In general, the feminine half of humanity is inferior to the

masculine in the virtue of justice, and its derivatives, uprightness,

conscientiousness, etc.; the explanation is found in the fact that,

owing to the weakness of its reasoning powers the former is much less

capable than the latter of understanding and holding to general laws,

and of taking them as a guiding thread. Hence injustice and falseness

are women's besetting sins, and lies their proper element. On the

other hand, they surpass men in the virtue of loving-kindness; because

usually the stimulus to this is =intuitive=, and consequently

appeals directly to the sense of Compassion, of which females are

much more susceptible than males. For the former nothing but what

is intuitive, present, and immediately real has a true existence;

that which is knowable only by means of concepts, as for instance,

the absent, the distant, the past, the future, they do not readily

grasp. We thus find compensation here, as in so much else; justice

is more the masculine, loving-kindness more the feminine virtue.

The mere idea of seeing women sitting on the judges' bench raises a

smile; but the sisters of mercy far excel the brothers of charity.

Now animals, as they have no power of gaining knowledge by reason,

that is, of forming abstract ideas, are entirely incapable of fixed

resolutions, to say nothing of principles; they consequently totally

lack =self-control=, and are helplessly given over to external

impressions and internal impulses. This is why they have no conscious

morality; although the different species show great contrasts of good

and evil in their characters, and as regards the highest races these

are traceable even in individuals.

From the foregoing considerations we see that in the single acts of

the just man Compassion works only indirectly through his formulated

principles, and not so much _actu_ as _potentiâ_; much in the same way

as in statics the greater length of one of the scale-beams, owing to

its greater power of motion, balances the smaller weight attached to

it with the larger on the other side, and works, while at rest, only

_potentiâ,_ not _actu_; yet with the same efficiency.

Nevertheless, Compassion is always ready to pass into active operation.

Therefore, whenever, in special cases, the established rule shows signs

of breaking down, the one incentive (for we exclude of course those

based on Egoism), which is capable of infusing fresh life into it, is

that drawn from the fountain-head itself--Compassion. This is true

not only where it is a question of personal violence, but also where

property is concerned, for instance, when any one feels the desire to

keep some valuable object which he has found. In such cases,--if we set

aside all motives prompted by worldly wisdom, and by religion--nothing

brings a man back so easily to the path of justice, as the realisation

of the trouble, the grief, the lamentation of the loser. It is because

this is felt to be true, that, when publicity is given to the loss of

money, the assurance is so often added that the loser is a poor man, a

servant, etc.

It is hoped that these considerations have made it clear that, however

contrary appearances may be at first sight, yet undoubtedly justice, as

a genuine and voluntary virtue has its origin in Compassion. But if any

one should suppose such a soil too barren and meagre to bear this great

cardinal virtue, let him reflect on what is said above, and remember

how small is the amount of true, spontaneous, unselfish, unfeigned

justice among men; how the real thing only occurs as a surprising

exception, and how, to its counterfeit,--the justice that rests on mere

worldly wisdom and is everywhere published abroad--it is related, both

in quality and quantity, as gold is to copper. I should like to call

the one _δικαιοσύνη πάνδημος_ (common, ordinary justice), the other

_οὐρανία_ (heavenly justice).[2] For the latter is she, who, according

to Hesiod,[3] leaves the earth in the iron age, to dwell with the

celestial gods. To produce such a rare exotic as this the root we have

indicated is surely vigorous enough.

It will now be seen that =injustice= or =wrong= always

consists in =working harm= on another. Therefore the conception of

wrong is =positive=, and antecedent to the conception of right,

which is =negative=, and simply denotes the actions performable

without injury to others; in other words, without wrong being done.

That to this class belongs also whatever is effected with no other

object than that of warding off from oneself meditated mischief is

an easy inference. For no participation in another's interests, and

no sympathy for him, can require me to let myself be harmed by him,

that is, to undergo wrong. The theory that right is negative, in

contradistinction to wrong as positive, we find supported by Hugo

Grotius, the father of philosophical jurisprudence. The definition of

justice which he gives at the beginning of his work, _De Jure Belli et

Pacis_ (Bk. I., chap. 1., § 3), runs as follows:--_Jus hic nihil aliud,

quam quod justum est, significant, idque negante magis sensu, quam

aiente, ut jus sit, quod injustum non est._[4] The negative character

of justice is also established, little as it may appear, even by the

familiar formula: "Give to each one his own." Now, there is no need

to give a man his own, if he has it. The real meaning is therefore:

"Take from none his own." Since the requirements of justice are only

negative, they may be effected by coercion; for the _Neminem laede_

can be practised by all alike. The coercive apparatus is the state,

whose sole _raison d'être_ is to protect its subjects, individually

from each other, and collectively from external foes. It is true that

a few German would-be philosophers of this venal age wish to distort

the state into an institution for the spread of morality, education,

and edifying instruction. But such a view contains, lurking in the

background, the Jesuitical aim of doing away with personal freedom

and individual development, and of making men mere wheels in a huge

Chinese governmental and religious machine. And this is the road that

once led to Inquisitions, to Autos-da-fé, and religious wars. Frederick

the Great showed that he at least never wished to tread it, when he

said: "In my land every one shall care for his own salvation, as he

himself thinks best." Nevertheless, we still see everywhere (with the

more apparent than real exception of North America) that the state

undertakes to provide for the metaphysical needs of its members. The

governments appear to have adopted as their guiding principle the tenet

of Quintus Curtius: _Nulla res efficacius multitudinem regit, quam

superstitio: alioquin impotens, saeva, mutabilis; ubi vana religione

capta est, melius vatibus, quam ducibus suis paret._[5]

We have seen that "wrong" and "right" are convertible synonymes of "to

do harm" and "to refrain from doing it," and that under "right" is

included the warding off of injury from oneself. It will be obvious

that these conceptions are independent of, and antecedent to, all

positive legislation. There is, therefore, a pure ethical right, or

natural right, and a pure doctrine of right, detached from all positive

statutes. The first principles of this doctrine have no doubt an

empirical origin, so far as they arise from the idea of harm done,

but _per se_ they rest on the pure understanding, which _a priori_

furnishes ready to hand the axiom: _causa causae est causa effectus_.

(The cause of a cause is the cause of the effect.) Taken in this

connection the words mean: if any one desires to injure me, it is

not I, but he, that is the cause of whatever I am obliged to do in

self-defence; and I can consequently oppose all encroachments on his

part, without wronging him. Here we have, so to say, a law of moral

repercussion. Thus it comes about that the union of the empirical idea

of injury done with the axiom supplied by the pure understanding, gives

rise to the fundamental conceptions of wrong and right, which every one

grasps _a priori_, and learns by actual trial to immediately adopt.

The empiric, who denies this, and refuses to accept anything but the

verdict of experience, may be referred to the testimony of the savage

races, who all distinguish between wrong and right quite correctly,

often indeed with nice precision; as is strikingly manifested when

they are engaged in bartering and other transactions with Europeans,

or visit their ships. They are bold and self-assured, when they are in

the right; but uneasy, when they know they are wrong. In disputes a

just settlement satisfies them, whereas unjust procedure drives them to

war. The Doctrine of Eight is a branch of Ethics, whose function is to

determine those actions which may not be performed, unless one wishes

to injure others, that is, to be guilty of wrong-doing; and here the

=active= part played is kept in view. But legislation applies this

chapter of moral science conversely, that is, with reference to the

=passive= side of the question, and declares that the same actions

need not be endured, since no one ought to have wrong inflicted on him.

To frustrate such conduct the state constructs the complete edifice

of the law, as positive Right. Its intention is that no one shall

=suffer= wrong; the intention of the Doctrine of Moral Right is

that no one shall =do= wrong.[6]

If by unjust action I molest some one, whether in his person,

his freedom, his property, or his honour, the wrong as regards

=quality= remains the same. But with respect to =quantity=

it may vary very much. This difference in the amount of wrong effected

appears not to have been as yet investigated by moralists, although it

is everywhere recognised in real life, because the censure passed is

always proportional to the harm inflicted. So also with just actions,

the right done is constant in quality, but not in quantity. To explain

this better: he, who when dying of starvation steals a loaf, commits

a wrong; but how small is this wrong in comparison with the act of an

opulent proprietor, who, in whatever way, despoils a poor man of his

last penny! Again: the rich person who pays his hired labourer, acts

justly; but how insignificant is this piece of justice when contrasted

with that of a penniless toiler, who voluntarily returns to its wealthy

owner a purse of gold which he has found! The measure, however, of this

striking difference in the quantity of justice, and injustice (the

=quality= being always constant), is not direct and absolute, as

on a graduated scale; it is indirect and relative, like the ratio of

sines and tangents. I give therefore the following definition: the

amount of injustice in my conduct varies as the amount of evil, which

I thereby bring on another, divided by the amount of advantage, which

I myself gain; and the amount of justice in my conduct varies as the

amount of advantage, which injury done to another brings me, divided by

the amount of harm which he thereby suffers.

We have further to notice a =double= form of injustice which is

specifically different from the simple kind, be it never so great. This

variety may be detected by the fact that the amount of indignation

shown by disinterested witnesses, which is always proportional to the

amount of wrong inflicted, never reaches the =maximum= except

when it is present. We then see how the deed is loathed, as something

revolting and heinous, as an _ἄγος_ (_i.e._, abomination), before

which, as it were, the gods veil their faces. =Double= injustice

occurs when some one, after definitely undertaking the obligation of

protecting his friend, master, client, etc., in a special way, not

only is guilty of non-fulfilment of that duty (which of itself would

be injurious to the other, and therefore a wrong); but when, in

addition, he turns round, and attacks the man, and strikes at the very

spot which he promised to guard. Instances are: the appointed watch,

or guide, who becomes an assassin; the trusted caretaker, who becomes

a thief; the guardian, who robs his ward of her property; the lawyer,

who prevaricates; the judge, who is corruptible; the adviser, who

deliberately gives some fatal counsel. All such conduct is known by the

name of =treachery=, and is viewed with abhorrence by the whole

world. Hence Dante puts traitors in the lowest circle of Hell, where

Satan himself is found (_Inferno_: xi, 61-60).

As we have here had occasion to mention the word "obligation," this

is the place to determine the conception of =Duty=, which is so

often spoken of both in Ethics and in real life, but with too wide

an extension of meaning. We have seen that wrong always signifies

injury done to another, whether it be in his person, his freedom, his

property, or his honour. The consequence appears to be that every wrong

must imply a positive aggression, and so a definite act. Only there are

actions, the simple omission of which constitutes a wrong; and these

are Duties. This is the true philosophic definition of the conception

"Duty,"--a term which loses its characteristic note, and hence becomes

valueless, if it is used (as hitherto it has been in Moral Science)

to designate all praiseworthy conduct. It is forgotten that "Duty"[7]

necessarily means a =debt= which is owing, being thus an action,

by the simple omission of which another suffers harm, that is, a wrong

comes about. Clearly in this case the injury only takes place through

the person, who neglects the duty, having distinctly pledged or bound

himself to it. Consequently all duties depend on an obligation which

has been entered into. This, as a rule, takes the form of a definite,

if sometimes tacit, agreement between two parties: as for instance,

between prince and people, government and its servants, master and

man, lawyer and client, physician and patient; in a word, between any

and every one who undertakes to perform some task, and his employer

in the widest sense of the word. Hence every duty involves a right;

since no one undertakes an obligation without a motive, which means,

in this case, without seeing some advantage for himself. There is

only =one= obligation that I know of which is not subject to an

agreement, but arises directly and solely through an act; this is

because one of the persons with whom it has to do was not in existence

when it was contracted. I refer to the duty of parents towards their

children. Whoever brings a child into the world, has incumbent on him

the duty of supporting his offspring, until the latter is able to

maintain himself; and should this time never come, owing to incapacity

from blindness, deformity, cretinism, and the like, neither does the

duty ever come to an end. It is clear that merely by failing to provide

for the needs of his son, that is, by a simple omission, the father

would injure him, indeed jeopardise his life. Children's duty towards

their parents is not so direct and imperative. It rests on the fact

that, as every duty involves a right, parents also must have some just

claim on their issue. This is the foundation of the duty of filial

obedience, which, however, in course of time ceases simultaneously

with the right out of which it sprang. It is replaced by gratitude for

that which was done by father and mother over and above their strict

duty. Nevertheless, although ingratitude is a hateful, often indeed a

revolting vice, gratitude cannot be called a =duty=; because its

omission inflicts no injury on the other side, and is therefore no

=wrong=. Otherwise we should have to suppose that in his heart

of hearts the benefactor aims at making a good bargain. It should be

noticed that reparation made for harm done may also be regarded as a

duty arising directly through an action. This, however, is something

purely negative, as it is nothing but an attempt to remove and blot out

the consequences of an unjust deed, as a thing that ought never to have

taken place. Be it also observed that equity[8] is the foe of justice,

and often comes into harsh collision with it; so that the former ought

only to be admitted within certain limits. The German is a friend of

equity, while the Englishman holds to justice.

The law of motivation is just as strict as that of physical causality,

and hence involves the same irresistible necessity. Consequently

wrong may be compassed not only by violence, but also by cunning. If

by violence I am able to kill or rob another, or compel him to obey

me, I can equally use cunning to accomplish the same ends; that is, I

can place false motives before his intellect, by reason of which he

must do what otherwise he would not. These false motives are effected

by lies. In reality lies are unjustifiable solely in so far as they

are instruments of cunning, in other words, of compulsion, by means of

motivation.[9] And this is precisely their function, as a rule. For,

in the first place, I cannot tell a falsehood without a motive, and

this motive will certainly be, with the rarest exceptions, an unjust

one; namely, the intention of holding others, over whom I have no

power, under my will, that is, of coercing them through the agency of

motivation. Also in mere exaggerations and untruthful bombast there

is the same purpose at work; for, by employing such language, a man

tries to place himself higher in the sight of others than is his due.

The binding force of a promise or a compact is contained in the fact

that, if it be not observed, it is a deliberate lie, pronounced in the

most solemn manner,--a lie, whose intention (that of putting others

under moral compulsion) is, in this case, all the clearer, because

its motive, the desired performance of something on the other side,

is expressly declared. The contemptible part of the fraud is that

hypocrisy is used to disarm the victim before he is attacked. The

highest point of villainy is reached in =treachery=, which, as we

have seen, is a =double= injustice, and is always, regarded with

loathing.

It is, then, obvious that, just as I am not wrong, that is, right in

resisting violence by violence, so where violence is not feasible,

or it appears more convenient, I am at liberty to resort to cunning;

accordingly, whenever I am entitled to use force, I may, if I please,

employ falsehood; for instance, against robbers and miscreants of

every sort, whom in this way I entice into a trap. Hence a promise

which is extorted by violence is not binding. But, as a matter of

fact, the right to avail myself of lies extends further. It occurs

whenever an unjustifiable question is asked, which has to do with my

private, or business affairs, and is hence prompted by curiosity; for

to answer it, or even to put it off by the suspicion-awakening words,

"I can't tell you," would expose me to danger. Here an untruth is

the indispensable weapon against unwarranted inquisitiveness, whose

motive is hardly ever a well-meaning one. For, just as I have the

right to oppose the apparent bad will of another, and to anticipate

with physical resistance, to the danger of my would-be aggressor, the

physical violence presumably thence resulting; so that, for instance,

as a precaution, I can protect my garden wall with sharp spikes, let

loose savage dogs in my court at night, and even, if circumstances

require it, set man-traps and spring-guns, for the evil consequences of

which the burglar has only himself to thank:--if I have the right to do

this, then I am equally authorised in keeping secret, at any price,

that which, if known, would lay me bare to the attack of others. And I

have good reason for acting thus, because, in moral, no less than in

physical, relations, I am driven to assume that the bad will of others

is very possible, and must therefore take all necessary preventive

measures beforehand. Whence Ariosto says:--

_Quantunque il similar sia le più volte_

_Ripreso, e dia di mala mente indict,_

_Si trova pure in molte cose e molte_

_Avere fatti evidenti benefici,_

_E danni e biasmi e morti avere tolte:_

_Che non conversiam' sempre con gli amici,_

_In questa assai più oscura che serena_

_Vita mortal, tutta d'invidia piena_[10]

_--Orl. Fur._, IV., 1.

I may, then, without any injustice match cunning with cunning, and

anticipate all crafty encroachments on me, even if they be only

probable; and I need neither render an account to him who unwarrantably

pries into my personal circumstances, nor by replying: "I cannot

answer this," show him the spot where I have a secret, which perilous

to me, and perhaps advantageous to him, in any case puts me in his

power, if divulged: _Scire volunt secreta domus, atque inde timeri_.

(They wish to know family secrets, and thus become feared.) On the

contrary, I am justified in putting him off with a lie, involving

danger to himself, in case he is thereby led into a mistake that

works him harm. Indeed, a falsehood is the only means of opposing

inquisitive and suspicious curiosity; to meet which it is the one

weapon of necessary self-defence. "Ask me no questions, and I'll tell

you no lies" is here the right maxim. For among the English, who regard

the reproach of being a liar as the deepest insult, and who on that

account are really more truthful than other nations, all unjustifiable

questions, having to do with another's affairs, are looked upon as

a piece of ill-breeding, which is denoted by the expression, "to

ask questions." Certainly every sensible person, even when he is

of the strictest rectitude, follows the principle above set forth.

Suppose, for instance, such a one is returning from a remote spot,

where he has raised a sum of money; and suppose an unknown traveller

joins him, and after the customary "whither" and "whence" gradually

proceeds to inquire what may have taken him to that place; the former

will undoubtedly give a false answer in order to avoid the danger

of robbery. Again: if a man be found in the house of another, whose

daughter he is wooing; and he is asked the cause of his unexpected

presence; unless he has entirely lost his head, he will not give the

true reason, but unhesitatingly invent a pretext. And the cases are

numberless in which every reasonable being tells an untruth, without

the least scruple of conscience. It is this view of the matter alone

that removes the crying contradiction between the morality which is

taught, and that which is daily practised, even by the best and most

upright of men. At the same time, the restriction of a falsehood to

the single purpose of self-defence must be rigidly observed; for

otherwise this doctrine would admit of terrible abuse, a lie being in

itself a very dangerous instrument. But just as, even in time of public

peace, the law allows every one to carry weapons and to use them, when

required for self-defence, so Ethics permits lies to be employed for

the same purpose, and--be it observed--for this one purpose only. Every

mendacious word is a wrong, excepting only when the occasion arises of

defending oneself against violence or cunning. Hence justice requires

truthfulness towards all men. But the entirely unconditional and

unreserved condemnation of lies, as properly involved in their nature,

is sufficiently refuted by well known facts. Thus, there are cases

where a falsehood is a =duty=, especially for doctors; and there

are =magnanimous= lies, as, for instance, that of the Marquis

Posa in _Don Carlos_[11] or that in the _Gerusalemme Liberata_, II.,

22;[12] they occur, indeed, whenever a man wills to take on himself

the guilt of another; and lastly, Jesus Christ himself is reported

(_John_ vii. 8; cf. ver. 10) on one occasion to have intentionally

told an untruth. The reader will remember that Campanella, in his

_Poesie Filosofiche_ (Delia Bellezza: Madr. 9), does not hesitate to

say: "_Bello è il mentir, se a fare gran ben' si trova_."[13] On the

other hand, the current teaching as regards necessary falsehoods is a

wretched patch on the dress of a poverty-stricken morality. Kant is

responsible for the theory found in many text-books, which derives

the unjustifiableness of lies from man's faculty of speech; but the

arguments are so tame, childish and absurd that one might well be

tempted, if only to pour contempt on them, to join sides with the

devil, and say with Talleyrand: _l'homme a reçu la parole pour pouvoir

cacher sa pensée_[14]. The unqualified and boundless horror shown by

Kant for falsehoods, whenever he has the opportunity, is due either to

affectation, or to prejudice. In the chapter of his "_Tugendlehre_,"

dealing with lies, he loads them with every kind of defamatory epithet,

but does not adduce a single adequate reason for their condemnation;

which would have been more to the point. Declamation is easier than

demonstration, and to moralise less difficult than to be sincere. Kant

would have done better to open the vials of his wrath on that vice

which takes pleasure in seeing others suffer; it is the latter, and not

a falsehood, which is truly fiendish. For malignant joy is the exact

opposite of Compassion, and nothing else but powerless cruelty, which,

unable itself to bring about the misery it so gladly beholds others

enduring, is thankful to _Τύχη_ for having done so instead. According

to the code of knightly honour, the reproach of being a liar is of

extreme gravity, and only to be washed out with the accuser's blood.

Now this obtains, not because the lie is wrong in itself, since, were

such the reason, to accuse a man of an injury done by violence would

certainly be regarded as equally outrageous,--which is not the case,

as every one knows; but it is due to that principle of chivalry, which

in reality bases right on might; so that whoever, when trying to work

mischief, has recourse to falsehood, proves that he lacks either power,

or the requisite courage. Every untruth bears witness of his fear; and

this is why a fatal verdict is passed on him.

[1] Thus, when the first gleam of _Mitleid_ stole into her heart,

Brünhilde could no longer remain a Walküre; and Wotan's end comes, when

by the same solvent he is at length set free from the delusion of the

_principium individuationis._--(_Translator._)

[2] There is here an allusion to the _πάνδημος Ἓρως_ and _Oὐρανία_ in

Plato's _Symposium. V_. Chap. 8, sq. Edit. Schmelzer: Weidmann, Berlin,

1882.--(_Translator._)

[3] _V_. Hesiod, _Opera et Dies_, 174-201.--(_Translator._)

[4] Justice here denotes nothing else than that which is just, and

this, rather in a negative than in a positive sense; so that what is

not unjust is to be regarded as justice.

[5] There is no more efficient instrument in ruling the masses than

superstition. Without this they have no self-control; they are brutish;

they are changeable; but once they are caught by some vain form of

religion, they lend a more willing ear to its soothsayers than to their

own leaders.

[6] The Doctrine of Eight in detail may be found in _Die Welt als Wille

und Vorstellung_, vol. i., § 62.

[7] Duty = _τὸ δέον_ = le devoir = Pflicht [cf. _plight_, O. H. G.

_plegan_.]--(_Translator_.)

[8] The word here translated "equity" (_Billigkeit_: Lat. _aequitas_)

means the sense of fairness, or of natural justice which determines

what is fitting and due in all human relations, as opposed to justice

(_Gerechtigkeit_) taken as positive written law.--(_Translator._)

[9] Motivation is defined in Part II., Chapter VIII., as "the law of

Causality acting through the medium of the intellect." It is thus the

law of the determination of conduct by motives.--(_Translator._)

[10]

However much we're won't to blame a lie,

As index of a mind estranged from right,

Yet times unnumber'd it hath shap'd results

Of good most evident; disgrace and loss,

It chang'd; e'en death it cheated. For with friends,

Alas! not always in this mortal life,

Where envy fills all hearts, and gloom prevails

Much more than light, are we in converse join'd.

--(_Translator._)

[11] _Vide_, Schiller's _Don Carlos_: Act V., Sc. 3.--(_Translator._)

[12]

"_Magnanima menzogna, or quando è il vero_

_Si hello che si possa a te preporre?"_

Cf. also the Horatian _splendid mendax. Carm._ III., 11, 35.--(_Translator._)

[13] 'Tis well to lie, an there result much good therefrom. _Vide,

Opere_ di Tommaso Campanella, da Alessandro d'Ancona, Torino,

1854.--(_Translator._)

[14] Man has received the gift of language, so as to be able to conceal

his thoughts.

CHAPTER VII.

THE VIRTUE OF LOVING-KINDNESS.

Thus justice is the primary and essentially cardinal virtue. Ancient

philosophers recognised it as such, but made it co-ordinate with three

others unsuitably chosen.[1] Loving-kindness (_caritas, ἀγάπη_) was not

as yet ranked as a virtue. Plato himself, who rises highest in moral

science, reaches only so far as voluntary, disinterested justice. It

is true that loving-kindness has existed at all times in practice and

in fact; but it was reserved for Christianity,--whose greatest service

is seen in this--to theoretically formulate, and expressly advance it

not only as a virtue, but as the queen of all; and to extend it even

to enemies. We are thinking of course only of Europe. For in Asia, a

thousand years before, the boundless love of one's neighbour had been

prescribed and taught, as well as practised: the Vedas[2] are full

of it; while in the Dharma-Śāstra,[3] Itihāsa,[4] and Purāna[5] it

constantly recurs, to say nothing of the preaching of Śakya-muni, the

Buddha. And to be quite accurate we must admit that there are traces

to be found among the Greeks and Romans of a recommendation to follow

loving-kindness; for instance, in Cicero, _De Finibus_, V., 23;[6] and

also in Pythagoras, according to Iamblichus, _De vita Pythagorae_,

chap. 33.[7] My task is now to give a philosophical derivation of this

virtue from the principle I have laid down.

It has been demonstrated in Chapter V. of this Part, that the sense of

Compassion, however much its origin is shrouded in mystery, is the one

and sole cause whereby the suffering I see in another, of itself, and

as such, becomes directly my motive; and we have seen that the first

stage of this process is =negative=. The second degree is sharply

distinguished from the first, through the =positive= character

of the actions resulting therefrom; for at this point Compassion

does more than keep me back from injuring my neighbour; it impels me

to help him. And according as, on the one hand, my sense of direct

participation is keen and deep, and, on the other hand, the distress

is great and urgent, so shall I be constrained by this motive, which

(be it noted) is purely and wholly moral, to make a greater or less

sacrifice in order to meet the need or the calamity which I observe;

and this sacrifice may involve the expenditure of my bodily or mental

powers, the loss of my property, freedom, or even life. So that in

this direct =suffering with= another, which rests on no arguments

and requires none, is found the one simple origin of loving-kindness,

_caritas, aγάπη_ in other words, that virtue whose rule is: _Omnes,

quantum potes, juva_ (help all people, as far as lies in your power);

and from which all those actions proceed which are prescribed by

Ethics under the name of duties of virtue, otherwise called duties of

love, or imperfect duties. It is solely by direct and, as it were,

instinctive participation in the sufferings which we see, in other

words, by Compassion, that conduct so defined is occasioned; at least

when it can be said to have moral worth, that is, be declared free

from all egoistic motives, and when on that account it awakens in us

that inward contentment which is called a good, satisfied, approving

conscience, and elicits from the spectator (not without making him

cast a humiliating glance at himself), that remarkable commendation,

respect, and admiration which are too well-known to be denied.

But if a beneficent action have any other motive whatever, then it

must be egoistic, if not actually malicious. For as the fundamental

springs of all human conduct (_v_. Chapter V. of this Part), are three,

namely, Egoism, Malice, Compassion; so the various motives which are

capable of affecting men may be grouped under three general heads: (1)

one's own weal; (2) others' woe; (3) others' weal. Now if the motive

of a kind act does not belong to the third class, it must of course

be found in the first or second. To the second it is occasionally to

be ascribed; for instance, if I do good to some one, in order to vex

another, to whom I am hostile; or to make the latter's sufferings more

acute; or, it may be, to put to shame a third person, who refrained

from helping; or lastly, to inflict a mortification on the man whom I

benefit. But it much more usually springs from the first class. And

this is the case whenever, in doing some good, I have in view my own

weal, no matter how remote or indirect it may be; that is, whenever

I am influenced by the thought of reward whether in this, or in

another, world, or by the hope of winning high esteem, and of gaining

a reputation for nobleness of character; or again, when I reflect that

the person, whom I now aid, may one day be able to assist me in return,

or otherwise be of some service and benefit; or when, lastly, I am

guided by the consideration that I must keep the rules of magnanimity

and beneficence, because I too may on some occasion profit thereby. In

a word, my motive is egoistic as soon as it is anything other than

the purely objective desire of simply knowing, without any ulterior

purpose, that my neighbour is helped, delivered from his distress and

need, or freed from his suffering. If such an aim--shorn, as it is, of

all subjectivity--be really mine, then, and then only, have I given

proof of that loving-kindness, _caritas, ἀγάπη_, which it is the great

and distinguishing merit of Christianity to have preached. It should

be observed, in this connection, that the injunctions which the Gospel

adds to its commandment of love, _e.g., μὴ γνώτω ἡ ἀρίστερα σου, τί

ποιεῑ ἡ δεξιά σου_ (let not thy left hand know what thy right hand

doeth), and the like, are, in point of fact, based on a consciousness

of the conclusion I have here reached,--namely, that another's

distress, of itself alone, without any further consideration, must be

my motive, if what I do is to be of moral value. And in the same place

(_Matth_. vi. 2) we find it stated with perfect truth that ostentations

almsgivers _ἀπέχουσιν τὸν μισθὸν αὐτῶν_. (Get in full--exhaust their

reward.) Although, in this respect too, the Vedas shed on us the light

of a higher teaching. They repeatedly declare that he, who desires any

sort of recompense for his work, is still wandering in the path of

darkness, and not yet ripe for deliverance. If any one should ask me

what he gets from a charitable act, my answer in all sincerity would

be: "This, that the lot of the poor man you relieve is just so much the

lighter; otherwise absolutely nothing. If you are not satisfied, and

feel that such is not a sufficient end, then your wish was not to give

alms, but to make a purchase; and you have effected a bad bargain.

But if the one thing you are concerned with is that he should feel the

pressure of poverty less; then you have gained your object; you have

diminished his suffering, and you see exactly how far your gift is

requited."

Now, how is it possible that trouble which is not mine, and by which

I am untouched, should become as direct a motive to me as if it were

my own, and incite me to action? As already explained, only through

the fact that, although it comes before me merely as something outside

myself, by means of the external medium of sight or hearing; I am,

nevertheless, sensible of it with the sufferer; I feel it as my own,

not indeed in myself, but in him And so what Calderon said comes to

pass:

_que entre el ver_

_Padecer y el padecer_

_Ninguna distancia habia_.

(_No Siempre lo Peor es Cierto_. Jorn. II., Esc. 9.)[8]

This, however, presupposes that to a certain extent I have become

identified with the other, and consequently that the barrier between

the ego and the non-ego is, for the moment, broken down. It is then,

and then only, that I make his interests, his need, his distress, his

suffering directly my own; it is then that the empirical picture I have

of him vanishes, and I no longer see the stranger, who is entirely

unlike myself, and to whom I am indifferent; but I share his pain in

him, despite the certainty that his skin does not enclose my nerves.

Only in this way is it possible for =his= woe, =his= distress

to become a motive =for me=; otherwise I should be influenced

solely by my own. This process is, I repeat, =mysterious=. For it

is one which Reason can give no direct account of, and its causes lie

outside the field of experience. And yet it is of daily occurrence.

Every one has often felt its working within himself; even to the most

hard-hearted and selfish it is not unknown. Each day that passes brings

it before our eyes, in single acts, on a small scale; whenever a man,

by direct impulse, without much reflection, helps a fellow-creature and

comes to his aid, sometimes even exposing himself to the most imminent

peril for the sake of one he has never seen before, and this, without

once thinking of anything but the fact that he witnesses another's

great distress and danger. It was manifested on a large scale, when

after long consideration, and many a stormy debate, the noble-hearted

British nation gave twenty millions of pounds to ransom the negroes in

its colonies, with the approbation and joy of a whole world. If any one

refuses to recognise in Compassion the cause of this deed, magnificent

as it is in its grand proportions, and prefers to ascribe it to

Christianity; let him remember that in the whole of the New Testament

not one word is said against slavery, though at that time it was

practically universal; and further, that as late as A.D. 1860, in North

America, when the question was being discussed, a man was found who

thought to strengthen his case by appealing to the fact that Abraham

and Jacob kept slaves!

What will be in each separate case the practical effect of this

mysterious inner process may be left to Ethics to analyse, in chapters

and paragraphs entitled "Duties of Virtue," "Duties of Love,"

"Imperfect Duties," or whatever other name be used. The root, the

basis of all these is the one here indicated; for out of it arises

the primary precept: _Omnes, quantum potes, juva_; from which in turn

everything else required can very easily be deduced; just as out of the

_Neminem laede_--the first half of my principle--all duties of justice

are derivable. Ethics is in truth the easiest of all sciences. And

this is only to be expected, since it is incumbent on each person to

construct it for himself, and himself form the rule for every case, as

it occurs, out of the fundamental law which lies deep in his heart; for

few have leisure and patience enough to learn a ready-made system of

Morals. From justice and loving-kindness spring all the other virtues;

for which reason these two may properly be called cardinal, and the

disclosure of their origin lays the corner-stone of Moral Science. The

entire ethical content of the Old Testament is justice; loving-kindness

being that of the New. The latter is the _καινὴ ἐντολὴ_ (the new

commandment [_John_ xiii. 34]), which according to Paul (_Romans_ xiii.

8-10) includes all Christian virtues.

[1] Plato taught that Justice (_δικαιοσύνη_) includes in itself the

three other virtues of Wisdom (σοϕία), Fortitude (_ἀνδρεία,_) and

Temperance (_σωϕρούυν_). With Aristotle, too, Justice is the chief

of virtues; while the Stoic doctrine is that Virtue is manifested

in four leading co-ordinate forms: Wisdom, Justice, Fortitude, and

Temperance.--(_Translator_.)

[2] There are four Vedas: the _Big-Veda, Yajur-Veda, Sāma-Veda,_ and

_Atharva-Veda_.--(_Translator._)

[3] _Dharma-Śāstra_ ("a law book"): the body or code of Hindu

law.--(_Translator._)

[4] _Itihāsa_ (iti-ha-āsa, "so indeed it is"): talk, legend,

traditional accounts of former events, heroic history; _e.g._, the

Mahā-bhārata.--(_Translator_.)

[5] _Purāna_ (ancient, legendary): the name given to certain

well-known sacred works, eighteen in number, comprising the whole

body of modern Hindu mythology. _V_. Monier Williams' _Sanskrit

Dictionary_.--(_Translator._)

[6] _Ipsa_ CARITAS _generis humani, quae nata a primo satu, quod a

procreatoribus nati diliguntur, et tota domus conjugio et stirpe

conjungitur, serpit sensim foras, cognationibus primum, tum

affinitatibus, deinde amicitiis, post vicinitatibus tum civibus et iis,

qui publice socii atque amici sunt, deinde_ TOTIUS COMPLEXU GENTIS

HUMANAE.

[7] This chapter describes the Pythagorean ϕίλια πάντων πρὸς ἃπαντας,

which comes very near to loving-kindness. It contains also certain

_καλὰ τῆς ϕίλιας τεκήρια_.--(_Translator_.)

[8]

For between the view Of pain, and pain itself, I never knew A distance

lie.

It is not Always the Worst that is Certain: Act II., Sc.

9.--(_Translator._)

CHAPTER VIII.

THE PROOF NOW GIVEN CONFIRMED BY EXPERIENCE.

The truth I have here laid down, that Compassion is the sole

non-egoistic stimulus, and therefore the only really moral one, is

a strange, indeed almost incomprehensible paradox. I shall hope,

therefore, to render it less extraordinary to the reader, if I show

that it is confirmed by experience, and by the universal testimony of

human sentiment.

(1) For this purpose I shall, in the first place, state an imaginary

case, which in the present investigation may serve as an _experimentum

crucis_[1] (a crucial test). But not to make the matter too easy, I

shall take no instance of loving-kindness, but rather a breach of

lawful right, and that of the worse kind. Let us suppose two young

people, Caius and Titus, to be passionately in love, each with a

different girl, and that both are completely thwarted by two other men

who are preferred because of certain external circumstances. They have

both resolved to put their rivals out of the way, and are perfectly

secure from every chance of detection, even from all suspicion. But

when they come to actually prepare for the murder, each of them, after

an inward struggle, draws back. They are now to give us a truthful

and clear account of the reasons why they abandoned their project. As

for Caius, I leave it entirely to the reader to choose what motive he

likes. It may be that religions grounds checked him; for instance, the

thought of the Divine Will, of future retribution, of the judgment to

come, etc. Or perhaps he may say: "I reflected that the principle I

was going to apply in this case would not be adapted to provide a rule

universally valid for all possible rational beings; because I should

have treated my rival only as a means, and not at the same time as an

end." Or, following Fichte, he may deliver himself as follows: "Every

human life is a means towards realising the moral law; consequently,

I cannot, without being indifferent to this realisation, destroy a

being ordained to do his part in effecting it."--(_Sittenlehre_, p.

373.) (This scruple, be it observed in passing, he might well overcome

by the hope of soon producing a new instrument of the moral law, when

once in possession of his beloved.) Or, again, he may speak after the

fashion of Wollaston: "I considered that such an action would be the

expression of a false tenet." Or like Hutcheson: "The Moral Sense,

whose perceptions, equally with those of every other sense, admit

of no final explanation, forbade me to commit such a deed." Or like

Adam Smith: "I foresaw that my act would awaken no sympathy with me

in the minds of the spectators." Or his language may be borrowed from

Christian Wolff: "I recognised that I should thereby advance neither

the work of making myself perfect, nor the same process in any one

else." Or from Spinoza: "_Homini nihil utilius homine: ergo hominem

interimere nolui_." (To man nothing is more useful than man: therefore

I was unwilling to destroy a man.) In short, he may say what one

pleases. But Titus, whose explanation is supplied by myself, will speak

as follows: "When I came to make arrangements for the work, and so, for

the moment, had to occupy myself not with my own passion, but with my

rival; then for the first time I saw clearly what was going to happen

to him. But simultaneously I was seized with compassion and pity;

sorrow for him laid hold upon me, and overmastered me: I could not

strike the blow." Now I ask every honest and unprejudiced reader: Which

of these two is the better man? To which would he prefer to entrust his

own destiny? Which is restrained by the purer motive? Consequently,

where does the basis of morality lie?

(2) There is nothing that revolts our moral sense so much as cruelty.

Every other offence we can pardon, but not cruelty. The reason is found

in the fact that cruelty is the exact opposite of Compassion. When we

hear of intensely cruel conduct, as, for instance, the act, which

has just been recorded in the papers, of a mother, who murdered her

little son of five years, by pouring boiling oil into his throat, and

her younger child, by burying it alive; or what was recently reported

from Algiers: how a casual dispute between a Spaniard and an Algerine

ended in a fight; and how the latter, having vanquished the other, tore

out the whole of his lower jaw bone, and carried it off as a trophy,

leaving his adversary still alive;--when we hear of cruelty like this,

we are seized with horror, and exclaim: "How is it possible to do such

a thing?" Now, let me ask what this question signifies. Does it mean:

"How is it possible to fear so little the punishments of the future

life?" It is difficult to admit this interpretation. Then perhaps it

intends to say: "How is it possible to act according to a principle

which is so absolutely unfitted to become a general law for all

rational beings?" Certainly not. Or, once more: "How is it possible to

neglect so utterly one's own perfection as well as that of another?"'

This is equally unimaginable. The sense of the question is assuredly

nothing but this: "How is it possible to be so utterly bereft of

compassion?" The conclusion is that when an action is characterised by

an extraordinary absence of compassion, it bears the certain stamp of

the deepest depravity and loathsomeness. Hence Compassion is the true

moral incentive.

(3) The ethical basis, or the original moral stimulus, which I have

disclosed, is the only one that can be justly said to have a real

and extended sphere of effective influence. No one will surely

venture to maintain as much of all the other moral principles that

philosophers have set up; for these are composed of abstract, sometimes

even of hair-splitting propositions, with no foundation other than

an artificial combination of ideas; such that their application to

actual conduct would often incline to the comic. A good action,

inspired solely by Kant's Moral Principle, would be at bottom the

work of philosophic pedantry; or else would lead the doer into

self-deception, through his reason interpreting conduct, which had

other, perhaps nobler, incentives, as the product of the Categorical

Imperative, and of the conception of Duty, which, as we have seen,

rests on nothing. But not only is it true that the =philosophic=

moral principles, purely theoretical as they are, have seldom any

operative power; of those established by =religion=, and expressly

framed for practical purposes, it is equally difficult to predicate

any marked efficiency. The chief evidence of this lies in the fact

that in spite of the great religious differences in the world, the

amount of morality, or rather of immorality, shows no corresponding

variation, but in essentials is pretty much the same everywhere. Only

it is important not to confound rudeness and refinement with morality

and immorality. The religion of Hellas had an exceedingly small moral

tendency,--it hardly went further than respect for oaths. No dogma was

taught, and no system of Ethics publicly preached; nevertheless, all

things considered, it does not appear that the Greeks were morally

inferior to the men of the Christian era. The morality of Christianity

is of a much higher kind than that of any other religion which

previously appeared in Europe. But if any one should believe for this

reason that European morals have improved proportionally, and that

now at any rate they surpass what obtains elsewhere, it would not be

difficult to demonstrate that among the Mohammedans, Gnebres, Hindus,

and Buddhists, there is at least as much honesty, fidelity, toleration,

gentleness, beneficence, nobleness, and self-denial as among Christian

peoples. Indeed, the scale will be found rather to turn unfavourably

for Christendom, when we put into the balance the long list of inhuman

cruelties which have constantly been perpetrated within its limits

and often in its name. We need only recall for a moment the numerous

religious wars; the crusades that nothing can justify; the extirpation

of a large part of the American aborigines, and the peopling of that

continent by negroes, brought over from Africa, without the shadow of

a right, torn from their families, their country, their hemisphere,

and, as slaves, condemned for life to forced labour;[2] the tireless

persecution of heretics; the unspeakable atrocities of the Inquisition,

that cried aloud to heaven; the Massacre of St. Bartholomew; the

execution of 18,000 persons in the Netherlands by the Duke of Alva; and

these are but a few facts among many. Speaking generally, however,

if we compare with the performances of its followers the excellent

morality which Christianity, and, more or less, every creed preaches,

and then try to imagine how far theory would become practice, if crime

were not impeded by the secular arm of the state; nay more, what would

probably happen, if, for only one day all laws should be suspended; we

shall be obliged to confess that the effect of the various religions

on Morals is in fact very small. This is of course due to weakness of

faith. Theoretically, and so long as it is only a question of piety in

the abstract, every one supposes his belief to be firm enough. Only

the searching touch-stone of all our convictions is--what we do. When

the moment for acting arrives, and our faith has to be tested by great

self-denial and heavy sacrifices, then its feebleness becomes evident.

If a man is seriously planning some evil, he has already broken the

bounds of true and pure morality. Thenceforward the chief restraint

that checks him is invariably the dread of justice and the police.

Should he be so hopeful of escaping detection as to cast such fears

aside, the next barrier that meets him is regard for his honour. If

this second rampart be crossed, there is very little likelihood, after

both these powerful hindrances are withdrawn, that any religious dogma

will appeal to him strongly enough to keep him back from the deed. For

if he be not frightened by near and immediate dangers, he will hardly

be curbed by terrors which are distant, and rest merely on belief.

Moreover, there is a positive objection that may be brought against

all good conduct proceeding solely from religions conviction; it is

not purged of self-interest, but done out of regard for reward and

punishment, and hence can have no purely moral value. This view we find

very clearly expressed in a letter of the celebrated Grand-Duke of

Weimar, Karl August. He writes: "Baron Weyhers was himself of opinion

that he, who is good through religion, and not by natural inclination,

must be a bad fellow at heart. _In vino veritas."[3]--(Letters to

J. H. Merck_; No. 229.) But now let us turn to the moral incentive

which I have disclosed. Who ventures for a moment to deny that it

displays a marked and truly wonderful influence at all times, among all

peoples, in all circumstances of life; even when constitutional law is

suspended, and the horrors of revolutions and wars fill the air; in

small things and in great, every day and every hour? Who will refuse

to admit that it is constantly preventing much wrong, and calling into

existence many a good action, often quite unexpectedly, and where there

is no hope of reward? Is there any one who will gainsay the fact that,

where it and it alone has been operative, we all with deep respect and

emotion unreservedly recognise the presence of genuine moral worth?

(4) Boundless compassion for all living beings is the surest and most

certain guarantee of pure moral conduct, and needs no casuistry.

Whoever is filled with it will assuredly injure no one, do harm to

no one, encroach on no man's rights; he will rather have regard for

every one, forgive every one, help every one as far as he can, and

all his actions will bear the stamp of justice and loving-kindness.

On the other hand, if we try to say: "This man is virtuous, but he is

a stranger to Compassion"; or: "he is an unjust and malicious man,

yet very compassionate;" the contradiction at once leaps to light. In

former times the English plays used to finish with a petition for the

King. The old Indian dramas close with these words: "May all living

beings be delivered from pain." Tastes differ; but in my opinion there

is no more beautiful prayer than this.

(5) Also from separate matters of detail it may be inferred that

the original stimulus of true morality is Compassion. For instance,

to make a man lose a hundred thalers, by legal tricks involving no

danger, is equally unjust, whether he be rich or poor; but in the

latter case the rapping of conscience is much louder, the censure of

disinterested witnesses more emphatic. Aristotle was well aware of

this, and said: _δεινότερον δέ εστι τὸν ἀτυχοῡντα, ἢ τον ετὐχοῡντα,

ἀδικεῑν_. (It is worse to injure a man in adversity than one who is

prosperous.)--(_Probl._ xxix. 2.) If the man have wealth, self-reproach

is proportionally faint, and grows still fainter, if it be the treasury

that has been overreached; for state coffers can form no object of

Compassion. It thus appears that the grounds for self-accusation as

well as for the spectators' blame are not furnished directly by the

infringement of the law, but chiefly by the suffering thereby brought

upon others. The violation of right, by itself and as such, which is

involved in cheating the exchequer, (to take the above instance,)

will be disapproved by the conscience alike of actor and witness; but

only because, and in so far as, the rule of respecting =every=

right, which forms the _sine qua non_ of all honourable conduct, is in

consequence broken. The stricture passed will, in fact, be indirect and

limited. If, however, it be a confidential _employé_ in the service

that commits the fraud, the case assumes quite another aspect; it

then has all the specific attributes of, and belongs to, that class

of actions described above, whose characteristic is a =double

injustice=. The analysis here given explains why the worst charge

which can ever be brought against rapacious extortioners and legal

sharpers is, that they appropriate for themselves the goods of widows

and orphans. The reason appears in the fact that the latter, more

than others, owing to their helplessness, might be expected to excite

Compassion in the most callous heart. Hence we conclude that the entire

absence of this sense is sufficient to lower a man to the last degree

of villainy.

(6) Compassion is the root no less of justice than of loving-kindness;

but it is more clearly evidenced in the latter than in the former.

We never receive proofs of genuine loving-kindness on the part of

others, so long as we are in all respects prosperous. The happy man

may, no doubt, often hear the words of good-will on his relations'

and friends' lips; but the expression of that pure, disinterested,

objective participation in the condition and lot of others, which

loving-kindness begets, is reserved for him who is stricken with some

sorrow or suffering, whatever it be. For the fortunate =as such=

we do not feel sympathy; unless they have some other claim on us, they

remain alien to our hearts: _habeant sibi sua._ (They may keep their

own affairs, pleasures, etc., to themselves.) Nay, if a man has many

advantages over others, he will easily become an object of envy, which

is ready, should he once fall from his height of prosperity, to turn

into malignant joy. Nevertheless this menace is, for the most part,

not fulfilled; the Sophoclean _γελῶσι δ' ἐχθροί _ (his enemies laugh)

does not generally become an actual fact. As soon as the day of ruin

comes to one of fortune's spoiled children, there usually takes place

a great transformation in the minds of his acquaintances, which for us

in this connection is very instructive. In the first place this change

clearly reveals the real nature of the interest that the friends of his

happiness took in him: _diffugiunt cadis cum faece siccatis amici._

(When the casks are drained to the dregs, one's friends run away.)[4]

On the other hand, the exultation of those who envied his prosperity,

the mocking laugh of malicious satisfaction, which he feared more than

adversity itself, and the contemplation of which he could not face,

are things usually spared him. Jealousy is appeased, and disappears

with its cause; while Compassion which takes its place is the parent

of loving-kindness. Those who were envious of, and hostile to, a man

in the full tide of success, after his downfall, have not seldom

become his friends, ready to protect, comfort, and help. Who has not,

at least in a small way, himself experienced something of the sort?

Where is the man, who, when overtaken by some calamity, of whatever

nature, has not noticed with surprise how the persons that previously

had displayed the greatest coldness, nay, ill-will towards him, then

came forward with unfeigned sympathy? For misfortune is the condition

of Compassion, and Compassion the source of loving-kindness. When our

wrath is kindled against a person, nothing quenches it so quickly, even

when it is righteous, as the words: "He is an unfortunate man." And the

reason is obvious: Compassion is to anger as water to fire. Therefore,

whoever would fain have nothing to repent of, let him listen to my

advice. When he is inflamed with rage, and meditates doing some one a

grievous injury, he should bring the thing vividly before his mind,

as a _fait accompli_; he should clearly picture to himself this other

fellow-being tormented with mental or bodily pain, or struggling with

need and misery; so that he is forced to exclaim: "This is my work!"

Such thoughts as these, if anything, will avail to moderate his wrath.

For Compassion is the true antidote of anger; and by practising on

oneself this artifice of the imagination, one awakes beforehand, while

there is yet time,

_la pitié, dont la voix,_

_Alors qu'on est vengé, fait entendre ses lois_.[5]

--(Voltaire, _Sémiramis_, V. 6.)

And in general, the hatred we may cherish for others is overcome by

nothing so easily as by our taking a point of view whence they can

appeal to our Compassion. The reason indeed why parents, as a rule,

specially love the sickly one of their children is because the sight of

it perpetually stirs their Compassion.

(7) There is another proof that the moral incentive disclosed by me

is the true one. I mean the fact that animals also are included under

its protecting aegis. In the other European systems of Ethics no place

is found for them,--strange and inexcusable as this may appear. It is

asserted that beasts have no rights; the illusion is harboured that our

conduct, so far as they are concerned, has no moral significance, or,

as it is put in the language of these codes, that "there are no duties

to be fulfilled towards animals." Such a view is one of revolting

coarseness, a barbarism of the West, whose source is Judaism. In

philosophy, however, it rests on the assumption, despite all evidence

to the contrary, of the radical difference between man and beast,--a

doctrine which, as is well known, was proclaimed with more trenchant

emphasis by Descartes than by any one else: it was indeed the necessary

consequence of his mistakes. When Leibnitz and Wolff, following out

the Cartesian view, built up out of abstract ideas their Rational

Psychology, and constructed a deathless _anima rationalis_ (rational

soul); then the natural claims of the animal kingdom visibly rose up

against this exclusive privilege, this human patent of immortality, and

Nature, as always in such circumstances, entered her silent protest.

Our philosophers, owing to the qualms of their intellectual conscience,

were soon forced to seek aid for their Rational Psychology from the

empirical method; they accordingly tried to reveal the existence of

a vast chasm, an immeasurable gulf between animals and men, in order

to represent them, in the teeth of opposing testimony, as existences

essentially different. These efforts did not escape the ridicule of

Boileau; for we find him saying:

_Les animaux ont-ils des universités?_

_Voit-on fleurir chez eux des quatre facultés?_[6]

Such a supposition would end in animals being pronounced incapable

of distinguishing themselves from the external world, and of having

any self-consciousness, any ego! As answer to such absurd tenets, it

would only be necessary to point to the boundless Egoism innate in

every animal, even the smallest and humblest; this amply proves how

perfectly they are conscious of their self, as opposed to the world,

which lies outside it. If any one of the Cartesian persuasion, with

views like these in his head, should find himself in the claws of a

tiger, he would be taught in the most forcible manner what a sharp

distinction such a beast draws between his ego and the non-ego.

Corresponding to these philosophical fallacies we notice a peculiar

sophism in the speech of many peoples, especially the Germans. For the

commonest matters connected with the processes of life,--for food,

drink, conception, the bringing forth of young; for death, and the dead

body; such languages have special words applicable only to animals,

not to men. In this way the necessity of using the same terms for

both is avoided, and the perfect identity of the thing concealed under

verbal differences. Now, since the ancient tongues show no trace of

such a dual mode of expression, but frankly denote the same things

by the same words; it follows that this miserable artifice is beyond

all doubt the work of European priestcraft, which, in its profanity,

knows no limit to its disavowal of, and blasphemy against, the Eternal

Reality that lives in every animal. Thus was laid the foundation of

that harshness and cruelty towards beasts which is customary in Europe,

and on which a native of the Asiatic uplands could not look without

righteous horror. In English this infamous invention is not to be

found; assuredly because the Saxons, when they conquered England, were

not yet Christians. Nevertheless the English language shows something

analogous in the strange fact that it makes all animals of the neuter

gender, the pronoun "it" being employed for them, just as if they

were lifeless things. This idiom has a very objectionable sound,

especially in the case of dogs, monkeys, and other Primates, and is

unmistakably a priestly trick, designed to reduce beasts to the level

of inanimate objects. The ancient Egyptians, who dedicated all their

days to religion, were accustomed to place in the same vault with a

human mummy that of an ibis, a crocodile, etc.; in Europe it is a

crime, an abomination to bury a faithful dog beside the resting-place

of his master, though it is there perhaps that he, with a fidelity

and attachment unknown to the sons of men, awaited his own end. To a

recognition of the identity, in all essentials, of the phaenomena

which we call "man" and "beast," nothing leads more surely than the

study of zoology and anatomy. What shall we say then, when in these

days (1839) a canting dissector has been found, who presumes to insist

on an absolute and radical difference between human beings and animals,

and who goes so far as to attack and calumniate honest zoologists that

keep aloof from all priestly guile, eye-service, and hypocrisy, and

dare to follow the leading of nature and of truth?

Those persons must indeed be totally blind, or else completely

chloroformed by the _foetor Judaicus_ (Jewish stench), who do not

discern that the truly essential and fundamental part in man and beast

is identically the same thing. That which distinguishes the one from

the other does not lie in the primary and original principle, in the

inner nature, in the kernel of the two phaenomena (this kernel being

in both alike the Will of the individual); it is found in what is

secondary, in the intellect, in the degree of perceptive capacity. It

is true that the latter is incomparably higher in man, by reason of

his added faculty of abstract knowledge, called Reason; nevertheless

this superiority is traceable solely to a greater cerebral development,

in other words, to the corporeal difference, which is quantitative,

not qualitative, of a single part, the brain. In all other respects

the similarity between men and animals, both psychical and bodily, is

sufficiently striking. So that we must remind our judaised friends

in the West, who despise animals, and idolise Reason, that if they

were suckled by their mothers, so also was the dog by his. Even Kant

fell into this common mistake of his age, and of his country, and I

have already administered the censure[7] which it is impossible to

withhold. The fact that Christian morality takes no thought for beasts

is a defect in the system which is better admitted than perpetuated.

One's astonishment is, however, all the greater, because, with this

exception, it shows the closest agreement with the Ethics of Brahmanism

and Buddhism, being only less strongly expressed, and not carried to

the last consequences imposed by logic. On the whole, there seems

little room for doubting that, in common with the idea of a god become

man, or Avatar,[8] it has an Asiatic origin, and probably came to

Judaea by way of Egypt; so that Christianity would be a secondary

reflection of the primordial light that shone in India, which,

falling first on Egypt, was unhappily refracted from its ruins upon

Jewish soil. An apt symbol of the insensibility of Christian Ethics

to animals, while in other points its similarity to the Indian is so

great, may be found in the circumstance that John the Baptist comes

before us in all respects like a Hindu Sannyasin,[9] except that he

is clothed in skins: a thing which would be, as is well known, an

abomination in the eyes of every follower of Brahmanism or Buddhism.

The Royal Society of Calcutta only received their copy of the Vedas

on their distinctly promising that they would not have it bound in

leather, after European fashion. In silken binding, therefore, it is

now to be seen on the shelves of their library. Again: the Gospel story

of Peter's draught of fishes, which the Saviour blesses so signally

that the boats are overladen, and begin to sink (_Luke_ v. 1-10),

forms a characteristic contrast to what is related of Pythagoras. It

is said that the latter, initiated as he was in all the wisdom of the

Egyptians, bought the draught from the fishermen, while the net was

still under water, in order to at once set at liberty the captive

denizens of the sea. (Apuleius: _De Magia_, p. 36: edit. Bipont.)[10]

Compassion for animals is intimately connected with goodness of

character, and it may be confidently asserted that he, who is cruel

to living creatures, cannot be a good man. Moreover, this compassion

manifestly flows from the same source whence arise the virtues of

justice and loving-kindness towards men. Thus, for instance, people

of delicate sensitiveness, on realising that in a fit of ill-humour,

or anger, or under the influence of wine, they punished their dog,

their horse, their ape undeservedly, or unnecessarily, or excessively,

are seized with the same remorse, feel the same dissatisfaction with

themselves, as when they are conscious of having done some wrong to

one of their fellows. The only difference--a purely nominal one--is

that in the latter case this remorse, this dissatisfaction is called

the voice of conscience rising in rebuke. I remember having read of

an Englishman, who, when hunting in India, had killed a monkey, that

he could not forget the dying look which the creature cast on him; so

that he never fired at these animals again. Another sportsman, William

Harris by name, a true Nimrod, has much the same story to tell. During

the years 1836-7 he travelled far into the heart of Africa, merely to

indulge his passion for the chase. A passage in his book, published at

Bombay in 1838, describes how he shot his first elephant, a female.

Next morning on going to look for his game, he found that all the

elephants had fled from the neighbourhood, except a young one which had

spent the night beside its dead mother. Seeing the huntsmen, it forgot

all fear, and came to meet them, with the clearest and most lively

signs of disconsolate grief, and put its tiny trunk about them, as if

to beg for help. "Then," says Harris, "I was filled with real remorse

for what I had done, and felt as if I had committed a murder."

The English nation, with its fine sensibility, is, in fact,

distinguished above all others for extraordinary compassion towards

animals, which appears at every opportunity, and is so strong that,

despite the "cold superstition" which otherwise degrades them, these

Anglo-Saxons have been led through its operation to fill up by

legislation the _lacuna_ that their religion leaves in morality. For

this gap is precisely the reason why in Europe and America there is

need of societies for the protection of animals, which are entirely

dependent on the law for their efficiency. In Asia the religions

themselves suffice, consequently no one there ever thinks of such

associations. Meanwhile Europeans are awakening more and more to a

sense that beasts have rights, in proportion as the strange notion

is being gradually overcome and outgrown, that the animal kingdom

came into existence solely for the benefit and pleasure of man. This

view,[11] with the corollary that non-human living creatures are to be

regarded merely as things, is at the root of the rough and altogether

reckless treatment of them, which obtains in the West. To the honour,

then, of the English be it said that they are the first people who

have, in downright earnest, extended the protecting arm of the law to

animals: in England the miscreant, that commits an outrage on beasts,

has to pay for it, equally whether they are his own or not. Nor is this

all. There exists in London the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty

to Animals, a corporate body voluntarily formed, which, without state

assistance, and at great cost, is of no small service in lessening the

tale of tortures inflicted on animals. Its emissaries are ubiquitous,

and keep secret watch in order to inform against the tormentors of

dumb, sensitive creatures; and such persons have therefore good reason

to stand in fear of them.[12] At all the steep bridges in London this

Society stations a pair of horses, which without any charge is attached

to heavy freight-waggons. Is not this admirable? Does it not elicit our

approval, as unfailingly as any beneficent action towards men? Also the

Philanthropic Society of London has done its part. In 1837 it offered a

prize of £30 for the best exposition of the moral reasons which exist

to keep men from torturing animals. The line of argument, however,

had to be taken almost exclusively from Christianity, whereby the

difficulty of the task was, of course, increased; but two years later,

in 1839, Mr. Macnamara was the successful competitor. At Philadelphia

there is an Animals' Friends' Society, having the same aims; and it

is to the President of the latter that a book called _Philozoia; or,

Moral Reflections on the Actual Condition of Animals, and the Means

of Improving the Same_ (Brussels, 1839), has been dedicated by its

author, T. Forster. It is original and well written. Mr. Forster

earnestly commends to his readers the humane treatment of animals. As

an Englishman he naturally tries to strengthen his position by the

support of the Bible; but he is on slippery ground, and meets with

such poor success that he ends by catching at the following ingenious

position: Jesus Christ (he says) was born in a stable among oxen and

asses; which was meant to indicate symbolically that we ought to regard

the beasts as our brothers, and treat them accordingly. All that I

have here adduced sufficiently proves that the moral chord, of which

we are speaking, is now at length beginning to vibrate also in the

West. For the rest, we may observe that compassion for sentient beings

is not to carry us to the length of abstaining from flesh, like the

Brahmans. This is because, by a natural law, capacity for pain keeps

pace with the intelligence; consequently men, by going without animal

food, especially in the North, would suffer more than beasts do through

a quick death, which is always unforeseen; although the latter ought

to be made still easier by means of chloroform. Indeed without meat

nourishment mankind would be quite unable to withstand the rigours of

the Northern climate. The same reasoning explains, too, why we are

right in making animals work for us; it is only when they are subjected

to an excessive amount of toil that cruelty begins.

(8) It is perhaps not impossible to investigate and explain

metaphysically the ultimate cause of that Compassion in which alone all

non-egoistic conduct can have its source; but let us for the moment put

aside such inquiries, and consider the phaenomenon in question, from

the empirical point of view, simply as a natural arrangement. Now if

Nature's intention was to soften as much as possible the numberless

sufferings of every sort, to which our life is exposed, and which no

one altogether escapes; if she wished to provide some counterbalance

for the burning Egoism, which fills all beings, and often develops into

malice; it will at once strike every one as obvious that she could not

have chosen any method more effectual than that of planting in the

human heart the wonderful disposition, which inclines one man to share

the pain of another, and from which proceeds the voice that bids us, in

tones strong and unmistakable, take thought for our neighbour; calling,

at one time, "Protect!" at another, "Help!" Assuredly, from the mutual

succour thus arising, there was more to be hoped for, towards the

attainment of universal well-being, than from a stern Command of duty,

couched in general, abstract terms,--the product of certain reasoning

processes, and of artificial combinations of conceptions. From such

an Imperative, indeed, all the less result could be expected because

to the rough human unit general propositions and abstract truths are

unintelligible, the concrete only having some meaning for him. And

it should be remembered that mankind in its entirety, a very small

part alone excepted, has always been rude, and must remain so, since

the large amount of bodily toil, which for the race as a whole is

inevitable, leaves no time for mental culture. Whereas, in order to

awaken that sense, which has been proved to be the sole source of

disinterested action, and consequently the true basis of Morals, there

is no need of abstract knowledge, but only of intuitive perception, of

the simple comprehension of a concrete case. To this Compassion is at

once responsive, without the mediation of other thoughts.

(9) The following circumstance will be found in complete accord with

the last paragraph. The foundation, which I have given to Ethics,

leaves me without a forerunner among the School Philosophers; indeed,

my position is paradoxical, as far as their teaching goes, and many

of them, for instance, the Stoics (Seneca, _De Clementia_, II., 5),

Spinoza (_Ethica_, IV., prop. 50), and Kant (_Kritik der Praktischen

Vernunft,_ p. 213; R. p. 257) only notice the motive of Compassion to

utterly reject and contemn it. On the other hand, my basis is supported

by the authority of the greatest moralist of modern times; for such,

undoubtedly, J. J. Rousseau is,--that profound reader of the human

heart, who drew his wisdom not from books, but from life, and intended

his doctrine not for the professorial chair, but for humanity; he,

the foe of all prejudice, the foster-child of nature, whom alone she

endowed with the gift of being able to moralise without tediousness,

because he hit the truth and stirred the heart. I shall therefore

venture here to cite some passages from his works in support of my

theory, observing that, so far, I have been as sparing as possible with

regard to quotations.

In the _Discours sur l'Origine de l'Inégalité_, p. 91 (edit. Bipont.),

he says: _Il y a un autre principe, que Hobbes n'a point aperçu, et qui

ayant été donné à l'homme pour adoucir, en certaines circonstances,

la férocité de son amour-propre, tempère l'ardeur qu'il a pour son

bien-être par une RÉPUGNANCE INNÉE À VOIR SOUFFRIR SON SEMBLABLE. Je ne

crois pas avoir aucune contradiction à craindre en accordant à l'homme

la SEULE VERTU NATURELLE qu'ait été forcé de reconnaître le détracteur

le plus outré des vertus humaines. Je parle DE LA PITIÉ_, etc.[13]

P. 92: _Mandeville a bien senti qu'avec toute leur morale les hommes

n'eussent jamais été que des monstres, si la nature ne leur eut donné

LA PITIÉ à l'appui de la raison: mais il n'a pas vu, que DE CETTE SEULE

QUALITÉ DECOULENT TOUTES LES VERTUS SOCIALES, qu'il veut disputer aux

hommes. En effet, qu'est-ce que la générosité, la clémence, l'humanité,

sinon LA PITIÉ, appliquée aux faibles, aux coupables, ou a l'espèce

humaine en général? La bienveillance et l'amitié même sont, à le bien

prendre, des productions d'une pitié constante, fixée sur un objet

particulier; car désirer que quelqu'un ne souffre point, qu'est-ce

autre chose, que désirer qu'il soit heureux?... La commisération sera

d'autant plus énergique, que L'ANIMAL SPECTATEUR S'IDENTIFIERA plus

intimement avec L'ANIMAL SOUFFRANT._[14]

P. 94: _Il est donc bien certain, que la pitié est un sentiment

naturel, qui, modérant dans chaque individu l'amour de soi-même,

concourt à la conservation mutuelle de toute l'espèce. C'est elle, qui

dans l'état de nature, tient lieu de lois, de mœurs, et de vertus, avec

cet avantage, que nul ne sera tenté de désobéir à sa douce voix: c'est

elle, qui détournera tout sauvage robuste d'enlever à un faible enfant,

ou à un vieillard infirme, sa subsistence acquise avec peine, si lui

même espère pouvoir trouver la sienne ailleurs: c'est elle qui, au lieu

de cette maxime sublime de justice raisonnée: "Fais à autrui comme tu

veux qu'on te fasse;" inspire à tous les hommes cette autre maxime de

bonté naturelle, bien moins parfaite, mais plus utile peut-être que

la précédente: "Fais ton bien avec le moindre mal d'autrui qu'il est

possible." C'est, en un mot, DANS CE SENTIMENT NATUREL PLUTÔT, QUE DANS

LES ARGUMENTS SUBTILS, qu'il faut chercher la cause de la repugnance

qu'éprouverait tout homme à mal faire, même indépendamment des maximes

de l'éducation._[15]

Let this be compared with what he says in _Émile,_ Bk. IV., pp. 115-120

(edit. Bipont.), where the following passage occurs among others:--

_En effet, comment nous laissons-nous émouvoir à la pitié, si ce n'est

en nous transportant hors de nous et en nous IDENTIFIANT AVEC L'ANIMAL

SOUFFRANT: EN QUITTANT, pour ainsi dire, NOTRE ÊTRE, POUR PRENDRE LE

SIEN? Nous ne souffrons qu'autant que nous jugeons qu'il souffre: CE

N'EST PAS DANS NOUS, C'EST DANS LUI, que nous souffrons ... offrir au

jeune homme des objets, sur lesquels puisse agir la force expansive de

son cœur, qui le dilatent, qui l'étendent sur les autres êtres, qui le

fassent partout SE RETROUVER HORS DE LUI: écarter avec soin ceux, qui

le resserrent, le concentrent, et tendent le ressort DU MOI HUMAIN_,

etc.[16]

Inside the pale of the Schools, as above remarked, there is not a

single authority in favour of my position; but outside, I have other

testimony to cite, in addition to Rousseau's. The Chinese admit five

cardinal virtues (Tschang), of which the chief is Compassion (*Sin).

The other four are: justice, courtesy, wisdom, and sincerity.[17]

Similarly, among the Hindus, we find that on the tablets placed to

the memory of dead chieftains, compassion for men and animals takes

the first place in the record of their virtues. At Athens there was

an altar to Compassion in the Agora, as we know from Pausanias, I.

17: _Άθηναίοις δὲ ἐν τῇ ἀγορᾷ ἐστι Ἐλέου βωμός, ᾧ, μάλιστα θεῶν ἐς

ἀνθρώπινον βίον καὶ μεταβολὰς πραγμάτων ὃτι ὠ-ϕέλιμος, μόνοι τιμὰς

Ἑλλήνων νέμουσιν Ἀθηνᾱίοι_.[18]

Lucian also mentions this altar in the Timon, § 99.[19] A phrase of

Phocion, preserved by Stobaeus, describes Compassion as the most sacred

thing in human life: _οὕτε ἐξ ἱεροn βωμόν, οὕτε ἐκ τῆς ἀνθρωπίυης

ϕύσεως ἀϕαιρετέον τὸν ἔλεον._[20] In the _Sapientia Indorum,_ the Greek

translation of the Paṅća-tantra, we read (Section 3, p. 220): _Δέγεται

γάρ, ὡς πρώτη τῶν ἀρετῶν ἡ ἐλεημοσύνη_.[21] It is clear, then, that the

real source of morality has been distinctly recognised at all times and

in all countries; Europe alone excepted, owing to the _foetor Judaicus_

(Jewish stench), which here pervades everything, and is the reason why

the Western races require for the object of their obedience a command

of duty, a moral law, an imperative, in short, an order and decree.

They remain wedded to this habit of thought, and refuse to open their

eyes to the fact that such a view is, after all, based upon nothing

but Egosim. Of course, now and then, isolated individuals of fine

perception have felt the truth, and given it utterance: such a one was

Rousseau; and such, Lessing. In a letter written by the latter in 1756

we read: "The best man, and the one most likely to excel in all social

virtues, in all forms of magnanimity, is he who is most compassionate."

[1] This term appears to have been first used by Newton and Boyle.

The sense is undoubtedly derived from Bacon's phrase "_instantia

crucis_," which is one of his "Prerogative Instances." _Vide, Novum

Organum_: Lib. II., xxxvi., where it is explained as follows: _Inter

Praerogativas Instantiarum ponemus loco decimo quarto_ INSTANTIAS

CRUCIS; _translate vocabulo a Crucibus, quae erectae in Biviis,

indicant et signant viarum separationes. Has etiam Instantias

Decisorias et Judiciales, et in Casibus nonnullis Instantias Oraculi et

Mandati, appellare consuevimus_, etc.--(_Translator_.)

[2] According to Buxton (_The African Slave-trade_, 1839), their number

is even now yearly increased by about 150,000 freshly imported; and to

these more than 200,000 must be added, who perish miserably at the time

of their capture, or on the voyage.

[3] _I.e_., under the influence of wine one speaks the truth. Cf.

Pliny, _Nat. Hist_, xiv., chap. 22, § 28, 141, edit. Teubner;

_vulgoque_ VERITAS _jam attributa_ VINO _est_. Gk. _οἶνος καὶ ἀλήθεια.

V. Paroemiographi_, edit. Gaisford.--(_Translator_.)

[4] Hor., _Carm_., I., 35, 26.--(_Translator. _)

[5]

Compassion, who with no uncertain tone,

The work of vengeance done, her laws makes known.

[6]

Have beasts, forsooth, their universities,

Endowed, like ours, with all four faculties?

[7] _V_. Part II., Chapter VI.