The Project Gutenberg EBook of Elements of Morals, by Paul Janet This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 Title: Elements of Morals With Special Application of the Moral Law to the Duties of the Individual and of Society and the State Author: Paul Janet Translator: C. R. Corson Release Date: August 9, 2011 [EBook #37016] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELEMENTS OF MORALS *** Produced by Jana Srna, Bryan Ness and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive.) ELEMENTS OF MORALS: WITH SPECIAL APPLICATION OF THE MORAL LAW TO THE DUTIES OF THE INDIVIDUAL AND OF SOCIETY AND THE STATE. BY PAUL JANET, MEMBER OF THE INSTITUTE, OF THE ACADEMY OF MORAL AND POLITICAL SCIENCES, AUTHOR OF THEORY OF MORALS, HISTORY OF MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY, FINAL CAUSES, ETC., ETC. TRANSLATED BY Mrs. C. R. CORSON. A. S. BARNES & CO., NEW YORK AND CHICAGO Copyright, 1884, by A. S. Barnes & Co. [Pg iii] PREFACE. The Eléments de Morale, by M. Paul Janet, which we here present to the educational world, translated from the latest edition, is, of all the works of that distinguished moralist, the one best adapted to college and school purposes. Its scholarly and methodical arrangement, its clear and direct reasonings, its felicitous examples and illustrations, drawn with rare impartiality from the best ancient and modern writers, make of this study of Ethics, generally so unattractive to young students, one singularly inviting. It is a system of morals, practical rather than theoretical, setting forth man’s duties and the application thereto of the moral law. Starting with Preliminary Notions, M. Janet follows these up with a general division of duties, establishes the general principles of social and individual morality, and chapter by chapter moves from duties to duties, developing each in all its ramifications with unerring clearness, decision, and completeness. Never before, perhaps, was this difficult subject brought to the comprehension of the student with more convincing certainty, and, at the same time, with more vivid and impressive illustrations. The position of M. Paul Janet is that of the religious moralist. “He supplies,” says a writer in the British Quarterly Review,[1] in a notice of his Theory of Morals, “the very element to which Mr. Sully gives so little place. He cannot conceive morals without religion. Stated shortly, his position is, that moral good is founded upon a natural and essential good, and that the domains of good and of duty are absolutely equivalent. So far he would seem to follow Kant; but he differs from Kant in denying that there are indefinite duties: every duty, he holds, is definite as to its form; but it is either definite or indefinite as to its application. As religion is simply belief in the Divine goodness, morality must by necessity lead to religion, and is like a flowerless plant if it fail to do so. He holds with Kant that practical faith in the existence of God is the postulate of the moral law. The two things exist or fall together.” This, as to M. Janet’s position as a moralist; as to his manner of treating his subject, the writer adds: “... it is beyond our power to set forth, with approach to success, the admirable series of reasonings and illustrations by which his positions are established and maintained.” M. Janet’s signal merit is the clearness and decision which he gives to the main points of his subject, keeping them ever distinctly in view, and strengthening and supplementing them by substantial and conclusive facts, drawn from the best sources, framing, so to say, his idea in time-honored and irrefutable truths. The law of duty thus made clear to the comprehension of the student, cannot fail to fix his attention; and between fixing the attention and striking root, the difference is not very great. C. R. C. TABLE OF CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I. —Preliminary Notions 1 II. —Division of Duties.—General Principles of Social Morality 33 III. —Duties of Justice.—Duties toward Human Life 50 IV. —Duties Concerning the Property of Others 63 V. —Duties toward the Liberty and toward the Honor of Others.—Justice, Distributive and Remunerative.—Equity 93 VI. —Duties of Charity and Self-Sacrifice 111 VII. —Duties toward the State 139 VIII. —Professional Duties 157 IX. —Duties of Nations among themselves.—International Law 182 X. —Family Duties 190 XI. —Duties toward One’s Self.—Duties relative to the Body 223 XII. —Duties relative to External Goods 244 XIII. —Duties relative to the Intellect 260 XIV. —Duties relative to the Will 281 [Pg iii] [Pg iv] [Pg v] XV. —Religious Morality.—Religious Rights and Duties 299 XVI. —Moral Medicine and Gymnastics 315 Appendix to Chapter VIII 341 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. CHAPTER I. PRELIMINARY NOTIONS. SUMMARY. Starting point of morals.—Notions of common sense. Object and divisions of morals.—Practical morality and theoretical morality. Utility of morals.—Morals are useful: 1, in protecting us against the sophisms which combat them; 2, in fixing principles in the mind; 3, in teaching us to reflect upon the motives of our actions; 4, in preparing us for the difficulties which may arise in practice. Short résumé of theoretical morality.—Pleasure and the good. —The useful and the honest.—Duty.—Moral conscience and moral sentiment.—Liberty.—Merit and demerit.—Moral responsibility.—Moral sanction. All sciences have for their starting-point certain elementary notions which are furnished them by the common experience of mankind. There would be no arithmetic if men had not, as their wants increased, begun by counting and calculating, and if they had not already had some ideas of numbers, unity, fractions, etc.; neither would there be any geometry if they had not also had ideas of the round, the square, the straight line. The same is true of morals. They presuppose a certain number of notions existing among all men, at least to some degree. Good and evil, duty and obligation, conscience, liberty and responsibility, virtue and vice, merit and demerit, sanction, punishment and reward, are notions which the philosopher has not invented, but which he has borrowed from common sense, to return them again cleared and deepened. Let us begin, then, by rapidly enumerating the elementary and common notions, the analysis and elucidation of which is the object of moral science, and explain the terms employed to express them. 1. Starting point of morals: common notions.—All men distinguish the good and the bad, good actions and bad actions. For instance, to love one’s parents, respect other people’s property, to keep one’s word, etc., is right; to harm those who have done us no harm, to deceive and lie, to be ungrateful towards our benefactors, and unfaithful to our friends, etc., is wrong. To do right is obligatory on every one—that is, it should be done; wrong, on the contrary, should be avoided. Duty is that law by which we are held to do the right and avoid the wrong. It is also called the moral law. This law, like all laws, commands, forbids, and permits. He who acts and is capable of doing the right and the wrong, and who consequently is held to obey the moral law, is called a moral agent. In order that an agent may be held to obey a law, he must know it and understand it. In morals, as in legislation, no one is supposed to be ignorant of the law. There is, then, in every man a certain knowledge of the law, that is to say, a natural discernment of the right and the wrong. This discernment is what is called conscience, or sometimes the moral sense. Conscience is an act of the mind, a judgment. But it is not only the mind that is made aware of the right and the wrong: it is the heart. Good and evil, done either by others or by ourselves, awaken in us emotions, affections of diverse nature. These emotions or affections are what collectively constitute the moral sentiment. It does not suffice that a man know and distinguish the good and the evil, and experience for the one and for the [Pg 1] [Pg 2] [Pg 3] other different sentiments; it is also necessary, in order to be a moral agent, that he be capable of choosing between them; he cannot be commanded to do what he cannot do, nor can he be forbidden to do what he cannot help doing. This power of choosing is called liberty, or free will. A free agent—one, namely, who can discern between the right and the wrong—is said to be responsible for his actions; that is to say, he can answer for them, give an account of them, suffer their consequences; he is then their real cause. His actions may consequently be attributed to him, put to his account; in other words imputed to him. The agent is responsible, the actions are imputable. Human actions, we have said, are sometimes good, sometimes bad. These two qualifications have degrees in proportion to the importance or the difficulty of the action. It is thus we call an action suitable, estimable, beautiful, admirable, sublime, etc. On the other hand, a bad action is sometimes but a simple mistake, and sometimes a crime. It is culpable, base, abominable, execrable, etc. If we observe in an agent the habit of good actions, a constant tendency to conform to the law of duty, this habit or constant tendency is called virtue, and the contrary tendency is called vice. Whilst man feels himself bound by his conscience to seek the right, he is impelled by his nature to seek pleasure. When he enjoys pleasure without any admixture of pain, he is happy; and the highest degree of possible pleasure with the least degree of possible pain is happiness. Now, experience shows that happiness is not always in harmony with virtue, and that pleasure does not necessarily accompany right doing. And yet we find such a separation unjust; and we believe in a natural and legitimate connection between pleasure and right, pain and wrong. Pleasure, considered as the consequence of well-doing, is called recompense; and pain, considered as the legitimate consequence of evil, is called punishment. When a man has done well he thinks, and all other men think, that he has a right to a recompense. When he has done ill they think the contrary, and he himself thinks also that he must atone for his wrong-doing by a chastisement. This principle, by virtue of which we declare a moral agent deserving of happiness or unhappiness according to his good or bad actions, is called the principle of merit and demerit. The sum total of the rewards and punishments attached to the execution or violation of a law is called sanction; the sanction of the moral law will then be called moral sanction. All law presupposes a legislator. The moral law will presuppose, then, a moral legislator, and morality consequently raises us to God. All human or earthly sanction being shown by observation to be insufficient, the moral law calls for a religious sanction. It is thus that morality conducts us to the immortality of the soul. If we go back upon the whole of the ideas we have just briefly expressed, we shall see that at each of the steps we have taken there are always two contraries opposed the one to the other: good and evil, command and prohibition, virtue and vice, merit and demerit, pleasure and pain, reward and punishment. Human life presents itself, then, under two aspects. Man can choose between the two. This power is liberty. This choice is difficult and laborious; it exacts from us incessant efforts. It is for this reason that life is said to be a trial, and is often represented as a combat. It should therefore not be represented as a play, but rather as a manly and valiant effort. Struggle is its condition, peace its prize. Such are the fundamental ideas morality has for its object, and of which it seeks, at the same time, both the principles and the applications. 2. What is morality? the object of morality.—Morality may be considered as a science or as an art. By science we understand a totality of truths connected with each other concerning one and the same object. Science has for its object proper, knowledge. By art we understand a totality of rules or precepts for directing activity towards a definite end; art has for its object proper, action. Science is theoretical or speculative; art is practical. Morality is a science inasmuch as it seeks to know and demonstrate the principles and conditions of morality; it is an art inasmuch as it shows and prescribes to us its applications. As science, morality may be defined: science of good or science of duty. As art, morality may be defined: the art of right living or the art of right acting. 3. Division of morality.—Morality is divided into two parts: in one it studies principles, in the other, applications; in the one, duty; in the other, duties. Hence a theoretical morality and a practical morality. The first may also be called general morality, and the second particular morality, because the first has for its object the study of the common and general character of all our duties, and the other especially that of the particular duties, which vary according to objects and [Pg 4] [Pg 5] circumstances. It is in the first that morality has especially the character of science, and in the second, the character of art. 4. Utility of morality.—The utility of moral science has been disputed. The ancients questioned whether virtue could be taught. It may also be asked whether it should be taught. Morality, it is said, depends much more upon the heart than upon the reasoning faculties. It is rather by education, example, habit, religion, sentiment, than through theories, that men become habituated to virtue. If this were so, moral science would be of no use. However, though it may be true that for happiness nothing can take the place of practice, it does not follow that reflection and study may not very efficaciously contribute toward it, and for the following reasons: 1. It often happens that evil has its origin in the sophisms of the mind, sophisms ever at the service of the passions. It is therefore necessary to ward off or prevent these sophisms by a thorough discussion of principles. 2. A careful study of the principles of morality causes them to penetrate deeper into the soul and gives them there greater fixity. 3. Morality consists not only in the actions themselves, but especially in the motives of our actions. An outward morality, wholly of habit and imitation, is not yet the true morality. Morality must needs be accompanied by conscience and reflection. So viewed, moral science is a necessary element of a sound education, and the higher its principles the more the conscience is raised and refined. 4. Life often presents moral problems for our solution. If the mind is not prepared for them it will lack certainty of decision; what above all is to be feared is that it will mostly prefer the easier and the more convenient solution. It should be fortified in advance against its own weakness by acquiring the habit of judging of general questions before events put it to the proof. Such is the utility of morality. It is of the same service to man as geometry is to the workman; it does not take the place of tact and common sense, but it guides and perfects them. It is well understood, moreover, that such a study in nowise excludes, it even exacts, the co-operation of all the practical means we have indicated above, which constitute what is called education. Doctrinal teaching is but the complement and confirmation of teaching by practice and by example. 5. Short résumé of theoretical morality.—Theoretical morality should, in fact, precede practical morality, and that is what usually takes place; but as it presents more difficulties and less immediate applications than practical morality, we shall defer the developments it may give rise to, to a subsequent year.[2] The present will be a short résumé, purely elementary, containing only preliminary and strictly necessary notions. It will be an exposition of the common notions we have just enumerated above. 6. Pleasure and the good.—Morality being, as we have said, the science of the good, the first question that presents itself is: What is good? If we are to believe the first impulses of nature, which instinctively urge us towards the agreeable and cause us to repel all that is painful, the answer to the preceding question would not be difficult; we should have but to reply: “Good is what makes us happy; good is pleasure.” One can, without doubt, affirm that morality teaches us to be happy, and puts us on the way to true happiness. But it is not, as one might believe, in obeying that blind law of nature which inclines us towards pleasure, that we shall be truly happy. The road morality points out is less easy, but surer. Some very simple reflections will suffice to show us that it cannot be said absolutely that pleasure is the good and pain the bad. Experience and reasoning easily demonstrate the falsity of this opinion. 1. Pleasure is not always a good, and in certain circumstances it may even become a real evil; and, vice versa, pain is not always an evil, and it may even become a great good. Thus we see, on the one hand, that the pleasures of intemperance bring with them sickness, the loss of health and reason, shortening of life. The pleasures of idleness bring poverty, uselessness, the contempt of men. The pleasures of vengeance and of crime carry with them chastisement, remorse, etc. Conversely, again, we see the most painful troubles and trials bringing with them evident good. The amputation of a limb saves our life; energetic and painstaking work brings comfort, etc. In these different cases, if we consider their results, it is pleasure that is an evil and pain a good. 2. It must be added that among the pleasures there are some that are low, degrading, vulgar; for example, the pleasures of drunkenness; others, again, that are noble and generous, as the heroism of the soldier. Among the pleasures of man there are some he has in common with the beasts, and others that are peculiar to him alone. Shall we put the one kind and the other on the same level? Assuredly not. 3. There are pleasures very keen, which, however, are fleeting, and soon pass away, as the pleasures of the passions; others which are durable and continuous, as those of health, security, domestic comfort, and the respect of mankind. Shall we sacrifice life-long pleasures to pleasures that last but an hour? 4. Other pleasures are very great, but equally uncertain, and dependent on chance; as, for instance, the pleasures [Pg 6] [Pg 7] [Pg 8] of ambition or the pleasures of the gaming-table; others, again, calmer and less intoxicating, but surer, as the pleasures of the family circle. Pleasures may then be compared in regard to certainty, purity, durability, intensity, etc. Experience teaches that we should not seek pleasures without distinction and choice; that we should use our reason and compare them; that we should sacrifice an uncertain and fleeting present to a durable future; prefer the simple and peaceful pleasures, free from regrets, to the tumultuous and dangerous pleasures of the passions, etc.; in a word, sacrifice the agreeable to the useful. 7. Utility and honesty.—One should prefer, we have just seen, the useful to the agreeable; but the useful itself should not be confounded with the real good—that is, with the honest. Let us explain the differences between these two ideas. 1. There is no honesty or moral goodness without disinterestedness; and he who never seeks anything but his own personal interest is branded by all as a selfish man. 2. Interest gives only advice; morality gives commands. A man is not obliged to be skillful, but he is obliged to be honest. 3. Personal interest cannot be the foundation of any universal and general law as applicable to others as to ourselves, for the happiness of each depends on his own way of viewing things. Every man takes his pleasure where he finds it, and understands his interest as he pleases; but honesty or justice is the same for all men. 4. The honest is clear and self-evident; the useful is uncertain. Conscience tells every one what is right or wrong; but it requires a long trained experience to calculate all the possible consequences of our actions, and it would often be absolutely impossible for us to foresee them. We cannot, therefore, always know what is useful to us; but we can always know what is right. 5. It is never impossible to do right; but one cannot always carry out his own wishes in order to be happy. The prisoner may always bravely bear his prison, but he cannot always get out of it. 6. We judge ourselves according to the principles of action we recognize. The man who loses in gambling may be troubled and regret his imprudence; but he who is conscious of having cheated in gambling (though he won thereby) must despise himself if he judges himself from the standpoint of moral law. This law must therefore be something else than the principle of personal happiness. For, to be able to say to one’s self, “I am a villain, though I have filled my purse,” requires another principle than that by which one congratulates himself, saying, “I am a prudent man, for I have filled my cash-box.” 7. The idea of punishment or chastisement could not be understood, moreover, if the good only were the useful. A man is not punished for having been awkward; he is punished for being culpable. 8. The good or the honest.—We have just seen that neither pleasure nor usefulness is the legitimate and supreme object of human life. We are certainly permitted to seek pleasure, since nature invites us to it; but we should not make it the aim of life. We are also permitted, and even sometimes commanded, to seek what is useful, since reason demands we see to our self-preservation. But, above pleasure and utility, there is another aim, a higher aim, the real object of human life. This higher and final aim is what we call, according to circumstances, the good, the honest, and the just. Now, what is honesty? We distinguish in man a double nature, body and soul; and in the soul itself two parts, one superior, one inferior; one more particularly deserving of the name of soul, the other more carnal, more material, if one may say so, which comes nearer the body. In one class we have intelligence, sentiments, will; in the other, senses, appetites, passions. Now, that which distinguishes man from the lower animal is the power to rise above the senses, appetites, and passions, and to be capable of thinking, loving, and willing. Thus, moral good consists in preferring what there is best in us to what there is least good; the goods of the soul to the goods of the body; the dignity of human nature to the servitude of animal passions; the noble affections of the heart to the inclinations of a vile selfishness. In one word, moral good consists in man becoming truly man—that is to say, “A free will, guided by the heart and enlightened by reason.” Moral good takes different names, according to the relations under which we consider it. For instance, when we consider it as having for its special object the individual man in relation with himself, good becomes what is properly called the honest, and has for its prime object personal dignity. In its relation with other men, good takes the name of the just, and has for its special object the happiness of others. It consists either in not doing to others what we should not wish they should do to us, or in doing to others as we should ourselves wish to be done by. Finally, in its relation to God, the good is called piety or saintliness, and consists in rendering to the Father of men and of the universe what is his due. [Pg 9] [Pg 10] [Pg 11] 9. Duty.—Thus, the honest, the just, and the pious are the different names which moral good takes in its relations to ourselves, to other men, or to God. Moral good, under these different forms, presents itself always in the same character, namely, imposing on us the obligation to do it as soon as we recognize it, and that, too, without regard to consequences and whatever be our inclinations to the contrary. Thus, we should tell the truth even though it injures us; we should respect the property of others, though it be necessary to our existence; finally, we should even sacrifice, if necessary, our life for the family and the country. This law, which prescribes to us the doing right for its own sake, is what is called moral law or the law of duty. It is a sort of constraint, but a moral constraint, and is distinguished from physical constraint by the fact that the latter is dictated by fate and is irresistible, whilst the constraint of duty imposes itself upon our reason without violating our liberty. This kind of necessity, which commands reason alone without constraining the will, is moral obligation. To say that the right is obligatory is to say, then, that we consider ourselves held to do it, without being forced to do it. On the contrary, if we were to do it by force it would cease to be the right. It must therefore be done freely, and duty may thus be defined an obligation consented to. Duty presents itself in a two-fold character: it is absolute and universal. 1. It is absolute: that is to say, it imposes its commands unconditionally, without taking account of our desires, our passions, our interests. It is by this that the commands of duty may be distinguished, as we have already said, from the counsels of an interested prudence. The rules or calculations of prudence are nothing but means to reach a certain end, which is the useful. The law of duty, on the contrary, is in itself its own aim. Here the law should be obeyed for its own sake, and not for any other reason. Prudence says: “The end justifies the means.” Duty says: “Do as thou shouldst do, let come what will.” 2. From this first character a second is deduced: duty being absolute, is universal; that is to say, it can be applied to all men in the same manner and under the same circumstances; whence it follows that each must acknowledge that this law is imposed not only on himself, but on all other men also. To which correspond those two beautiful maxims of the Gospel: “Do to others as thou wishest to be done by. Do not do to others what thou dost not wish they should do to thee.” The law of duty is not only obligatory in itself, it is so also because it is derived from God, who in his justice and goodness wishes we should submit to it. God being himself the absolutely perfect being, and having created us in his image, wishes, for this very reason, that we should make every effort to imitate him as much as possible, and has thus imposed on us the obligation of being virtuous. It is God we obey in obeying the law of honesty and duty. 10. Moral conscience.—A law cannot be imposed on a free agent without its being known to him; without its being present to his mind—that is to say, without his accepting it as true, and recognizing the necessity of its application in every particular case. This faculty of recognizing the moral law, and applying it in all the circumstances that may present themselves, is what is called conscience. Conscience is then that act of the mind by which we apply to a particular case, to an action to be performed or already performed, the general rules prescribed by moral law. It is both the power that commands and the inward judge that condemns or absolves. On the one hand it dictates what should be done or avoided; on the other it judges what has been done. Hence it is the condition of the performance of all our duties. Conscience being the practical judgment which in each particular case decides the right and the wrong, one can ask of man only one thing: namely, to act according to his conscience. At the moment of action there is no other rule. But one must take great care lest by subtle doubts, he obscures either within himself or in others the clear and distinct decisions of conscience. In fact, men often, to divert themselves from the right when they wish to do certain bad actions, fight their own conscience with sophisms. Under the influence of these sophisms, conscience becomes erroneous; that is to say, it ends by taking good for evil and evil for good, and this is even one of the punishments of those who follow the path of vice: they become at last incapable of discerning between right and wrong. When it is said of a man that he has no conscience, it is not meant that he is really deprived of it (else he were not a man); but that he has fallen into the habit of not consulting it or of holding its decisions in contempt. By ignorant conscience we mean that conscience which does wrong because it has not yet learned to know what is right. Thus, a child tormenting animals does not always do so out of bad motives: he does not know or does not think that he hurts them. In fact, it is with good as it is with evil; the child is already good or bad before it is able to discern between the one or the other. This is what is called the state of innocence, which in some respects is conscience asleep. But this state cannot last; the child’s conscience, and in general the conscience of all men, must be enlightened. This is the progress of human reason which every day teaches us better to know the difference between good and evil. [Pg 12] [Pg 13] It sometimes happens that one is in some respects in doubt between two indications of conscience; not, of course, between duty and passion, which is the highest moral combat, but between two or more duties. This is what is called a doubting or perplexed conscience. In such a case the simplest rule to follow, when it is practicable, is the one expressed by that celebrated maxim: When in doubt, abstain. In cases where it is impossible to absolutely abstain, and where it becomes necessary not only to act but to choose, the rule should always be to choose that part which favors least our interests, for we may always suppose that that which causes our conscience to doubt, is an interested, unobserved motive. If there is no private interest in the matter either on the one side or the other, there remains nothing better to do than to decide according to circumstances. But it is very rare that conscience ever finds itself in such an absolute state of doubt, and there are almost always more reasons on the one side than on the other. The simplest and most general rule in such a case is to chose what seems most probable. 11. Moral Sentiment.—At the same time, as the mind distinguishes between good and evil by a judgment called conscience, the heart experiences emotions or divers affections, which are embraced under the common term moral sentiment. These are the pleasures or pains which arise in our soul at the sight of good or evil, either in ourselves or in others. In respect to our own actions this sentiment is modified according as the action is to be performed, or is already performed. In the first instance we experience, on the one hand, a certain attraction for the right (that is when passion is not strong enough to stifle it), and on the other, a repugnance or aversion for the wrong (more or less attenuated, according to circumstances, by habit or the violence of the design). Usage has not given any particular names to these two sentiments. When, on the contrary, the action is performed, the pleasure which results from it, if we have acted rightly, is called moral satisfaction; and if we have acted wrong, remorse, or repentance. Remorse is a burning pain; and, as the word indicates, the bite that tortures the heart after a culpable action. This pain may be found among the very ones who have no regret for having done wrong, and who would do it over again if they could. It has therefore no moral character whatsoever, and must be considered as a sort of punishment attached to crime by nature herself. “Malice,” said Montaigne, “poisons itself with its own venom. Vice leaves, like an ulcer in the flesh, a repentance in the soul, which, ever scratching itself, draws ever fresh blood.” Repentance is also, like remorse, a pain which comes from a bad action; but there is coupled with it the regret of having done it, and the wish, if not the firm resolution, never to do it again. Repentance is a sadness of the soul; remorse is a torture and an anguish. Repentance is almost a virtue; remorse is a punishment; but the one leads to the other, and he who feels no remorse can feel no repentance. Moral satisfaction, on the contrary, is a peace, a joy, a keen and delicious emotion born from the feeling of having accomplished one’s duty. It is the only remuneration that never fails us. Among the sentiments called forth by our own actions, there are two which are the natural auxiliaries of the moral sentiment: they are the sentiment of honor and the sentiment of shame. Honor is a principle which incites us to perform actions which raise us in our own eyes, and to avoid such as would lower us. Shame is the opposite of honor; it is what we feel when we have done something that lowers us not only in the eyes of others, but in our own. All remorse is more or less accompanied by shame; yet the shame is greater for actions which indicate a certain baseness of soul. For instance, one will feel more ashamed of having told a falsehood than for having struck a person; for having cheated in gambling than for having fought a duel. Honor and shame are therefore not always an exact measure of the moral value of actions; for be they but brilliant, man will soon rid himself of all shame; this happens, for instance, in cases of prodigality, licentiousness, ambition. One does wrong, not without remorse, but with a certain ostentation which stifles the feelings of shame. Let us pass now to the sentiments which the actions of others excite in us. Sympathy, antipathy, kindness, esteem, contempt, respect, enthusiasm, indignation, these are the various terms by which we express the diverse sentiments of the soul touching virtue and vice. Sympathy is a disposition to share the same impressions with other men; to sympathize with their joy is to share that joy; to sympathize with their grief is to share that grief. It may happen that one sympathizes with the defects of others when they are the same as our own; but, as a general thing, people sympathize above all with the good qualities, and experience only antipathy for the bad. At the theatre, all the spectators, good and bad, wish to see virtue rewarded and crime punished. The contrary of sympathy is antipathy. Kindness is the disposition to wish others well. Esteem is a sort of kindness mingled with judgment and reflection, [Pg 14] [Pg 15] [Pg 16] which we feel for those who have acted well, especially in cases of ordinary virtues; for before the higher and more difficult virtues, esteem becomes respect; if it be heroism, respect turns into admiration and enthusiasm; admiration being the feeling of surprise which great actions excite in us, and enthusiasm that same feeling pushed to an extreme; carrying us away from ourselves, as if a god were in us.[3] Contempt is the feeling of aversion we entertain towards him who does wrong; it implies particularly a case of base and shameful actions. When these actions are only condemnable without being odious, the sentiment is one of blame, which, like esteem, is nearer being a judgment than a sentiment. When, finally, it is a case of criminal and revolting actions, the feeling is one of horror or execration. 12. Liberty.—We have already said that man or the moral agent is free, when he is in a condition to choose between right and wrong, and able to do either at his will. Liberty always supposes one to be in possession of himself. Man is free when he is awake, in a state of reason, and an adult. He is not free, or very little so, when he is asleep, or delirious, or in his first childhood. Liberty is certified to man. 1. By the inward sentiment which accompanies each of his acts; for instance, at the moment of acting, I feel that I can will or not will to do such or such an action; if I enter on it, I feel that I can discontinue it as long as it is not fully executed; when it is completed, I am convinced that I might have acted otherwise. 2. By the very fact of moral law or duty; I ought, therefore I can. No one is held to do the impossible. If, then, there is in me a law that commands me to do good and avoid evil, it is because I can do either as I wish. 3. By the moral satisfaction which accompanies a good action; by the remorse or repentance which follows a bad one. One does not rejoice over a thing done against his will, and no one reproaches himself for an act committed under compulsion. The first word of all those reproached for a bad action is, that it was not done on purpose, intentionally. They acknowledge thereby that we can only be reproached for an action done wilfully; namely, freely. 4. By the rewards and punishments, and in general by the moral responsibility which is attached to all our actions when they have been committed knowingly. We do not punish actions which are the result of constraint or ignorance. 5. By the exhortations or counsels we give to others. We do not exhort a man to be warm or cold, not to suffer hunger or thirst, because it is well known that this is not a thing dependent on his will. But we exhort him to be honest, because we believe that he can be so if he wishes. 6. By promises: no one promises not to die, not to be sick, etc., but one promises to be present at a certain meeting, to pay a certain sum of money, on such a day, to such a man, because one feels he can do so unless circumstances over which he has no control prevent. Prejudices against Liberty.—Although men, as we have seen, may have the sense of liberty very strong, and may show it by their acts, by their approbation or blame, etc., yet, on the other hand, they often yield to the force of certain prejudices which seem to contradict the universal belief we have just spoken of. 1. Character.—The principal one of these prejudices is the often expressed opinion that every man is impelled by his own character to perform the actions which accord with this character, and that there is no help against this irresistible necessity of nature; this is often expressed by the common axiom: “One cannot make himself over again.” The same has also been expressed by the poet Destouches in that celebrated line: Chassez le naturel, il revient au galop.[4] Nothing is less exact as a fact and more dangerous as a principle, than this pretended immutability of human character, which, if true, would render evil irremediable and incorrigible. Experience teaches the contrary. No man is wholly deprived of good and bad inclinations; he may develop the one or the other, as he chooses between them. 2. Habits.—Habits in the long run become, it is true, irresistible. It is a fact which has been often observed; but if, on the one hand, an inveterate habit is irresistible, it is not so in the beginning, and man is thus free to prevent the encroachments of bad habits. It is for this reason that moralists warn us above all against the beginnings of habits. “Beware especially of beginnings,” says the Imitation. 3. Passions.—Passions have especially enjoyed the privilege of passing for uncontrollable and irresistible. All great sinners find their excuse in the fatal allurements of passions. “The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak,” says the Gospel. The remarks we have just made touching the habits, may be equally applied to the passions. It is rare that passions manifest themselves all of a sudden, and with that excess of violence which, breaking upon one unexpectedly and like a delirium, assume, indeed, all the appearances of a fatality. But, as a general thing, passions grow little by little. “Some smaller crimes always precede the greater crimes.” It is especially when the first attacks of a passion begin to show themselves that it should be energetically fought down. [Pg 17] [Pg 18] [Pg 19] 4. Education and circumstances.—The education one has received, the circumstances one finds himself in, may put a limit to his liberty; and man is not wholly responsible for the impulses which he may owe to example and the bad principles in which he may have been brought up. These may, perhaps, be called attenuating circumstances; but they do not go so far as wholly to suppress liberty and responsibility. In the appreciation of other people’s acts, we may allow the attenuating circumstances as large a margin as possible, but in the case of self-government, one should make it as strict and narrow as possible. No one having, in fact, a measure by which he may determine his moral strength in an absolute manner, it is better to aim too high than too low. One should be guided by the principle that nothing is impossible to him who has a strong will; for “we can do a thing when we think we can.” In conclusion, liberty means nothing else but moral strength. Experience certifies that man can become the master of the physical nature which he can subject to his designs; he can gain the mastery over his own body, his passions, his habits, his own disposition; in a word, he can be “master of himself.” In thus ascending, step by step, from exterior nature to the body, from the body to the passions, from the passions to the habits and the character, we arrive at the first motor of action which moves everything without being moved: namely, liberty. 13. Merit and demerit.—We call in general merit the quality by virtue of which a moral agent renders himself worthy of a reward; and demerit that by which he renders himself, so to say, worthy of punishment. The merit of an action may be determined: 1, by the difficulty of the action; 2, by the importance of the duty. 1. Why, for instance, is there in general very little merit in respecting other people’s property and abstaining from theft? Because education in this respect has so fashioned us, that few men have any temptation to the contrary; and, even were there such a temptation, we should be ashamed to publicly claim any merit for having resisted it. Why, on the other hand, is there great merit in sacrificing one’s life to the happiness of others? Because we are strongly attached to life, and comparatively very little attached to men in general; to sacrifice what we love most, to what we love but little, from a sense of duty, is evidently very difficult; for this reason, we find in this action a very great merit. Suppose a man, who had enjoyed in all security of conscience and during a long life, a large fortune which he believes his, and of which he has made the noblest use, should learn all at once, and at the brink of old age, that this fortune belongs to another. Suppose, to render the action still more difficult to perform, that he alone knows the fact, and could consequently in all security keep the fortune if he wishes; aggravate the situation still more by supposing that this fortune belongs to heirs in great poverty, and that in renouncing it the possessor would himself be reduced to utter misery. Imagine, finally, all the circumstances which may render a duty both the strictest and most difficult, and you will have an action the merit of which will be very great. 2. It is not only the difficulty of an action that constitutes its merit, but also the importance of the duty. Thus the merit of a difficulty surmounted, has no more value in morality than it has in poetry, when it stands alone. One may of course impose upon himself a sort of moral gymnastics, and consequently very difficult tasks, though very useless in the end; but these will be considered only in the light of discipline and exercise, and not in that of duty; and this discipline would have to be more or less connected with the life one may be called to lead. For instance, suppose a missionary, called to brave during all his life all kinds of climates and dangers, should exercise himself beforehand in undertakings brave and bold, such undertakings would be both reasonable and meritorious. But he who out of bravado, ostentation, and without any worthy aim, should undertake the climbing to inaccessible mountain-tops, the swimming across an arm of the sea, the fighting openly ferocious animals, etc., he would accomplish actions which, it is true, would not be without merit, since they are brave; but their merit would not be equivalent to that we should attribute to other actions less difficult, but more wise. As to demerit, it is in proportion to the gravity of duties, and the facility of accomplishing them. The more important a matter, and the easier to fulfil, the more is one culpable in failing to fulfil it. According to these principles, one may determine as follows the estimation of moral actions: Human actions, we have said, are divided into two classes: the good and the bad. It is a question among the moralists to determine whether there are any that are to be called indifferent. Among the good actions, some are beautiful, heroic, sublime; others, proper, right, and honest; among the bad, some are simply censurable, others shameful, criminal, hideous; finally, among the indifferent ones, some are agreeable and allowable, others necessary and unavoidable. Let us give some examples by which the different characters of human actions may be well understood. A judge who administers justice without partiality, a merchant who sells his merchandise for no more than it is worth, a debtor who regularly pays his creditor, a soldier punctual at drill, obedient to discipline, and faithful at his post in times of peace or war, a schoolboy doing regularly the task assigned to him, all these persons perform actions good and laudable, but they cannot be called extraordinary. They are approved of, but not admired. To manage one’s fortune economically, not to yield too much to the pleasure of the senses, to tell no lies, to neither strike nor wound others, are so many good, right, proper, and estimable actions; but they cannot be called admirable actions. [Pg 20] [Pg 21] [Pg 22] Actions are beautiful in proportion to the difficulty of their performance; when they are extremely difficult and perilous, then we call them heroic and sublime; that is, provided they are good actions, for heroism is unfortunately sometimes allied with wrong. He who, like President de Harlay, can say to a very powerful usurper: “It is a sad thing when the servant is allowed to dismiss the master;” he who can say, like Viscount d’Orthez, who made opposition to Charles IX. after St. Bartholomew, saying: “My soldiers are no executioners;” he who, like Boissy d’Anglas, can firmly and resolutely uphold the rights of an assembly in the face of a sanguinary, violent, and rebellious populace; he who, like Morus or Dubourg, would rather die than sacrifice his trust; he who, like Columbus, can venture upon an unknown ocean, and brave the revolt of a rude and superstitious crew, to obey a generous conviction; he who, like Alexander, confides in friendship enough to receive from the hands of his physician a drink reputed poisoned; any man, in short, who devotes himself for his fellow beings, who, in fire, in water, in the depths of the earth, braves death to save life; who, in order to spread the truth, to remain true and honest, to work in the interests of religion, science, or humanity, will suffer hunger and thirst, poverty, slavery, torture, or death, is a hero. Epictetus was a slave. His master, for some negligence or other, caused him to be beaten. “You will break my leg,” said the sufferer; and the leg broke, indeed, under the blows. “I told you you would break it,” he remarked quietly. This is a hero. Joan of Arc, defeated by the English and made a prisoner, threatened with the stake, said to her executioners: “I knew quite well that the English would put me to death; but were there a hundred thousand of them, they should not have this kingdom.” This is a heroine. Bad actions have their degrees likewise. But here we should call attention to the fact that the worst are those that stand in opposition to the simply good actions; on the contrary, an action which is not heroic is not necessarily bad; and when it is bad it is not to be classed among the most criminal. Some examples will again be necessary to understand these various shades of meaning, which every one feels and recognizes in practice, but which are very difficult to analyze theoretically. To be respectful towards one’s parents is a good and proper action, but not a heroic one. On the contrary, to strike them, insult them, kill them, are abominable actions, and to be classed among the basest and most hideous that can be committed. To love one’s friends, to be as serviceable to them as possible, shows a straightforward and well-endowed soul; but there is nothing sublime in it. On the other hand, to betray friendship; to slander those that love us; to lie in order to win their favor; to inquire into their secrets for the purpose of using them against them, are black, base, and shameful actions. There is scarcely any merit in not taking what does not belong to us; theft, on the contrary, is the most contemptible of things. Now, not to be able to bear with adversity, to fear death, to shrink from braving the ice of the...