Mr. Spencer's philosophy as a whole--His psychology, and his system of
ethics--The sacred origin of moral injunctions, and the secularization
of morals.
A certain honesty and directness of mind prevent Sophereus from being
bewildered by the Spencerian philosophy. Before his next meeting with
the scientist, he has reviewed the main features of this philosophy as
developed in Mr. Spencer's published works; and he has taken notice of
the warning which Mr. Spencer has given to his readers in the preface
to his "Data of Ethics," that "there will probably be singled out for
reprobation from this volume, doctrines which, taken by themselves, may
readily be made to seem utterly wrong." There is not much likelihood
that Sophereus will be able, if he is willing, to avail himself of
this "opportunity for misrepresentation" in a discussion with such a
champion of Mr. Spencer's philosophy as the scientist who explains and
defends it, especially as they have the works before them to refer to.
Being thus respectively equipped for the discussion, the conference
between them proceeds:
SOPHEREUS. Before I give you my convictions respecting Mr.
Spencer's philosophy as a whole, I wish to say something about the
passage which you read from the preface to his "Data of Ethics,"
because it is the key to his ethical system. In the first place, to
what does he refer when he speaks of "the current creed"? When I
undertake to investigate a system of morality, the only "creed" that
I care about--the only one that is of any importance--is that which
accepts, as a matter of belief, the existence of the Creator and
Supreme Governor of the universe, from whose infinite will and purposes
have proceeded certain moral as well as physical laws. This, I take
it, is the "creed" of which Mr. Spencer speaks; the one which assigns
moral injunctions to the will of a Supreme Lawgiver as "their supposed
sacred origin." It is to this creed that he opposes his "secularization
of morals," which must take the place of their supposed sacred origin,
because the authority of the latter is rapidly dying out of the world.
It is this "creed" which is rejected by those who "assume that the
controlling agency furnished by it may be safely thrown aside, and the
vacancy left unfilled by any other agency."
Undoubtedly there are and always have been numerous persons who appear
practically to think that the sacred origin of morality can be safely
rejected, and that the vacancy may be left unfilled by any other
restraining agency. The deliberate and willful murderer, the burglar,
the adulterer, and many of the other criminal classes, not only appear
to reject "the current creed," but they would be very glad to have it
assumed that there is no other restraining agency to take its place.
So, too, there are persons who break no moral law, whose lives are
pure, but who, having theoretically persuaded themselves that there is
no sacred origin of moral injunctions, omit to provide, for themselves
or others, any other controlling agency to fill the vacuum. But this
latter class is not very numerous; and if, without meaning any offense
to them, their number is added to that of the criminal classes, to make
up the aggregate of those who reject "the current creed," we have not
a very large body compared with the whole body of persons in civilized
communities who adhere to "the current creed," who live by it, and who
think that others should live by it too, as the ultimate foundation of
those social laws which take cognizance of men's conduct toward one
another. So that I do not quite understand the assertion that "moral
injunctions are losing the authority given by their supposed sacred
origin"; connected as it is with the other assertion that society is
"rapidly progressing" to that vacuum which is to follow the complete
rejection of the one guide without the substitution of another in its
place. I am quite aware that there has been of late years an increasing
amount of what is called infidelity, or unbelief, or atheism. But I am
quite sure that there has not been a general theoretical or practical
rejection of so much of the religious creed of mankind as assigns
to the will of a supreme and supernatural lawgiver certain moral
injunctions. If we confine our view to Christendom alone, it is certain
that the growth, activity, and influence of the various religious
bodies are not materially checked, and that religious beliefs are not
by any means losing their hold upon great multitudes of people. If
we survey the regions where the Mohammedan faith prevails, the same
general result is found, whatever Christians may think of the beliefs
or practices of that vast body of the human race. And, even when we
penetrate among the races which are less civilized, we find very few
races or tribes in which there does not prevail some idea of some kind
of command proceeding from some deity or other, whatever we may think
of the character of that deity or of the nature of the command.
But I presume that Mr. Spencer meant to confine his assertion of the
necessity for a secularization of morals, and his assumption that
their sacred origin is rapidly passing away from men's beliefs, to
the state of society as it exists now in Western civilization; and my
observation of this portion of the world is, that those who reject
what I presume he means by "the current creed" are, first, a class of
theorizers: and, secondly, the criminal classes; and that the aggregate
of the two is not, after all, so formidable that we ought to conclude
that the regulative system of the sacred origin of moral injunctions
is "no longer fit" for any practical purpose. I do not, therefore,
recognize what he considers the supreme practical necessity for "the
secularization of morals" to take the place of a system which is worn
out.
KOSMICOS. You have left out of the case a very important
element. Mr. Spencer antagonizes those who reject the current creed
against those who defend it. The former, while they reject the current
creed, do not recognize the necessity for any other controlling agency.
The latter, while they defend the current creed, maintain that nothing
can take its place as a regulating agency. Between them they create a
vacuum, which one class wishes for and the other fears. This is the
vacuum which he says can be and must be filled by the secularization of
morals. It is a vacuum in philosophical speculation about the origin of
morality, and, when the conclusion is reached, it becomes a practical
and pressing question how it is to be carried out.
SOPHEREUS. Precisely; and, when the conclusion is reached, it
is to be carried out in legislation and government, or else the conduct
of men toward one another in society is not to be regulated by public
authority at all, but is to be left to each man's perception of what
will produce the greatest amount of pleasure and happiness, or the
least amount of pain and misery. Now, it is pretty important to settle
at the outset whether those who defend the current creed are right or
wrong when they say that nothing which will answer the same purpose
can be found to take its place. They constitute one of the classes who
will be responsible for the supposed vacuum; and their share in that
vacuum, their contribution to it, if I may use such an expression,
consists in their assertion that nothing of any value can take the
place of the sacred origin of moral injunctions. The practical test of
whether they are right or wrong is to be found in legislation. Let us
suppose, then, a legislative assembly in which there is a proposal to
change the law of murder, or to do away with it altogether. A member
who does not believe in any sacred origin of the command "Thou shalt do
no murder," moves not only to abolish the death-penalty, but to abolish
all legal definition of the crime, and leave every man to be restrained
by the consciousness that, if he takes the life of another, he will
cause a great deal of pain and misery to the relations and friends of
that person. The mover argues that "the current creed" of morality is
worn out; is "no longer fit," as a regulator; and that the safest and
best regulator is the perception of the beneficial effects of actions
of kindness and good-will, and of the disastrous effects of cruelty and
malice. He is answered by one who defends the current creed, and who
maintains that, as human nature is constituted, the utilitarian system
of morals can not take the place of the sacred origin as the ultimate
foundation of social relations. But the majority of the assembly think
that the mover of the proposition has the best of the argument, and
they proceed to "secularize" morals by passing his bill doing away with
the law of murder altogether. I am not obliged to extend my travels
anywhere, where I do not care to go, and I confess I should not like to
visit that country after it had thus "secularized" morality.
KOSMICOS. Now just be careful to note that this whole science
of conduct--the science of ethics--the foundation of right and wrong,
is a product of evolution. As in the development of organisms the
higher and more elaborate are reached after a great length of time, as
in mechanics knowledge of the empirical sort evolves into mechanical
science by first omitting all qualifying circumstances and generalizing
in absolute ways the fundamental laws of forces, so empirical ethics
evolve into rational ethics by first neglecting all complicating
incidents and formulating the laws of right action apart from the
obscuring effects of special conditions. There are thus reached, after
a great lapse of time, those ideal ethical truths which express the
absolutely right. Mr. Spencer treats of the ideal man among ideal men;
the ideal man existing in the ideal social state. "On the evolution
hypothesis," he says, "the two presuppose one another; and only when
they coexist can there exist that ideal conduct which absolute ethics
has to formulate, and which relative ethics has to take as the standard
by which to estimate divergences from right, or degrees of wrong."[130]
But, again, observe that society is now in a transition state; the
ultimate man has not yet been reached; the evolution of ethics is,
however, going on, retarded as it may be by various frictions arising
from imperfect natures. But there is in progress an adaptation of
humanity to the social state, and the ultimate man will be one in
whom this process has gone so far as to produce a correspondence
between all the promptings of his nature and all the requirements of
his life, as carried on in society; so that there is an ideal code of
conduct formulating the behavior of the completely adapted man in the
completely evolved society.[131]
SOPHEREUS. But I understand that we have already reached, or
are very soon to reach, a condition of things in which the supposed
sacred origin of moral injunctions is now, or very shortly will become,
no guide. We are to fill the vacuum which is caused, or is about to
be caused, by its disappearance, by substituting as the standard of
right and wrong the perceptions which we can have of the effects of
actions upon the sum total of happiness, because this will be the sole
standard in the ideal state of society in which the ideal man will
ultimately find himself. I will not insist on the total depravity of
man's nature, because I never borrow an argument from theologians.
But it has been one of the conclusions that I have drawn from some
study of human nature, that it requires very strong restraints. Not
only must some of the restraints be of the strongest kind, but they
must be simple, positive, and adapted to the varying dispositions and
intelligence of men. There can not well be imagined any restraining
moral force so efficacious as that which is derived from a belief
that the Creator of the universe has ordained some moral laws; has
specialized certain conduct as right and certain conduct as wrong,
without regard to varying circumstances. As the foundation of all that
part of legislation that takes cognizance of the simpler relations of
men to one another--those relations which are always the same--the
sacred origin of moral injunctions is of far greater force than the
perception of the greatest-happiness principle can possibly be. If
a man is tempted to commit murder, is he not far more likely to be
restrained by a law which he knows will punish him without regard to
the misery he would cause to the friends and relatives of the person
whom he is tempted to kill, than he would be if the law were based on
the latter consideration alone? Do away with all legislation which
punishes the simpler crimes first and foremost because they break
the laws of God, and substitute as the restraining agency individual
recognition of the effect of actions upon the sum total of happiness,
and you would soon see that one of two consequences would follow:
either you would have no criminal code at all, or it would be one that
would be governed by the most fluctuating and uncertain standards.
Moreover, how is the transition from the sacred source of the simpler
moral injunctions to the secularization of morals to be effected?
I once heard a wise person say that if a thing is to be done, an
ingenious man ought to be able to show how it is to be done. I suppose
the secularization of morals means the complete renovation of our
ideas of right and wrong, by taking as the sole standard the pleasure
or pain, the happiness or unhappiness, which actions will produce. How
are you going to reach this ideal state? The vacuum is rapidly coming
about. How are you going to take the first step in filling it? Before
the vacuum is complete, you must do something. You have waited until
the evolution of conduct of the purely utilitarian type has made some
great advances; but the ideal state is not yet reached by all men.
You wish to hasten its approach, and you must begin to act. There is
nothing for you to do but to formulate the new moral code and put it in
operation. You must make your laws--if you continue to have laws--so
that murder and lying and theft will not be punished because the
Almighty has prohibited them, but they will be punished simply because
they produce misery. Do you think you would ever see every individual
of such a community brought to an ideal congruity between all the
promptings of his nature and all the requirements of his life, as
carried on in society? That you would have nothing but "the completely
adapted man in the completely evolved society"? I fancy that you would
often have to fall back upon the sacred origin of moral injunctions,
and to punish some conduct because it breaks a law of divine authority.
I may have been too much in the habit of looking at things practically;
but I have not yet discovered that the feeling of obligation, the sense
of duty, what is recognized as moral obligation, having its origin in
some command, and enforced by some kind of compulsion, can be dispensed
with.
KOSMICOS. I must refer you to Mr. Spencer's explanation of the
fact that the sense of duty or moral obligation fades away as the moral
motive emerges from all the political, religious, and social motives,
and frees itself from the consciousness of subordination to some
external agency. He does not shrink from the conclusion because it will
be startling. He tells us that it will be to most very startling to
be informed that "the sense of duty or moral obligation is transitory,
and will diminish as fast as moralization increases." He fortifies his
position thus:
Startling though it is, this conclusion may be satisfactorily
defended. Even now progress toward the implied ultimate state is
traceable. The observation is not infrequent that persistence in
performing a duty ends in making it a pleasure, and this amounts to
the admission that, while at first the motive contains an element
of coercion, at last this element of coercion dies out, and the act
is performed without any consciousness of being obliged to perform
it. The contrast between the youth on whom diligence is enjoined,
and the man of business so absorbed in affairs that he can not be
induced to relax, shows us how the doing of work, originally under the
consciousness that it _ought_ to be done, may eventually cease to have
any such accompanying consciousness. Sometimes, indeed, the relation
comes to be reversed; and the man of business persists in work from
pure love of it when told that he ought not. Nor is it thus with
self-regarding feelings only. That the maintaining and protecting of
wife by husband often result solely from feelings directly gratified
by these actions, without any thought of _must_; and that the
fostering of children by parents is in many cases made an absorbing
occupation without any coercive feeling of _ought_; are obvious
truths which show us that even now, with some of the fundamental
other-regarding duties, the sense of obligation has retreated
into the background of the mind. And it is in some degree so with
other-regarding duties of a higher kind. Conscientiousness has in many
outgrown that stage in which the sense of a compelling power is joined
with rectitude of action. The truly honest man, here and there to be
found, is not only without thought of legal, religious, or social
compulsion, when he discharges an equitable claim on him; but he is
without thought of self-compulsion. He does the right thing with a
simple feeling of satisfaction in doing it; and is, indeed, impatient
if anything prevents him from having the satisfaction of doing it.
Evidently, then, with complete adaptation to the social state, that
element in the moral consciousness which is expressed by the word
obligation will disappear. The higher actions required for the
harmonious carrying on of life will be as much matters of course
as are those lower actions which the simple desires prompt. In
their proper times and places and proportions, the moral sentiments
will guide men just as spontaneously and adequately as now do the
sensations. And though, joined with their regulating influence when
this is called for, will exist latent ideas of the evils which
non-conformity would bring, these will occupy the mind no more than do
ideas of the evils of starvation at the time when a healthy appetite
is being satisfied by a meal.
SOPHEREUS. There is a religion in the world called
Christianity, with which we are tolerably familiar. It comprehends
a system of morality which, when completely observed, develops the
truly good man, the man who does the right thing with a feeling of
satisfaction in doing it, and brings about those higher actions which
are required for the harmonious carrying on of life, as matters of
course, just as surely as the same result can be brought about by the
most ideal secularization of morals that any philosophical theories
can accomplish. Whatever may be the evidences by which the sacred
origin of Christianity is supposed to be established, it is certain
that this religion does not omit, but on the contrary it presupposes
and asserts, as the foundation of its moral code, that the sense of
obligation to which it appeals is the consciousness of obligation to
obey divine commands. It proceeds upon the idea that human nature
stands in need of some coercion; that the sense of obligation is not to
be allowed to retreat into the background of the mind, but that a sense
of the compelling power must be kept joined with rectitude of action,
otherwise there will be a failure of rectitude. It is considered, I
believe, that the adaptation of the Christian morality to the whole
nature of man, by means of the compelling power, the consciousness of
which is not to be transitory, but is to be universal and perpetual, is
very strong proof that this religion came from a being who understood
human nature better than we can understand it. However this may be,
it is, at all events, certain that the scheme of Christian morality
proceeds upon the necessity for a more efficacious regulator of human
conduct than the simple feeling of satisfaction in doing right, or
the feeling of dissatisfaction in doing wrong; and, although the true
Christian is, in completeness of moral character, like Mr. Spencer's
ideal man, and although a society completely Christian would be that
ideal social state in which there would be perfect congruity between
the lives of men and the welfare of that society, yet the Christian
religion, if I understand it rightly, does not assume that there will
be more than an approximation to that universal state of perfection
while the human race remains on earth. The proof of this is to be found
in the fact that this religion does not contemplate a time when divine
command is to cease as the restraining agency on earth; but, on the
contrary, it appears to assume that obedience to the divine will is to
continue in another life to be a perpetual motive, as it has been in
this life. All this may be without such proof as "science" demands,
but it is certain that the scheme of Christian morality is based upon
the idea that the Creator has made obedience to his laws, because they
are his laws, the great regulator of human conduct. If the Creator
had so made men that the consciousness of the effect of conduct on
the happiness or misery of our fellow-men would be sufficient as a
regulator, it is rational to conclude that he would not have imposed
commands which were to be obeyed because they are commands. However
great may be the approximation to a complete adaptation of the social
state, I do not look forward to the disappearance of that element in
the moral consciousness which is expressed by the word obligation,
because obligation, in its ultimate sense, is obedience to a higher
power. Obedience for its own sake, obedience because there is a
command, irrespective of all the reasons for the command, is a law
which is illustrated in very many of the relations of life. A wise
parent will sometimes explain to his child why he commands some things
and prohibits others; but if he means to train that child in the way he
should go, he will sometimes require him to obey for the mere purpose
of teaching him that obedience without question or inquiry is a law of
his nature. A master of a vessel, which is in peril at sea, gives an
order to the sailors. They may or may not understand the reasons for
it. But what sort of sailors would they be if they did not act upon the
consciousness that unquestioning obedience is the law of their relation
to the ship?
In the earliest traditions that we have of the human race, as those
traditions are accepted by the Western nations, we find a pretty
striking and very simple instance of this law of obedience. The first
pair of human beings are placed in a garden where they are at liberty
to eat of the fruit of every tree save one, but of that one their
Creator absolutely forbids them to partake. He assigns to them no
reason for the prohibition, but he lays upon them his absolute command,
on the penalty of death if they are disobedient. One of them begins to
reason about the matter--an allegorical creature or being, called the
serpent, tempting her with certain advantages that she will get from
eating this particular fruit. She yields, disobeys, and persuades her
husband to do the same. The consequences follow, as their Creator told
them they would. The law of obedience which this story illustrates
has been in operation through all the ages, and society can no more
dispense with it than it can dispense with any of the physical laws
that govern the universe.
KOSMICOS. Are you going back to the fables for the sacred
origin of moral injunctions? I thought you had got beyond that.
SOPHEREUS. I use an illustration wherever I find it. I am
perfectly content that you should call the story of Adam and Eve a
fable, but the law of obedience which it illustrates is a tremendous
fact. The incident, fable or no fable, is eminently human, and it is
occurring every day in human experience. It is not strange that the
first Hebrew tradition should have been one that illustrates in so
simple a manner the existence of the law of obedience. In like manner,
it is not strange that the Christian system of ethics should have been
based on the existence of this same law of obedience to commands. This
Christian system of ethics has dispensed with a great many minute
observances which one branch of the Semitic race believed were imposed
upon them as commands by their Creator; but it has not displaced the
law of obedience, or dispensed with certain moral injunctions as divine
commands, for it proceeds upon the great truth that human nature
requires that kind of restraint, and that there are certain actions
which can not be left without it.
KOSMICOS. Mr. Spencer has anticipated you. Your reference to
Christianity is not happy. Having gone through with the explanation of
the evolution process in the development of the highest conception of
morals, and having shown that what now characterizes the exceptionally
highest natures will eventually characterize all, he has something
to say about the reception of his conclusions, to which, as you have
referred to the Christian system of morals, you would do well to attend:
§ 98. That these conclusions will meet with any considerable
acceptance is improbable. Neither with current ideas nor with current
sentiments are they sufficiently congruous.
Such a view will not be agreeable to those who lament the spreading
disbelief in eternal damnation, nor to those who follow the apostle of
brute force in thinking that because the rule of the strong hand was
once good it is good for all time; nor to those whose reverence for
one who told them to put up the sword is shown by using the sword to
spread his doctrine among heathens. From the ten thousand priests of
the religion of love, who are silent when the nation is moved by the
religion of hate, will come no sign of assent; nor from their bishops
who, far from urging the extreme precept of the Master they pretend to
follow, to turn the other cheek when one is smitten, vote for acting
on the principle--strike lest ye be struck. Nor will any approval be
felt by legislators who, after praying to be forgiven their trespasses
as they forgive the trespasses of others, forthwith decide to attack
those who have not trespassed against them; and who, after a Queen's
speech has invoked "the blessing of Almighty God" on their councils,
immediately provide means for committing political burglary.
But though men who profess Christianity and practice paganism can feel
no sympathy with such a view, there are some, classed as antagonists
to the current creed, who may not think it absurd to believe that a
rationalized version of its ethical principles will eventually be
acted upon.
SOPHEREUS. "Our withers are unwrung." I am not a believer
in eternal damnation; I am not an apostle of brute force; I am not
in favor of using the sword to spread a religion of love; I am not a
priest or a bishop, nor am I a member of Parliament or of any other
legislative body. I am a simple inquirer, endeavoring to ascertain
the soundness of certain systems of philosophy. If there are men who
profess Christianity and practice paganism, I do not see that this fact
should deter me from estimating the nature of the Christian religion,
as I would endeavor to estimate the character of any other religion.
It is no concern of mine whether men who profess Christianity and
practice paganism can feel any sympathy with Mr. Spencer's views. The
question for me is whether _I_ can feel any sympathy with his views. I
will, therefore, go on to tell you why I do not believe that a merely
"rationalized version" of the ethical principles of Christianity will
take the place of those divine injunctions on which the ethics of
Christianity are primarily based. Observe, now, that I do not enter
upon the proofs of the divine authority or the divine nature of Christ.
I point to nothing but the fact that the Christian ethics presuppose
a divine and superhuman origin of moral injunctions. About the fact
that they presuppose and assume the sacred origin of moral injunctions,
there can be no controversy. We read that the question was put to
Jesus, "What commandment is first of all?" and the answer was, "The
first is, Hear, O Israel; the Lord our God, the Lord is one; and thou
shalt love thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with
all thy strength. The second is this, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as
thyself. There is none other commandment greater than these."[132]
The person who made this answer may or may not have been a divinely
commissioned teacher, but, whatever he was, the question that was put
to him was a very searching one, and both question and answer assume
two things: first, that there is a being, man, to whom commands are
addressed; secondly, that there is a being, God, by whom commands are
given. Jesus undertakes to inform those who questioned him, what are
the two commandments than which there are none greater addressed to
human beings; and in this answer he covers the existence of man as
one being and the existence of God as another being. In any scheme of
philosophy which ignores the existence of these two beings--ignores
the existence of man as a being capable of receiving and acting upon a
command, and the existence of a being capable of addressing a command
to man--there must necessarily be a great defect; not because Jesus, a
supposed divinely commissioned teacher, assumed that there are two such
beings, but because without the hypothesis of their existence there can
be no ethical system whatever. The crucial test of the soundness of Mr.
Spencer's philosophy is, therefore, whether he negatives the existence
of man and the existence of God.
Undoubtedly, there is a certain kind of consistency and completeness
in Mr. Spencer's whole philosophy. Beginning with biology, he traces
all organized life back to the original molecules of organizable
matter, and he makes man, in his physical structure, a product of
successive modifications of organisms out of one another, by simple
generation. This ignores the Creator as a being specially fashioning
the human animal, which Mr. Spencer thinks is a conception too grossly
anthropomorphic to stand the slightest scientific scrutiny. He then
takes up what he calls "psychology," and deals with what he considers
the origin and nature of the human mind. He makes consciousness to
consist in tracts of feeling in the nervous organization. He denies
that mind is an entity, a being, perceiving and recognizing ideas
suggested by the impressions produced upon the nervous organization
by external objects. According to his psychological system, there is
no _ego_, no person, no thinking being, behind the sensations and
feelings in the nerve-center, and to whom the nerve-center suggests
ideas. Rejecting the hypothesis of such a being, Mr. Spencer treats
of the composition of mind; and he makes it consist, not in a being,
but in components of feelings produced by the molecular changes of
which nerve-corpuscles are the seats, and the molecular changes
transmitted through fibers. He does not regard the ultimate fabric of
mind as a thing admitting of any inquiry. He says that its proximate
components can be investigated, and that these are feelings and the
relations between feelings. This "method of composition remains the
same throughout the entire composition of mind, from the formation of
its simplest feelings up to the formation of those immense and complex
aggregates of feelings which characterize its highest development."
Here, then, we must stop. We are not to conceive of mind as an
organized entity, or as an organism; or as a something in which certain
powers inhere, and which affords a field for their action. We may talk
of a "thread of consciousness," meaning aggregates of feelings produced
by successive waves of molecular change in the nerve-corpuscles, but we
may not talk of "consciousness" as perception by a conscious subject.
We may talk of feelings, but not of a subject that feels. Mind, then,
is not an existence apart from physical organization. Its phenomena are
products of our corporeal organization. Man is not a person; and, if
he is not, how he is to have a sense of obligation, how there is to be
any intuitional idea of right and wrong, in the sense of a command or
an injunction addressed by one being to another, I do not understand.
Mr. Spencer does not help me to understand this, and obviously he does
not intend to, because he denies it absolutely. His system of ethics
plainly ignores it; and to that I now pass.
He makes conduct consist in the adjustment of actions to ends. Good
conduct is when the actions are adjusted to the ends of producing all
the pleasure and happiness that they can be made to bring about. Bad
conduct is when the actions produce only pain or misery to some one,
or there is not a proper adjustment of them to the end of happiness.
Beginning, as you described it in our last conference, with the lowest
orders of animals, the conduct of man is the same adjustment of actions
to ends that it is in them; the difference being, in the case of man,
that as an animal he has a greater and more varied power of complete
adjustment of his actions to wider and more comprehensive ends than
any other animal. These wider and more comprehensive ends consist in
the full accomplishment of happiness and pleasure to other beings.
This, according to Mr. Spencer, is impliedly admitted by those who
assert the sacred origin of moral injunctions; for, when pressed for
the reason why moral injunctions have been given, all moralists,
he says, admit that the ultimate moral aim is a desirable state of
feeling, gratification, enjoyment, happiness to some being or beings.
That the welfare of society is _one_ of the moral aims which moral
injunctions of the sacred order were designed to accomplish, so far as
special injunctions are believed to have been given, is plain enough.
But that this congruity between the divine commands and the happiness
of others--the useful effect of such commands--comprehends the whole
purpose of such commands, is the ultimate and sole reason for their
being given, so far as they are believed to have been given, may be
disproved without difficulty. For example, an individual may be an
utterly worthless person, a curse to his relatives and friends and to
society, irreclaimably sunk in vice and misery, a mere cumberer of the
ground. To kill him will produce no unhappiness to any one, but will
be a positive relief and benefit. According to "the current creed,"
there stands a sacred injunction, "Thou shalt do NO murder."
This is accepted as an absolute, fixed, eternal canon of the divine
will. You are not to take upon yourself individually to determine, by
any standard of utility applied to a particular case, that you can
rightfully kill a human being. A miser is alone in the world. I can
steal his hoarded gold, and apply it to good objects. There stands
the command, "Thou shalt _not_ steal." For no purpose, for no object
whatever, for no end whatever, shall you commit a theft. "Society," to
borrow a phrase of one of the strongest men of our time, "would go all
to pieces in an hour" if it were to adopt only the utilitarian standard
of morality, and to reject the sacred origin of moral injunctions.[133]
The reception of that sacred origin--the belief in it--implies that
man is a being capable of receiving and obeying a divine command. The
existence of such a being is negatived by Mr. Spencer's psychological
system. That he equally negatives the existence of God as a being
capable of giving, and who has given, moral injunctions to man, is
apparent throughout his whole scheme of philosophy. According to that
philosophy, there is nothing in the universe but an Omnipotent Power,
which underlies all manifestations. To ascribe a personality to that
Power is a relic of the primitive beliefs of barbarians, and it is one
that is rapidly dying out of the conceptions of educated men.
There is, therefore, no room in Mr. Spencer's philosophy for any
moral intuitions, such as are implied in the hypothesis that man was
placed under an obligation to obey his Creator, and made capable
of recognizing that obligation. I can perceive no other ultimate
foundation for a system of ethics. As to the idea that we can make
a system of ethics which is to relegate to individual judgment the
adaptability of actions to produce complete happiness, and to have no
other standard of right and wrong, we might as well at once act upon
the maxim that the end justifies the means, and leave every man to
determine that the end is a good one; and, therefore, the action is
good.
KOSMICOS. How do you justify the death-penalty which is
inflicted by society? Have you any justification for it, excepting the
claim that it is a useful restraint?
SOPHEREUS. When society acts judicially in the punishment of
crime, it inflicts such punishments as experience shows will prevent,
or tend to prevent, others from committing that crime. Its authority
to punish with death or some other penalty is founded, primarily, in
regard to the simpler crimes, such as murder, theft, adultery, false
testimony, etc., on the divine prohibition, which a belief in the
sacred origin of certain special moral injunctions leads it to accept;
and, secondly, on the general welfare of mankind.[134] Eliminate from
the ethical code all belief in the sacred origin of moral injunctions,
and confine the judicial action of society to the merely utilitarian
effect of individual conduct, and you will surrender the whole criminal
code to the doctrine that the individual who does a certain act is to
be punished or not to be punished, according to the effect of his act
on the person or persons who are immediately or remotely affected by
it. It is because of Mr. Spencer's negation of man's intuitive sense of
obligation to obey divine commands, because of his peculiar system of
"psychology," that I can not accept the system to which he gives the
name of "ethics." He ought to have invented a new term for his science
of mind. "Psychology," according to its derivation, and as it is used
in the English language, means discourse or treatise on the human soul,
or the doctrine of man's spiritual nature. If he has no spiritual
nature, no soul, what does this philosopher mean by entitling his work
"The Principles of Psychology"? It seems to me that in this use of a
term which implies something that he labors to show does not exist, he
is not quite consistent, for he certainly does not mean to admit that
man has a soul, in the sense in which the learned world have generally
used the term "psychology." But, not to stickle for verbal criticisms,
I will endeavor to give you my conception of his "scientific" analysis
of the mind, and to contrast it with the other analysis, which seems to
me to be better supported.
KOSMICOS. Take care that you do not misrepresent him.
SOPHEREUS. I shall take the utmost care to represent him
in the only sense in which I can understand him; and, if I do not
represent him accurately, you will correct me. Take, in the first
place, the following passage, in which he defines the only _ego_ that
has any existence:
That the _ego_ is something more than the passing group of feelings
and ideas is true or untrue according to the degree of comprehension
we give to the word. It is true if we include the body and its
functions; but it is untrue if we include only what is given in
consciousness.
Physically considered, the _ego_ is the entire organism, including its
nervous system; and the nature of this _ego_ is predetermined: the
infant had no more to do with the structure of its brain than with the
color of its eyes. Further, the _ego_, considered physically, includes
all the functions carried on by these structures when supplied with
the requisite materials. These functions have for their net result
to liberate from the food, etc., certain latent forces. And that
distribution of these forces shown by the activities of the organism,
is from moment to moment caused partly by the existing arrangement of
its parts and partly by the environing conditions.
The physical structures thus pervaded by the forces thus obtained,
constitute that substantial _ego_ which lies behind and determines
those ever-changing states of consciousness we call mind. And
while this substantial _ego_, unknowable in ultimate nature, is
phenomenally known to us under its statical form as the organism, it
is phenomenally known under its dynamical form as the energy diffusing
itself through the organism, and, among other parts, through the
nervous system. Given the external stimuli, and the nervous changes
with their correlative mental states depend partly on the nervous
structures and partly on the amount of this diffused energy, each of
which factors is determined by causes not in consciousness but beneath
consciousness. The aggregate of feelings and ideas constituting the
mental _I_, have not in themselves the principle of cohesion holding
them together as a whole; but the _I_ which continually survives as
the subject of these changing states is that portion of the Unknowable
Power which is statically conditioned in special nervous structures
pervaded by a dynamically-conditioned portion of the Unknowable Power
called energy.[135]
It is now necessary to translate this; and in translating it, it is
necessary to attend to the meaning of words. Let us begin with the
first proposition comprehended in this statement: "That the _ego_ is
something more than the passing group of feelings and ideas, is true
or untrue according to the degree of comprehensiveness we give to the
word. It is true if we include the body and its functions; but it is
untrue if we include only what is given in consciousness." The natural
antithesis would have been to contrast what is included in the _body_
with what is included in the _mind_. But as he does not admit that
the mind is an existence, as there is nothing but a passing group of
feelings and ideas, not a person who perceives feelings and has ideas,
he speaks of _what is given in consciousness_, consciousness being
nothing but that passing group, an ever-changing series, never the
same, and never laid hold of and appropriated by a conscious subject.
We do, indeed, call these ever-changing states of consciousness mind,
but this is a misnomer, if we mean it in the sense of a being. What is
to be considered, therefore, when the analysis seeks to ascertain the
real and only _ego_, is the body and its functions, and the passing
group of feelings and ideas which is given in consciousness.
Let us pass on: The body is the physical structure and its functions.
It is pervaded by the forces which its functions liberate from the
latent condition in which they exist in food and other environment.
This physical structure, thus pervaded by certain forces, is the
substantial _ego_ which lies behind and determines the ever-changing
states of consciousness which we call mind. There is no other _ego_
than the body. It is phenomenally known to us under its _statical_
form as the organism; that is to say, when the body is contemplated
as an organism which is not acting, or as a mere structure. But it
is phenomenally known to us also under its _dynamical_ form, which
is when the energy derived from the pervading forces is diffusing
itself through the organism. Statical,[136] I understand, refers to
a body at rest, or in equilibrium, not acting; dynamical refers to
bodies in motion, or acted on by force, in movement. The human body is
phenomenally known to us in both of these conditions or states. When
it is in the dynamical state, that is, when it is acted on by external
stimuli, there will be nervous changes; these nervous changes have
correlative mental states, which depend partly on the nervous structure
and partly on the amount of the diffused energy which pervades the
organism. But these two factors, the nervous changes and the diffused
energy, are each determined by causes that are not in consciousness,
but beneath consciousness. This I understand to mean that when there
are nervous changes from a state of rest or non-action, produced by
external stimuli, and a certain amount of diffused energy pervades the
organism, there will be correlative mental states, which are determined
by factors that are not in consciousness but beneath consciousness.
Consciousness, therefore, is not a perception by a conscious subject,
or a consciousness of a self experienced by a being, but it is a
passing group of feelings and ideas, which have no cohesion, are never
the same, but are ever-changing successions of impressions produced in
the physical organism.
I come now to the summary and conclusion of the whole matter as
expressed in the last sentence of the paragraph which I have read.
There is a mental I, but it is not a person, an existence, an
independent _ego_. It is constituted of an aggregate of feelings and
ideas, which have not in themselves a principle of cohesion that
holds them together as a whole. They are merely passing groups of
feelings and ideas which are never the same, but which succeed one
another without connection or cohesion. There is an I which continually
survives as the subject of these changing states, but it is that
portion of the Unknowable Power which is statically conditioned in
special nervous structures pervaded by a dynamically conditioned
portion of the Unknowable Power called energy.
So that each individual of the human race is to be contemplated,
not as a dual existence, composed of a body and a mind, united for
a certain period, but as a subject which is continuously undergoing
certain physical changes by the action through it of a portion of the
energy exerted by the Unknowable Power. The Unknowable Power pulsates
through my bodily organism a certain portion of its energy, and that
of which continuous existence can alone be predicated is this portion
of the Unknowable Power which is statically conditioned in my nervous
structure, pervaded by a dynamically conditioned portion of that
Unknown Power.
I trust, now, it will not be said that I misrepresent Mr. Spencer
when I assert that he ignores, denies, and endeavors to disprove
the existence of the mind of man as a spiritual entity, capable of
surviving his body. Have you any fault to find with my paraphrase of
the passage on which I have commented?
KOSMICOS. You have paraphrased that passage fairly enough, but
you ought to attend to the proof which he adduces in support of his
position in the subsequent passage to which he refers you in the one
that you have quoted. Let me read it:
§ 469. And now, before closing the chapter, let me parenthetically
remark on a striking parallelism between the conception of the
Object thus built up, and that which we shall find to be the proper
conception of the Subject. For just in the same way that the
Object is the unknown permanent _nexus_ which is never itself a
phenomenon, but is that which holds phenomena together; so is the
Subject the unknown permanent _nexus_ which is never itself a state
of consciousness, but which holds states of consciousness together.
Limiting himself to self-analysis, the Subject can never learn
anything about this _nexus_, further than that it forms part of the
_nexus_ to that peculiar vivid aggregate he distinguishes as his
body. If, however, he makes a vicarious examination, the facts of
nervous structure and function, as exhibited in other bodies like
his own, enable him to see how, for each changing cluster of ideas,
there exists a permanent _nexus_ which, in a sense, corresponds to the
permanent _nexus_ holding together the changing cluster of appearances
referable to the external body.
For, as shown in earlier parts of this work, an idea is the psychical
side of what on its physical side is an involved set of molecular
changes propagated through an involved set of nervous plexuses. That
which makes possible this idea is the pre-existence of these plexuses,
so organized that a wave of molecular motion diffused through them
will produce, as its psychical correlative, the components of the
conception, in due order and degree. This idea lasts while the waves
of molecular motion last, ceasing when they cease; but that which
remains is the set of plexuses. These constitute the potentiality of
the idea, and make possible future ideas like it. Each such set of
plexuses, perpetually modified in detail by perpetual new actions;
capable of entering into countless combinations with others, just
as the objects thought of entered into countless combinations; and
capable of having its several parts variously excited, just as the
external object presents its combined attributes in various ways--is
thus the permanent internal _nexus_ for ideas, answering to the
permanent external _nexus_ for phenomena. And just as the external
_nexus_ is that which continues to exist amid transitory appearances,
so the internal _nexus_ is that which continues to exist amid
transitory ideas. The ideas have no more a continued existence than
we have found the impressions to have. They are like the successive
chords and cadences brought out from a piano, which successively die
away as other ones are sounded. And it would be as proper to say that
these passing chords and cadences thereafter exist in the piano, as it
is proper to say that passing ideas thereafter exist in the brain. In
the one case, as in the other, the actual existence is the structure
which, under like conditions, again evolves like combinations.
It is true that we seem to have somewhere within us these sets of
faint states answering to sets of vivid states which once occurred.
It is true that in common life ideas are spoken of as being treasured
up, forming a store of knowledge; the implied notion being that they
are duly arranged and, as it were, pigeon-holed for future use. It
is true that in psychological explanations, ideas are often referred
to as thus having a continued existence. It is true that our forms
of expression are such as to make this implication unavoidable; and
that in many places throughout this work the phrases used apparently
countenance it; though, I believe, they are always transformable
into their scientific equivalents, as above expressed. But here, as
in metaphysical discussions at large, where our express object is
to make a final analysis, and to disentangle facts from hypotheses,
it behooves us to recognize the truth that this popular conception,
habitually adopted into psychological and metaphysical discussions,
is not simply gratuitous, but absolutely at variance with experience.
All which introspection shows us is that under certain conditions
there occurs a state of consciousness more or less like that which
previously occurred under more or less like conditions. Not only are
we without proof that during the interval this state of consciousness
existed under some form; but, so far as observation reaches, it gives
positive evidence to the contrary. For the new state is never the
same--is never more than an approximate likeness of that which went
before. It has not that identity of structure which it would have were
it a pre-existing thing presenting itself afresh. Nay, more; even
during its presence its identity of structure is not preserved--it is
not literally the same for two seconds together. No idea, even of the
most familiar object, preserves its stability while in consciousness.
To carry further the foregoing simile, its temporary existence is
like that of a continuously-sounded chord, of which the components
severally vary from instant to instant in pitch and loudness. Quite
apart, however, from any interpretation of ideas as not substantive
things but psychical changes, corresponding to physical changes
wrought in a physical structure, it suffices to insist upon the
obvious truth that the existence in the Subject of any other ideas
than those which are passing, is pure hypothesis absolutely without
any evidence whatever.
And here we come upon yet another phase of that contradiction which
the anti-realistic conception everywhere presents. For setting out
from the data embodied in the popular speech, which asserts both the
continued existence of ideas and the continued existence of objects,
it accepts the fiction as a fact, and on the strength of it tries to
show that the fact is a fiction. Continued existence being claimed for
that which has it not, is thereupon denied to that which has it.[137]
SOPHEREUS. The writings of Mr. Spencer, more than those of
any other person of equal reputation that I have met with, require
close examination in order to test the soundness of his propositions
and assertions. Such a passage as the one which you have now quoted
appears, on a first reading, to be quite plausible. When it is read
carefully two or three times, and analyzed, it is found to be untenable
in its reasoning, and largely made up of dogmatic assumptions. I shall
now give you my reasons for this criticism. In the first place, let us
go through the passage and fix the meanings of words. "Nexus," although
not a term adopted into the English language, means, I presume, bond
or ligament. "Plexus" is a word that we find in English dictionaries
as a scientific term, and it means a union of vessels, nerves, or
fibers, in the form of net-work.[138] Taking along these meanings, we
find that the subject, the only thing of which a subjective existence
can be predicated, is the ligament which holds states of consciousness
together, and this permanent ligament is unknown. It is not itself
a state of consciousness, but it is the bond which holds states of
consciousness together. These states of consciousness are the ideas
which are passing in the subject, which are never the same, which are
not a permanent possession, and therefore there is in the subject no
other existence than the passing ideas of the moment. Ideas, then,
are not substantive things, but psychical changes, corresponding to
physical changes wrought in a physical structure. The proof which is
supposed to make this a tenable hypothesis consists of, first, what
can be learned by self-analysis, or by my introspection of myself;
next by vicarious examination, or by observing the facts of nervous
structure and function exhibited in other bodies like my own. These
examinations enable us to discover, what? Not a conscious person,
learning, appropriating, and holding ideas, but that there exists only,
for each changing cluster of ideas, a permanent _nexus_, corresponding
to the permanent _nexus_ which holds together the changing cluster of
appearances referable to the external body. We next have the assertion
that ideas have no more a continued existence than the impressions
made in the external body. Both are transitory, and in both the only
continued existence is the _nexus_, or ligament which binds together
the changing impressions and the changing clusters of ideas. This Mr.
Spencer illustrates by the successive chords and cadences brought
out from a piano. These have no existence in the piano, which is
nothing but a mechanical structure, giving forth sounds, when they
are struck, which sounds are merely passing chords and cadences; and
he concludes that it would be just as proper to say that the passing
chords and cadences, after they have died away, exist in the piano, as
it is to say that passing ideas, after the nervous impressions have
ceased, exist in the brain. Let us now go back and examine this kind
of psychology in detail. Mr. Spencer speaks of self-analysis, and of
the analysis of other minds and bodies like our own. He uses the terms
self, others, me, mine, him, his. Who or what is this thing which
examines himself or another? Who and what are "you" or "I," who sit
here talking to each other? Are these mere forms of expression, always
transformable into their scientific equivalents? What is the scientific
equivalent for he, his, me, mine, you, yours? Mr. Spencer says that,
under certain conditions, there occurs a state of consciousness more or
less like other states of consciousness that have existed before, but
that the only permanent thing is the _nexus_ which holds these states
of consciousness together. His illustration of the piano fails. If
the piano were a structure that could of its own volition give forth
such sounds as it chose to utter, it might be correct to speak of it
as an existence having a store of sounds which it could make reach our
ears when and as it saw fit. But it does not happen to be an automatic
machine. It is a mere collection of strings, of different sizes and
tensions, which, when struck by an instrument called a hammer, cause
certain vibrations in the air. But a human being is an automatic
organism; one that can at pleasure give utterance to ideas through
the vocal organs, so that they are communicated to you. When I give
utterance to an idea, through my vocal organs, in speaking to you, do
I draw on a stock of permanent ideas, some of which I express, or do
I express nothing but a passing state of consciousness, more or less
like other states of consciousness that have before passed through
my nervous organization? Mr. Spencer asserts that the notion of the
continued existence of ideas is absolutely at variance with experience.
On the contrary, experience proves it every moment of our lives.
For example: Years ago a person related to me a fact very interesting
and important to me, but I have not until now had occasion to make use
of it. I have a perfect recollection of what he told me. It bears no
resemblance to any other fact of which I ever heard. It concerns me
alone. I have a perfect recollection of it. I stored it up for future
use whenever I should need to use it. Is it a self-delusion that I have
stored up and treasured this information? When I recollect and repeat
it, just as it was told me, am I doing nothing but giving expression to
a passing idea, more or less like the original idea? This would be a
rather dangerous doctrine to adopt as the interpretation of experience.
Human testimony respecting things that we have been told, or have seen,
would be a pretty uncertain reliance if the memory had no other power
than to assimilate a passing idea, more or less, to a former state of
consciousness which more or less resembled the present consciousness.
Men deviate from the truth rather frequently, now; but, teach them that
memory is nothing but the assimilation, more or less, of a passing
idea to some other idea that formerly passed through their heads, and
I should be rather afraid of their testimony. I should fear that the
"psychological changes" would be a little too frequent, and that the
story would not have "that identity of structure which it would have
were it a pre-existing thing presenting itself afresh."
What is all the learning of the scholar? Has he treasured up nothing?
Has he nothing in the pigeon-holes of his mind? Has he no mind in which
to store his acquisitions? Is the sole actual existence "the structure
which, under like conditions, again evolves like combinations"? Must
he find himself under like conditions which will again evolve like
combinations of ideas in passing trains of consciousness, before he can
bring forth from the store-house of his mind the pre-existing thing
that lies within it?
KOSMICOS. I must here interject a question in my turn. What is
the proof that ideas have a continued existence? Speaking of the brain
as the nerve-center, in which impressions are produced by molecular
changes transmitted along the nerve-fibers, what proof is there that an
idea which is now passing through the brain continues to exist there,
any more than the passing chord or cadence continues to exist in the
piano?
SOPHEREUS. Do you not see that the very power of
discrimination which we possess, whereby we distinguish between
present and former conditions, and present and former combinations,
proves that there is a permanent existing thing in an idea which
presents itself afresh, and with which we compare the passing idea, so
as to determine whether they are the same? If we did not possess this
power, all thinking, all expression of ideas, all memory, all that
part of consciousness which is not made up of mere bodily feelings and
sensations, would be nothing but the repetition of the passing idea;
and all learning, information, knowledge, and experience, would be
utterly useless. If there did not exist something with which to compare
the passing idea of the present moment, we should be always floating
on the surface of the passing idea. There would be no continuity in
our intellectual existence. We should be reduced to the condition of
the piano, and could only give forth such chords and cadences as are
produced by successive blows of the hammer upon the strings of the
instrument. And how could anything originate in ourselves? What is
the faculty which produces ideas that are not only new to ourselves,
not only not suggested by passing ideas, but new to all other human
intellects, and never embraced in their experience until we put
them within their apprehension? What did Dante do when he produced
the "Inferno"? or Milton, when he composed the "Paradise Lost"? or
Shakespeare, when he composed his "Hamlet"? or Goethe, when he produced
his "Faust"? Does the poet, when he gives us ideas that we never
possessed before, originate nothing? If he is a maker, a creator, in
the realm of ideas, are those original ideas, which neither he nor
any one else ever had before, the mere result of like combinations
evolved out of like conditions, when neither the old conditions nor
the combinations have anything to do with the new ideas which he has
produced? Surely, in reference to the great productions of human
genius, we must contemplate the mind as an existence, having the power
to do something more than to produce the transitory ideas that are
passing through the brain from the impressions on it, communicated
through the nervous structure. Surely there is some other structure
than that which can be likened to the piano. Surely there is something
more than a set of plexuses "which constitute the potentiality of an
idea, and make possible future ideas like it"; for there are possible
future ideas which are not like any former ideas, which do not depend
on any set of plexuses, and do not cease to be possible when the
waves of molecular motion cease. These possible future ideas are the
conceptions which the mind originates in itself; which are unlike
anything that has gone before, or that is passing now. So that there
are two kinds of ideas: the kind that has a continued existence, and
that consists in knowledge, and is drawn upon by memory; and the other,
the kind of which continued existence is not to be predicated until it
has been formulated by the faculty of original production, not produced
by an exercise of memory, but produced by original creation.
KOSMICOS. Has not Mr. Spencer allowed for and accounted for
all that you claim as the power of originating new ideas? Does he not
say that "each set of plexuses"--each set of the net-work of ideas--is
"perpetually modified in detail by perpetual new actions"; is "capable
of entering into countless combinations with others, just as the
objects thought of entered into countless combinations; and capable of
having its several parts variously excited, just as the external object
presents its combined attributes in various ways"? Is not this the
whole matter, in regard to what you call the power of originating new
ideas?
SOPHEREUS. No, it is not. In the first place, I do not believe
that he was here intentionally speaking of any ideas but those which
are suggested by, or involve external objects. But, if he did mean to
include the production of new and original ideas through the countless
combinations into which old ones may be made to enter, his theory does
not fit the case of poetical invention of new ideas, or the invention
of imaginary characters, or lives; for these are creations which are
not mere combinations of old ideas, and the more they depart from
everything suggested by, or resembling, former ideas, the more we are
obliged to recognize as a faculty of the mind the power to originate
and formulate new ideas that did not previously exist.
KOSMICOS. Well, you have criticised Mr. Spencer's mental
philosophy from your point of view. Now let me hear your hypothesis of
the origin and nature of mind, with which you promised to contrast his
psychology, and which you think is better supported.
SOPHEREUS. I think I had better put my views in writing, and
read them to you at our next meeting. You can then have them before
you to examine at your leisure. Let me say in advance, however, that
I shall not rely on any of the metaphysicians, but shall endeavor to
give you my conception of the nature of mind from my own reflections,
and from common experience. I shall make my examination of the nature
of mind precede any suggestion of its probable origin, just as I think
we should examine the structure of any organism before we undertake to
deduce its probable origin.
* * * * *
Here, then, closes the debate between these two persons, from whom,
at the end of the next chapter, I shall part with a reluctance which
I hope the reader will share. Not for victory do I allow Sophereus to
explain his analysis of mind, without describing how his scientific
friend receives it.
FOOTNOTES:
[130] "Data of Ethics," chap. xv.
[131] Ibid.
[132] Revised version of St. Mark's gospel.
[133] The late Jeremiah S. Black is the person whose language is here
quoted, although it was used with reference to something else.
[134] This does not imply that the punishment inflicted by society
is to be always the same. It implies only that there is to be some
punishment, so long as the prohibited act continues to be committed.
[135] "Principles of Psychology," vol. i, pp. 503, 504, § 220.
[136] _Statical_: pertaining to bodies at rest or in equilibrium.
_Dynamical_: pertaining to strength or power.
_Dynamics_: that part of mechanical philosophy which treats of bodies
in motion; opposed to _statics_. ("Webster's Dictionary.")
[137] "Principles of Psychology," vol. ii, p. 484, _et seq._
[138] "Webster's Dictionary." PLEXUS.