xd21e874" name= -"xd21e874">26</a>]</span>They published grave accusations against -individual citizens of the highest position and character, and did all -in their power to injure these citizens in the exercise of their -professions. So great was the noise they made, that a Commission was -appointed to investigate the facts; but after the Commission had -carefully inquired into all the evidence that could be got, it appeared -that the accused were innocent. Not only had they been accused on -insufficient evidence, but the evidence of their innocence was such as -the agitators might easily have obtained, if they had attempted a fair -inquiry. After these disclosures the inhabitants of that country looked -upon the members of the agitating society, not only as persons whose -judgment was to be distrusted, but also as no longer to be counted -honorable men. For although they had sincerely and conscientiously -believed in the charges they had made, yet <i>they had no right to -believe on such evidence as was before them</i>. Their sincere -convictions, instead of being honestly earned by patient inquiring, -were stolen by listening to the voice of prejudice and passion.</p> -<p class="par">Let us vary this case also, and suppose, other things -remaining as before, that a still more accurate investigation proved -the accused to have been really guilty. Would this make any difference -in the guilt of the accusers? Clearly not; the question is not whether -their belief was true or false, but whether they entertained it on -wrong grounds. They would no doubt say, ‘Now you see that we were -right after all; next time perhaps you will believe us.’ And they -might be believed, but they would not thereby become honorable men. -They would not be innocent, they would only be not found out. Every one -of them, if he chose to examine himself <i>in foro -conscientiæ</i>, would know that he had acquired and nourished a -belief, when he had no right to believe on such evidence as was before -him; and therein he would know that he had done a wrong thing.</p> -<p class="par">It may be said, however, that in both of these supposed -cases it is not the belief which is judged to be wrong, but the action -following upon it. The shipowner might say, ‘I am perfectly -certain that my ship is sound, but still I feel it my duty to have her -examined, before trusting the lives of so many people to her.’ -And it might be said to the agitator, ‘However convinced you were -of the justice of your cause and the truth of your convictions, you -ought not to have made a public attack upon any man’s character -until you had examined the evidence on both sides with the utmost -patience and care.’</p> -<p class="par">In the first place, let us admit that, so far as it -goes, this view of the case is right and necessary; right, because even -when a man’s belief is so fixed that he cannot think otherwise, -he still has a choice in regard to the action suggested by it, and so -cannot escape the duty of investigating on the ground of the strength -of his convictions; and necessary, because those who are not yet -capable of controlling their feelings and thoughts must have a plain -rule dealing with overt acts.</p> -<p class="par">But this being premised as necessary, it becomes clear -that it is not sufficient, and that our previous judgment is required -to supplement it. For it is not possible so to sever the belief from -the action it suggests as to condemn the one without condemning the -other. No man holding a strong belief on one side of a question, or -even wishing to hold a belief on one side, can investigate it with such -fairness and completeness as if he were really in doubt and -<span class="corr" id="xd21e890" title= -"Source: unbiassed">unbiased</span>; so that the existence of a belief -not founded on fair inquiry unfits a man for the performance of this -necessary duty.</p> -<p class="par">Nor is that truly a belief at all which has not some -influence upon the actions of him who holds it. He who truly believes -that which prompts him to an action has looked upon the action to lust -after it, he has committed it already in his heart. If a belief is not -realized immediately in open deeds, it is stored up for the guidance of -the future. It goes to make a part of that aggregate of beliefs which -is the link between sensation and action at every moment of all our -lives, and which is so organized and compacted together that no part of -it can be isolated from the rest, but every new addition modifies the -structure of the whole. No real belief, however trifling and -fragmentary it may seem, is ever truly insignificant; it prepares us to -receive more of its like, confirms those which resembled it before, and -weakens others; and so gradually it lays a stealthy train in our inmost -thoughts, which may some day explode into overt action, and leave its -stamp upon our character forever.</p> -<p class="par">And no one man’s belief is in any case a private -matter which concerns himself alone. Our lives are guided by that -general conception of the course of things which has been created by -society for social <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e897" href= -"#xd21e897" name="xd21e897">27</a>]</span>purposes. Our words, our -phrases, our forms and processes and modes of thought, are common -property, fashioned and perfected from age to age; an heirloom which -every succeeding generation inherits as a precious deposit and a sacred -trust to be handed on to the next one, not unchanged but enlarged and -purified, with some clear marks of its proper handiwork. Into this, for -good or ill, is woven every belief of every man who has speech of his -fellows. An awful privilege, and an awful responsibility, that we -should help to create the world in which posterity will live.</p> -<p class="par">In the two supposed cases which have been considered, it -has been judged wrong to believe on insufficient evidence, or to -nourish belief by suppressing doubts and avoiding investigation. The -reason of this judgment is not far to seek: it is that in both these -cases the belief held by one man was of great importance to other men. -But forasmuch as no belief held by one man, however seemingly trivial -the belief, and however obscure the believer, is ever actually -insignificant or without its effect on the fate of mankind, we have no -choice but to extend our judgment to all cases of belief whatever. -Belief, that sacred faculty which prompts the decisions of our will, -and knits into harmonious working all the compacted energies of our -being, is ours not for ourselves, but for humanity. It is rightly used -on truths which have been established by long experience and waiting -toil, and which have stood in the fierce light of free and fearless -questioning. Then it helps to bind men together, and to strengthen and -direct their common action. It is desecrated when given to unproved and -unquestioned statements, for the solace and private pleasure of the -believer; to add a tinsel splendor to the plain straight road of our -life and display a bright mirage beyond it; or even to drown the common -sorrows of our kind by a self-deception which allows them not only to -cast down, but also to degrade us. Whoso would deserve well of his -fellows in this matter will guard the purity of his belief with a very -fanaticism of jealous care, lest at any time it should rest on an -unworthy object, and catch a stain which can never be wiped away.</p> -<p class="par">It is not only the leader of men, statesman, -philosopher, or poet, that owes this bounden duty to mankind. Every -rustic who delivers in the village alehouse his slow, infrequent -sentences, may help to kill or keep alive the fatal superstitions which -clog his race. Every hard-worked wife of an artisan may transmit to her -children beliefs which shall knit society together, or rend it in -pieces. No simplicity of mind, no obscurity of station, can escape the -universal duty of questioning all that we believe.</p> -<p class="par">It is true that this duty is a hard one, and the doubt -which comes out of it is often a very bitter thing. It leaves us bare -and powerless where we thought that we were safe and strong. To know -all about anything is to know how to deal with it under all -circumstances. We feel much happier and more secure when we think we -know precisely what to do, no matter what happens, than when we have -lost our way and do not know where to turn. And if we have supposed -ourselves to know all about anything, and to be capable of doing what -is fit in regard to it, we naturally do not like to find that we are -really ignorant and powerless, that we have to begin again at the -beginning, and try to learn what the thing is and how it is to be dealt -with—if indeed anything can be learnt about it. It is the sense -of power attached to a sense of knowledge that makes men desirous of -believing, and afraid of doubting.</p> -<p class="par">This sense of power is the highest and best of pleasures -when the belief on which it is founded is a true belief, and has been -fairly earned by investigation. For then we may justly feel that it is -common property, and holds good for others as well as for ourselves. -Then we may be glad, not that <i>I</i> have learned secrets by which I -am safer and stronger, but that <i>we men</i> have got mastery over -more of the world; and we shall be strong, not for ourselves, but in -the name of Man and in his strength. But if the belief has been -accepted on insufficient evidence, the pleasure is a stolen one. Not -only does it deceive ourselves by giving us a sense of power which we -do not really possess, but it is sinful, because it is stolen in -defiance of our duty to mankind. That duty is to guard ourselves from -such beliefs as from a pestilence, which may shortly master our own -body and then spread to the rest of the town. What would be thought of -one who, for the sake of a sweet fruit, should deliberately run the -risk of bringing a plague upon his family and his neighbors?</p> -<p class="par">And, as in other such cases, it is not the risk only -which has to be considered; for a bad action is always bad at the time -when it is done, no matter what happens afterward. Every time we let -ourselves believe <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e916" href= -"#xd21e916" name="xd21e916">28</a>]</span>for unworthy reasons, we -weaken our powers of self-control, of doubting, of judicially and -fairly weighing evidence. We all suffer severely enough from the -maintenance and support of false beliefs and the fatally wrong actions -which they lead to, and the evil born when one such belief is -entertained is great and wide. But a greater and wider evil arises when -the credulous character is maintained and supported, when a habit of -believing for unworthy reasons is fostered and made permanent. If I -steal money from any person, there may be no harm done by the mere -transfer of possession; he may not feel the loss, or it may prevent him -from using the money badly. But I cannot help doing this great wrong -toward Man, that I make myself dishonest. What hurts society is not -that it should lose its property, but that it should become a den of -thieves; for then it must cease to be society. This is why we ought not -to do evil that good may come; for at any rate this great evil has -come, that we have done evil and are made wicked thereby. In like -manner, if I let myself believe anything on insufficient evidence, -there may be no great harm done by the mere belief; it may be true -after all, or I may never have occasion to exhibit it in outward acts. -But I cannot help doing this great wrong toward Man, that I make myself -credulous. The danger to society is not merely that it should believe -wrong things, though that is great enough; but that it should become -credulous, and lose the habit of testing things and inquiring into -them; for then it must sink back into savagery.</p> -<p class="par">The harm which is done by credulity in a man is not -confined to the fostering of a credulous character in others, and -consequent support of false beliefs. Habitual want of care about what I -believe leads to habitual want of care in others about the truth of -what is told to me. Men speak the truth to one another when each -reveres the truth in his own mind and in the other’s mind; but -how shall my friend revere the truth in my mind when I myself am -careless about it, when I believe things because I want to believe -them, and because they are comforting and pleasant? Will he not learn -to cry, ‘Peace,’ to me, when there is no peace? By such a -course I shall surround myself with a thick atmosphere of falsehood and -fraud, and in that I must live. It may matter little to me, in my -cloud-castle of sweet illusions and darling lies; but it matters much -to Man that I have made my neighbors ready to deceive. The credulous -man is father to the liar and the cheat; he lives in the bosom of this -his family, and it is no marvel if he should become even as they are. -So closely are our duties knit together, that whoso shall keep the -whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all.</p> -<p class="par">To sum up: it is wrong always, everywhere and for any -one, to believe anything upon insufficient evidence.</p> -<p class="par">If a man, holding a belief which he was taught in -childhood or persuaded of afterward, keeps down and pushes away any -doubts which arise about it in his mind, purposely avoids the reading -of books and the company of men that call in question or discuss it, -and regards as impious those questions which cannot easily be asked -without disturbing it—the life of that man is one long sin -against mankind.</p> -<p class="par">If this judgment seems harsh when applied to those -simple souls who have never known better, who have been brought up from -the cradle with a horror of doubt, and taught that their eternal -welfare depends on <i>what</i> they believe, then it leads to the very -serious question, <i>Who hath made Israel to sin?</i></p> -<p class="par">It may be permitted me to fortify this judgment with the -sentence of Milton—</p> -<p class="par">‘A man may be a heretic in the truth; and if he -believe things only because his pastor says so, or the assembly so -determine, without knowing other reason, though his belief be true, yet -the very truth he holds becomes his heresy.’</p> -<p class="par">And with this famous aphorism of Coleridge—</p> -<p class="par">‘He who begins by loving Christianity better than -Truth, will proceed by loving his own sect or Church better than -Christianity, and end in loving himself better than all.’</p> -<p class="par">Inquiry into the evidence of a doctrine is not to be -made once for all, and then taken as finally settled. It is never -lawful to stifle a doubt; for either it can be honestly answered by -means of the inquiry already made, or else it proves that the inquiry -was not complete.</p> -<p class="par">‘But,’ says one, ‘I am a busy man; I -have no time for the long course of study which would be necessary to -make me in any degree a competent judge of certain questions, or even -able to understand the nature of the arguments.’ Then he should -have no time to believe.</p> -<p class="par"><i>II. The Weight of Authority.</i>—Are we then to -become universal skeptics, doubting everything, afraid always to put -<span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e949" href="#xd21e949" name= -"xd21e949">29</a>]</span>one foot before the other until we have -personally tested the firmness of the road? Are we to deprive ourselves -of the help and guidance of that vast body of knowledge which is daily -growing upon the world, because neither we nor any other one person can -possibly test a hundredth part of it by immediate experiment or -observation, and because it would not be completely proved if we did? -Shall we steal and tell lies because we have had no personal experience -wide enough to justify the belief that it is wrong to do so?</p> -<p class="par">There is no practical danger that such consequences will -ever follow from scrupulous care and self-control in the matter of -belief. Those men who have most nearly done their duty in this respect -have found that certain great principles, and these most fitted for the -guidance of life, have stood out more and more clearly in proportion to -the care and honesty with which they were tested, and have acquired in -this way a practical certainty. The beliefs about right and wrong which -guide our actions in dealing with men in society, and the beliefs about -physical nature which guide our actions in dealing with animate and -inanimate bodies, these never suffer from investigation; they can take -care of themselves, without being propped up by ‘acts of -faith,’ the clamor of paid advocates, or the suppression of -contrary evidence. Moreover there are many cases in which it is our -duty to act upon probabilities, although the evidence is not such as to -justify present belief; because it is precisely by such action, and by -observation of its fruits, that evidence is got which may justify -future belief. So that we have no reason to fear lest a habit of -conscientious inquiry should paralyze the actions of our daily -life.</p> -<p class="par">But because it is not enough to say, ‘It is wrong -to believe on unworthy evidence,’ without saying also what -evidence is worthy, we shall now go on to inquire under what -circumstances it is lawful to believe on the testimony of others; and -then, further, we shall inquire more generally when and why we may -believe that which goes beyond our own experience, or even beyond the -experience of mankind.</p> -<p class="par">In what cases, then, let us ask in the first place, is -the testimony of a man unworthy of belief? He may say that which is -untrue either knowingly or unknowingly. In the first case he is lying, -and his moral character is to blame; in the second case he is ignorant -or mistaken, and it is only his knowledge or his judgment which is in -fault. In order that we may have the right to accept his testimony as -ground for believing what he says, we must have reasonable grounds for -trusting his <i>veracity</i>, that he is really trying to speak the -truth so far as he knows it; his <i>knowledge</i>, that he has had -opportunities of knowing the truth about this matter; and his -<i>judgment</i>, that he has made proper use of those opportunities in -coming to the conclusion which he affirms.</p> -<p class="par">However plain and obvious these reasons may be, so that -no man of ordinary intelligence, reflecting upon the matter, could fail -to arrive at them, it is nevertheless true that a great many persons do -habitually disregard them in weighing testimony. Of the two questions, -equally important to the trustworthiness of a witness, ‘Is he -dishonest?’ and ‘May he be mistaken?’ the majority of -mankind are perfectly satisfied if <i>one</i> can, with some show of -probability, be answered in the negative. The excellent moral character -of a man is alleged as ground for accepting his statements about things -which he cannot possibly have known. A Mohammedan, for example, will -tell us that the character of his Prophet was so noble and majestic -that it commands the reverence even of those who do not believe in his -mission. So admirable was his moral teaching, so wisely put together -the great social machine which he created, that his precepts have not -only been accepted by a great portion of mankind, but have actually -been obeyed. His institutions have on the one hand rescued the negro -from savagery, and on the other hand have taught civilization to the -advancing West; and although the races which held the highest forms of -his faith, and most fully embodied his mind and thought, have all been -conquered and swept away by barbaric tribes, yet the history of their -marvellous attainments remains as an imperishable glory to Islam. Are -we to doubt the word of a man so great and so good? Can we suppose that -this magnificent genius, this splendid moral hero, has lied to us about -the most solemn and sacred matters? The testimony of Mohammed is clear, -that there is but one God, and that he, Mohammed, is his prophet; that -if we believe in him we shall enjoy everlasting felicity, but that if -we do not we shall be damned. This testimony rests on the most awful of -foundations, the revelation of heaven itself; for <span class= -"pagenum">[<a id="xd21e971" href="#xd21e971" name= -"xd21e971">30</a>]</span>was he not visited by the angel Gabriel, as he -fasted and prayed in his desert cave, and allowed to enter into the -blessed fields of Paradise? Surely God is God and Mohammed is the -Prophet of God.</p> -<p class="par">What should we answer to this Mussulman? First, no -doubt, we should be tempted to take exception against his view of the -character of the Prophet and the uniformly beneficial influence of -Islam: before we could go with him altogether in these matters it might -seem that we should have to forget many terrible things of which we -have heard or read. But if we chose to grant him all these assumptions, -for the sake of argument, and because it is difficult both for the -faithful and for infidels to discuss them fairly and without passion, -still we should have something to say which takes away the ground of -his belief, and therefore shows that it is wrong to entertain it. -Namely this: the character of Mohammed is excellent evidence that he -was honest and spoke the truth so far as he knew it; but it is no -evidence at all that he knew what the truth was. What means could he -have of knowing that the form which appeared to him to be the angel -Gabriel was not a hallucination, and that his apparent visit to -Paradise was not a dream? Grant that he himself was fully persuaded and -honestly believed that he had the guidance of heaven, and was the -vehicle of a supernatural revelation, how could he know that this -strong conviction was not a mistake? Let us put ourselves in his place; -we shall find that the more completely we endeavor to realize what -passed through his mind, the more clearly we shall perceive that the -Prophet could have had no adequate ground for the belief in his own -inspiration. It is most probable that he himself never doubted of the -matter, or thought of asking the question; but we are in the position -of those to whom the question has been asked, and who are bound to -answer it. It is known to medical observers that solitude and want of -food are powerful means of producing delusion and of fostering a -tendency to mental disease. Let us suppose, then, that I, like -Mohammed, go into desert places to fast and pray; what things can -happen to me which will give me the right to believe that I am divinely -inspired? Suppose that I get information, apparently from a celestial -visitor, which upon being tested is found to be correct. I cannot be -sure, in the first place, that the celestial visitor is not a figment -of my own mind, and that the information did not come to me, unknown at -the time to my consciousness, through some subtle channel of sense. But -if my visitor were a real visitor, and for a long time gave me -information which was found to be trustworthy, this would indeed be -good ground for trusting him in the future as to such matters as fall -within human powers of verification; but it would not be ground for -trusting his testimony as to any other matters. For although his tested -character would justify me in believing that he spoke the truth so far -as he knew, yet the same question would present itself—what -ground is there for supposing that he knows?</p> -<p class="par">Even if my supposed visitor had given me such -information, subsequently verified by me, as proved him to have means -of knowledge about verifiable matters far exceeding my own; this would -not justify me in believing what he said about matters that are not at -present capable of verification by man. It would be ground for -interesting conjecture, and for the hope that, as the fruit of our -patient inquiry, we might by and by attain to such a means of -verification as should rightly turn conjecture into belief. For belief -belongs to man, and to the guidance of human affairs: no belief is real -unless it guide our actions, and those very actions supply a test of -its truth.</p> -<p class="par">But, it may be replied, the acceptance of Islam as a -system is just that action which is prompted by belief in the mission -of the Prophet, and which will serve for a test of its truth. Is it -possible to believe that a system which has succeeded so well is really -founded upon a delusion? Not only have individual saints found joy and -peace in believing, and verified those spiritual experiences which are -promised to the faithful, but nations also have been raised from -savagery or barbarism to a higher social state. Surely we are at -liberty to say that the belief has been acted upon, and that it has -been verified.</p> -<p class="par">It requires, however, but little consideration to show -that what has really been verified is not at all the supernal character -of the Prophet’s mission, or the trustworthiness of his authority -in matters which we ourselves cannot test, but only his practical -wisdom in certain very mundane things. The fact that believers have -found joy and peace in believing gives us the right to say that the -doctrine is a comfortable doctrine, and pleasant to the soul; but it -does not give us the right to say that it is true. And the question -which <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e982" href="#xd21e982" name= -"xd21e982">31</a>]</span>our conscience is always asking about that -which we are tempted to believe is not, ‘Is it comfortable and -pleasant?’ but, ‘Is it true?’ That the Prophet -preached certain doctrines, and predicted that spiritual comfort would -be found in them, proves only his sympathy with human nature and his -knowledge of it; but it does not prove his superhuman knowledge of -theology.</p> -<p class="par">And if we admit for the sake of argument (for it seems -that we cannot do more) that the progress made by Moslem nations in -certain cases was really due to the system formed and sent forth into -the the world by Mohammed, we are not at liberty to conclude from this -that he was inspired to declare the truth about things which we cannot -verify. We are only at liberty to infer the excellence of his moral -precepts, or of the means which he devised for so working upon men as -to get them obeyed, or of the social and political machinery which he -set up. And it would require a great amount of careful examination into -the history of those nations to determine which of these things had the -greater share in the result. So that here again it is the -Prophet’s knowledge of human nature, and his sympathy with it, -that are verified; not his divine inspiration, or his knowledge of -theology.</p> -<p class="par">If there were only one Prophet, indeed, it might well -seem a difficult and even an ungracious task to decide upon what points -we would trust him, and on what we would doubt his authority; seeing -what help and furtherance all men have gained in all ages from those -who saw more clearly, who felt more strongly, and who sought the truth -with more single heart than their weaker brethren. But there is not -only one Prophet; and while the consent of many upon that which, as -men, they had real means of knowing and did know, has endured to the -end, and been honorably built into the great fabric of human knowledge, -the diverse witness of some about that which they did not and could not -know remains as a warning to us that to exaggerate the prophetic -authority is to misuse it, and to dishonor those who have sought only -to help and further us after their power. It is hardly in human nature -that a man should quite accurately gauge the limits of his own insight; -but it is the duty of those who profit by his work to consider -carefully where he may have been carried beyond it. If we must needs -embalm his possible errors along with his solid achievements, and use -his authority as an excuse for believing what he cannot have known, we -make of his goodness an occasion to sin.</p> -<p class="par">To consider only one other such witness: the followers -of the Buddha have at least as much right to appeal to individual and -social experience in support of the authority of the Eastern saviour. -The special mark of his religion, it is said, that in which it has -never been surpassed, is the comfort and consolation which it gives to -the sick and sorrowful, the tender sympathy with which it soothes and -assuages all the natural griefs of men. And surely no triumph of social -morality can be greater or nobler than that which has kept nearly half -the human race from persecuting in the name of religion. If we are to -trust the accounts of his early followers, he believed himself to have -come upon earth with a divine and cosmic mission to set rolling the -wheel of the law. Being a prince, he divested himself of his kingdom, -and of his free will became acquainted with misery, that he might learn -how to meet and subdue it. Could such a man speak falsely about solemn -things? And as for his knowledge, was he not a man miraculous with -powers more than man’s? He was born of woman without the help of -man; he rose into the air and was transfigured before his kinsmen; at -last he went up bodily into heaven from the top of Adam’s Peak. -Is not his word to be believed in when he testifies of heavenly -things?</p> -<p class="par">If there were only he, and no other, with such claims! -But there is Mohammed with his testimony; we cannot choose but listen -to them both. The Prophet tells us that there is one God, and that we -shall live forever in joy or misery, according as we believe in the -Prophet or not. The Buddha says that there is no God, and that we shall -be annihilated by and by if we are good enough. Both cannot be -infallibly inspired; one or the other must have been the victim of a -delusion, and thought he knew that which he really did not know. Who -shall dare to say which? and how can we justify ourselves in believing -that the other was not also deluded?</p> -<p class="par">We are led, then, to these judgments following. The -goodness and greatness of a man do not justify us in accepting a belief -upon the warrant of his authority, unless there are reasonable grounds -for supposing that he knew the truth of what he was saying. And there -can be no grounds for supposing that a man knows <span class= -"pagenum">[<a id="xd21e994" href="#xd21e994" name= -"xd21e994">32</a>]</span>that which we, without ceasing to be men, -could not be supposed to verify.</p> -<p class="par">If a chemist tells me, who am no chemist, that a certain -substance can be made by putting together other substances in certain -proportions and subjecting them to a known process, I am quite -justified in believing this upon his authority, unless I know anything -against his character or his judgment. For his professional training is -one which tends to encourage veracity and the honest pursuit of truth, -and to produce a dislike of hasty conclusions and slovenly -investigation. And I have reasonable ground for supposing that he knows -the truth of what he is saying, for although I am no chemist, I can be -made to understand so much of the methods and processes of the science -as makes it conceivable to me that, without ceasing to be man, I might -verify the statement. I may never actually verify it, or even see any -experiment which goes toward verifying it; but still I have quite -reason enough to justify me in believing that the verification is -within the reach of human appliances and powers, and in particular that -it has been actually performed by my informant. His result, the belief -to which he has been led by his inquiries, is valid not only for -himself but for others; it is watched and tested by those who are -working in the same ground and who know that no greater service can be -rendered to science than the purification of accepted results from the -errors which may have crept into them. It is in this way that the -result becomes common property, a right object of belief, which is a -social affair and matter of public business. Thus it is to be observed -that his authority is valid because there are those who question it and -verify it; that it is precisely this process of examining and purifying -that keeps alive among investigators the love of that which shall stand -all possible tests, the sense of public responsibility as of those -whose work, if well done, shall remain as the enduring heritage of -mankind.</p> -<p class="par">But if my chemist tells me that an atom of oxygen has -existed unaltered in weight and rate of vibration throughout all time, -I have no right to believe this on his authority, for it is a thing -which he cannot know without ceasing to be man. He may quite honestly -believe that this statement is a fair inference from his experiments, -but in that case his judgment is at fault. A very simple consideration -of the character of experiments would show him that they never can lead -to results of such a kind; that being themselves only approximate and -limited, they cannot give us knowledge which is exact and universal. No -eminence of character and genius can give a man authority enough to -justify us in believing him when he makes statements implying exact or -universal knowledge.</p> -<p class="par">Again, an Arctic explorer may tell us that in a given -latitude and longitude he has experienced such and such a degree of -cold, that the sea was of such a depth, and the ice of such a -character. We should be quite right to believe him, in the absence of -any stain upon his veracity. It is conceivable that we might, without -ceasing to be men, go there and verify his statement; it can be tested -by the witness of his companions, and there is adequate ground for -supposing that he knows the truth of what he is saying. But if an old -whaler tells us that the ice is three hundred feet thick all the way up -to the Pole, we shall not be justified in believing him. For although -the statement may be capable of verification by man, it is certainly -not capable of verification by <i>him</i>, with any means and -appliances which he has possessed; and he must have persuaded himself -of the truth of it by some means which does not attach any credit to -his testimony. Even if, therefore, the matter affirmed is within the -reach of human knowledge, we have no right to accept it upon authority -unless it is within the reach of our informant’s knowledge.</p> -<p class="par">What shall we say of that authority, more venerable and -august than any individual witness, the time-honored tradition of the -human race? An atmosphere of beliefs and conceptions has been formed by -the labors and struggles of our forefathers, which enables us to -breathe amid the various and complex circumstances of our life. It is -around and about us and within us; we cannot think except in the forms -and processes of thought which it supplies. Is it possible to doubt and -to test it? and if possible, is it right?</p> -<p class="par">We shall find reason to answer that it is not only -possible and right, but our bounden duty; that the main purpose of the -tradition itself is to supply us with the means of asking questions, of -testing and inquiring into things; that if we misuse it, and take it as -a collection of cut-and-dried statements, to be accepted without -further inquiry, we are not only injuring ourselves here, but by -refusing to do our part toward the building up of the fabric which -shall be inherited by our <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e1010" -href="#xd21e1010" name="xd21e1010">33</a>]</span>children, we are -tending to cut off ourselves and our race from the human line.</p> -<p class="par">Let us first take care to distinguish a kind of -tradition which especially requires to be examined and called in -question, because it especially shrinks from inquiry. Suppose that a -medicine-man in Central Africa tells his tribe that a certain powerful -medicine in his tent will be propitiated if they kill their cattle; and -that the tribe believe him. Whether the medicine was propitiated or -not, there are no means of verifying, but the cattle are gone. Still -the belief may be kept up in the tribe that propitiation has been -effected in this way; and in a later generation it will be all the -easier for another medicine-man to persuade them to a similar act. Here -the only reason for belief is that everybody has believed the thing for -so long that it must be true. And yet the belief was founded on fraud, -and has been propagated by credulity. That man will undoubtedly do -right, and be a friend of men who shall call it in question and see -that there is no evidence for it, help his neighbors to see as he does, -and even, if need be, go into the holy tent and break the medicine.</p> -<p class="par">The rule, which should guide us in such cases is simple -and obvious enough: that the aggregate testimony of our neighbors is -subject to the same conditions as the testimony of any one of them. -Namely, we have no right to believe a thing true because everybody says -so, unless there are good grounds for believing that some one person at -least has the means of knowing what is true, and is speaking the truth -so far as he knows it. However many nations and generations of men are -brought into the witness-box, they cannot testify to anything which -they do not know. Every man who has accepted the statement from -somebody else, without himself testing and verifying it, is out of -court; his word is worth nothing at all. And when we get back at last -to the true birth and beginning of the statement, two serious questions -must be disposed of in regard to him who first made it: was he mistaken -in thinking that he <i>knew</i> about this matter, or was he lying?</p> -<p class="par">This last question is unfortunately a very actual and -practical one even to us at this day and in this country. We have no -occasion to go to La Salette, or to Central Africa, or to Lourdes, for -examples of immoral and debasing superstition. It is only too possible -for a child to grow up in London surrounded by an atmosphere of beliefs -fit only for the savage, which have in our own time been founded in -fraud and propagated by credulity.</p> -<p class="par">Laying aside, then, such tradition as is handed on -without testing by successive generations, let us consider that which -is truly built up out of the common experience of mankind. This great -fabric is for the guidance of our thoughts, and through them of our -actions, both in the moral and in the material world. In the moral -world, for example, it gives us the conceptions of right in general, of -justice, of truth, of beneficence, and the like. These are given as -conceptions, not as statements or propositions; they answer to certain -definite instincts, which are certainly within us, however they came -there. That it is right to be beneficent is matter of immediate -personal experience; for when a man retires within himself and there -finds something, wider and more lasting than his solitary personality -which says, ‘I want to do right,’ as well as, ‘I want -to do good to man,’ he can verify by direct observation that one -instinct is founded upon and agrees fully with the other. And it is his -duty so to verify this and all similar statements.</p> -<p class="par">The tradition says also, at a definite place and time, -that such and such actions are just, or true, or beneficent. For all -such rules a further inquiry is necessary, since they are sometimes -established by an authority other than that of the moral sense founded -on experience. Until recently, the moral tradition of our own -country—and indeed of all Europe—taught that it was -beneficent to give money indiscriminately to beggars. But the -questioning of this rule, and investigation into it, led men to see -that true beneficence is that which helps a man to do the work which he -is most fitted for, not that which keeps and encourages him in -idleness; and that to neglect this distinction in the present is to -prepare pauperism and misery for the future. By this testing and -discussion, not only has practice been purified and made more -beneficent, but the very conception of beneficence has been made wider -and wiser. Now here the great social heirloom consists of two parts: -the instinct of beneficence, which makes a certain side of our nature, -when predominant, wish to do good to men; and the intellectual -conception of beneficence, which we can compare with any proposed -course of conduct and ask, ‘Is this beneficent or not?’ By -the continual asking and answering of such questions the conception -grows in <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e1025" href="#xd21e1025" -name="xd21e1025">34</a>]</span>breadth and distinctness, and the -instinct becomes strengthened and purified. It appears then that the -great use of the conception, the intellectual part of the heirloom, is -to enable us to ask questions; that it grows and is kept straight by -means of these questions; and if we do not use it for that purpose we -shall gradually lose it altogether, and be left with a mere code of -regulations which cannot rightly be called morality at all.</p> -<p class="par">Such considerations apply even more obviously and -clearly, if possible, to the store of beliefs and conceptions which our -fathers have amassed for us in respect of the material world. We are -ready to laugh at the rule of thumb of the Australian, who continues to -tie his hatchet to the side of the handle, although the Birmingham -fitter has made a hole on purpose for him to put the handle in. His -people have tied up hatchets so for ages: who is he that he should set -himself up against their wisdom? He has sunk so low that he cannot do -what some of them must have done in the far distant past—call in -question an established usage, and invent or learn something better. -Yet here, in the dim beginning of knowledge, where science and art are -one, we find only the same simple rule which applies to the highest and -deepest growths of that cosmic Tree; to its loftiest flower-tipped -branches as well as to the profoundest of its hidden roots; the rule, -namely, that what is stored up and handed down to us is rightly used by -those who act as the makers acted, when they stored it up; those who -use it to ask further questions, to examine, to investigate; who try -honestly and solemnly to find out what is the right way of looking at -things and of dealing with them.</p> -<p class="par">A question rightly asked is already half answered, said -Jacobi; we may add that the method of solution is the other half of the -answer, and that the actual result counts for nothing by the side of -these two. For an example let us go to the telegraph, where theory and -practice, grown each to years of discretion, are marvelously wedded for -the fruitful service of men. Ohm found that the strength of an electric -current is directly proportional to the strength of the battery which -produces it, and inversely as the length of the wire along which it has -to travel. This is called Ohm’s law; but the result, regarded as -a statement to be believed, is not the valuable part of it. The first -half is the question: what relation holds good between these -quantities? So put, the question involves already the conception of -strength of current, and of strength of battery, as quantities to be -measured and compared; it hints clearly that these are the things to be -attended to in the study of electric currents. The second half is the -method of investigation; how to measure these quantities, what -instruments are required for the experiment, and how are they to be -used? The student who begins to learn about electricity is not asked to -believe in Ohm’s law: he is made to understand the question, he -is placed before the apparatus, and he is taught to verify it. He -learns to do things, not to think he knows things; to use instruments -and to ask questions, not to accept a traditional statement. The -question which required a genius to ask it rightly is answered by a -tyro. If Ohm’s law were suddenly lost and forgotten by all men, -while the question and the method of solution remained, the result -could be rediscovered in an hour. But the result by itself, if known to -a people who could not comprehend the value of the question or the -means of solving it, would be like a watch in the hands of a savage who -could not wind it up, or an iron steam-ship worked by Spanish -engineers.</p> -<p class="par">In regard, then, to the sacred tradition of humanity, we -learn that it consists, not in propositions or statements which are to -be accepted and believed on the authority of the tradition, but in -questions rightly asked, in conceptions which enable us to ask further -questions, and in methods of answering questions. The value of all -these things depends on their being tested day by day. The very -sacredness of the precious deposit imposes upon us the duty and the -responsibility of testing it, of purifying and enlarging it to the -utmost of our power. He who makes use of its results to stifle his own -doubts, or to hamper the inquiry of others, is guilty of a sacrilege -which centuries shall never be able to blot out. When the labors and -questionings of honest and brave men shall have built up the fabric of -known truth to a glory which we in this generation can neither hope for -nor imagine, in that pure and holy temple he shall have no part nor -lot, but his name and his works shall be cast out into the darkness of -oblivion forever.</p> -<p class="par"><i>III. The Limits of Inference.</i>—The question -in what cases we may believe that which goes beyond our experience, is -a very large and delicate one, extending to the whole range of -scientific <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e1037" href="#xd21e1037" -name="xd21e1037">35</a>]</span>method, and requiring a considerable -increase in the application of it before it can be answered with -anything approaching to completeness. But one rule, lying on the -threshold of the subject, of extreme simplicity and vast practical -importance, may here be touched upon and shortly laid down.</p> -<p class="par">A little reflection will show us that every belief, even -the simplest and most fundamental, goes beyond experience when regarded -as a guide to our actions. A burnt child dreads the fire, because it -believes that the fire will burn it to-day just as it did yesterday; -but this belief goes beyond experience, and assumes that the unknown -fire of to-day is like the known fire of yesterday. Even the belief -that the child was burnt yesterday goes beyond <i>present</i> -experience, which contains only the memory of a burning, and not the -burning itself; it assumes, therefore, that this memory is trustworthy, -although we know that a memory may often be mistaken. But if it is to -be used as a guide to action, as a hint of what the future is to be, it -must assume something about that future, namely, that it will be -consistent with the supposition that the burning really took place -yesterday; which is going beyond experience. Even the fundamental -‘I am,’ which cannot be doubted, is no guide to action -until it takes to itself ‘I shall be,’ which goes beyond -experience. The question is not, therefore, ‘May we believe what -goes beyond experience?’ for this is involved in the very nature -of belief; but ‘How far and in what manner may we add to our -experience in forming our beliefs?’</p> -<p class="par">And an answer, of utter simplicity and universality, is -suggested by the example we have taken: a burnt child dreads the fire. -We may go beyond experience by assuming that what we do not know is -like what we do know; or, in other words, we may add to our experience -on the assumption of a uniformity in nature. What this uniformity -precisely is, how we grow in the knowledge of it from generation to -generation, these are questions which for the present we lay aside, -being content to examine two instances which may serve to make plainer -the nature of the rule.</p> -<p class="par">From certain observations made with the spectroscope, we -infer the existence of hydrogen in the sun. By looking into the -spectroscope when the sun is shining on its slit, we see certain -definite bright lines: and experiments made upon bodies on the earth -have taught us that when these bright lines are seen hydrogen is the -source of them. We assume, then, that the unknown bright lines in the -sun are like the known bright lines of the laboratory, and that -hydrogen in the sun behaves as hydrogen under similar circumstances -would behave on the earth.</p> -<p class="par">But are we not trusting our spectroscope too much? -Surely, having found it to be trustworthy for terrestrial substances, -where its statements can be verified by man, we are justified in -accepting its testimony in other like cases; but not when it gives us -information about things in the sun, where its testimony cannot be -directly verified by man?</p> -<p class="par">Certainly, we want to know a little more before this -inference can be justified; and fortunately we do know this. The -spectroscope testifies to exactly the same thing in the two cases; -namely, that light-vibrations of a certain rate are being sent through -it. Its construction is such that if it were wrong about this in one -case, it would be wrong in the other. When we come to look into the -matter, we find that we have really assumed the matter of the sun to be -like the matter of the earth, made up of a certain number of distinct -substances; and that each of these, when very hot, has a distinct rate -of vibration, by which it may be recognized and singled out from the -rest. But this is the kind of assumption which we are justified in -using when we add to our experience. It is an assumption of uniformity -in nature, and can only be checked by comparison with many similar -assumptions which we have to make in other such cases.</p> -<p class="par">But is this a true belief, of the existence of hydrogen -in the sun? Can it help in the right guidance of human action?</p> -<p class="par">Certainly not, if it is accepted on unworthy grounds, -and without some understanding of the process by which it is got at. -But when this process is taken in as the ground of the belief, it -becomes a very serious and practical matter. For if there is no -hydrogen in the sun, the spectroscope—that is to say, the -measurement of rates of vibration—must be an uncertain guide in -recognizing different substances; and consequently it ought not to be -used in chemical analysis—in assaying, for example—to the -great saving of time, trouble, and money. Whereas the acceptance of the -spectroscopic method as trustworthy, has enriched us not only with new -metals, which is a great thing, but with new processes of -investigation, which is vastly greater. <span class="pagenum">[<a id= -"xd21e1057" href="#xd21e1057" name="xd21e1057">36</a>]</span></p> -<p class="par">For another example, let us consider the way in which we -infer the truth of an historical event—say the siege of Syracuse -in the Peloponnesian war. Our experience is that manuscripts exist -which are said to be and which call themselves manuscripts of the -history of Thucydides; that in other manuscripts, stated to be by later -historians, he is described as living during the time of the war; and -that books, supposed to date from the revival of learning, tell us how -these manuscripts had been preserved and were then acquired. We find -also that men do not, as a rule, forge books and histories without a -special motive; we assume that in this respect men in the past were -like men in the present; and we observe that in this case no special -motive was present. That is, we add to our experience on the assumption -of a uniformity in the characters of men. Because our knowledge of this -uniformity is far less complete and exact than our knowledge of that -which obtains in physics, inferences of the historical kind are more -precarious and less exact than inferences in many other sciences.</p> -<p class="par">But if there is any special reason to suspect the -character of the persons who wrote or transmitted certain books, the -case becomes altered. If a group of documents give internal evidence -that they were produced among people who forged books in the names of -others, and who, in describing events, suppressed those things which -did not suit them, while they amplified such as did suit them; who not -only committed these crimes, but gloried in them as proofs of humility -and zeal; then we must say that upon such documents no true historical -inference can be founded, but only unsatisfactory conjecture.</p> -<p class="par">We may, then, add to our experience on the assumption of -a uniformity in nature; we may fill in our picture of what is and has -been, as experience gives it us, in such a way as to make the whole -consistent with this uniformity. And practically demonstrative -inference—that which gives us a right to believe in the result of -it—is a clear showing that in no other way than by the truth of -this result can the uniformity of nature be saved.</p> -<p class="par">No evidence, therefore, can justify us in believing the -truth of a statement which is contrary to, or outside of, the -uniformity of nature. If our experience is such that it cannot be -filled up consistently with uniformity, all we have a right to conclude -is that there is something wrong somewhere; but the possibility of -inference is taken away; we must rest in our experience, and not go -beyond it at all. If an event really happened which was not a part of -the uniformity of nature, it would have two properties: no evidence -could give the right to believe it to any except those whose actual -experience it was; and no inference worthy of belief could be founded -upon it at all.</p> -<p class="par">Are we then bound to believe that nature is absolutely -and universally uniform? Certainly not; we have no right to believe -anything of this kind. The rule only tells us that in forming beliefs -which go beyond our experience, we may make the assumption that nature -is practically uniform so far as we are concerned. Within the range of -human action and verification, we may form, by help of this assumption, -actual beliefs; beyond it, only those hypotheses which serve for the -more accurate asking of questions.</p> -<p class="par">To sum up:—</p> -<p class="par">We may believe what goes beyond our experience, only -when it is inferred from that experience by the assumption that what we -do not know is like what we know.</p> -<p class="par">We may believe the statement of another person, when -there is reasonable ground for supposing that he knows the matter of -which he speaks, and that he is speaking the truth so far as he knows -it.</p> -<p class="par">It is wrong in all cases to believe on insufficient -evidence; and where it is presumption to doubt and to investigate, -there it is worse than presumption to believe.</p> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch4" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= -"#xd21e1309">Contents</a>]</span> -<div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="main">IV. THE ETHICS OF RELIGION.</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="par first">The word <i>religion</i> is used in many different -meanings, and there have been not a few controversies in which the main -difference between the contending parties was only this, that they -understood by <i>religion</i> two different things. I will therefore -begin by setting forth as clearly as I can one or two of the meanings -which the word appears to have in popular speech.</p> -<p class="par">First, then, it may mean a body of doctrines, as in the -common phrase, ‘The truth of the Christian religion;’ or in -this sentence, ‘The religion of the Buddha teaches that the soul -is not a distinct substance.’ Opinions differ upon the question -what doctrines may properly be called religious; some people holding -that there can be no religion without belief in a God and in a future -life, so that in their judgment the body of doctrines <span class= -"pagenum">[<a id="xd21e1090" href="#xd21e1090" name= -"xd21e1090">37</a>]</span>must necessarily include these two; while -others would insist upon other special dogmas being included, before -they could consent to call the system by this name. But the number of -such people is daily diminishing, by reason of the spread and the -increase of our knowledge about distant countries and races. To me, -indeed, it would seem rash to assert of any doctrine or its contrary -that it might not form part of a religion<span class="corr" id= -"xd21e1092" title="Source: ,">.</span> But, fortunately, it is not -necessary to any part of the discussion on which I propose to enter -that this question should be settled.</p> -<p class="par">Secondly, religion may mean a <i>ceremonial</i> or -<i>cult</i>, involving an organized priesthood and a machinery of -sacred things and places. In this sense we speak of the clergy as -ministers of religion, or of a state as tolerating the practice of -certain religions. There is a somewhat wider meaning which it will be -convenient to consider together with this one, and as a mere extension -of it, namely, that in which religion stands for the influence of a -certain priesthood. A religion is sometimes said to have been -successful when it has got its priests into power; thus some writers -speak of the wonderfully rapid success of Christianity. A nation is -said to have embraced a religion when the authorities of that nation -have granted privileges to the clergy, have made them as far as -possible the leaders of society, and have given them a considerable -share in the management of public affairs. So the northern nations of -Europe are said to have embraced the Catholic religion at an early -date. The reason why it seems to me convenient to take these two -meanings together is, that they are both related to the priesthood. -Although the priesthood itself is not called religion, so far as I -know, yet the word is used for the general influence and professional -acts of the priesthood.</p> -<p class="par">Thirdly, religion may mean a body of precepts or code of -rules, intended to guide human conduct, as in this sentence of the -authorized version of the New Testament: ‘Pure religion and -undefiled before God and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless -and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the -world’ (<a class="biblink xd21e43" title= -"Link to cited location in Bible" href= -"https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Jms%201:27">James, i. -27</a>). It is sometimes difficult to draw the line between this -meaning and the last, for it is a mark of the great majority of -religions that they confound ceremonial observances with duties having -real moral obligation. Thus in the Jewish decalogue the command to do -no work on Saturdays is found side by side with the prohibition of -murder and theft. It might seem to be the more correct as well as the -more philosophical course to follow in this matter the distinction made -by Butler between <i>moral</i> and <i>positive</i> commands, and to -class all those precepts which are not of universal moral obligation -under the head of ceremonial. And, in fact, when we come to examine the -matter from the point of view of morality, the distinction is of the -utmost importance. But from the point of view of religion there are -difficulties in making it. In the first place, the distinction is not -made, or is not understood, by religious folk in general. Innumerable -tracts and pretty stories impress upon us that Sabbath-breaking is -rather worse than stealing, and leads naturally on to materialism and -murder. Less than a hundred years ago sacrilege was punishable by -burning in France, and murder by simple decapitation. In the next -place, if we pick out a religion at haphazard, we shall find that it is -not at all easy to divide its precepts into those which are really of -moral obligation and those which are indifferent and of a ceremonial -character. We may find precepts unconnected with any ceremonial, and -yet positively immoral; and ceremonials may be immoral in themselves, -or constructively immoral on account of their known symbolism. On the -whole, it seems to me most convenient to draw the plain and obvious -distinction between those actions which a religion prescribes to -<i>all</i> its followers, whether the actions are ceremonial or not, -and those which are prescribed only as professional actions of a -sacerdotal class. The latter will come under what I have called the -second meaning of religion, the professional acts and the influence of -a priesthood. In the third meaning will be included all that -practically guides the life of a layman, in so far as this guidance is -supplied to him by his religion.</p> -<p class="par">Fourthly, and lastly, there is a meaning of the word -<i>religion</i> which has been coming more and more prominently forward -of late years, till it has even threatened to supersede all the others. -Religion has been defined as <i>morality touched with emotion</i>. I -will not here adopt this definition, because I wish to deal with the -concrete in the first place, and only to pass on to the abstract in so -far as that previous study appears to lead to it. I wish to consider -the facts of religion as we find them, and not ideal possibilities. -‘Yes, but,’ every one will say, ‘if you mean my own -religion, it is already, as a matter of <span class="pagenum">[<a id= -"xd21e1125" href="#xd21e1125" name="xd21e1125">38</a>]</span>fact, -morality touched with emotion. It is the highest morality touched with -the purest emotion, an emotion directed toward the most worthy of -objects.’ Unfortunately we do not mean your religion alone, but -all manner of heresies and heathenisms along with it: the religions of -the Thug, of the Jesuit, of the South Sea cannibal, of Confucius, of -the poor Indian with his untutored mind, of the Peculiar People, of the -Mormons, and of the old cat-worshiping Egyptian. It must be clear that -we shall restrict ourselves to a very narrow circle of what are -commonly called religious facts, unless we include in our -considerations not only morality touched with emotion, but also -immorality touched with emotion. In fact, what is really touched with -emotion in any case is that body of precepts for the guidance of a -layman’s life which we have taken to be the third meaning of -religion. In that collection of precepts there may be some agreeable to -morality, and some repugnant to it, and some indifferent, but being all -enjoined by the religion they will all be touched by the same religious -emotion. Shall we then say that religion means a feeling, an emotion, -an habitual attitude of mind toward some object or objects, or toward -life in general, which has a bearing upon the way in which men regard -the rules of conduct? I think the last phrase should be left out. An -habitual attitude of mind, of a religious character, does always have -some bearing upon the way in which men regard the rules of conduct; but -it seems sometimes as if this were an accident, and not the essence of -the religious feeling. Some devout people prefer to have their devotion -pure and simple, without admixture of any such application—they -do not want to listen to ‘cauld morality.’ And it seems as -if the religious feeling of the Greeks, and partly also of our own -ancestors, was so far divorced from morality that it affected it only, -as it were, by a side-wind, through the influence of the character and -example of the Gods. So that it seems only likely to create confusion -if we mix up morality with this fourth meaning of religion. Sometimes -religion means a code of precepts, and sometimes it means a devotional -habit of mind; the two things are sometimes connected, but also they -are sometimes quite distinct. But that the connection of these two -things is more and more insisted on, that it is the keynote of the -apparent revival of religion which has taken place in this century, is -a very significant fact, about which there is more to be said.</p> -<p class="par">As to the nature of this devotional habit of mind, there -are no doubt many who would like a closer definition. But I am not at -all prepared to say what attitude of mind may properly be called -religious, and what may not. Some will hold that religion must have a -person for its object; but the Buddha was filled with religious -feeling, and yet he had no personal object. Spinoza, the -God-intoxicated man, had no personal object for his devotion. It might -be possible to frame a definition which would fairly include all cases, -but it would require the expenditure of vast ingenuity and research, -and would not, I am inclined to think, be of much use when it was -obtained.</p> -<p class="par">Nor is the difficulty to be got over by taking any -definite and well-organized sect, whose principles are settled in black -and white; for example, the Roman Catholic Church, whose seamless unity -has just been exhibited and protected by an Œcumenical Council. -Shall we listen to Mr. Mivart, who ‘execrates without reserve -Marian persecutions, the Massacre of St. Bartholomew, and all similar -acts’? or to the editor of the <i>Dublin Review</i>, who thinks -that a teacher of false doctrines ‘should be visited by the law -with just that amount of severity which the public sentiment will -bear’? For assuredly common-sense morality will pass very -different judgments on these two distinct religions, although it -appears that experts have found room for both of them within the limits -of the Vatican definitions.</p> -<p class="par">Moreover, there is very great good to be got by widening -our view of what may be contained in religion. If we go to a man and -propose to test his own religion by the canons of common-sense -morality, he will be, most likely, offended, for he will say that his -religion is far too sublime and exalted to be affected by -considerations of that sort. But he will have no such objection in the -case of other people’s religion. And when he has found that in -the name of religion other people, in other circumstances, have -believed in doctrines that were false, have supported priesthoods that -were social evils, have taken wrong for right, and have even poisoned -the very sources of morality, he may be tempted to ask himself, -‘Is there no trace of any of these evils in my own religion, or -at least in my own conception and practice of it?’ And that is -just what we want him to do. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e1136" -href="#xd21e1136" name="xd21e1136">39</a>]</span>Bring your doctrines, -your priesthoods, your precepts, yea, even the inner devotion of your -soul, before the tribunal of conscience; she is no man’s and no -God’s vicar, but the supreme judge of men and Gods.</p> -<p class="par">Let us inquire, then, what morality has to say in regard -to religious doctrines. It deals with the <i>manner</i> of religious -belief directly, and with the <i>matter</i> indirectly. Religious -beliefs must be founded on evidence; if they are not so founded, it is -wrong to hold them. The rule of right conduct in this matter is exactly -the opposite of that implied in the two famous texts: ‘He that -believeth not shall be damned,’ and ‘Blessed are they that -have not seen and yet have believed.’ For a man who clearly felt -and recognized the duty of intellectual honesty, of carefully testing -every belief before he received it, and especially before he -recommended it to others, it would be impossible to ascribe the -profoundly immoral teaching of these texts to a true prophet or worthy -leader of humanity. It will comfort those who wish to preserve their -reverence for the character of a great teacher to remember that one of -these sayings is in the well-known forged passage at the end of the -second gospel, and that the other occurs only in the late and legendary -fourth gospel; both being described as spoken under utterly impossible -circumstances. These precepts belong to the Church and not to the -Gospel. But whoever wrote either of them down as a deliverance of one -whom he supposed to be a divine teacher, has thereby written down -himself as a man void of intellectual honesty, as a man whose word -cannot be trusted, as a man who would accept and spread about any kind -of baseless fiction for fear of believing too little.</p> -<p class="par">So far as to the manner of religious belief. Let us now -inquire what bearing morality has upon its matter. We may see at once -that this can only be indirect; for the rightness or wrongness of -belief in a doctrine depends only upon the nature of the evidence for -it, and not upon what the doctrine is. But there is a very important -way in which religious doctrine may lead to morality or immorality, and -in which, therefore, morality has a bearing upon doctrine. It is when -that doctrine declares the character and actions of the Gods who are -regarded as objects of reverence and worship. If a God is represented -as doing that which is clearly wrong, and is still held up to the -reverence of men, they will be tempted to think that in doing this -wrong thing they are not so very wrong after all, but are only -following an example which all men respect. So says Plato:—</p> -<p class="par">‘We must not tell a youthful listener that he will -be doing nothing extraordinary if he commit the foulest crimes nor yet -if he chastise the crimes of a father in the most unscrupulous manner, -but will simply be doing what the first and greatest of the Gods have -done before him....</p> -<p class="par">‘Nor yet is it proper to say in any -case—what is indeed untrue—that Gods wage war against Gods, -and intrigue and fight among themselves; that is, if the future -guardians of our state are to deem it a most disgraceful thing to -quarrel lightly with one another: far less ought we to select as -subjects for fiction and embroidery the battles of the giants, and -numerous other feuds of all sorts, in which Gods and heroes fight -against their own kith and kin. But if there is any possibility of -persuading them that to quarrel with one’s fellow is a sin of -which no member of a state was ever guilty, such ought rather to be the -language held to our children from the first, by old men and old women, -and all elderly persons; and such is the strain in which our poets must -be compelled to write. But stories like the chaining of Hera by her -son, and the flinging of Hephaistos out of heaven for trying to take -his mother’s part when his father was beating her, and all those -battles of the Gods which are to be found in Homer, must be refused -admittance into our state, whether they be allegorical or not. For a -child cannot discriminate between what is allegory and what is not; and -whatever at that age is adopted as a matter of belief has a tendency to -become fixed and indelible, and therefore, perhaps, we ought to esteem -it of the greatest importance that the fictions which children first -hear should be adapted in the most perfect manner to the promotion of -virtue.’—(Rep. ii. 378. Tr. Davies and Vaughan.)</p> -<p class="par">And Seneca says the same thing, with still more reason -in his day and country: ‘What else is this appeal to the -precedent of the Gods for, but to inflame our lusts, and to furnish -license and excuse for the corrupt act under the divine -protection?’ And again, of the character of Jupiter as described -in the popular legends: ‘This has led to no other result than to -deprive sin of its shame in man’s eyes, by showing him the God no -better than himself.’ In <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e1155" -href="#xd21e1155" name="xd21e1155">40</a>]</span>Imperial Rome, the -sink of all nations, it was not uncommon to find ‘the intending -sinner addressing to the deified vice which he contemplated a prayer -for the success of his design; the adulteress imploring of Venus the -favors of her paramour; ... the thief praying to Hermes Dolios for aid -in his enterprise, or offering up to him the first fruits of his -plunder; ... youths entreating Hercules to expedite the death of a rich -uncle.’</p> -<p class="par">When we reflect that criminal deities were worshiped all -over the empire, we cannot but wonder that any good people were left; -that man could still be holy, although every God was vile. Yet this was -undoubtedly the case; the social forces worked steadily on wherever -there was peace and a settled government and municipal freedom; and the -wicked stories of theologians were somehow explained away and -disregarded. If men were no better than their religions, the world -would be a hell indeed.</p> -<p class="par">It is very important, however, to consider what really -ought to be done in the case of stories like these. When the poet sings -that Zeus kicked Hephaistos out of heaven for trying to help his -mother, Plato says that this fiction must be suppressed by law. We -cannot follow him there, for since his time we have had too much of -trying to suppress false doctrines by law. Plato thinks it quite -obviously clear that God cannot produce evil, and he would stop -everybody’s mouth who ventured to say that he can. But in regard -to the doctrine itself, we can only ask, ‘Is it true?’ And -that is a question to be settled by evidence. Did Zeus commit this -crime, or did he not? We must ask the apologists, the reconcilers of -religion and science, what evidence they can produce to prove that Zeus -kicked Hephaistos out of heaven. That a doctrine may lead to immoral -consequences is no reason for disbelieving it. But whether the doctrine -were true or false, one thing does clearly follow from its moral -character: namely this, that if Zeus behaved as he is said to have -behaved he ought not to be worshiped. To those who complain of his -violence and injustice it is no answer to say that the divine -attributes are far above human comprehension; that the ways of Zeus are -not our ways, neither are his thoughts our thoughts. If he is to be -worshiped, he must do something vaster and nobler and greater than good -men do, but it must be like what they do in its goodness. His actions -must not be merely a magnified copy of what bad men do. So soon as they -are thus represented, morality has something to say. Not indeed about -the fact; for it is not conscience, but reason, that has to judge -matters of fact; but about the worship of a character so represented. -If there really is good evidence that Zeus kicked Hephaistos out of -heaven, and seduced Alkmene by a mean trick, say so by all means; but -say also that it is wrong to salute his priests or to make offerings in -his temple.</p> -<p class="par">When men do their duty in this respect, morality has a -very curious indirect effect on the religious doctrine itself. As soon -as the offerings become less frequent, the evidence for the doctrine -begins to fade away; the process of theological interpretation -gradually brings out the true inner meaning of it, that Zeus did not -kick Hephaistos out of heaven, and did not seduce Alkmene.</p> -<p class="par">Is this a merely theoretical discussion about far-away -things? Let us come back for a moment to our own time and country, and -think whether there can be any lesson for us in this refusal of -common-sense morality to worship a deity whose actions are a magnified -copy of what bad men do. There are three doctrines which find very wide -acceptance among our countrymen at the present day: the doctrines of -original sin, of a vicarious sacrifice, and of eternal punishments. We -are not concerned with any refined evaporations of these doctrines -which are exhaled by courtly theologians, but with the naked statements -which are put into the minds of children and of ignorant people, which -are taught broadcast and without shame in denominational schools. -Father Faber, good soul, persuaded himself that after all only a very -few people would be really damned, and Father Oxenham gives one the -impression that it will not hurt even them very much. But one learns -the practical teaching of the Church from such books as ‘A -Glimpse of Hell,’ where a child is described as thrown between -the bars upon the burning coals, there to writhe forever. The masses do -not get the elegant emasculations of Father Faber and Father Oxenham; -they get ‘a Glimpse of Hell.’</p> -<p class="par">Now to condemn all mankind for the sin of Adam and Eve; -to let the innocent suffer for the guilty; to keep any one alive in -torture forever and ever; these actions are simply magnified copies of -what bad men do. No juggling with ‘divine justice and -mercy’ can make them anything else. This must be said to all -kinds and conditions <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e1167" href= -"#xd21e1167" name="xd21e1167">41</a>]</span>of men: that if God holds -all mankind guilty for the sin of Adam, if he has visited upon the -innocent the punishment of the guilty, if he is to torture any single -soul forever, then it is wrong to worship him.</p> -<p class="par">But there is something to be said also to those who -think that religious beliefs are not indeed true, but are useful for -the masses; who deprecate any open and public argument against them, -and think that all skeptical books should be published at a high price; -who go to church, not because they approve of it themselves, but to set -an example to the servants. Let us ask them to ponder the words of -Plato, who, like them, thought that all these tales of the Gods were -fables, but still fables which might be useful to amuse children with: -‘<i>We ought to esteem it of the greatest importance that the -fictions which children first hear should be adapted in the most -perfect manner to the promotion of virtue.</i>’ If we grant to -you that it is good for poor people and children to believe some of -these fictions, is it not better, at least, that they should believe -those which are adapted to the promotion of virtue? Now the stories -which you send your servants and children to hear are adapted to the -promotion of vice. So far as the remedy is in your own hands, you are -bound to apply it; stop your voluntary subscriptions and the moral -support of your presence from any place where the criminal doctrines -are taught. You will find more men and better men to preach that which -is agreeable to their conscience, than to thunder out doctrines under -which their minds are always uneasy, and which only a continual -self-deception can keep them from feeling to be wicked.</p> -<p class="par">Let us now go on to inquire what morality has to say in -the matter of religious <i>ministrations</i>, the official acts and the -general influence of a priesthood. This question seems to me a more -difficult one than the former; at any rate it is not so easy to find -general principles which are at once simple in their nature and clear -to the conscience of any man who honestly considers them. One such -principle, indeed, there is, which can hardly be stated in a Protestant -country without meeting with a cordial response; being indeed that -characteristic of our race which made the Reformation a necessity, and -became the soul of the Protestant movement. I mean the principle which -forbids the priest to come between a man and his conscience. If it be -true, as our daily experience teaches us, that the moral sense gains in -clearness and power by exercise, by the constant endeavor to find out -and to see for ourselves what is right and what is wrong, it must be -nothing short of a moral suicide to delegate our conscience to another -man. It is true that when we are in difficulties and do not altogether -see our way, we quite rightly seek counsel and advice of some friend -who has more experience, more wisdom begot by it, more devotion to the -right than ourselves, and who, not being involved in the difficulties -which encompass us, may more easily see the way out of them. But such -counsel does not and ought not to take the place of our private -judgment; on the contrary, among wise men it is asked and given for the -purpose of helping and supporting private judgment. I should go to my -friend, not that he may tell me what to do, but that he may help me to -see what is right.</p> -<p class="par">Now, as we all know, there is a priesthood whose -influence is not to be made light of, even in our own land, which -claims to do two things: to declare with infallible authority what is -right and what is wrong, and to take away the guilt of the sinner after -confession has been made to it. The second of these claims we shall -come back upon in connection with another part of the subject. But that -claim is one which, as it seems to me, ought to condemn the priesthood -making it in the eyes of every conscientious man. We must take care to -keep this question to itself, and not to let it be confused with quite -different ones. The priesthood in question, as we all know, has taught -that as right which is not right, and has condemned as wrong some of -the holiest duties of mankind. But this is not what we are here -concerned with. Let us put an ideal case of a priesthood which, as a -matter of fact, taught a morality agreeing with the healthy conscience -of all men at a given time; but which, nevertheless, taught this as an -infallible revelation. The tendency of such teaching, if really -accepted, would be to destroy morality altogether, for it is of the -very essence of the moral sense that it is a common perception by men -of what is good for man. It arises, not in one man’s mind by a -flash of genius or a transport of ecstasy, but in all men’s -minds, as the fruit of their necessary intercourse and united labor for -a common object. When an infallible authority is set up, the voice of -this natural human conscience must <span class="pagenum">[<a id= -"xd21e1181" href="#xd21e1181" name="xd21e1181">42</a>]</span>be hushed -and schooled, and made to speak the words of a formula. Obedience -becomes the whole duty of man; and the notion of right is attached to a -lifeless code of rules, instead of being the informing character of a -nation. The natural consequence is that it fades gradually out and ends -by disappearing altogether. I am not describing a purely conjectural -state of things, but an effect which has actually been produced at -various times and in considerable populations by the influence of the -Catholic Church. It is true that we cannot find an actually crucial -instance of a pure morality taught as an infallible revelation, and so -in time ceasing to be morality for that reason alone. There are two -circumstances which prevent this. One is that the Catholic priesthood -has always practically taught an imperfect morality, and that it is -difficult to distinguish between the effects of precepts which are -wrong in themselves, and precepts which are only wrong because of the -manner in which they are enforced. The other circumstance is that the -priesthood has very rarely found a population willing to place itself -completely and absolutely under priestly control. Men must live -together and work for common objects even in priest-ridden countries; -and those conditions which in the course of ages have been able to -create the moral sense cannot fail in some degree to recall it to -men’s minds and gradually to re-enforce it. Thus it comes about -that a great and increasing portion of life breaks free from priestly -influences, and is governed upon right and rational grounds. The -goodness of men shows itself in time more powerful than the wickedness -of some of their religions.</p> -<p class="par">The practical inference is, then, that we ought to do -all in our power to restrain and diminish the influence of any -priesthood which claims to rule consciences. But when we attempt to go -beyond this plain Protestant principle, we find that the question is -one of history and politics. The question which we want to ask -ourselves—‘Is it right to support this or that -priesthood?’—can only be answered by this other question, -‘What has it done or got done?’</p> -<p class="par">In asking this question, we must bear in mind that the -word <i>priesthood</i>, as we have used it hitherto, has a very wide -meaning—namely, it means any body of men who perform special -ceremonies in the name of religion; a <i>ceremony</i> being an act -which is prescribed by religion to that body of men, but not on account -of its intrinsic rightness or wrongness. It includes, therefore, not -only the priests of Catholicism, or of the Obi rites, who lay claim to -a magical character and powers, but the more familiar clergymen or -ministers of Protestant denominations, and the members of monastic -orders. But there is a considerable difference, pointed out by Hume, -between a priest who lays claim to a magical character and powers, and -a clergymen, in the English sense, as it was understood in Hume’s -day, whose office was to remind people of their duties every Sunday, -and to represent a certain standard of culture in remote country -districts. It will, perhaps, conduce to clearness if we use the word -<i>priest</i> exclusively in the first sense.</p> -<p class="par">There is another confusion which we must endeavor to -avoid, if we would really get at the truth of this matter. When one -ventures to doubt whether the Catholic clergy has really been an -unmixed blessing to Europe, one is generally met by the reply, -‘You cannot find any fault with the Sermon on the Mount.’ -Now it would be too much to say that this has nothing to do with the -question we were proposing to ask, for there is a sense in which the -Sermon on the Mount and the Catholic clergy have something to do with -each other. The Sermon on the Mount is admitted on all hands to be the -best and most precious thing that Christianity has offered to the -world; and it cannot be doubted that the Catholic clergy of East and -West were the only spokesmen of Christianity until the Reformation, and -are the spokesmen of the vast majority of Christians at this moment. -But it must surely be unnecessary to say in a Protestant country that -the Catholic Church and the Gospel are two very different things. The -moral teaching of Christ, as partly preserved in the three first -gospels, or—which is the same thing—the moral teaching of -the great Rabbi Hillel, as partly preserved in the Pirke Aboth, is the -expression of the conscience of a people who had fought long and -heroically for their national existence. In that terrible conflict they -had learned the supreme and overwhelming importance of conduct, the -necessity for those who would survive of fighting manfully for their -lives and making a stand against the hostile powers around; the -weakness and uselessness of solitary and selfish efforts, the necessity -for a man who would be a man to lose his poor single personality in the -being of a greater and nobler combatant—the nation. <span class= -"pagenum">[<a id="xd21e1199" href="#xd21e1199" name= -"xd21e1199">43</a>]</span>And they said all this, after their fashion -of short and potent sayings, perhaps better than any other men have -said it before or since. ‘If I am not for myself,’ said the -great Hillel, ‘who is for me? And if I am only for myself, where -is the use of me? <i>And if not now, when?</i>’ It would be hard -to find a more striking contrast than exists between the sturdy -unselfish independence of this saying, and the abject and selfish -servility of the priest-ridden claimant of the skies. It was this -heroic people that produced the morality of the Sermon on the Mount. -But it was not they who produced the priests and the dogmas of -Catholicism. Shaven crowns, linen vestments, and the claim to priestly -rule over consciences, these were dwellers on the banks of the Nile. -The gospel indeed came out of Judæa, but the Church and her -dogmas came out of Egypt. Not, as it is written, ‘Out of Egypt -have I called my son,’ but ‘Out of Egypt have I called my -daughter.’ St. Gregory of Nazianzum remarked with wonder that -Egypt, having so lately worshiped bulls, goats, and crocodiles, was now -teaching the world the worship of the Trinity in its truest form. Poor, -simple St. Gregory! it was not that Egypt had risen higher, but that -the world had sunk lower. The empire, which in the time of Augustus had -dreaded, and with reason, the corrupting influence of Egyptian -superstitions, was now eaten up by them, and rapidly rotting away.</p> -<p class="par">Then, when we ask what has been the influence of the -Catholic clergy upon European nations, we are not inquiring about the -results of accepting the morality of the Sermon on the Mount; we are -inquiring into the effect of attaching an Egyptian priesthood, which -teaches Egyptian dogmas, to the life and sayings of a Jewish -prophet.</p> -<p class="par">In this inquiry, which requires the knowledge of facts -beyond our own immediate experience, we must make use of the great -principle of authority, which enables us to profit by the experience of -other men. The great civilized countries on the continent of Europe at -the present day—France, Germany, Austria, and Italy—have -had an extensive experience of the Catholic clergy for a great number -of centuries, and they are forced by strong practical reasons to form a -judgment upon the character and tendencies of an institution which is -sufficiently powerful to command the attention of all who are -interested in public affairs. We might add the experience of our -forefathers three centuries ago, and of Ireland at this moment; but -home politics are apt to be looked upon with other eyes than those of -reason. Let us hear, then, the judgment of the civilized people of -Europe on this question.</p> -<p class="par">It is a matter of notoriety that an aider and abettor of -clerical pretensions is regarded in France as an enemy of France and of -Frenchmen; in Germany as an enemy of Germany and of Germans; in Austria -as an enemy of Austria and Hungary, of both Austrians and Magyars; and -in Italy as an enemy of Italy and the Italians. He is so regarded, not -by a few wild and revolutionary enthusiasts who have cast away all the -beliefs of their childhood and all bonds connecting them with the past, -but by a great and increasing majority of sober and conscientious men -of all creeds and persuasions, who are filled with a love for their -country, and whose hopes and aims for the future are animated and -guided by the examples of those who have gone before them, and by a -sense of the continuity of national life. The profound conviction and -determination of the people in all these countries, that the clergy -must be restricted to a purely ceremonial province, and must not be -allowed to interfere, as clergy, in public affairs—this -conviction and determination, I say, are not the effect of a rejection -of the Catholic dogmas. Such rejection has not in fact been made in -Catholic countries by the great majority. It involves many difficult -speculative questions, the profound disturbance of old habits of -thought, and the toilsome consideration of abstract ideas. But such is -the happy inconsistency of human nature, that men who would be shocked -and pained by a doubt about the central doctrines of their religions -are far more really and practically shocked and pained by the moral -consequences of clerical ascendency. About the dogmas they do not know; -they were taught them in childhood, and have not inquired into them -since, and therefore they are not competent witnesses to the truth of -them. But about the priesthood they do know, by daily and hourly -experience; and to its character they are competent witnesses. No man -can express his convictions more forcibly than by acting upon them in a -great and solemn matter of national importance. In all these countries -the conviction of the serious and sober majority of the people is -embodied, and is being daily embodied, in special legislation, openly -and avowedly intended to guard against clerical aggression. The more -<span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e1210" href="#xd21e1210" name= -"xd21e1210">44</a>]</span>closely the legislature of these countries -reflects the popular will, the more clear and pronounced does this -tendency become. It may be thwarted or evaded for the moment by -constitutional devices and parliamentary tricks, but sooner or later -the nation will be thoroughly represented in all of them: and as to -what is then to be expected, let the panic of the clerical parties make -answer.</p> -<p class="par">This is a state of opinion and of feeling which we in -our own country find it hard to understand, although it is one of the -most persistent characters of our nation in past times. We have spoken -so plainly and struck so hard in the past, that we seem to have won the -right to let this matter alone. We think our enemies are dead, and we -forget that our neighbor’s enemies are plainly alive: and then we -wonder that he does not sit down and be quiet as we are. We are not -much accustomed to be afraid, and we never know when we are beaten. But -those who are nearer to the danger feel a very real and, it seems to -me, well-grounded fear. The whole structure of modern society, the -fruit of long and painful efforts, the hopes of further improvement, -the triumphs of justice, of freedom, and of light, the bonds of -patriotism which make each nation one, the bonds of humanity which -bring different nations together—all these they see to be menaced -with a great and real and even pressing danger. For myself I confess -that I cannot help feeling as they feel. It seems to me quite possible -that the moral and intellectual culture of Europe, the light and the -right, what makes life worth having and men worthy to have it, may be -clean swept away by a revival of superstition. We are, perhaps, -ourselves not free from such a domestic danger; but no one can doubt -that the danger would speedily arise if all Europe at our side should -become again barbaric, not with the weakness and docility of a -barbarism which has never known better, but with the strength of a past -civilization perverted to the service of evil.</p> -<p class="par">Those who know best, then, about the Catholic priesthood -at present, regard it as a standing menace to the state and to the -moral fabric of society.</p> -<p class="par">Some would have us believe that this condition of things -is quite new, and has in fact been created by the Vatican Council. In -the Middle Ages, they say, the Church did incalculable service; or even -if you do not allow that, yet the ancient Egyptian priesthood invented -many useful arts; or if you have read anything which is not to their -credit, there were the Babylonians and Assyrians who had priests, -thousands of years ago; and in fact, the more you go back into -prehistoric ages, and the further you go away into distant countries, -the less you can find to say against the priesthoods of those times and -places. This statement, for which there is certainly much foundation, -may be put into another form: the more you come forward into modern -times and neighboring countries, where the facts can actually be got -at, the more complete is the evidence against the priesthoods of these -times and places. But the whole argument is founded upon what is at -least a doubtful view of human nature and of society. Just as an early -school of geologists were accustomed to explain the present state of -the earth’s surface by supposing that in primitive ages the -processes of geologic change were far more violent and rapid than they -are now—so catastrophic, indeed, as to constitute a thoroughly -different state of things—so there is a school of historians who -think that the intimate structure of human nature, its capabilities of -learning and of adapting itself to society, have so far altered within -the historic period as to make the present processes of social change -totally different in character from those even of the moderately -distant past. They think that institutions and conditions which are -plainly harmful to us now have at other times and places done good and -serviceable work. War, pestilence, priestcraft, and slavery have been -represented as positive boons to an early state of society. They are -not blessings to us, it is true; but then times have altered very -much.</p> -<p class="par">On the other hand, a later school of geologists have -seen reason to think that the processes of change have never, since the -earth finally solidified, been very different from what they are now. -More rapid, indeed, they must have been in early times, for many -reasons; but not so very much more rapid as to constitute an entirely -different state of things. And it does seem to me in like manner that a -wider and more rational view of history will recognize more and more of -the permanent, and less and less of the changeable, element in human -nature. No doubt our ancestors of a thousand generations back were very -different beings from ourselves; perhaps fifty thousand generations -back they were not men at all. But the historic period is hardly to be -stretched beyond two hundred generations; <span class="pagenum">[<a id= -"xd21e1220" href="#xd21e1220" name="xd21e1220">45</a>]</span>and it -seems unreasonable to expect that in such a tiny page of our biography -we can trace with clearness the growth and progress of a long life. -Compare Egypt in the time of King Menes, say six thousand years ago, -with Spain in this present century, before Englishmen made any railways -there: I suppose the main difference is that the Egyptians washed -themselves. It seems more analogous to what we find in other fields of -inquiry to suppose that there are certain great broad principles of -human life which have been true all along; that certain conditions have -always been favorable to the health of society, and certain other -conditions always hurtful.</p> -<p class="par">Now, although I have many times asked for it from those -who said that somewhere and at some time mankind had derived benefits -from a priesthood laying claim to a magical character and powers, I -have never been able to get any evidence for their statement. Nobody -will give me a date, and a latitude and longitude, that I may examine -into the matter. ‘In the Middle Ages the priests and monks were -the sole depositaries of learning.’ Quite so; a man burns your -house to the ground, builds a wretched hovel on the ruins, and then -takes credit for whatever shelter there is about the place. In the -Middle Ages nearly all learned men were obliged to become priests and -monks. ‘Then again, the bishops have sometimes acted as tribunes -of the people, to protect them against the tyranny of kings.’ No -doubt, when Pope and Cæsar fall out, honest men may come by their -own. If two men rob you in a dark lane, and then quarrel over the -plunder, so that you get a chance to escape with your life, you will of -course be very grateful to each of them for having prevented the other -from killing you; but you would be much more grateful to a policeman -who locked them both up. Two powers have sought to enslave the people, -and have quarreled with each other; certainly we are very much obliged -to them for quarreling, but a condition of still greater happiness and -security would be the non-existence of both.</p> -<p class="par">I can find no evidence that seriously militates against -the rule that the priest is at all times and in all places the enemy of -all men—<i>Sacerdos semper, ubique, et omnibus inimicus</i>. I do -not deny that the priest is very often a most earnest and conscientious -man, doing the very best that he knows of as well as he can do it. Lord -Amberley is quite right in saying that the blame rests more with the -laity than with the priesthood; that it has insisted on magic and -mysteries, and has forced the priesthood to produce them. But then, how -dreadful is the system that puts good men to such uses!</p> -<p class="par">And although it is true that in its origin a priesthood -is the effect of an evil already existing, a symptom of social disease -rather than a cause of it, yet, once being created and made powerful, -it tends in many ways to prolong and increase the disease which gave it -birth. One of these ways is so marked and of such practical importance -that we are bound to consider it here: I mean the education of -children. If there is one lesson which history forces upon us in every -page, it is this: <i>Keep your children away from the priest, or he -will make them the enemies of mankind</i>. It is not the Catholic -clergy and those like them who are alone to be dreaded in this matter; -even the representatives of apparently harmless religions may do -incalculable mischief if they get education into their hands. To the -early Mohammedans the mosque was the one public building in every place -where public business could be transacted; and so it was naturally the -place of primary education, which they held to be a matter of supreme -importance. By and by, as the clergy grew up, the mosque was gradually -usurped by them, and primary education fell into their hands. Then -ensued a ‘revival of religion;’ religion became a -fanaticism: books were burnt and universities were closed; the empire -rotted away in East and West, until it was conquered by Turkish savages -in Asia and by Christian savages in Spain.</p> -<p class="par">The labors of students of the early history of -institutions—notably Sir Henry Maine and M. de -Laveleye—have disclosed to us an element of society which appears -to have existed in all times and places, and which is the basis of our -own social structure. The village community, or commune, or township, -found in tribes of the most varied race and time, has so modified -itself as to get adapted in one place or another to all the different -conditions of human existence. This union of men to work for a common -object has transformed them from wild animals into tame ones. Century -by century the educating process of the social life has been working at -human nature; it has built itself into our inmost soul. Such as we -are—moral and rational beings—thinking and talking in -general conceptions about the facts that <span class="pagenum">[<a id= -"xd21e1237" href="#xd21e1237" name="xd21e1237">46</a>]</span>make up -our life, feeling a necessity to act, not for ourselves, but for -Ourself, for the larger life of Man in which we are elements; such -moral and rational beings, I say, Man has made us. By Man I mean men -organized into a society, which fights for its life, not only as a mere -collection of men who must separately be kept alive, but as a society. -It must fight not only against external enemies, but against treason -and disruption within it. Hence comes the unity of interest of all its -members; each of them has to feel that he is not himself only but a -part of all the rest. Conscience—the sense of right and -wrong—springs out of the habit of judging things from the point -of view of all and not of one. It is Ourself, not ourselves, that makes -for righteousness.</p> -<p class="par">The codes of morality, then, which are adopted into -various religions, and afterward taught as parts of religious systems, -are derived from secular sources. The most ancient version of the Ten -Commandments, whatever the investigations of scholars may make it out -to be, originates, not in the thunders of Sinai, but in the peaceful -life of men on the plains of Chaldæa. Conscience is the voice of -Man ingrained into our hearts, commanding us to work for Man.</p> -<p class="par">Religions differ in the treatment which they give to -this most sacred heirloom of our past history. Sometimes they invert -its precepts—telling men to be submissive under oppression -because the powers that be are ordained of God; telling them to believe -where they have not seen, and to play with falsehood in order that a -particular doctrine may prevail, instead of seeking for truth whatever -it may be; telling them to betray their country for the sake of their -church. But there is one great distinction to which I wish, in -conclusion, to call special attention—a distinction between two -kinds of religious emotion which bear upon the conduct of men.</p> -<p class="par">We said that conscience is the voice of Man within us, -commanding us to work for Man. We do not know this immediately by our -own experience; we only know that something within us commands us to -work for Man. This fact men have tried to explain; and they have -thought, for the most part, that this voice was the voice of a God. But -the explanation takes two different forms: the God may speak in us for -Man’s sake, or for his own sake. If he speaks for his own -sake—and this is what generally happens when he has priests who -lay claim to a magical character and powers—our allegiance is apt -to be taken away from Man, and transferred to the God. When we love our -brother for the sake of our brother, we help all men to grow in the -right; but when we love our brother for the sake of somebody else, who -is very likely to damn our brother, it very soon comes to burning him -alive for his soul’s health. When men respect human life for the -sake of Man, tranquillity, order and progress go hand in hand; but -those who only respected human life because God had forbidden murder -have set their mark upon Europe in fifteen centuries of blood and -fire.</p> -<p class="par">These are only two examples of a general rule. Wherever -the allegiance of men has been diverted from Man to some divinity who -speaks to men for his own sake and seeks his own glory, one thing has -happened. The right precepts might be enforced, but they were enforced -upon wrong grounds, and they were not obeyed. But right precepts are -not always enforced; the fact that the fountains of morality have been -poisoned makes it easy to substitute wrong precepts for right ones.</p> -<p class="par">To this same treason against humanity belongs the claim -of the priesthood to take away the guilt of a sinner after confession -has been made to it. The Catholic priest professes to act as an -embassador for his God, and to absolve the guilty man by conveying to -him the forgiveness of heaven. If his credentials were ever so sure, if -he were indeed the embassador of a superhuman power, the claim would be -treasonable. Can the favor of the Czar make guiltless the murderer of -old men and women and children in Circassian valleys? Can the pardon of -the Sultan make clean the bloody hands of a Pasha? As little can any -God forgive sins committed against man. When men think he can, they -compound for old sins which the God did not like by committing new ones -which he does like. Many a remorseful despot has atoned for the -levities of his youth by the persecution of heretics in his old age. -That frightful crime, the adulteration of food, could not possibly be -so common among us if men were not taught to regard it as merely -objectionable because it is remotely connected with stealing, of which -God has expressed his disapproval in the Decalogue; and therefore as -quite, naturally set right by a punctual attendance at church on -Sundays. When a Ritualist <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e1249" -href="#xd21e1249" name="xd21e1249">47</a>]</span>breaks his fast before -celebrating the Holy Communion, his deity can forgive him if he likes, -for the matter concerns nobody else; but no deity can forgive him for -preventing his parishioners from setting up a public library and -reading-room for fear they should read Mr. Darwin’s works in it. -That sin is committed against the people, and a God cannot take it -away.</p> -<p class="par">I call those religions which undermine the supreme -allegiance of the conscience to Man <i>ultramontane</i> religions, -because they seek their springs of action <i>ultra montes</i>, outside -of the common experience and daily life of man. And I remark about them -that they are especially apt to teach wrong precepts, and that even -when they command men to do the right things they put the command upon -wrong motives, and do not get the things done.</p> -<p class="par">But there are forms of religious emotion which do not -thus undermine the conscience. Far be it from me to under-value the -help and strength which many of the bravest of our brethren have drawn -from the thought of an unseen helper of men. He who, wearied or -stricken in the fight with the powers of darkness, asks himself in a -solitary place, ‘Is it all for nothing? shall we indeed be -overthrown?’—he does find something which may justify that -thought. In such a moment of utter sincerity, when a man has bared his -own soul before the immensities and the eternities, a presence in which -his own poor personality is shriveled into nothingness arises within -him, and says, as plainly as words can say, ‘I am with thee, and -I am greater than thou.’ Many names of Gods, of many shapes, have -men given to this presence; seeking by names and pictures to know more -clearly and to remember more continually the guide and the helper of -men. No such comradeship with the Great Companion shall have anything -but reverence from me, who have known the divine gentleness of Denison -Maurice, the strong and healthy practical instinct of Charles Kingsley, -and who now revere with all my heart the teaching of James Martineau. -They seem to me, one and all, to be reaching forward with loving -anticipation to a clearer vision which is yet to come—<i lang= -"la">tendentesque manus ripæ ulterioris amore</i>. For, after -all, such a helper of men, outside of humanity, the truth will not -allow us to see. The dim and shadowy outlines of the superhuman deity -fade slowly away from before us; and as the mist of his presence floats -aside, we perceive with greater and greater clearness the shape of a -yet grander and nobler figure—of Him who made all Gods and shall -unmake them. From the dim dawn of history, and from the inmost depth of -every soul, the face of our father Man looks out upon us with the fire -of eternal youth in his eyes, and says, ‘Before Jehovah was, I -am!’ <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e1264" href="#xd21e1264" -name="xd21e1264">48</a>]</span></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="back"> -<div id="toc" class="div1 contents"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= -"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> -<div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="main">CONTENTS.</h2> -<table class="tocList"> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum"></td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="5"></td> -<td class="tocPageNum">PAGE</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">I.</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="5"><a href="#ch1" id="xd21e1279" name= -"xd21e1279">The Scientific Basis of Morals</a></td> -<td class="tocPageNum">1</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">II.</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="5"><a href="#ch2" id="xd21e1289" name= -"xd21e1289">Right and Wrong</a></td> -<td class="tocPageNum">7</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">III.</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="5"><a href="#ch3" id="xd21e1299" name= -"xd21e1299">The Ethics of Belief</a></td> -<td class="tocPageNum">25</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">IV.</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="5"><a href="#ch4" id="xd21e1309" name= -"xd21e1309">The Ethics of Religion</a></td> -<td class="tocPageNum">36</td> -</tr> -</table> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div1 ads"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= -"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> -<div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="main xd21e1316">TWO WORKS<br> -ON<br> -POLITICAL ECONOMY<br> -BY<br> -HENRY GEORGE.</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="par first">I. PROGRESS AND POVERTY.</p> -<p class="par">This work is universally admitted to be the most -original and most forcible discussion of the facts and principles of -politico-economic science produced in our time. It has been translated -into all the languages of Continental Europe, and it is producing a -revolution in the domain of Sociology and Government.</p> -<p class="par"><i><b>Price</b></i>, post free, <i><b>24 -cents</b></i>.</p> -<p class="par">II. SOCIAL PROBLEMS.</p> -<p class="par">From the Author’s Preface:—“My -endeavor has been to present the momentous social problems of our time, -unincumbered by technicalities, and without that abstract reasoning -which some of the principles of Political Economy (or perhaps, rather, -false teachings in regard to them) require for thorough -comprehension.”</p> -<p class="par"><i><b>Price</b></i>, post free, <i><b>50 -cents</b></i>.</p> -<p class="par"><i>As I do not supply these books to the Trade</i>, -orders should be addressed direct to</p> -<p class="par">J. FITZGERALD,</p> -<p class="par"><i><b>20 Lafayette Place, New York</b></i>.</p> -<p class="par">⁂ Remittances may be made in One-cent or Two-cent -Postage-stamps.</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div1 ads"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= -"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> -<div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="main xd21e1316">THE ELECTRICIAN AND ELECTRICAL ENGINEER</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="par first xd21e281">An Illustrated Monthly Review of -Theoretical and Applied Science.</p> -<p class="par">Every person directly or indirectly interested in -Electricity will find this a journal fulfilling all their requirements. -Its special features are able, independent and impartial Editorials; -original Contributions from Leading Scientific Writers; practical -Papers and Discussions by Practical Men; valuable information for -Students and Amateurs; references to all Electrical Papers of -importance in other Periodicals; complete list of new Electrical -Publications with Reviews of all important works; Abstracts and -Extracts from Current Scientific Literature; condensed Monthly Resume -of Electrical Progress at home and abroad, especially in the -Departments of Telegraphy, Telephony, Electric Lighting, Transmission -of Power, Manufacture and Trade, etc., etc.; Inventors’ Record, -including classified lists of United States Patents, Abstracts of Legal -Decisions in Patent Cases in the U. 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It is not a secret, the formula is -on every label. Its careful chemical composition has been superintended -for twelve years by a Professor of Materia Medica, and its correct -analysis vouched for by a Professor of Chemistry. Physicians alone have -prescribed over a million bottles, curing nervous derangements and -debility.</p> -<p class="par">It aids in the bodily, and wonderfully in the mental, -growth of children. It cures fretfulness and sleeplessness.</p> -<p class="par">By its special tonic effect upon the nerves, and its -vitalizing influence on the blood of young persons, it brightens the -eyes and gives good color to the lips; it ensures a soft, smooth skin, -glossy hair and handsome nails, so that these become an inheritance in -later years. It feeds the brain and thus strengthens the intellect, so -that study and deep mental application may be a pleasure, not a -toil.</p> -<p class="par">It is used as a special brain tonic by all the best -minds of this and other countries.</p> -<p class="par">It strengthens the powers of digestion, is a positive -cure for night-sweats, and <span class="sc">PREVENTS</span> -consumption.</p> -<p class="par">“It amplifies bodily and mental powers to the -present generation and ‘proves the survival of the -fittest,’ to the next.”</p> -<p class="par">“There is no other Vital Phosphite; none that is -extracted from living vegetable and animal tissues.”</p> -<p class="par">Send for Circular.</p> -<p class="par xd21e1372">F. CROSBY CO.,</p> -<p class="par xd21e1422"><span class="sc">56 West 25th Street, New -York</span>.</p> -<p class="par xd21e1426">For Sale by Druggists, or mailed on receipt of -$1.</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div1 ads"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= -"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="par first xd21e1430">CELEBRATED</p> -<p class="par xd21e1432">SOHMER</p> -<p class="par xd21e1372">GRAND, SQUARE AND UPRIGHT</p> -<p class="par xd21e1430">PIANOFORTES</p> -<p class="par"></p> -<div class="figure xd21e1439width"><img src="images/ad0.jpg" alt= -"Grand piano." width="426" height="349"></div> -<p class="par"></p> -<p class="par">The demands now made by an educated musical public are -so exacting that very few Piano-Forte Manufacturers can produce -Instruments that will stand the test which merit requires. SOHMER & -CO., as Manufacturers, rank amongst these chosen few, who are -acknowledged to be makers of standard Instruments. In these days, when -Manufacturers urge the low price of their wares rather than their -superior quality, as an inducement to purchase, it may not be amiss to -suggest that, in a Piano, quality and price are too inseparably joined -to expect the one without the other.</p> -<p class="par">Every Piano ought to be judged as to the quality of its -tone, its touch, and its workmanship; if any one of these is wanting in -excellence, however good the others may be, the instrument will be -imperfect. It is the combination of these qualities in the highest -degree, that constitutes the perfect Piano, and it is this combination -which has given the “SOHMER” its honorable position with -the trade and the public.</p> -<p class="par xd21e281">Received First Prize Centennial Exhibition, -Philadelphia, 1876.</p> -<p class="par xd21e281">Received First Prize at Exhibition, Montreal, -Canada, 1881 & 1882.</p> -<p class="par xd21e1372">SOHMER & CO., Manufacturers,</p> -<p class="par xd21e1453"><b>149 to 155 E. 14th St., New York</b>.</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="transcribernote"> -<h2 class="main">Colophon</h2> -<h3 class="main">Availability</h3> -<p class="par first">This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no -cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. 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