Sheldon & Coi ~ )ezi)y's  ext-Wooks.
PROFESSOR OLNEY'S
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With all their admitted excellencies, both the Author and Publishers have felt that it was possible to retain their many attractive
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To accomplish this most desirable end, Professor Olney has been
accumulating very valuable suggestions. He has also, for several
years, had associated with him in the preparation of this new
series,    som  e           of the b est prac tic al teachers  in the country.
The design is to present to the educational public the best and
most teachable series of Matlhematics ever published. The work
is now so far advanced that the Publishers are able to make the
above pleasing announcement, which they feel will be of great
interest to all who are engaged in teaching.
THE NEW SERIES EMBRACES:
I.
Olney's First Lessons iX  Arith)letic. JUST PUBLISHED.
II.
Olney's Practical Arithmetic.
This book has been published but a short time, but it hag
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They are models of beauty and cheapness.
For schools of a high grade, Professor Olney has prepared
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Tit SciCOMPLETE ANDhtetc
Olney's Comtplete Algebra.  NEW EDITION, rN LARGE TYPE.
This book is now entirelv re-electrotyped in larger and more
attractive type. The explanatory matter is greatly lessened. The
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popular Alglqeba ever published in this country, are all retained.
11
I
IV.
The -Fii-st Pi-i)tcii)les of Algebra.
Ax INTRODUCTION TO T]IIE AUTI-IOR'S COMPLFTF, AND
UNIVERSITY ALGEBRAS.
V. 
I 
JAMES HI FAIRCHILI)D:
ISIDZXT OF OBBRLIN COLMBI
NEW YORK:
SHELDON & COMPANY,
THlE   bUlbN(;{N UT' Uilhlt~_AllUll.
n 
,    ccord,lg to Acet ot ongress, in the year 180, I
JAMES Ii. FAiRCHILD,
le Ork's Office of the District Cob- of the United States for the Nll           s
District ot Ohio,
(  I
l         --
i    -  s j
.
I' 
I' 4.: {I.;
PREFAOC
Tmis volume, like most text-books on morals, has its
origin in a course of instruction given by the author, in
his regular college duties. Pupils who have listened to
the lectures, naturally desire thein in a permanent form;
and in deference to this want, very generally expressed,
and often urged, they are now submitted for publication
sentially as given to the classes.
The system here presented is that which has grown
up in this college, during the past thirty years, under the
hand of the leading instructors here. It is not claimed
as original in the +ullest sense, because the theory, in its
germ; has been presented by various authors, especially
by President Edwards, in his treatise on "The Nature
of True Virtue," ad by his pupil and friend, Samuel
Hopkinh  Still less does the author of this volume claim
originality for himself, ill reference to the more prominent features of the system. While he is responsible for
some modifications of the views, for the form and order
of presentation, and for the details of the treatise in general, he is happy to ascribe to the instructors of his youth,
tle fi-iends and colleagues of later years, President Finney
aind Professor Morgan, the honor and responsibility of
being the leaders here, in the development of the theory
Other associates have aided by their suggestions.
No reference is made, in the following pages, to the
recent able work of President Hopkins, for thb simple
d.  
PREFACE.
reason that the manuscript was prepared before that work
was published. The appearance of that work might
seem to render this unnecessary; but, while the leading
principle in the two treatises is the same, the Inethods of
development are, of course, entirely different; and it
cannot be amiss to view the same general doctrine from
different stand-points.
A system of psychology must lie at the foundation of
every system of morals.  Such a system is, in general,
assumed in this treatise; but  on some special points,
psychological investigations are introduced, because the
ethical questions, related to those points, could not
otherwise be elucidated.
The effort has been to make a small book, instead of a
large one; hence, the necessity, in the wide range of
topics, of presenting brief statements of principles, rather
than extended discussions and illustrations. For students, and others accustomed to think for themselves,
this feature will not prove a defect. If the book should
be introduced to classes of less maturity, the last three
chapters of the theoretical part might be (emitted
O~U  COLLAi  hy, 1a,
IV 
CONTENTS.
PART I.-THEORETICAL
CHAPTER L
xT-oDUcTooRY DemtxoNs.-Divisions of the Science-Topics treate
of-obligation a Simple Idea-Undefinable-Attempted Definitions-A
Moral Being or Person-Essential Attributes-Intellect-Sensibility-Free Will-A Moral Act-The Moral Element, where found-Different forms of
Voluntary Action-More exact location of the Moral Element-Character
and Intention-Two kinds of Moral Action...........................Page 1-30
CHAPTER II.
KI,eRT OR VIRTUOUS ACTioN.-The True Good-Absolute and Relative
Good-Illustrations of the two-Mere Animal lIife valuable-The sum
mum bonum-No Comparison of the two forms of Good-Happiness-Obli gation, how perceived-Reg,ard to our own Good-Of Virtue as Good-Of
Benevolence as Virtue-Benevolence in Consciousness.................... 21
CHAPTER III.
WRONe OR Snoi          AcioN. - Its Nature.- Its Motive - Its Form, how
Determined-Gratification ofDesire not Sin-Sin Subordinates Reason-No
Rational end in Sin-Sin not a Choice of Evil-Sin not Selfishness-Impos sibility of making one's own good the Supreme End-Sin in Consciousness
-Self-gratification not the Intelligent End-Sin Subjection to Impulse, or
Carnal-mindedness-Desires and Passions not Sinful-Their Uses......... 80  
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER IV.
OF  THE  PABRTICULAR  VIRTUES.- Benevolence  +,he  Root-Constitntes
Right Character-Its Relation to the Particular Virtues, and to Right Acts
Love-Gratitude-Justice not an Independent Virtue-Mercy notOpposed to
Justice-Self-denial-Veracity-Humility-Faith-Obedience-Thc Teach ing of Scripture-Misapprehensions of Benevolence-Inter-dependence of
the Virtues.............................................................   04
CHAPTER V.
OF PAaTICUrAR Viczs.-Their Common Element-Their Re.lation to Sin fal Character-Their Origin-Sensuality-Ambition-Avarice-Pride  and
Vanity-Selfishness-The desire not Sinful-Malevolent Impulses-Natural
or Impulsive Goodness-Two Characters Possible-Apparent Goodness Right Moral Judgments-Kindly Affections-Devotional Feelings-Impul sive Virtues, their relation to True Virtue-Imitative Goodness-Deficiency
Exhibited-Are the Impulsive Virtues Sinful-Their Utility.............. Ax
CHAPTER VI.
ADDITIONAL  R     xMARs  AND INFIRENCES. - Universality  of the  Law
of Benevolence-Works of Supererogation Impossible-Morality Personal,
not Transferable-Ambigtity of the term Character-The  Seat of Moral
Depravity-Total Moral Depravity-The Moral Change Required-Relation
of Emotion to the Moral State-Moral Character in Consciousness-Moral
Consistency............... 6
CHAPTER VII.
RIGHT  AND  WRONG - DuTrY, KNOWN AND UNKNOWN -  NEED OF A
ETVELATION.-Ambigillty of the terms Right and Wrong-Absolute Right
and Wrong-Relative Right and Wrong-Objective and Subjective Right
and Wrong-Right and Wrong per se-The Expedient and the Right-Our
Know.edge of the Right-End and Means-Doing Evil that Good may
come-Least of two Evils-Known and Unknown Duty-Need of Revelation
to frnlsh Motive and to indicate Objective Duty.......................... 66-714
CHAPTER VIILI.
CoNscrzcz — Is rr A GUE? - Definition and Office- Impulse of Con science-Approval and Condemnation-AsEth tic Conscience-Conscience
6 
CONTENTS.
as a Guide-Intervention of Judgment-Different Views-Whately and
Alexander-Sins of Ignorance-Rational Conscience the Guide, not the
1mnotional, nor the Esthetic-Conscientiousness-Paul-Honesty-Sinrlty-Conscience Educated, Enlightened, Perverted.....................
CHAPTER IX.
Ulrlm OR Sn(LJCITY Or MoRA  AcTio. — Virtue and Sin Contradic tory-Their Co-existence Impossible-Different Hypotheses to explain
their Co-existence-Imperfect Powers-From the Fall-From Past Sin Right Intention with Wrong Thoughts and Feelingsa-Mixed Motives- Par tial Regard for Good-Lack of Intensity-Right Ultimate Choice and Wrong
Acts-The Teaching of the Scriptures-Practical Teaching-Taylor and
Metcalf-Objections and Answers-Prevailing  Consciousness-Negative
Testimony-No Room for Improvement-Degrees of Goodness-Degrees
of Sinfulness-Temptation and Guilt-Knowledge of Past Sinfulness-Gen eral Bearing of the Doctrine............................................. 810
CHAPTER X.
TLoars opr OBLIrGATIO.- Th  Question-Different Answers-Reason
for the Difference-Socrates and Plato-Aristotle-Doctrine of the Stoics
Of the Epicureans-Modern Views-Paley-New Haven Theory-Difficul ties-Psychological Error-No Freedom-Misrepresents Benevolence-Mis takes the Motive-Makes no Difference between the Good and the Bad Does not Accord with Scripture-Utilitarianism-Misapplication of the
Term-Needed Discrimination-" Holy Happiness."................. 10-111
CHAPTER XI.
TzomR s oF  OBr IATION.-Of Right as Ultimate-Of  Obligation a
originating in the will of God-Difficulties-Reason not Ultimate-Obliga tion known Intuitively-No Character in God-Relativity of Morality-Un scriptural-Founded in the Reason or Nature of God-Of Spiritual Worthi ness as Ultimate-Difficulties-Not an Ultimate Good-Still less one's Own
Worthiness-Inverts the Order of Thought-Of Virtue as Ultimate-View
of Edwards-Andover Theory-Difficulties-Complacency not Virtue-Not
a Higher Virtue-Conf'ision in the use of the term Good-Virtue a Quality
of (,oice, not its Object-Of Abstract Right as Ultimate —Axiom of the
Theory-Does not explain the Virtues-Gives no Unity to Virtt-Right  ness not a Motive-Maxim of tbh Theory-Acting from Principle-Right  ma not Ultimate-Incidental Advantages of the Theory of Benevolence. 116-1N
7 
CONTENTS.
PART II.-PRACTICAL ETHICS.
PapL~TI RT       ]................................................... 11N
FIRST  )IVISION.
CHAPTER L
GovZR    - ITs NATURE AND FOUNDATION. - Definitions - Relation
of Sanctions to Government-Object of Government-Its Right to Exist The Right to Govern-Duty to Govern-Designation of the Ruler-Form
of Government-Extent of Authority-Not Dependent on Desire of the
Governed............................................................... 137-1U
CHAPTER II.
I!H DivrE  GovTERENT. - Its Constitution - Why God Assumes the
Government-The Divine Law-How Known to Men-Revealed Law-Au thority of Examples -The Saviour's Example-Genuine Virtue Required Personality of the Law-Application to Communities —Dealing with Na tions -National Sins.................................................... 142-14
CHAPTER III.
PENALTIES UNDER  TH   DivINr  GOVERNMENT.-Nature of Penalty Effects of Penalty-Relation of Penalty to Desert-True Reason of Penalty
-Its Extent-Discipline and Penalty-Necessity of Penalty in the Divine
Governmenut-Degree and Duration-Guilt Everlasting-Natural  Conse quences not Penalty-Physical Law and Penalty-Remorse and Penalty Providential Consequences..............................................11
CHAPTER IV.
(,im GovERNXMENT. - Its Foundation - Right to Govern - The  Form
of Government-A Legitimate Government-A Tyranny-Constitutions
Not a Social Compact-Right and Duty of Voting-The Ruler a Servant Doctrine of Instruction-Right of the Majority-Principle of Representa tion-The Will of the Governed a Controlling Element-General Tendency
. to Democracy-Relation cf Law to Righteousness-Mistakes....... 1-1
8 
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER V.
PENALTES IN CIVIL GOVERNMENT. - Uses of Penalties - Dangerous
TendencyCapital Punishment-Reasons for it-Objections.............. 170-1,
CHAPTER VI.
IXITS OF  OBEDIENCE  TO  CivI  GOVERNMENT. - Government Subordinate-The Higher Law applied to a Democratic State-No General
Formula-Laws, just, indifferent, unjust-Two Possible Courses-Duty of
a Subordinate Magistrate-Right of Revolution-Apprehended Tendency
-Errors in two Directions.............................................. 17181
CHAPTER VIL
To  RELATIONS OF NATIONS TO EACH  OTHER.-Obligation of Nations
limited-Laws of Nations-Duty to respect each other's Sovereignty Duty in case of Rebellion-In Treaties-In Commercial Intercourse-Duty
of Self-preservation-The Rightfulness of War-In case of Resistance at
Home-In case of Aggression from Without-In Defence of the Weak —In
Suppression of Outrage-In Justifiable Revolution-ObjectionsThe True
Aim in War-Duties in War............................................. 188-198
CHAPTER VIII.
FAMILY  GOVERNMENT. - Has a Natural Foundation - Limited in its
Subjects-Wide in its Application to Interests -Mode of Constitution Question of Headship-A Relation of Confidence to be entered upon with
Deliberation-Maintained with Care-A Natural Sphere for Each-Rela tions of the Family to the State and to Society........................... 19905
CHAPTER IX.
DUTIES OF PARENT AND CHILD-Or TEACHER AND PIUPIL.-Chief Work of
the Family-Place of Parental Affection-Leading Duty of the Parent-Duty
of Obedience and its Natural Termination-Claim of the Child-Limit of
Obedience-Duty in Maturity-Towards Dependent Parents-The Teach.
er's Authority-Its Extent-Need of Closer Definition-The Pupil's Duty
-Unnatural Antagonism-Mutual Regard-Unfavorable Tendencies-Ex treme Individnalism-Independence of Opinion.................... 
CONTENTW
SECOND DIVISION.
PERSONAL RIGHTS AND DUTIES8.
CHAPTER I.
Ao   t PRtixcas.-Basis of Rights-The Comprehensive Right-Ins
lenable Rights-Basis of Duties-Corelation of Rights and Duties-Positive
and Negative Precepts-Subjects of Rights and Duties-The Rights of
Brut    Superior Right of Rational Beings.............................  216
CHAPTER II.
RtSHS-LIP.-Basis of the Right-Guilt of Murder-Malice and Hatred Man-slaughter-Related Crimes-Right of Self-preservgtion Limited-Self defnce-Protection of Property-Carrying Weapons-Duelling —Objec ions to Sal-defence..................................................... 222-2
CHAPTER III.
iG-L     rszr.-Def mnition and Extent-Basis of the Right-Misappr hension of its Origin-Applicationl to Different Powers-Principle of Tol eration-Freedom of the Press-Free Discussions-Intervention of Gov ernment in Worship and Education-Subjective Limitations-Respect to
the Consciences of Others-Use of Definite RulesViolations of LibertyIts Defense..............................................................2298
CHAPTER IV.
bGTs-Rp.uTvATiog.-The Interest Involved -How a Good-The PreceptTemptations to its Violation-Duty of Exposing Wrong-Slander in Trutb
elling.......................................,........................... 4S
CHAPTER V.
GHTs-PROPERTY'.-Origin of the Right-The Precept-Property How Ao
quired-Transferable-Right of Discovery-Effect of long Possession Things not to be Appropriated-Animals made Property, Human Being*
Limitations of the Right-Law of Exchange-Duty of the Vender
10 
CONTENTS.
Standard of Value-Managing the Market-Cicero's Example-Law of
Wages-Woman's Wages-Work that Is above Wages —Violations of the
Right of Property-Bankrupt Laws-Prevalence of Fraud upon the Governmeat-Mischief )f Repudiation-Immorality of Gambling................       t
CHAPTER VI.
)tq-PhiT.-Origin of Duties-Nature of Piety-Its Relation to Rell.
glon-Morality and Religion-Morality Attained by Religion-Opposite of
Piety-Duty of Worship-Possibility of Prayer-Speculative Objections Social and Public Prayer-The Sabbath-Change of Day-Obligation Per manent-Proper Observance-Duty of Promoting Religion............... 25~2
CHAPTER VII.
U'Izs —PMLANTR   PY-  -PATRIOTISM.-Nature  of Philanthropy-Its Rela lion to Religion-Its Scope-Proper Test-Misanthropy-Patriotism as a
Virtue-Required by Benevolence-Things Opposed to Patriotism...... 266271
CHAPTER VIIL
D         wzcr       L.-Its Nature and Reasons-Extends to all the Facul ties-Spiritual Culture-Its Relation to Virtuous Character-Intellectual
Culture-Things to be held Subordinate-Kind of Knowledge to be Sought
ulture of the Sensibility-Gives Power-Relation to Moral Character Control Indirect-Associations-Books-Perfection of Character.......... 27'2m
CHAPTER IX.
DTs — Sm C-CUTUR -B. - Esthetic- Its Expensiveness- Elevating Ten dency-Increases  Power-False-reflnement-Fastidiousness-The Culti vated Lady-Culture, How Attained-Degree of Attention Proper-Other De mands to be Considered-Physical Culture a Duty-Health-Manual Skill Manners and Habits-Predominance of the Soul........................... 28
CHAPTER X.
DuTrns-le-UsE   ss.-The True Aim-The Natural Impulse-Proper Os
cupation-Notoriety not Usefulness-Wealth and its Uses-Special Oblig tion of the Rich-Social Influence-Difficulties and Duties-Special Duties
of the Young-The Grcat Want...............................-... 2.
I1 
CON1ENTS.
CHAPTER XI.
DuTzs —]uTY.-FaithfUlness in Contracts-Binding Force-Threats and
Promises-In what Sense Binding-When Null-Conditions-Express and
Implied Contracts-Effect of the Oath-Marriage Engagements........... 8031
CHAPTER XII.
DUTIES-VERACITr.-Its Nature and Obligation-Significance of the Oath Its Rightfulness-Profanity-Violations of Veracity-Limits of the Obliga tion-Words and Gestures-Legal Practice-Instinct of Veracity........  311-11
CIIAPTER XIII.
DUTS —CHAsTITY.-Nature of the Duty-Effect and Criminality of Unchas tity-Injustice of Society-Marriage Provided for-Its Nature and Condl a Mo.m    ILawof Di vrce il LAw-Incest —Ctneluding emar.. 819
is 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
PART I.-THEORETICAL.
CHAPTER  I.
IODUCTORY DEFINITIONS AND REMARKS.
MORAL PHILOSOPHY is the science of obligation or duty
l  states and analyzes the facts connected    Definitiono
w th obligation and its perception, and deter-    andtopi.
mines principles of action and rules of duty.   More particularly, the subjects of which it treats are moral beings,
moral action, moral law, moral government, and personal
rights and duties. It is often called the science of ethics,
and is divided into two parts, theoretical and practical
Theoretical ethics presents the principles of the science,
while practical ethics applies those principles and solves
particular problems of duty. The treatment of special
cases is sometimes called casuistry.
Obligation, the theme of ethical philosophy, admits of
no definition, except by a synonyme.  The   Oblgation
not dinable.
idea conveyed by the term is a simple one,
incapable of analysis. Its import is manifest to every
rational being, given immediately in his own thought
It cannot be imparted from one to another; and every
attempt at definition or elucidation  proves  abortive.
Thus, Paley says, "Obligation is nothing more than ani
inducement of sufficient strength, and resulting in somg 
ItORAL PHILOSOPHY.
way from the command of another;" and N. W. Tay
lor, "Moral obligation is the binding influence of that
necessity which a moral being is under of performing
that action which is decisively proved to be the best ac
tion."   All such definitions tend  to bewilder.   The
thought in every rational soul is clear and unequivocal
and its existence is proved in the universal use and ap
prehension oi such terms as oughbt, duty, right, and
wrong. Not so much the nature of obligation, as the
grounds and conditions of its existence and apprehension,
is the proper subject of inquiry.
A moral being is a being to whom obligation pertains,
moralbeing  of whom  it can be said, he ought, or ought
,r penon.    not, who affirms of himself, I ought or ought
not. Such a being we call a person. He differs from all
other beings, not merely in the degree of his intelligence,
but in the kind of intelligence with which he is endowed.
Possessing some faculties and susceptibilities in common
with beings of a lower order, in others he is peculiar, and
is thus separated from them by a line which they can
never pass.
The attributes essential to moral agency are commonly
Essential at and properly designated as intellect, sensitributes, In.
tellectte.     bility, and free-will.   The intellect is the
general faculty of perceiving and knowing, and comnprehends the faculties of sense, memory, imagination, judgment, and reason.  The perception of the true end of
life, and thence of obligation, is an intellectual act; and
thus intellect is essential to moral agency or personality.
Sensibility is the susceptibility of pleasure and pain, of
,ensibility    natural good and evil.  Such a susceptibility ii
ISE.       the only conceivable channel of the idea of
good and evil; and this idea is the necessary antecedent
14 
DEFIN1TIONS AND REMARKS.
uf that of obligation, and hence of right and wroing.
Thus, every moral being must be a sentient being; only
on this condition can he be a subject of obligation. It
might be added that obligation terminates on sentient
beirg -is only die to beings susceptible of natural good
and evil.  Hence, if there were no sentient life, obulga
tion would lack both subject and object. In a world des
titute of sensibility, whatever intelligence there might be,
no obligation or thought of obligation could ever arise.
Free-will, or the voluntary faculty, is the power of
choosing or refusing the true end of life, as    Fre-will
presented by the intelligence.  The possession    necessary
of this faculty is implied in the very idea of obligation.
To affirm obligation of a being destitute of the faculty
of free action, is impossible in the nature of the case.
Power for any act, in the sense of ability to do or not to
do, is a self-evident condition of obligation to that act
Ability to do, in its proper sense, carries with it the
ability not to do; and thus free-will is an essential attri
bute of personality. It may be spoken of as the charac
teristic attribute, because obligation always accompa
nies it.
A moral act is an act to which obligation pertains, of
which we affirm that it ought or ought not to  Amoral act                                                aproved or
be done.  The performance of such an act  adiapprove(l.
involves the idea of good or ill desert, of praiseworthinress or blameworthiness.   The doer is approved or diapproved. This judgment is wholly peculiar, incapable
o,f analysis, not resolvable into a judgment of wisdom
)r unwisdom, of utility or inutility, of esthetic pro?picty or impropriety. It is a moral approval or disap.
proval, a judgment perfectly apprehended by every moral
being.
la 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
Where is found the moral element? Every moral act
Moral e.e-    implies the activity of the three departments
ment where
foetw?oer   of the mind, involving thought, feeling, and
willing, and is often attended by outward or corporeal ac
tion.   Does moral responsibility attach equally to eacl
of these exercises, or to one alone? Where resides the
element of morality?
Not in the outward action. The muscular movement
Not in the    is connected with the action of the mind by
ou~tward action.rd a    a law of necessity, and is inevitable when the
conditions are supplied. We do not know the character
of an act from the outward manifestation. It is but an
index of the internal state, often ambiguous; and the
moral character is the same with the same mental action,
whether the outward action follows or not.
Not in the movement of the intelligence; because that
Not in the in- movement is governed by necessity. Our
telligence.    conceptions  and judgments are necessarily
what they are. No praiseworthiness or blameworthiness
accrues to the agent directly from the action of the in,
telligence. A judgment or conception may be adequatet
or inadequate, correct or incorrect, and in this view right
or wrong; but it is not an object of moral approbation or
disapprobation. We praise or blame the agent for the
moral disposition which leads to the just or unjust conception or judgment. For the disposition, we hold him
responsible directly; for the action of the intelligence, in.
directly.
Nor is the moral element found in the movement of
Not in the    the sensibility.  That movement is necessary.
snsibityv.   The emotions result from their exciting causes.
With given conditions they must be as they are. They
are pleasant or painful, desirable or undesirable; but in
16 
DEFINITIONS AND REMARKS.
themrnselves not praiseworthy or blameworthy.   We intel.
ligently approve or disapprove of the disposition or con.
duct which p)roduces or fosters particular emotions, and
regard the emotion as an index, more or less sure, of
moral character.
The element of morality is found in the action of
hlie will alone.   Hiere is firee, responsible  Found In vol
action.  Whatever motive or inducement to   ntaryaction
voluntary action may exist, the agent himself is the
responsible cause of the action, and hence is properly approved or disapproved, according to the nature of thaws
action. To this, and to this only, does obligation di.
rectly attach; when the voluntary action is wholly such
as it ought to be, all present obligation is met. This is
a necessary intuitive judgment, and must be accepted as
an axiom in morals. Of its truthfulness there can be no
doubt in any mind, except such doubt as may result from
obscurity of thought or expression. A moral agent may
be held responsible indirectly for thoughts, and feelings,
and external actions, because these are more or less modified or controlled by the will; but all this responsibility
attaches directly to the voluntary action.  If thought, or
feeling, or external action be ever spoken of as involving
moral character, it is because it is regarded as voluntary.  Upon this point there is practical agreement among
men: the differences, if they exist, are speculative and
theoretical.
But voluntary action exists in different forms. Does
the element of morality attach directly to all Different
forms of vol
these forms?  The act of the student in at-  funitary aton.
tending a recitation is voluntary — hence is a moral act,
where in this process of voluntary action do we find the
moral character? Nearest to our observation and most
17 
MOR AL PHILOSOPHY.
anperficial is the volition, or series of Volitions, which
causes the outward act of coming; but these volitions do
not  reveal  character, bec.ause they do not involve it.
The good and the bad alike put forth these volitions.
Back of these volitions we find a more general purpose,
from which the volitions spring-the purpose to secure
an education, or still further back, the purpose to gain
influence and power, to which education is a means.
But in these more general purposes, although voluntary
states!, we  find no revelation of moral character.  The
good and the bad alike cherish the same general purposes
and pursue them  by the same means-sit side by side in
the same class. Enquiring still further, we find in one a
voluntary choice of the proper end or object of life; that
end which the intelligence approves. His other purposes
and volitions are all subordinate to this ultimate choice,
and are executive of it. Another does not accept this
end of life, but freely declines it. Some other scheme or
impulse of desire or passion occupies him, and with refer.
ence to this unworthy end he forms his purposes, and
puts forth his volitions. Hiere we have the key to the
character of the action and of the agent; and in this ultimate choice of the right end, or refusal to choose it, which
Exact place of is still a choice, we necessarily locate the moral
the moral element.       element.  In this respect the two agents and
their actions morally differ; while in their subordinate
purposes, and executive volitions, and outward actions
they may be alike. One conforms to obligation, the othei
does not.
The general conviction that the moral element of ac
Chmcter as  tion is here found, is indicated in the populai
ntention.  Iexpression that the character of an act depend
upon- the intention.  The expression is true of the ulti
18 
DIFINITIONS AND REMARKS.
mate intention —the voluntary attitude in reference to
the rational end of life. It is not true of any subordinate purpose or intention, or of any action which is execuive of a more remote choice. The character dces-not
lepend, in the case supposed, upon the intention to gain
n education, or to secure influence and power, but upon
the choice of the end which these are to subserve. All
subordinate or executive action derives its character fromn
this choice, and is made necessary by the choice, in the
sense that, the convictions of the intelligence remaining
the same, the executive action must be as it is while the
ultimate choice remains. The young man who proposes
to obtain an education to serve God and his fellow-men.
pursues his course because he believes it the proper mode
of accomplishing his end. While he believes this, he
cannot turn aside from his course without abandoning his ultimate end. If he enters into business while
he believes that a course of study is the proper means,
he abandons his end.   This he is always  Executiveacfree to do, and hence executive action is tionfree.
properly free action; but its morality is wholly dependent upon the fundamental choice. HIence obligation,
strictly speaking, attaches only to this ultimate choiceaction in reference to that end of life which the intelligence approves, that predominant state of the will which
determines all other action When this is right, the
action is right, the character is right, so far as pertains
to morality.
Two kinds of moral action, and only two, are possible.
The agent may accept the right end of life,  Two positiong
and thus his action become right, virtuous; only.
or hlie may reject that right end, and thus his action be come wrong, sinful. No neutral position is possible to,
19 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
rational being, because, when the right end is proposed
to his intelligence, he must accept or not accept; and not
to accept is to reject. Moral freedom lies in the ability to
accept or to reject this end-an ability which is essentia'
to moral agency.
20 
CHAPTER H.
RIGHT ACTION OR VIRTUE) GOOD.
lt]GHT or virtuous action is the action which we mot
ally approve, and for which we pronounce the Right action
agent praiseworthy.  It consists;n the choice of the right
end of life, that end which the intelligence approves. To
be virtuous is to be reasonable. It is to accept and treat
as good and   valuable what the intelligence presents ao
good. The virtuous man is the reasonable man, the man
that follows his perceptions and convictions. It is in the
light of these perceptions that obligation arises, and in
following them obligation is met.
But what is the good which the intelligence recognizes,
and in the presence of which obligation is         The true
seen-that good which every moral being             good.
holds himself bound to respect?  What does the reason
present as truly valuable   This is a psychological ques
tion, yet every theory of m.-'als involves an answer to it,
expressed or implied.
Absolute good, that which is valuable in itself and for
itself, is found only in connection with being     Absolute
-sentient being-that is, being endowed with        good.
ensibility.  It consists in the satisfaction of that sensi
bility-satisfaction in every form in which it can exist
Fullness of satisfaction in the case of any sentient being
s completeness of good in his case.  It is well-being, or
lappiness, or blessedness-all words of the sane general
import. The capacity for such satisfaction or good gives
to being its absolute worth and importance; and in the 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
experience of such satisfaction is absolute good, or ulti.
mate and final value. In a state of dissatisfaction or of
pain and misery is found absolute and ultimate evil-that
which is evil in itself and on its own account. Absolute
good is no abstraction or mere conception; it is an ac tual experience or state of sentient being. It is valuable
for what it is in itself, and is necessarily regarded by
every rational being as having intrinsic worth.
Relative good, on the other hand, is good that is valued
Relative   for its uses.  It is good for the purposes it can
good.      serve in the satisfaction of sentient being.
All forms of material good are of this nature.  A uni.
verse of it would have no value, unless there were beings
to use and to enjoy it.  When its utility fails, it ceases to
be accounted good.   Robinson  Crusoe, in  his exile,
spurned the lump of gold because it was not iron. Iron
he could use, gold he could not. When about to return
to civilized life, he takes with him the gold, because it will
be useful. Thus relative good is dependent for its value
upon its usefulness to being, its adaptedness to produce
satisfaction. Absolute good is satisfaction itself, and is
not contemplated with reference to anything beyond.
Our instinctive discrimination of these two forms of
Instinctive   good may be illustrated by the supposition
discrimination
illustrated.    that we are passing through an uninhabited
region, beyond the reach of any beings who can appropriate its advantages. We traverse fields of waving grain
-good if there were beings to use it, but worthless where it
stands. We heedlessly trample it down, kindle our camp
fires in the midst of it. In itself it is good for nothing, and
there is nothing to which it can sustain a relative value.
We regret that so much good should be wasted, and the
sight even of herds of animals to feed and thrive upon it,
22 
RIGHT ACTION OR VIRTUE, GOOD.
would be a relief. For their sake we would save it; fot
itself we do not.  Trees loaded with the choicest fiiiits
overhang our path.  We renmorselessly shake down the
fruit, appropriate what we can use with satisfaction, and
carelessly trample on and leave the rest. If there were
beings to use it, it would be good. In itself it has no value
The apprehension that others might follow and need the
fruit) would make us careful. We pluck the most beau.
tifuil flowers without misgiving. So far as they please us,
we account them good. For the rest we account them as
nothing. The thought that invisible intelligences might
rejoice in them, would lead us to spare them. We mnar
and destroy the most beautiful trees; for a beautiful tree
is good for nothing beyond its uses, and beyond the reach
of sentient being it has no use.  If those trees should utter sighs and groans, as in the fables of Virgil and Tasso,
we should shrink appalled from our work. They must
then be regarded for what they are in themselves.
They cease to be merely relative good. A being endowed
with intellect meets us. Angelic in its powers, if you
please, but, if conceivable, destitute of sensibility.   No
thrill of pleasure, no twinge of pain ever moves it. All
experiences are equally indifferent to it; it is destitute of
experience, like a stone or tree. When we fully under
stand the case, we regard the being as like any mere
torce ot nature, good for what it can bring to pass, and
good for nothing else. If we can appropriate this intel
ligence to ourselves, we do it without scruple. Witlion'
such appropriation it is wasted power. Add to this intel
ligence a powerful will, if this is conceivable. The case
is not altered. The being thus endowed is still only a
power, good for what it can accomplish. You may at tacb the being to yourself as an advantage, make it your
28 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
slave, and no wrong is done.   Nothing is due to it; tl:e
nrly question is, how can it be best used?  Unless it can
be employed in the service of sentient being, it is w-asted
good.  Add to this being feeling, sensibility, a susceptiI)ility of pleasure and pain, and the case is entirely
clianged.  IHereisthesusceptibility of absolute good. The
bI)eing, has claims to regard on its own account-has interests and rights of its own which must be respected.   AIny
use to which you can put the being, without interferirg
with the good there is in its own life, is legitimate.  A
worm lies in our path, repulsive and loatihsmne.   It is
nothing to us; it is something to itself and in itself.
Before, we trampled on beaiuty and utility without scruple; now we hesitate.  This susceptibility of good, even
in low and loathsome forms, makes us pause, and suggests
obligation, questions of right and wrong.   Cowper has
well said:
"I would not enter on my list of friends      Though graced with polislhed manners and fine sense,
Yet wanting sensibility-the man
Who needlessly sets foot upon a wormn."
That regard for lower animal life is not a mere poetic
lwver ant- sentiment, is shown in the fact that the law
meals protected by law.    of the land punishes cruelty to animals.   If
it be said that the law is intended to guard society
against a demoralizing influence, that the man and not
the animal is the being cared foi, it may be replied that
cruelty to animals is demoralizing because it involves
Jisregard of absolute good.  Ornamental trees are pro
toeted by law, but simply as valuable to the owner or to
the community, not as having thlemselves rights.  Abso
lute and relative good are often found combined in the
same being. Animal life is a good in itself and a rela.
24 
RIGHI- ACTION OR VIRTUE, GOOD.
tive good as well-a utility. Indeed, in general, utility is
the leading element in our estimate of the worth of animals. A good man is valuable both for the good of his
own well-being and for his usefuilness-the good lie can
do. We regard a child for what he is in himself and for
what he is to others, but the two forms of good are still
distinct in thought and in fact. Wherever we find being
endowed with sensibility, there and there —only is the capacity for absolute good. Whatever can be used directly
or indirectly for the satisfaction of this sensibility, is relative good.
Well-being,, satisfaction, happiness, then, is true goodthe summum bonum, not merely in the sense  TheSummum
of the highest good, but of the final, ulti-  Bonum.
mate, absolute good-that in which all other goods terminate and find their value. To determine this good was
the enquiry of the ancients ini their pursuit of the sum
mum bontm.  Socrates evaded the question when he was
pressed by Aristippus, the sophist. "Do you ask whether
I know anything good for a fever?" "No."  "Good for
ophthalmia?"  "No."   "Good for hunger?"  "No."
"Well, if you enquire for a good that is good for nothing,
I neither know it nor do I want to." And yet the good
which is good for nothing is the only good which has intrinsic value-the only good which we regard on its own
account.
Absolute and relative good admit of no comparison as
to degree or as to value.  They are totally  Absolute and
relative goodl
different in kind, and can never be regarded as  differ in iinad
ival interests.  Relative good has only a derived value
corresponding with the absolute good, the well-being
which it is capable of producing. The comparison of the
two which we seem to make in the use of animals is ap.
2
29 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
parent, not real. The comparison is in fact between the
absolute good in the animal life, and the absolute good
which can be secured in some other being by the use of
the aninal as a means of satisfaction. IRelative good
can iinever be for its own sake an object of regard. We
always look beyond to the good on which it teruminates,
and value it for its bearing on that good. It is true that de sire fastens on relative good as its object, and thus there is
an apparent regard for it on its own account. Still, its
value is not in itself and on its own account, but in its rela tion to sentient life, as is seen in the fact that it is utterly
wasted and lost, unless it has been used for the advantage
of being.  If it were not an object of desire, it could n(t be
even relative good. Well-being, satisfaction, happiness
is a good, independently of any desire which may faster.
upon it, and of any relation whatever. We always so
regard it, and never fear lest it should be wasted; for we
do not look for any use of it beyond itself.  The terl
Thetermhap- happiness is used in this treatise, not in the low
pines    I restricted sense given it by some writers, but
as comnprehlensive of all satisfaction, blessedness, wellbeing,, from the lowest forms of animal pleasure to the
highest joys which dwell in the bosom of God.   In this
sense it is absolute good, and the only absolute good.
In the presence or thought of this good, obligation is
Ideaofoblig. perceived. The intelligence sees the good to
tion, its origin.        be an object of value, and with that percep
tion arises the idea of obligation, of duty to respect it, to
treat it as good, to will it to all sentient beings, to stand
ready to promote it, and, as occasion or opportunity arises,
to put forth effort to promote it. This perception of obligation is entirely independent of the relation of the good
to ourselves, or to any other particular being. The obli
26 
RIGHET ACTION OR YIRTUE) GOOD.
gation to choose the good is dependent upon the value of
the good in itself. The perception of this value brings
with it the obligation. The being whose good is conteinmplated, may be wholly beyond our reach; the obligation
to choose the good is still the same. It may be impossible
r even improper that anything should be done to plo
mote that good; this does not affect the obligation to will
the good. Hence, to every moral being, the only condition
of obligation is the perception of the good. In reference
to the obligation to promote that good, there are other
conditions. There must be a possibility of success in the
effort, and on the whole it must seem wiser that the effort
of the agent should take that direction, rather than
another; but independently of all such conditions, the obligation to will the good, to be well disposed towards it, still
remains.
Our own good is included in this absolute good, the
good of being, and hence is a proper object  Ourowngoo
of our regard.  It is as valuable as that of  included.
our neighbor, and no more valuable.  This is the place
which the intelligence gives it, the place which it occupies in the primary obligation to choose or will the
good; but as an object towards which effort is to be di
rected, our own good sustains to us a very different relation. It lies within our reach as no other good does,
and hence arises a special obligation to promote it.
To choose or regard the good of being is primarily and
directly binding upon all moral beings; this Right action
is; enevois primary, fundamental obligation.  Right  lence.e
or virtuous action is conformity to this obligation, and
consists in choosing, or willing, or regarding the good on
its own account, for its own inherent value. This action
is properly called Bcovolence, to use the term in its strict
27 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
etymological meaning, as the willing of good.  The sul
ject of the action must be a moral being, a person, with
faculties to apprehend and choose the good; the object
)f the action is sentient being — being in whose litf
good exists, or is possible. Hence, President Edwards
properly defines benevolence as the love of being. It
expresses a state of the will, not of the sensibility or of
the intelligence. It is a voluntary exercise, and hence
always possible to a moral being, and always obligatory.
As a conscious exercise, it in general terminates on
Benevolence  individual beings, particular objects.   The
in consciousuess.      general statement of the obligation to choose
tile good of being, may not be in the mind, or might not
be apprehended; stilt the duty is perceived in reference
to every individual being, and every such being, as it is
made an object of thought, becomes in the benevolent
mind an object of regard. This necessarily follows from
the very nature of benevolence, which is a choice of the
good of being on account of the inherent value of the
good, not on account of somethling agreeable or inviting
in the particular object of regard.
Thus, benevolence is, in its own nature, disinterested,
Impartiality   and needs no qualifying term to indicate this
of benevolence.     attribute.  It must be impartial, or it is not
the choice of good for its own value.  If we embrace in
outr regard one being and exclude another, whatever that
exercise may be, it is not benevolence.   Thus, the Saviour
proposes as the test of virtuous love, the love which fulfils obligation, that it shall extend to enemies as to
friends, to our neighbors as to ourselves. This is, in the
very nature of the case, the characteristic of benevolence.
To choose the good of one for its own sake, is to choose
28 
RIGHT ACTION OR VIRTUE, GOOD.
the good of all, whether good or bad, insect, angel, oy
even God.
It may be necessary to mention here that the term
good is used by some writers to mean the  Of right ac
right-or that action which is in accordance  tionalg'
with obligation.   To prevent ambiguity, the qualifying
term moral is sometimes prefixed in this case.  Thus,
moral good should mean that course of action whi(h is
conformed to obligation, or virtue considered objectively
Virtue considered subjectively, as a quality of character
is sometimes called the good, but should rather be called
goodness. Natural good, or well-being, and moral good,
or virtue obior'vely considered, have a fixed and necessary relation to each other.  The conception of natural
good logically and chronologically precedes that of
moral good. The two ideas are utterly distinct, but the
last can never arise in the mind but in connection with
the first. These two kinds of good admit of no comparison as to value or excellence, because they are totally unlike in kind.   One is happiness, the other is duty, or
virtue. Virtue is also a good, that is, a relative good, as
promotive of happiness. It is the grand condition of
blessedness to moral beings.  Great confiusion arises fromr
a careless use of the term good in these various sense
20 
CITAPTER Ill.
WRONG ACTION OR SIN.
WRONG or si,ful action is the action which we mor
,ture of in  ally condemn, and for which we  pronounce
ction.    the agent blameworthy.  It is a refusal to
meet obligation or duty, a refusal to be benevolent, or to
will the good of being as in itself valuable. It is, of
course, unreasonable action; for reason presents happi.ess, well-being as good, and benevolence or the choice
of that good as duty.  Sinful action is opposed to reason
and intelligence, and must find its motive elsewhere than
among the facts and considerations which reason presents.  Its sinfulness consists in the refusal to be benevoent-the duty ever present to the moral agent.  But
nreasonable action must have a motive-an inducement
to refuise a choice so excellent and praiseworthy.
The motive to wrong action is found in the impulse
Motive in sin- of the desires and passions. These have their
fl action.    seat in the sensibility, and,when aroused, soicit the will to seek their gratification, even at the sacrifice of good and the claims of duty.  The man,in the exercise of his freedom,hlas power to yield to these solicitations, neglecting the claim of duty, or to refiluse to yield;
and in this choice he determines his moral character.
Yielding to desire or passion as his controlling motive, he
becomes a sinner.  The desire terminates on some object, some relative good which excites desire, and the attainiment of which tends to gratification. The immediate aim of the action to which the desire impels is the at 
WRONG ACTION OR SIN.
tainment of this object.  But it cannot properly be said
that the object of desire is the motive. It is the motive
only as it awakens desire, and that desire itself is the immediate motive. The object may be really valuable, a
means of good, as contemplated by the intelligence, or it
may be in the end harmful, pernicious, and known to 1)(
sich; it matters not, so long as desire fastens upon it.
The inebriate, mad with the love of drink, quaffs the
poison, even though he knows that at the last, " it biteth
like a serpent and stingeth like an adder." Desire is
blind to the good or evil, on the whole, there is in the object. It operates upon the will by its own blind force
as an impulse, and not by considerations of interest or
value. Thus, motives to sin come through the desires
and passions, while motives to virtue appeal to us
through the intelligence and reason.
The formn of the sinful action depends upon the ruling
desire.  In general these desires change; one       Different
.S satiated or fails, and another takes its place,  forms.
and the action varies in form with the desire, now terminating on this object and now on that.  The moral action is, however, still the same, as long as there remains
the refusal to be governed by a regard for the good. In
such cases there is not that concentration of action upon
the achievement of the end which results firom benevolent choice. In other cases, more rare, some absorbing,
predominant passion determines the will, and produces
constancy of action, as in the case of the avaricious or
the ambitious man, with an intensity of activity whicl
cannot result from varying impulses.  In all these case
the sinful element is the same-the neglect of    sin not in
yielding to
good, the refusal to be benevolent. Apart fronm    Desire
this element there is no sin in yielding to desire. Yielding
31 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
to desire is the sole law of action with brutes; but with
them it is not sin, because there is no apprehended good to
be sacrificed to desire.  It is right for moral beings to
gratify desire, when the gratification is not in conflict witJl
the claims of benevolence.  The gratification of deshre is
to be accounted a good, to be held as a part of general good,
ul)ject to the claims of duty-the decisions of reason.
Ifere was the failure of our first parents.  When  they
"4saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was
pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one
wise," they took of the firuit; while duty, as indicated by
divine command, and their own reason as well, forbade
the eating.   This was the nature of the first sin in our
world, and has been the characteristic of every sin from
that day to this.  Without such a command, and without
any apprehension that the eating was improper, the grat.
ification would have been indifferent, or even a duty
There is no                      sin in mere pleasure or enjoyment  the sin i
in the unbenevolent choice which is involved in the
acceptance of th e pleasu.
We have seen that virtue involves obedience to reason
Reason ubor- and intelligence, and sin subjection to the dedinate.    sires and passions. It is still true that the evildoer employs his intelligence in determining his course;
but he uses it in a subordinate capacity, not to furnish him
the principle of action, but to serve him in the pursuit of the
objects of desire; no longer an authoritative leader, but an
impressed and subjugated guide. Is he avaricious? ltie prostitutes his intelligence to the service of his passion for
wealth, and becomes the shrewd and successful moneymakler; thus, the intelligence may pander to every desire
Obedience to impulse, in a rational being, then, does not
lead to the same simplicity and directness of action as in the
32 
WRONG ACION OR SIN.
brute. A long train of appliances and cunning schemes
mnay intervene between the desire and the attainment of its
object, the result of calculation and not of mere instinct.
The desire itself may be held in abeyance-suppressed
for thie time, that its final gratification may be more sure
and complete. One desire may be utterly repressed because of alpprehended difficulties, and another enthrena.i
in its place.  The degree of intellectual culture -v
determine  these matters.   The  savage seeks  the  objects of his desire with more directness; he has little ap.
prehension of things remote or future.  tie will scarcely
scatter the seed and wait for a harvest.  In the cultivated
man the case is entirely different.  The coarser passions
are to a great extent subdued. Iis refined desires fasten
on objects in the distant future; it may be even in a life
hereafter; and his action assumes the intelligent,moderated forms which result from this wider view.  Yet the
principle of action is the same in every evil-doer; desire,
impulse controls; the intelligence is subservient and not
dominant.
In sinful action we  find no general comprehensive
end, which is th(,bject of pursuit in  all  No intelligent
forms of evil-doing, corresponding with the  end in sin.
good of being in right or benevolent action.  In so far as
there can be said to be a chosen end, it changes with the
clianging desires.   Properly there is no end which is
pursued on its own account. Desire, passion, operates
rather as a vis a tergo, an impulse moving the will by its
own direct force, than as presenting an object of pursuit
which the intelligence embraces, and which urges to piursuit by its intrinsic character.  The reason which an evil.
doer gives for his action when he fathoms his consciousness is, I wished to do it, Statro ratione voitntas.   Tho
33
r 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
desire itself stands for a reason, and induces him to dis
regard the good.
This peculiarity of sinful action has been in generial
yverlooked by writers on morals, and various objects have
)een proposed as the end pursued in all sin
A very common but superficial view represents the
sI DO' a    sinier as choosing evil instead of good; and
chi,ceof enL. by evil is intended, in general, unrighteousness, or objective wrong, the performance of which becomes sin or subjective wrong.  But evil-doing has 
itself no attrbations even for the worst of men.   The
wrong course is pursued in spite of its wickedness, and
not for the sake of it. The evil-doer would be glad to
avoid the wickedness of his doings, if he could reap the
advantages.  The world would probabl  be traversed in
vain to find a man  ho consciously sins or the sa e
.i   an apparent  example could be found, it
would'e a case where perverted desire is aroused by a
zontemplated course of wrong, and the man acts in
obedience to that desire.   Such  cases are sometimes
alleged; but they cannot be admitted as examples of sinning for the sake of the sin.
It is still more common to represent selfishness as the
,S n not self- fundamental sin; probably because selfish   hness.  ness seemns, in its nature, so directly opposed
to benevolence, and benevolence is virtue. In this view
selfishness is defined to mean the choice of one's own
good, as the supreme end, while benevolence is the choice
of all good. This representation supposes two possible
ultimate ends of action-the good of all, the choice of
which is benevolence, or virtue, and our own good, th
choice of which is selfishness, or sin.
The evil- ioer, then, is pursuing, as his supreme end, his
34 
WVR(ONG AC'iON (7)rP IN 
own  good.   Pursuing this end, he must bring, all his
resources into service, and call upon his intelligence to
devise ways and means to promote his own highlest hap
piness, so far as calculation and wisdom  can  compass it.
He will not sacrifice  a greater good in the future to a
present indulgence; for tl-his is opposed to his supreme
end.  HIe will not confine ]iis attention to thlis life, if lhe
has anv evidence tlhat there is another life  because thus
he woul(-l sacrifice his own interests.  if hle has reason to
believe that the faivor of God has more to do with his
welfare than that of any othler being, he will be most
iiligent to secure that favor.  If he learns that "' honesty
is the best policy," and that benevolence, virtue, is the
truest source of satisfaction, hle will give liiinself vith all
his soul to an honest and virtuous life; and if lie does
not do this, it will be because lie is iiioranit of  the aet
that blessedness cones with  virthue    Thus, selfislhness
must, in the end, annihilate itself. In fact, it is onily
fiom ignorance that it can ever exist.  It is fiom  the
beginningff only a blulnder.  The truly selfis}l man, in the
sense  above defined, a man  seekling  his own highiest
good, needs only to learn the good  Twllich comes fromn
benevolence, and he becomes virtuous at once,  because
his good requires it.  If it be said that hle cannot become
virtuous for such a reason, I answer, thein  lie cannot
seek his own highlest good as his supreme ei(ln, l)ecanlse
that end requires hiai  to becomne benevolent; and if Ite
refuses he relinquishes his end-ceases to pursue  his
hig,hest good.  We have reached the conclusion, then,
that it is impossible for a finite moral beilg to purslue
his own highlest good, or his own good at; all, Iopossrblity
as his supreme end.  In such a pursuit lie  gardforelt.
muist take his intelligence as his gtuide, otherwise he does
35
I 
MORAL PHILOSOPIIHY.
not pursue the end proposed at all; and one of the filst
facts which reason offers to him is that benevolence is
essential to happiness, and benevolence is the choice of
all good as the supreme end.  Thus he ceases to pursue
his own good as supreme, and relinquishes his end  n
otbedience to that end itself-a contradiction whiech a
inevitable upon the theory that Sill is the pursuit of one's
own good.
The doctrine is equally at fault when viewed in the
Sinner not    light of the life and consciousness of the evilpursuing hi
on good.    doer himself.   That lie is not pursuing his
own good as his end, is manifest tLpon the slightest consideration.  One of the most notorious facts of sin is that
it is utterly opposed to the interests of the sinner.  In
its most promising and successful forms it is confessedly
a sacrifice of greater interests to the less.  The sinner, in
his best estate, aimns at some worldly advantage, and fails
of the life to come.  lIe seeks some temporary pleasure,
and foregoes the higher joys of a virtuous and benevolent life. Even if we conrfine our attention to material,
worldly good, the lower forms of satisfaction, we find
feiw who have sufficient self-control to surrender an insignificant present enjoyment to a greater future good.
" A little sleep, a little slumber, a little fo(lding of the
hands to sleep," is the cry of the slutgard, while "his
poverty comes as one that travelleth, and his want as an
armed man.."
We  come no nearer the truth to say that the iner
I conscious  thinks he is pursuing his owin interest_.
of the fact. has no  such thought.   He  sees,  when_Jl
gives attention to his case, as those around him  see
that he is his ow   worst enemy-laiig snaies for his
feet.g his                          own ruin. You would not insult
S6 
WRONG AeCTION OR SIN.
the drunkard by asking him if he follows his best jit dgmnent in reference to hIis own welfare.  Your hope of
recovering him from the way of death,is in the fact that
his own  jucldgment condemns his course as ruinous.  H1
knows, as no other one can know, that the seeming good
w,hich hie pursues is an illusion and a lie, and yet he is
lot persuaded to renounce his folly and accept substantial good.
If it -)e said that the evil-doer pursues his own  good
impulsively, not rationally, it is the same as    Impulsive
to say that he does not pursue his good as    pursuit.
his inte]ligence apprehends it, but under the guidance of
desire and passion. Th-e real thought corresponding
with the expression is, that he aims not at his own good
at all, but yields to propensity, sacrificing his true interests.
If it be said that sin is the choice of self-gratificationi as
an end, the doctrine is not materially changed.  Self-gratific
tion not thae
The pursuit of self-gratification as an end must  end.
put the agent up)on a careful course of inquiry as to the
joys within his reach. or that he may hope to attain.
Contemplated in this view, the only view in which selfgoratification can be pursued as an end, it is the same as
the pursuit of one's own happiness. The sinner sacrifices his own gratification, even as he apprehends it himself, to his appetites and passions.  No one  has ever
doubted that a well-regulated life brings with it more
gratification,  even  of the  bodily  appetites,  than  a
course of unrestrained passion; yet on every side we
find men obliterating, by over-indulgence, the very susceptibility of enjoyment. If they pursued self-gratification as an end, they would act more wisely.  It is as
difficult to persuade Wien to be considerate  and  just
37 
MORAL PHILOSO.PiHY.
toward  themselves.  as toward   God  or their fellow
men.
The only sense in which the sinner lives for himself
Caal- mnd-  is that he regards not his rational self, but
Wr*ess.     his psvelychical self, the animal, or rather sen
tient nature, made up of the desires and passions.  Ilemr
he finds his motives to action, and thus lives a life of
impulse and not of reason.  The name by which  Paul
designates this state is not selfishness, but carnal-mindednes,8-caring for the flesh, a term which expresses with
philosophic accuracy the nature of the action. By the
term flesh hle means not merely the bodily appetites, but
the aggregate of the desires and passions, of which tlhe
bodily appetites are the most conspicuous.
Let it not be forgotten that the sin is not in the deNo sin in   sires or passions themselves, nor even in their
desires.    gratification, but in the constant retfusal to
accept the good as tie aimn of life.  The desires and
passions are the motives which induce this refusal.  The
desires and passions are a part of our constitution, given
as by the Creator, but given to be controlled and not to
control. We are rational beings, and the truths and realities in view of which we ought to act are presented
by the reason.
If it be asked, why are these desires given us, since
Desires, why  they furnish the impulse to sin and are the
given.      source of all evil, it may be said that theyf
are the condition or channel of all good as well as evil
Witlhout t]lei we should be as valueless as dead  matte];
,)ir being would be nothing in itself, and usetifl only as
t eTle Ivwere other beings endowed with desires who could
ise us.  It is throlugh the sentient side of our nature
thlat all precious things exist to us, and the broader,
38 
WRONG ACTION OR SWN.
and deeper, and more various these susceptibilities and
wants, the higher we stand in the scale of being. If
the desiresbe eradicated as the occasion of sin, the pos
sibility of virtue ceases at the same time. It is only re
quired that we set the limit to our gratifications whicl
duty enjoins, sacrificing no good to impulse or desire.
39 
CHIAPTER IV.
OF PARTIC'ULAR VIRTUES.
BIWEVOLENCE, or the willing of good, lies at the foiuInda
Benevolence   tion of all right mooral character, and con
the fouiida-I
tion.       stitutes it.  It animates and characterizes all
right mnoral acts.  The  one fliundamenetal virtue, foiund
i,t all vir tuous character, is voluntary iregard  for the
good of being.  Out of this controlling pri-iciple spring,
particular rigllt acts, and all the virtues and graces of
character.  The moral goodness or praiseworthiness lies
in that controlling choice.  AWVlhile that  choice exists,
the character is right,  worlthy of approbation; and  the
rightness or worthiness is as co1istant as the governing
choice.  The forms iii which  it may reveal  itself depend  upon the particular circumstances in which the
agent may be placed, and upon his individual constitution or type of culture.  These partieuiar manifestations
of benevolence are called ri,ht acts.  The various states
Particularvir-  of miniid resulting from benevolence, as mo(i.
tues.       fied by and blended with the different natu
ral affections, take corresponding( names, and constitute
the particular virtues.  Of this nature are such exercises as love, gratitude, justice, inercy,  self-denial, veracity, ihumility, faith, obedience, and othlers like tl)helu.
These are all manifestations of benevolence, and all their
moral excellence or praisewvorthiness is found  in  the
benevolent choice whlich underlies them.  A  particular
rigltt act is an exhibition of benevoleince arnd filrnishes
oasion  for approval of the agent; but vve are iiot to 
OF PARTICULIAR VIRTUES.
inpp,se that his moral goodness is all concentrated in
these special acts.  These are but out-crop-  ooodness not
limited to the
pings of the principle of benevolence, which  act
constitutes the right character.  If there had been no op.
portunity for the act, the agent might have been just as
virtuous and praiseworthy.   The virtue is as constant
s the benevolent choice. We praise the patriot soldier
who stands bravely in battle; the same patriotism was
in him before the battle, and is in another who has no
suel occasion for its exhibition. Virtuous character lies
bac' of particular virtuous acts. It is the root of the
tree, of which the particular developments are the foliage, and flower, and fruit. The particular virtues have
different names, not because they differ from each other
in the virtuous element involved, but because this element is blended with others which make them differ in
consciousness, and in outward form.
Love is a term employed to designate a particular virtue. It is also used to express the common Love as a virelement of all the virtues, and in this sense tue.
it is synonymous with benevolence. This is the use of
the term in the Scriptures, where it is represented as the
fulfilling, or content, of the law-all that the law requires towards God and towards men, the good and the
bad. As a particular virtue, love is benevolence blended
with and working through the natural affection which
bears the same name. In the different relations the
modifying affection varies, and the love is called parental,
filial, or social. The natu.'al affection may exist without
he benevolence to control and regulate it. It is still
called love, but it is no longer virtue. Benevo-  L.ove of com.
lent affection exercised towards the good, is  llacerjy.
attended with approbation of the character of the olobject
41 
IMORAL PHILOSOPHY.
and hence is called love of complacency. This is the
formi which love takes when exercised towards God, because the contemplation of God's character affords satisfaction. The perception of the worthiness is intellectual, the resulting satisfaction is emotional; the benevo'eiice is still the voluntary and virtuous element.  The
oomplacenev without  the benevolence is not virtuous.
Love to enemies and to the wicked is benevolence accompanied by disapprobation of the character, or displacency. There may be less of enjoyment in the immediate exercise, but it is still as high a manifestation of virtue as any other. In all its varieties, love is virtuous in
so far as it is benevolent, and no farther.
Gratitude admits of a similar analysis. As a virtue it
Gratitudeasa is benevolence toward a benefactor.  We have
virtue.    also the perception of a benefit received, pleasure or satisfaction in view of it, and an impulse to requite the benefit. The emotional and impulsive action,
without the benevolence, is still called gratitude, but it is
not virtuous. It is a common experience of the good and
.he bad.
Justice as a virtue is but another name for benevolence
utice.  dealing with the interests and deserts of men.
There is an impulse to treat every interest according to its value, and every person according to his
deserts, and there is satisfaction in witnessing such a result. This characteristic of our nature is often called
the principle of justice; but it becomes the virtue of
justice when benevolence enters in to regulate and
limit it.  What is called justice becomes sin when it goes
beyond the linmits which benevolence appoints. To se
eure to a moral being his deserts, is a virtuous act when
benevolence requires it;'t is a sinful act when a proper
-i 2 
OF PARTICULAR VIRTUE8.
regard for all good forbids.  To pardon a sinner is duty
when the common good permits. The final appeal is to
this standard, and justice becomes virtue by being be
nevolence.  The only just man is the man who regards
all good for its value and according to its value.
It is common with writers on morale to represent jus
tice as an independent virtue, distinct from Not an Inde
pendent virand even opposed to benevolence; yet no tue.
definition of justice as a virtue can be given which does
not imply benevolence, and no rule of action in accordance with justice can be given which does not find
its limitations in benevolence.   Dugald Stewart, after
strenuously rejecting the idea that benevolence is the
substance of all virtue, defines justice as "that disposition which leads us, in cases where our own temper, or
passions, or interests are concerned, to determine and
to act without being biased by partial considerations."
What is this but a definition of benevolence-a disposition to treat every good and every interest according to
its value?  Even the popular definition of justice, as "the
rirtue which consists in giving to every one what is his
Jue," involves the same limitations. What is his due is
determined, not by any abstract rule of desert, but by a
eareful comparison and adjustment of interests according
to their value. Justice, then, is not an independent virtue, but is an exercise of benevolence in certain relations
and with'certain modifying affections. The term justice
often has an objective sense, indicating not the virtue, nor
any disposition whatever, but what is outwardly right between man and man; and this outward justice finds its
authority and its limitations in the common good. We
have a perception of the deserts of men, and, in an inexact way, often speak of these as the ground and nea,
43 
MORAL PIIILOSOPHY.
sure of justice in their case. It is true that these deserts
are significant facts, and are to be made account of in the
estimate of what the common good requires or permits,
out they are not the standard of justice.  It is not always
unjust to treat men better than they deserve, or even
worse at times. Justice as a mere sentiment is blind to
everything but desert; justice as a virtue has an eye for
every interest.  
Mercy is compassion exercised towards the undeserv           ing, limited by regard for the general good.
Mercy.
ercy.  It is benevolence saving offenders from deserved retribution; without the limitation of benevolence it is culpable weakness, not a virtue. We naturally
pity the miserable; when guilt is combined with the
misery, our pity becomes  mercy-a  mere sentiment,
emotional and impulsive; when benevolencepermeates
and limits, and controls the sentiment, it is the virtue of
mercy.  Mercy is a necessary product of benevolenIce;
for benevolence is the willing of good to all, to the
good and the bad alike-not the actual effort to do good
to all, but a readiness, a disposition to it-an actual
effort to secure it when the general good will permit.
Asvirtues, mercy and justice can never be antagonistic,
Mercy and    because they have their ground in the comnmoi
justice not
opposed.    principle of benevolence; as sentiments or impulses, the one may counteract or exclude the other. To
settle their limits and applications in outward life is just
as difficult as to determine what benevolence requires, and
no more so. This is the only test-the final appeal.
Self-denial is benevolence holding in subjection the
s —eneal.   desires and passions, and putting personal in           terest in its proper place-a readiness to fore
go self-indulgence at the bidding of benevolence.   In
44 
OF PARTICULAR VIRTUES.
reality, it is not the sacrifice of any interest of our own
It is the only way in which real interests can be se
cored.  Moral beings will always prove the truth of the
goispel paradox: hlie that will save shall lose, and he
that will lose shall save.   The denial of one desire at
the bidding of another is not self-denial.  It may involve all the pain, or even more, but it does not bring
the satisfaction of virtuous self-denial.
Veracity is benevolence exercised in communicating
impressions of facts to our fellow-men. Truthfulness in communication from any other Veracity.
than a benevolent motive is not the virtue of veracity.
It may be sentimental, impulsive veracity, resulting from
the instinctive admiration of truthfulness existing in
every mind.   To speak the truth for the sake of the
truth, if there be any thought corresponding with the
expression, must be to yield to this sentiment as an inipulse. The truth in itself is nothing; it is merely in
strumental. The final value is in moral beings, whom it
serves.
Humility is not a depreciative judgment of ourselves,
nor a feeling of depression in view of any        Humility.
personal disadvantages; it is benevolence exercised in conceding precedence to others, and in accepting cheerfully the place which falls to us.  The sentimnent of humility, as distinguished from the virtue, is a
trait of character natural to some, having its basis in the
emotional constitution.
Faith is a benevolent attitude of mind acceyting the
edence of facts, and bestowing confidence
upon the pessons to whom it is due.  The in-        Faith
tellectual element is a convictiol of the truth to be ac
cet)ted, and of the fidelity of the persons who are the ob
45 
MORAL PHILOSOPHTY.
jects of faith. The moral element is the benevolent at
titude of mind which disposes to the acceptance of this
evilence, and to the treatment of the truth as true, and of
thie p)erson as trustworthy. The emotional element is
tile peace, and rest, and satisfaction which flow from cr
follow this acceptance of evidence and bestowment of
confidence.   Each of these distinct exercises is sometimes called faith, especially the intellectual and emotional; but the virtuousness of faith lies in the right voluntary state which yields to evidence, and accepts a well
founded claim to confidence. No degree of mere convic
tion is virtuous faith, nor of emotion in view of the con
viction.  " The devils believe and tremble."  The excellence of faith is not so much in a right belief, as in the
state of mind which leads to right belief. That state of
mind is benevolence. The idea is somewhat prevalent
that reason and faith are opposed to each other, and that
we leave reason when we take faith as our principle.
Faith depends on reason,in the sense that we can accept
as true only what comes with evidence addressed tc
reason. We have faith in God, because we have reason
to believe him  trustworthy;  and from him we accept
revelations beyond, but not opposed to reason.  Faith
without evidence is presumption, not faith.
Obedience is a benevolent submission to authority.
Submission for any other reason, for safety
Obedience.
or from a sense of the power or superiority
,f the ruler, is not a virtue. These considerations are
,ften involved in virtuous obedience, and are not incon.
sistent with it. They are involved, too, in the cowardly
submission of one whose heart is opposed to the anu.
thority, and destitute of any trace of loyalty or duty.
If it be said that submission because it is right is obedi
46 
OFl PARTICULAR VIRTUES..
ence, the definition is correct, but the analysis is ineom.
plete. WThat is right is what is obligatory; and what is
obligatory,is determined by the interests involved —the
good of being. Let it appear that these interests ale not
promoted by submission, and all sense of obligation is lost
Thus the virtuous element of obedience is benevolence.
All virtuous exercises admit of a similar analysis.
Whierever benevolence is found, there is vir-  This analysis
sustained by
tue, praiseworthiness, the fuilfilment of obli-  Scripture.
gation; where this is wanting, there may be amiable sentiment and comely outward action, but there is no virtue. This view accords so fully with the doctrine of
the Scriptures that it is remarkable that any other has
had sway among Christian moralists. The doctrine is so
distinctly announced that a passing reference will suffice.
The Saviour distinctly presents love to God and man as
the sole requirement of the law.  There can be no doubt
as to the nature of this love when we remember that he
represents it as due to God and to man, to the evil as to
the good, to enemies as to friends. The love which is
due to all beings, irrespective of character and relations, can only be benevolence, the willing of good to
all. Paul, in announcing that love is the fulfilling of
the law, enumerates the leading precepts of the deca
logue, and lest something should be omitted, lie adds,
"and if there be any other commandment, it is briefly
comprehended in this saying, namely,'thou shalt lovo
thy neighbor as thyself;"' and in a chapter of marvel
bus beauty and power, he proclaims the emptiness of
11 high-sounding virtues and showy deeds without
harity, love, benevolence.   If any doctrine is clearly
tauglit in Scripture, it Mould seem to be that bene volence
is the sum of duty.
47 
MO., AL PIILOSOPHIY.
Bitt let it be remelmbered that the love wlhchl fiilfil1
3enrevolence  the law is an active voluntary state, and not
not mere
mnotion.   a mere emnotion.  It may  co-exist  with al
the emotions that are natural to man, and prompt to al!
the deeds promnotive of well-being. It is not mere ten
e,i-lieartedness, good nature, kindly feeling, a weak dispi)JsitioI to make everybody comfortable.  IBenevolence
is alive to every interest discriminating, earnest  conii rgeo-us.  It is gentle or stern, forb.    orindinant,
as the occasion may require.  Those writers, as Butler,
Msapprehen-  Stewart, Cousin, 3JeCosh, and others, who
siolns of benevolence.    discard the doctrine that benevolence is the
whole of virtue, seem to treat it as emotional rather than
intelligent and voluntary. Says Archibald Alexander,
"'If a judge should feel a stro)ng benevolence towards
all criminals, so as to avoid inflicting on them the penalty
,f the wholesome laws of the country, we should judge
)t wicked."   hence he concludes not only that benevolence is not the whole of virtue, but that it is not alwvavs
virtuous.  It is not nece,ary to say that the benevolence
of which he speaks is a mere sentiment, and is not embraced in the definition of benevolence which we have
given. It is no more benevolence than wrath or jealousy,
or the other malignant passions.   The benevolent mnai
cannot intentionally sacrifice the good of the community
to his reluctance to inflict pain on a criminal. Such action is in direct conflict with his principle-regard to th
good of all on account of its value.
The doctrine of the old philosophers, that he that h:L
The ancient   one virtue has all the virtues, proves true i
jocte.     a very important sense.  Every genuine vir.
tue ilas benevolence as its foundation; and benevolence
is the germ and root of all the virtues.  In time, with
ts 
OF PARTICULAR VIRTUES.
lavoring circumstances and culture, they must appear.
The genuine viritues are not independent of each other.
They are all special exhibitions of benevolence, and each
in a sense implies the other; not in its outward form, but
in its principle and root. We do not find the benevo
lent all alike in their exhibitions of character.   Th,ey
are alike in their principle of action, but the outward
life varies with individual constitutions, with varying
light and circumstances.  Benevolence is often fettered
by a poor judgment and a very imperfect constitution,
and its exhibitions become greatly distorted by the crude
media through which they must struggle.
a
49 
CfHAPTER V.
Of PARTICULAR VICES-NATURAL OR IMPULSIVE GOODNE'&
I  so far assin presents unity of character it lies in
the refusal to regard the well-being of all
Unity of sin.  and give it its proper Dlace.  This constitutes
thile wickedness of aiI sinful action; and in this respect it
is, as it should be, the contradictory of  benevolence.
Where this rejection of the good as the end of life exists,
there is sin -the violation of obligation, whatever mnay
be the outward action.
The evil-doing is as continuous as this attitude of will,
.   and particular vicious acts are but the outIts continuity.
croppings of the sinful character.  The par.
ticular exhibition gives occasion for our disapproval and
condemnation; and it is not unnatural to direct our attention to these acts as involving all that is blameworthy
in the character. But the vicious attitude of will existed
before that action, and may remain afterwards. Occasior
may be wanting for the exhibition of the vicious princi
ple, the persistent voluntary state of refiusal to choose
the good; yet the man is sinful, blameworthy, and will
surely act unrighlteously, when the time for action comes
The outward wrong action takes its particular name
farticiai    and  character  firom  the desire which pro
vicees.
ces.     dominates, and which prompts to the action,
or from the particular relations in which the act is performed, or from the outward form of the action. In
such a principle and motive originate all the vices whlich
deform character and injure society, as sensuality, amnbi 
OF PARTICULAR VICES.
tion, avarice, pride, selfishness, envy, and the like, differ
ent in the desire which controls, and in the outward
form of the action, but alike in the element of blame
worthiness, the exclusion of benevolence.
Sensuality is a subjection of the will to the bodily app;
tite.                                               These solicit to gratification, an d  fur- 
Sensuality
nish the motive to loathsome vices which so
degrade men.  The wrong is not in the appetites; they
belong to our constitution, implanted by the Creator.
They are as innocent as our most elevated tastes and susceptibilities, and perhaps are even more necessary and
useful. Their gratification is not a sin, as long as no
good is sacrificed. The sin consists in giving these the
rein, subjecting the will to their control, instead of holding it subservient to the good. 
Ambition results from the surrender of the will to tle
desire of power, of control of men.  The de-    Ambition
sire is doubtless constitutional, belongs to us
by creation, and has its purpose to serve; but to allow
the desire to control and turn us from the path of duty
of benevolence, is the sin of ambition. We often hear
of a laudable ambition. It must consist in the purpose to
secure position and power for the furtherance of worthy
ends.
Avarice results from the love of wealth as the predominant desire.  The desire exists in all men,
but in the avaricious man it becomes the controlling motive. When the desire terminates directly
on the wealth, and finds its satisfaction in the mere possession, the man is a miser.  If he conterAIates the enjoyment which the wealth may purchase, he is still ava.
ricious; but the avarice iscombined with another passion,
as the love of pleasure, or distinction, or independence
51 
MORAL PHILOSOPHIY.
Properly controlled and directed, the desire of wealth ii
a wholesome impulse.
Pride is subjection of the will to the desire of eleva
ride and    tion or distinction, and implies dissatisfaction
aity.   in occupying one's proper place, an unwillingne. to be regarded according to  one's worth.  If the
Usioli be attended, as it often is, by an over-estimate of
)ne's accomplishments or advantages, it takes the form of
vanity.  If it exist in connection with a low estimate of
one's self, it becomes mortified pride; it is still not humility. WVe often hear that a degree of pride is necessary to a well-balanced character; of course a proper
self-respect must be intended.
Selfishness, as a special vice, is subjection of the will
Selfihne to the desire of good, involving an over-esti8efishhess.        ~,novn   noe-si
mnate of one's own importance and a disregard of the equal rights of others. When good is to be
distributed, benevolence asks only its proper share. Selfishness craves more, is greedy of good, and careless of
others. This is the vice in its popular sense. Theological writers often use the term as expressing the opposite
of benevolence, or the essence of all sin, an unfortunate
use of the word, as we have seen, and implying a state
of facts which does not exist.
Thus we may pass over the entire catalogue of the deThe desire sires and find a. form of sin corresponding
not sin.   with each.  The sin, as we have seen, does not
lie in the desire, nor in its gratification, but in the voluntary refiusal to regard the good, under the impulse of
"he desire or passion    Even if the desire be artificial,
created by self-indulgence and sin, as the love of strong
drink, still the sin is not in the desire, but in allowing
it sway.  Tlhe highest forms of virtue are sometimes ex
52 
NATURTAL OR DI'IULSIVE GOODNESS.
hibited in connection with aggravated or perverted pat
sions.  To nurse or foster a passion, even without iiidulgence of it in outward form, implies sin, a latent spirit of
self-indulgence.
The malevolent impulses, in so far as they are merely
emotional, come under the same principle as    Malevoleni
the amiable ones.   Wrathi, indignation, re-   impulses.
sentment are not sinful in themselves. They have their
place in human nature-probably in every moral nature.
and imply sin only as they control the action and deter
mine the will to the disregard of duty. Like all the impulses, they are to be controlled. They present, like the
desires, temptations to sin, but temptation is not sin.
We have considered the two forms of moral action, benevolence and its opposite, and have seen that     Only two
charactersi
all moral goodness, virtue, lies in benevo-    cpossraibctle.r
lence, and all sin in the refusal to be benevolent. Nc
third attitude, no neutral position,is possible to a moral
being. To regard the good,and not to regard it, are the
only conceivable positions; and not to regard the good
is, in a moral being, to refuse to regard it.
But there is much moral action, or action of moral beings, that is proper, amiable, and useful too,      Apparent
thatit is sometimes difficult to classify.  It has  goodness.
the aspect of virtuous action, but lacks the vital elemnent.
The action may lie entirely out of the range of morality,
in the necessary movements of our nature, or it may be
merely impulsive.
We find in all men right and proper judgments on
moral  questions, a clear discernment, and    Right judg
more or less accurate expression of propriety    ments.
and duty. But these judgments are wholly intellectual,
not at our control, and therefore have no moral char
59 
lMORAL PHILOSOPHY.
acter.  A  perception of the first principles of morality
is essential to moral agency; it is provided for in our
constitution, and is as inevitable as the perception of the
axioms of iiiathematics.  This element in our nature Is a
DOo(l, elevates us in the scale of being, but does not make
us virtuous.
Closely allied to this is the moral approbation of right
NfMoral approv- doing, of right character, of God, and of good
al and disapproval.    men, and disapprobation of wron- in act aind
character. This exercise is constitutional, not voluntary.
To approve and admire virtue is not to practic't and
to condemn the wrong is not to abstain from it.
" leliora video proboque, deteriora sequor."
see the right and I approve it too,
Condemn the wrong and still the wrong pursue."
,However low a moral beinog  may sink, there must re,
anin. while moral agency survives, the approbation of
virtue and the disapprobation of vice.          A  eal to a
mr-al bein, in beafof rigiteo    usness always finds  a
response in thee judgment, if not in the Will.  But that
resdonse i=-wi
response is not virtue, it is the involutmar  testimo  ny of
his nature in favor of virtue.
In connection with these judgments in favor of the
~iation    right  and against the wrong, there arises an
Aspimtlon    ri n d
for virte.    aspiration, an impulse, more or less distinct,
towards the attainment of right character, a desire for it
as the hiighest excellence, the essential condition of one's
own approbation and that of others.  Not only virtue in
its general fIrmn, but each of the particular virtues and
every virtuous  act, excites admiration  and desire,  an
inlmulse called by Lord Kames the sympathetic emotion
of virtue, which prompts  to the attainment of a like
character. But to desi          re tb eitou  ot to so
64 
NATURAL OR IMPLLSIVE GOODNESS.
A  sinful life may repress and ob,cure this desire, but
probably never obliterates it.
There are, again, inr. every human being, kindly affee
tions and sentiments, the social sympathies  Kindly affe
belonging to human nature, which afford a  tions.
foundation for the various relations of life, and make
society pleasant and desirable. There are natural gifts
and graces which adorn the character, beautifil and good,
but no more virtuous than the beauties olf a gem or a
flower. There are simiilar instincts even in animals of a
lower order.  A virtuous life best improves and displays
these natural gifts, and sin may dwarf and perhaps obliterate some of them, while others are vigorous even in
connection with the grossest degradation.  They make
our nature a good, but do not constitute it virtuous.
In the contemplation of God, of his greatness and goodness, pious  and devotional feelings arise  Devotional
awe, reverence, admiration, gratitude, an in- sentiments.
stinctive tribute of our nature to its author. These natural sentiments of piety constitute man a religious being,
not a virtuous being- religious in the sense that provisio I
is mnade in his nature for worship, devotion.  Even witl
out a right heart hie feels the propriety, and in some sencm
the need of worship.  These sentiments are traces of
God's handiwork, and indicate the style of life which is
appropriate to man.  Vitalized and sustaino d by genlme
goodness, they characterize the trulyv pious m nan, and in
such circumstances are best illustrateod; but they exist in
every cultivated mind, even without virtu3 and are nol
wholly wanting in the rudest savages.  The sentiment of
devotion is nearly related to the poetic in our constitu
tion, and hence has become in modern times an important
element, even in our lighter literature  Some of our sa
55 
MORAL PHILOSOPh Y.
cred lyrics, beautiful expressions of pious feeling, have
been furnished by writers who can scarcely be supposed
to have an experience of devotion, except in its poetic and
sentimental forms.  Such feelings are beautiful and wor thy of cultivation, but they are not necessarily virtuous
exercises.
Thus every recognized virtue finds in human nature X
Impulsive vir- corresponding desire or impulse, and froim
tues.       these, as from other impulses, there results impulsive action in the direction of all these virtues, producimg natural loveliness, many beautiful acts and graces of
character, all the social virtues in their external emotional
forms. As examples of these we have generosity springing
from a desire to gratify others; charity, works of beneficence, from the impulse of pity for the suffering, as in the
case of Goldsmith, who would give his coat to a beggar in
the street; philanthropy, as of Lord Byron in his sentimental devotion to the interests of Greece; patriotism, which
has led multitudes to count it sweet to die for their country; friendship involving personal affection, and furnishing beautiful exhibitions of unselfishness, and, most striking of all in the self-sacrifice involved, parental affection,
maternal love, sometimes called the holiest of human exercises; but if it be merely instinctive or impulsive, it is
no holier than the sunlight or the shower. Even ill the
vile and degraded it is exhibited as an intense passion.
The virtuous element of benevolence flowing thro hthis
chanr  l of maternal love beautifies it and   ives consisteucand wisdom.. Without this elemen parental affection
often  Os  1t5-weakness by thwarting what would seem
to be its own proper ends. Of the same general character is the integrity which flows from the admiration of
justice, or from the maxim that honesty is the best policy;
56
I 
NATURAL OR LIMPULSIVE, G(I)T)NESS.
also the obtrusive and pretentious virtues which spring
from a sense of honor, as it is called;  a principle too ca
pricious to be depended on, and determined in general by
what is considered respectable in a particular circle.
For every genuine virtue there is a corresponding fac
titious virtue, involving the external form Relaticnto
and some of the emotions of the genuine, true virue.s
but lacking in the element of benevolence, which alone
gives virtue to action.  It is not, in general, true that
these virtues are counterfeited-assumed intentionally
tbr the accomplishment of an end, as the attainment of
respectability, or the advancement of worldly interest in
other forms.  They are superficial, impulsive, but not
hypocritical. The man acts as he feels, and because of
his feeling; and when his feeling changes, the action
changes.  Itfere lies the deficiency.  The true principle
and reason of action is higher than feeling.  The feeling
enriches and beautifies the action, but should not govern it.
There is mnueh apparent goodness that is imitativea  reflection of what is genuine; but even  Imitative
here the  goodness is not affected-put on  goodness
merely as a fashion; the emotions which produce the ae,
tion are communicated-propagated by natural sympathy, and thus some particular form of goodness becomes
contagious. Religious or philanthropic sentiments pervade a community, and the corresponding virtues become
epidemic. The affection is not a dangerous one, blt gennine goodness is not so easily propagated. The tide of
feeling changes, and you look in vain for the luxuriant
harvest of good which was promised.  "It has no root
in itself; and so endureth but for a time." In other cases
the feeling is permanent, groundel in the constitution,
and the impulsive action is equally permanent.
8*
57 
MORAL PHEILOSOPHY.
These instinctive Nvirtues are seen to lack genuIlineness
(rn)live vr   l the fact that they are often partial, liav3
r,I'mlslive vi.r tue partial.   arbitrary limitations such as are imposed  by
feeling, not reason.  They often co-exist with the clear est failures in morality, in other directions.  A  pirate
nmay exhibit a chivalrous honor  among  hlis associates,
mav evel be a tender father and a faithful friend; yet
his ]i1e is a war upon manLind.   BIyron encountered dan
ger and met deathl in his romant  interest fo ireece,
yet iris p ivaite life was too deeply stained witli   t o atl low e- eni a hope that hit's virtues wee rel.   aLe  iust be a
v  e.-.-i   and abandon ed man r        },.ras o ro ret     form
ot    4      -O to ritlate the senseci i(,l  0ef t    The man
who has cast off all ta ou -it od dty or ioaty to God
comforts himself uponII his fidelity to man; yet genuin
duty admits no such limiitations
A change of circumstances or of locality and surroundottransport-  ings, sometimes proves fatal to the imrpulsive
ible     virtues.  It has long  been a proverb that
"1Englishmen going to India, leave their religion at the
Cape;" and it was often remarked, before the rebellion,
that ~New  England morality, emigrating to the Southwest, rariely survived  the passage of Vieksburg.  True
viirtue will bear transportation.  3By, such weaknesses and
failures the factitious virtues betray themselves.
But is this natural, impulsive goodness sinful? Are
not persons better for the possession of these
qualities?   r, ionever the motive,.ot sinful, nor is th i mot-o,ni
Whie1t p'....npt  and attends the ation; but the heart
wmItirvohgh         er  otih""      an feeling, is destitute
of'ade__,        t a   lic iovi-ern- by
lirpulse rathe- than the princi)]e of benevole nce is a
58 
NATURAL OR IMPULSIVE GOODNESS.
tful life. The man would be worse if divested of these
natural graces of character-less hopeful in himself
more injurious to society.  ITnpulsive goodness i~ a rosl
good, of use in the world.  It helps to make up the general public sentiment, which in Christian countries favor8
virtue.  The genuine goodness, even of a few, operates
beyond these few, upon the feelings ancl acts of the corn
Iunity, moulding the secrtiment anlc the outward life,
and finally, in many cases, establishing itself in the heart.
Thus virtue finlds in the feelings and sympathies of men,
as well as in their convictions; a suiport which evil must
always lack. Vice, as such, is always repulsive, and
finds no sympathy in the human soul.
59 
CHAPTER VI.
ADDITIONAL REMARKS AND INFERENCES.
THE law of benevolence is the universal law.  In the
Un.versal ty  nature of the case it extends to all moral be of the law. ings and covers all their moral action. The
apprehension of good and the power of choice are the
sole conditions of obligation. Obligation, then, is as
wide-spread and as permanent as moral existence-the
obligation of benevolence; and all moral goodness, al]
that is praiseworthy in character, consists in meeting obligation, in being benevolent. Where there is no obligation, there can be no goodness. The law of benevolence
extends to God as well as to his creatures, and he is good
because he meets the obligation. "God is love," because
his entire character is conformed to the requirements of
benevolence. This is the holiness of God as a moral attribute; of holiness in essence or being, as distinguished
from holiness in character, we can have no conception
There is no thought answering to the words.
Works of supererogation are impossible to a moral beEupereroga- ing-the performance of more than dutytio-n impoissit1e.       Obligation keeps pace with ability.  "A
that knoweth to do good and doeth tnoti  to him itis
si' There can be no meritorious works that are iiot
obligatory. No being, divine or human, can ever do
mnore than duty, because he can never transcend ability.
The obligation of each moment is measured by the abil
ity of each moment; hence the failure at one point can
never be cancelled by the surplusgoodness at another. Nol 
ADDITIONAL REMARKS AND INFERENC-E,S.
has one moral being an excess of virtue, to meet the deficiencies of another.
Moral acts and moral character are personal-insepar
able from the being to whom they originally  Morality per
pertain.  Each moral being is responsible  r  sonal.
.his own character an  that resp onsibility can in no ma
merbe transferred to another.  Each man is praiseworthy
fbr his good deeds, and blameworthy for his bad deeds.
The good deeds may have been induced ill him by the
influence of another; but they are still his deeds, and
he is praiseworthy on account of them.   So the bad
deeds mlay be occasioned by temptations proceeding from
another, but the blameworthiness goes with the deeds.
The promoter of virtue in the one case, and the tempter
in the other, have their own responsibilities.   Each
moral agent is the responsible cause of his own deeds
and character, both good and bad, whatever the ooeasimo
of the deeds may have been.
Hence moral character can never be transferred. It
belongs inevitably to the subject of it, and Character not
must arise, in every case, from free voluntary transferable.
action   Guilt, in the sense of ill-desert, cannot be communicated~ from one to another by imputation, or by natural generation, as from parent to child, or by any device whatever.   It must come into existence by the free
action of its subject. Infirmities of constitution, tendencies to wrong action, temptations, may be transmitted;
and these may lead to a reproduction of sin in the child,
like that which existed in the parent. Hience, in a loose
and popular sense the sin is said to be transmitted; oI
one may be involved in the consequences of another'a
acts and thus be said to share his sin; but in strict
thou1ght and expression, sin belongs only to the agent
61 
MORAL PHTLOSOPHTY.
who commits it, and cannot be transferred.   The same
principle applies equally to virtue.
The ambiguity of the word c/taracter sometimes'eads
Character,    to confusion of thought and expression.  In
different
senses.     the  most general sense, character  embraces
all that belongs to the soul-its combination of powers,
and susceptibilities, and tendencies, as well as the result
of these in moral condition and action.  In this sense,
character is doubtless transmitted from parent to child.
In a stricter sense character is limited to the moral state or
action, and the limitation is usually e-xresed by the epithet moral.  But the term moral character has a three
fold use: frst, to indicate the present momentary moral
state, the inimmediate condition of the soul in respect to
virtue and sin; secondly, with a retrospective view involving the element of time, to express the aggregate of
moral action-thie accumulated merit or demerit of all the
mnoral life; and thirclIy, to express the prevailing or predominant moral condition, determined by the average of
moral action during a period of time sufficient to afford
an indication. Moral character in all these senses is
strictly personal and intransmissible.
The seat of moral depravity is in the will-moral deseat orde-   pravity being sin.  The sin consists in the
pmvity.     voluntary refusal to respect the good.   The
intellect and sensibility cannot be morally depraved;
there is no sin in them. They may be diseased and perverted, and these corruptions may become occasions of
sin.  But in all moral beings, depraved or undepraved,
the sensiblility must, fromn its very nature, operate as an
inmpulse to self-indulgence. To resist this impulse, from
a regard to good, is virtue; to yield to it and neglect the
good,'s sin   Tlhe idea of a sensibility in harmony  with
52 
ADDI'IONAL REMARKS AND lIN'ERExNCES.
irtue, so that to follow its impulses will be vilrtuous ac
tion, involves a contradiction.   To follow an impulse of
the feeling because we judge it, under the circumstance
our best guide, is not to be governed by feeling.
Total moral depravity oughlt to mean the entire absence of the choice of good on its own ac-  Total depmvcount-the entire commitment of the will to  ity.
the desires and passions, as the motive of action.  In this
sense only is total depravity predicable of any moral being. All this is compatible with much that is correct in
the moral judgment, and much that is pleasant and amiable in emotion and action. it is true that sin tends to
pervert the nature, to obscure the tjudgnenrt, and to corrupt the desires; but until moral agency is utterly subverted, and the man ceases to be accountable, he can
judge correctly of his own duty and that of others, he
approves virtue and condemns sin.
The moral change required in every sinner is to cease
to do evil and learn to do well; a change  Change re.
from subjection to desire and impulse, to the  quired.
choice of good for its own sake, a change not in nature, but in moral character and action.   This is the
point in which the sinner is wrong, and by such a change
only can he become right. Other changes may be desilrable; this is obligatory. It is obligatory because it is
voluntary, hence, always possible. The change muist inrovae the sinner's own action, for the sin is his, and tl e
vi'tuie is his.  Every moral agent has in his own tlhol,glut
,'on,siderations which ought to induce the change;  but
Qilch are the fascinations of sin, that men do not surrender
it wittiout l)owerful influence from without, persuading,
not compelling.  It is not power, but persuasion, that is
brouglht to bear.  In no other manner can Omnipotence
I
J
63 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
itself secure right moral action. Neither'virtue nor sib
can be imposed by any extraneous force, however great,
A change in moral character is not the work of power
but of motive.
Intensity of emotion in connection with any mora,
Emotion and state or act is not the test of its character, or
Character.    the measure ofitsdesert. The emotion  varies
with varying circumstances, with thie object of immediate attention; the moral state is as constant as the attitude of the will.  The emotion is sometimes an indication of the moral state, more or less reliable.  A  man's
fidelity to his family is not determined at any time by
the intensity of his emotional affection. He may be so
absorbed with his duty, that the thought which excites
emotion may be impossible to him; and when the emotion arises, it may be, in some circumstances, not a help
to his duty, but a hindrance-a temptation to drop the
duty and give himself to the enjoyment of the society
of his family. The emotional affection has an import
ant office, and constitutes much of the value of the so
cial relations, but neither its presence nor its absence de
telrines the question of fidelity to duty.  The nzalic
prepense which constitutes crime does not necessarily in
volve the emotion of hatred; it expresses only the ante
cedent purpose to do the deed. The highway robber
feels no emotion of hatred towards his victim, but he
ihas a definite intention to perpetrate the crime; it is of
the slightest importance what his emotions may be.
The ultimate governing choice, that which determines
Ultimate    moral character, is often less distinct in con
choice in consciousness.   sciousness than accompanying emotions, and
executive purposes and volitions. It underlies all ot,hei
exercises, is transparent and intangible, so to speak, axd
64 
ADDITIONAL  EMfARKS AND INFERENCES.
bence often escapes our direct  scrutiny.   It  reveals
itself in the current of life which it directs, and in the
general tone of thought, and feeling, and  action; but
what is called self examination frequently occupies itself
with thoughts and feelings, and fails to reach the seat of
character.  Direct, immediate observation of one's own
moral state is difficult to attain; and often the examination which results in strong confidence is quite superficial. Genuine honesty of heart must in the end bring
satisfaction.
Moral consistency is persistence  in the  benevolent
choice-regard to good as good.  The expres-  MoralcolsiSt
sion of that choice will vary with varying ency.
light and other conditions. Benevolence may require us
to do to-morrow what we cannot do to-day; because
our views of duty and our circumstances may change,
exposing us, perhaps, to the charge of fickleness. Outward consistency has its value, but is only proximately
attainable to finite beings.  Moral consistency is essen
tial; it is the genuine jewel.
65r 
CIIAPTER VII.
.U43HT AND WRONG —DUTY, KNOWN AND UN KNOWN —NEBD
OF A REVELATION.
THERE is an ambiguity in the use of the terms right
Abs,lite and  and wrong, which tends to confusion.  Berelative right
and wrong.    nevolence, a  regard for sentient  being, is
right in its own nature, witlout any condition or limita,
tion, and always implies virtue in the exercise.  This
may be called absolute right. Tile refusal to be benevolent is absolute wrong.  No  contingency, possible or
sBvpposable,can make it otherwise in fact or in appearanqe.
On the other hand, all executive action is conteinplated in its relation to benevolence, and is called right
or wrong according, as it is or is not the form in which
benevolence expresses itself.  That action which tends
to promote the good is ri,ght action, and will be  performed by  virtuous, intelligent  men.    This  may  be
called the relative right, to distinguish it from benevolence, whith is the absolute right.   Execitive action
wlicd is opposed Lo the good is wTrong, and, as distinguishled from  wrong in ultimate intention, it may be
called relative wrong.  Relative ri,ght and wrong  are
known, not by their intrinsic character, like benevolence
and its opposite, but by their relation or tendency.
There is anothler ambiguity in the use of the terms
Objective ande right and wrong, in reference to which dissubjective 
righlt&wrong.  crimination is even more i important.  Execu.
tire action, considered apart fnom the agent, simply in 
RIGHT AND WRONG.
its bearing upon the good of sentient being, is called right
or wrong, according to its tendency. This is objective
righttor objective wrong. Again, an act is contemplated
in its relation to the agent, and is called right when, witl]
his particular views and convictions, it ought to be done;
and wrong when, uinder these circumstances, it ought
not to be done. A right act,in this latter sense, involves
a right ultimate intention or choice onil the part of the
agent; and a wrong act, a wrong intention; all, without
reference to the act in its outward or objective character.
This is subjective right, or subjective wrong. The fact
really contemplated in this view is the moral state of the
ag,ent, his rightness or wrongness.
To illustrate: a physician gives a proper remedy, one
tending to good.  The act is objectively right;  Differentcorn.
it ought to be done. If he had a proper in- binations.
tention, the act is subjectively right; he is virtuous in the
doing of it. Again, he gives a poison, tending to evil;
the act is objectively wrong; in general ought not to be
done. If he intends harm in the act, it is subjectively
wrong;  ie incurs guilt.  He gives a proper remedy, thinking it a poison and intending mischief; the act is objectively right and subjectively wrong. Jle gives a poison by mistake, with an honest intention; the act is
)l),jectively wrong  and  subjectively right.   All these
diie'rent combinations of right and wrong in action are
possible and act,ual.  The character of the agent depends
upon the act subjectively considered, and not upon its
ob,jective character. Wrong done proves a wrong doer,
a sinner only when the wrong is subjective, or involves
the wrong intention.
It would seem desirable to limit the use of the terims
right ard wrong to acts viewed objectively, and to ex
67 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
press subjective relations by the terms virtuous and sinful, securing thus not only distinctness of expression, but
clearness of thought as well.
An act is sometimes spoken of as right or wrong per
Right and    se-in  itself.  If anything  is involved  in
wrong  r,per. this expression beyond the objective  character of the act, it ought to mean  that the performnance of an act right per se, necessarily implies virtue;
and of an act wrong per se, sin. This seems to be the
sense intended by many  writers.  Thus  we  hear the
question, is slaveholding wrong per se?  If the question
be answered affirmatively, the conclusion follows that
every slavehliolder is a sinner. But to justify this conclusion, such a definition must be given to slaveholding as
to involve  inevitably the wicked intention, e. g., the
holding of a man as property without any respect to his
well-being. Thus every slaveholder is a sinner; but those
who sustain the legal relation without such heartlessness
are not slaveholders.  If the definition be so extended
as to include these, then slaveholdingisnotwrongperse.
The answer to such a question must turn upon a definition, and the definition once settled, all discussion of the
question is at an endcl. Is slaveholding wrong? is the
natural and proper question for discussion. Then the
enquiry is in reference to the objective character of the
action, whether on the whole it tends to evil.  If this be
settled affirmatively, then one who sustains the relation
can escape condemnation only by showing that in his
ease the wicked intention does not exist. He mlust be
justified on the ground of his ignorance.  No definition
of any merely outward act or relation can be given,
such as to exclude one involved in it from this defence
In order to suchl exclusion, subjective wickedness niast be
Ss 
DUTY1. KNOWN AND TUNKNOWN.
expressed ir the definition.  Murder is wrong Ever e,
because it iimpiies a wicked purpose, and the only justi.
fication is to prove that one is not a murderer. Ilomieide is not wrong per se, because it may be acci(ldeital or justifiable; stealing is wrong perse, because the
nameexpressesthedishonest intention; taking the property of another without his knowledge or consent, is not
wrong per se, because it is not always stealing.  Benevolence alone is right per se; the refusal to be benevolent
is wrong per 8e.
A distinction is often made between the expedient
and the right.  The truly expedient must be    Ex.edien.t
that which, on the whole, is promotive of    anright.
good. In this sense it is identical with the objective
right. The final test of the objective right is its bearing upon good, well-being; we have no other means of
knowing it. Hence, aside from the positive command
of God, which rarely enjoins particular acts, we must
determine outward  duty by  enquiring what, on the
whole, is expedient, or promotive of the good; we have
no other guide. In reference to the right state of heart,
the inward duty, we are not dependent upon any such
enquiry. The duty of benevolence is universal, absolute, not limited or determined by any consequences
whatever. The term expedient is sometimes used in a
limited sense, as that which is temporarily or partially
profitable-conducive to the immediate advantage of an
individual, a party, or clique, out mischievous on the
whole. In this sense it is not a guide to outward ditty
and it is justly a reproach to be governed by it in action
It is urged by some that finite beings can never know
xith  certainty  what is expedient  on the   DifficltyW
whole, and hence must have some other guide.   kowing.
ob 
MORAL PHIILOSOPHY.
It is true that the knowledge of the expedient is never
absolute, but it is just as sure as the knowledge of the
outwardly right. The only absolute knowledge of the
right which finite beings can have, pertains to the rightness of the fundamental duty of benevolence. This governs the state of heart, but other conditions determine
the outward conduct. In outward conduct, finite beings
must govern themselves by apprehended tendencies and
consequences. T-at, and that only, must be done which
on the whole seems profitable, that is, conducive to general good.
But does not this principle sanction the corrupt maxim
End and    that the end justifies the Imeans?  So far as
Means.     pertains to the grand end of all action, the
universal good, the mnaxim is not corrupt.  This end justifies any and all means which tend to promote it, and all
men sustain the maximll.  But the maxim is false when
applied to anylimited good or subordinate end. A means
may promote a particular good, and yet be harmfill on
the whole.  Hence no such end can justify all means.
This was the alleged perversion of the maxim by the Jesuits.  The building up of the church was their good,
and falsehood and treachery were justified when they
seemed to be conducive to this end.  All means promotive of a particular end must be tested by their bearing
on the great end.
But is it ever right to "do evil that good may come?"
Evil for the   Yes, natural evil.  This is the work of every
ELke ( f goo    dly.   We  bring about desirable ends  by
means which in themselves involve pain, suffering, expense, natural evil.  Evil in the sense of sti  we may
never do for the sake of any good. To commit sin for the
sake of good in the strict sense, that is, on account of
To 
DlUrIT, KOWN   AND UNKNOWN.
the value of the good in itself, is an impossibility, and
the claimn, therefore, a hypocritical pretense.
Are we permitted, then, to "choose the least of two
e,ils?"  Certainly, the least of two natural    fhoce of
evils.  We  rarely perform an outward  act    ens.
wl.ich does not involve such a choice. The leasr of two
Bills we are never left to choose.
The word duty has an ambiguity similar to that of
right, arising from the objective and subjective Knowledge of
application of the term. In its objective sense  duty.
duty is synonymous with the objective right, that which
in general ought to be done.  In its subjective sense, reference is had to the circumstances of the agent, and the
term duty indicates that which is binding upon  him.
But we speak of duty as known and unknown, and of
an anxious desire to know duty; what is the significance
of these expressions?  The fundamental, primal duty of
benevolence is known to all moral agents-the duty to
be honestly regardful of every good. The knowledge
of this is a condition of moral agency. This is duty in
the subjective sense. In reference to duty in this sense
there can be no ignorance among moral beings; the
knowledge is direct and absolute. But this is the point
upon which moral character turns. When this is attended
to,thle moral character is right; hence there can be no ignorance of duty which hinders the fulfilment of obligation.
But there is ignorance of objective, outward duty, of
the things which are objectively right in con- Ignorance of
duct, and which would be duty if they were  duty.
understood. No mortal knows perfectly the objective
ighlt; probably none but God thus knows it. But these
unknown objective duties are not duties until they betome known.  Nothing can be duty, in the sense of mo
71 
MORAL IPuILOSOPHY.
ally binding upon us at any time, which we have not at
that time the means of knowing. The idea of unknown
duty, as present obligation; is an impossible one.  Thec
nmiaximn that "ignorance of the law excuses no one," is
8imply an expression of general expediency in the admninistration of human law.  Still, it is not rigidly applied in any civilized society. Satisfactory proof of entire ignorance will mitigate or set aside the penalty; as
a principle of morals the maxim is utterly false.
What, then, is meant by ignorance of duty, and by the
What s in-   apprehension  that duty may be mistaken?
tended.     When we understand ourselves, we mean that
we are ignorant what course of outward action it is wise
and best to pursue, and we fear that we may take an undesirable course, which will bring regret, not self-condemnation. Whoever is honestly bent upon doing duty, does it,
even if he fails to find the course that is wise and best. His
honest purpose leads him to use all accessible light and
knowledge, and there is then no room for self-condemnation. If the present darkness be the result of the past
neglect of light, there is sin in the past; but present
light is the measure of present duty. With this accords
tie Scripture:'"  eloved, if our heart condemn us not, then
have we confidence towards God, and whatsoever we ask
we receive of him, because we keep his commandments,
and do those things that are pleasing in his sight."  In
the deepest darkness of the human soul, the path of duty,
of present obligation, lies open, accessible. However
gre-t the perplexity upon questions of speculative belief, and of practical life, duty is always known. Failure in obligation is always with )ut excuse. Every moral
being can,at any moment,take the attitude that is fundamentally right.
72 
NEED OF A REVELATION.
Why, then, is a revelation needed, if there be no suchl
ignorance as is necessarily fatal?  It is not  Need of re
needed to reveal unknown duties-duties act- lation.
nally binding upon us, and which we sin in not performing.  There are no such duties.   But the first great need
of a revelation is to furnish motives, considerations to
persuade men to perform the duties already kn(owin.
Among the motives thus broughlt to lght,is the magni
tude of the good that men refuse to regard, the value of
the blessedness, the well-being of God and man. There
is power in the clearer apprehension of these things as divinely revealed.  A revelation of the rewards of virtue
and the penalties of sin is a wholesome force; not that
hope and fear are the immediate motives to virtuous
action, but they induce that consideration which is essential. A definite apprehension of God as a personal moral
governor, and of his administration as given in revelation,is conducive to obedience. A clear statement of the
great law of obligation as a divine enactment, although
already known in principle, operates as a powerful force.
Ignorance of God and of his will is no excuse for sin,
but a knowledge of him is highly promotive of virtue
Especially that exhibition of the divine character, involved in the incarnation and the atonement, is needed
to inspire men with benevolence; and perhaps no virtue
ever existed among men except as the result of such rev
elation, more or less distinct.
A  second and subordinate need of revelation is t(
I)ring to light courses of conduct that are Subordinat
wise  and  right,  and  which become duty   need.
a hen revealed.  Among these are the proper constitu
tion of the family, and the positive institutions of relig
ion, the Sabbath, modes of worship, and other outward
4
73
I 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
ordinances. But it is not the chief object of revelation
to solve problems of practical, objective duty. These
are mlostly left to be wrought out in experience.   The
general principles and examples are all that could b)c
given for gtiiclance, or rather all that we could use if giv
eii. X'great want is motive for performance of duty
already known.   For this chiefly the gospel is needed in
the dark places of the earth.
Revealed religion supervenes upon the systemn of obligation as intuitively known, and gives effect and vitality
to the knowledge.  This is, in fact, our only ground of
expectation that men will be brought to act in harnony
with known obligation. Such a force from without in
needed.
74 
CHAPTER VIII.
CONSCIENCE-IS IT A GUIDE 
C,osCIENcE is the faculty by which we perceive and
affirm duty, or obligation.  As obligation per-  Cofnsciene, d
definition al'tains primarily to the fundamental duty of office.
benevolence, the ultimate choice of good, so conscience
directly enjoins only this duty. Its action,thus far,is absolute and universal, requiring in every moral being benevolence, without any condition. This is the perception
and affirmation of subjective duty. But when any course
of outward action is seen to be promotive of the good
conscience enjoins as obligatory the pursuit of this course
Its action in this case is conditioned upon the action of
the judgment in reference to objective or outward duty.
Conscience, then, requires of us benevolence, and the use
of all the means which seem to promote the good. Conscience in this sense is an intellectual, rational faculty;
its office is to perceive obligation.
Connected with this perception of duty, which is the
legitimate work of conscience, there is an im- Impulse of
pulse of the sensibility, moving to the perform-    conscience.
ance of duty. Hence, we speak of conscience as impel
ling to the performance of an act of duty. With some
writers this seems to be the leading use of the term
conscience.
In the performance of an act, right or wrong, there is
ali affection of the sensibility corresponding Conscience
approving and
with the character of the act: selfapproba-  condening.
tion, satisfaction for the right, and self-condemnation, re 
MORAL PHILOSOPItY.
tnorse for the wrong.  This affection is more or less dis
tinct, according to circumstances and character. In popli.
'ar usage this emotional exercise is often primarily indi ated by the word conscience.
Again? in aid of our rational faculty of conscience and(
lsthetic   judgment, we seem to have a spontaneous in   }el   ~stinetive judgment,  a kind of moral tastewqlieh acts instantaneously upon the contemplation of
miiany courses of conduct. This may be called the aesthetic conscience.  It acts in advance of the slower processes of the judgment proper, upon many questions of
outward duty.  We have an instantaneous judgment, or
ethical instinet, in favor of all such conduct as is coinmonly embraced under any of the recognized virtues.
An act of decel)tion,or of taking another's property,is at
once pronounced against by the testhletie conscience, in advance of any examination of the particular circumstances,
a judogment based upon the mere form and generally
accepted character of the act. A sober second thought
may reverse the decision. and approve the act. This direct, spontaneous judogment is in part, perhaps, an original
element of our constitution, intended as a prompter to
outward virtues; in part and chiefly it is an instantaneous application of past decisions, and judgments, and
maxims, to the case in hand, determined by the most ob icus nature and relations of the act.  Thus we have an
.nstinct of justice, of mercy, of veracity, of magnanimity,
and so for all the accepted virtues; and every act which
seemns, at first view,to present the form of any of these
virtues, is at once endorsed by the esthetic conscience.
A particular education gives rise to additional spontaneous juidgments.  Thus the Puritan condemns at once any
a(lt which seems inconsistent with a scrupulous observance
76 
CONSCIENCE-IS Ir A GUIDE?
of the Sabbath, and the Romanist shrinks from eating
flesh on Friday.  Aiany writers seem to have no conception of conscience, beyond this instinctive or immnediate
judmcuent.
The question, is conscience a sufficient guide to duty,
is essentially answered in the foregoing an-  Sufficiencyof
aiy-sis. The rational affirmation that we coliscience.
og,lht to choose the good on its own account, is iiievit
ably right, and hence conscience is a guide to immediate
duty. The obligation to regard the good implies the
obligation to use all practicable means to promote the
good; hence conscience, in its direct affirmation, imposes
this obligation. Thus far there is agreement among all
moral beings, and the decision cannot but be right.
But to determine what outward acts will promote the
good, is a work of judgment, and not of  Work of judg
rational intuition.   By light and evidence  ment.
derived from every accessible source, from revelation,
from reason, from experience, our own and that of others.
we determine the objective ighlt, or, in other words, the
course of action which is promotive of well-being. In
many cases there is no hesitation; the decision is imnme
diate and infallible. In others we find room for doubt,
and liability to error. But when the balance of probabilities is settled, then conscience endorses the probable
course.  And in this the conscience is right.  We ought
to follow our best judgmenet in outward duty. If not,
what guide remains?
The poet is right in his' Universal Prayer: 
i What conscience dictates to be done,
Or warns me not to do,
This, teach me, more than hell, to shun;
That, more than heaven, pursue."
77 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
Bult, is the man virtuous who thus follows his con
science and an erroneous judgment?  Certainly he is;
it is the only virtue possible to men.   Following his
conscience he is benevolent; and to be benevolent is to
be virtuous.
On the duty of following conscience there is no differ
Diverse view6 ence of opinion among writers on morals
Whately.   All agree that one must follow his conscience
even in error of judgment, doing that which is objectively
wrong; but that he thereby fulfils obligation, all do not
agree.   Thus  Archbishop Whately says:  "Any one,
therefore, whose conscience has been in any way depraved, and who is proceeding on some wrong principle,
cannot possibly act rightly, whether he act according to
his conscience or against it, till he is cured of this defect
in his moral judgment. If, however, any one has done
his best to form a right judgment, but has fallen into
error through  unavoidable  ignorance or weakness of
understanding, we  may hope that his all-seeing and
merciful Judge will pardon this involuntary error."
Dr. Alexander expresses himself still more decidedly:
"It is true if a man's conscience dictates a
Alexander.
certain action, he is morally bound to obey;
but if that action is in itself wrong, he commits sin in
performing it, nevertheless.  Ile who is under fundamental error is in a sad dilemma. Do what he will, he
sins.  If he disobey conscience, he knowingly sins, doing what he believes to be wrong; and a manl never
can be justified for doing what he believes to be wrong,
even though it should  turn  out to be right.   Alie
if he  obey conscience, performing  an act whi h  is
ir itself wrong, he sins; because he complies not with
iIs 
'ONSCIENCE-IS IT A GUIDE 
the law under which he is placed." A sad dilemma,
truly; and it is not strange that this writer retires from
the discussion with the remark that "metaphysical rea
soning rather perplexes and obscures, than elucidates,such
points."
But the intuitive perceptions of men for ever contra
diet the doctrine that there is sin,  blame- Unreasonable
and unscripworthiness in an honest, conscientious error.  tural.
The ignorance miay imply a past sin; but the present
rule of duty is present light.   This is the law under
which we are placed.  It is not the objective right that
determines duty, but the right as apprehended.  The
doctrine is as unscriptural as it is offensive to our
necessary convictions. "If there be first a willing mind,
it is accepted according to that a man bath."  "If ye
were blind ye should have no sin, but now ye say,we
see, therefore your sin remaineth."  The servant, in the
parable, that knew his lord's will and did it not, is
beaten with many stripes; while he that knew not is
beaten with few stripes; manifestly on the ground that
light is a test and measure of guilt.
But do not the Scriptures recognize a sin of ignorance
Yes, in two forms: first, an outward or for- Sins of igno.anal defilement, contracted inadvertently, and  rance.
discharged by prescribed outward observances and sacrifices.  No moral failure is implied.   Secondly, sin is
committed under comparative ignorance, and is spoken
of as involving less guilt.  Sulch was the sin of those for
whom the Saviour praved. "Father, forgive them, foi
they know not what they do."  Such was the sin of San
of Tarsus in his persecution, of which hlie says, "I did it
ignorantly, in unbelief."  The ground upon which Paul
pronounces the heathen guilty in their idolatry, is not
79 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
that they are doing what is outwardly wrong, but that
they have the means of knowing the right. These prin.
eiples are so obvious,as well as scriptural, that men in
practical life never fail to apprehend them.
Conscience, then, taken as our best judgment of duty
Rational coL- is our only guide; and as a guide to ree
sctienee the
gilide.     titude or  virtuous  conduct,  the subjective
right, it is infallible.  The judgment  may fail as to the
objective right, but conscience indicates all obligation.
Let it be understood, however, that conscience is a sure
Not the emo   guide,only as the intellectual faculty by which
tional.     we judge of duty.  Conscience, as  a miere
impulse to duty, or as an emotion of self-approbation or
disapprobation in view of any act, is never to be taken
as a guide. To perform a doubtifl act and wait for the
result in feeling, is no proper consultation of conscience;
no merefeelingis a guide to duty.
Nor, again, is the instinctive,oesthetic conscience an ul
Nor the     timate authority.  It is like our appetites,
ethetic.   designed to suggest the proper course oi ac:.on; but there is always an appeal from it to a fuller
and more deliberate investigation. It serves to hold us
in check, for the judgment to come to our aid, and the
judgment may reverse its decisions. Thus,at first view
we shrink from any act of deception; for example, a
false dispatch to mislead an enemy in war, a feint to divert a kidnapper firom the track of a fugitive; but a
calm judgment will justify the act. One educated as a
Rornanist hesitates to take flesh on Friday, and until he
gets better light he has no right to taste; but a full investig,ation will relieve him from the restraint.  He stir
t;,)ll)ws conscience while appealing firom the spontane
ous decision to the slower judgment.
80 
CONSCIEN7CE-IS IT A GUIDE?E          8
The truly conscientious man  is he who takes, as his
end of life,thlat which reason approves as the True conseci
good; thus hlie meets all real obligation, be-  entiousness
comes benevolent, and necessarily adopts such courses of
)itward conduct as approve themselves to his judgment.
Such a man alone follows conscience.  It is a mistake to
call one conscientious who has a strong instinct of the
right, and yields to it as an impulse.  It is a very plausible form of impulsive action, but does not involve benievolence, the only geniine rectitude.  Nor is he necessarily conscientious  who  pursues  some  right outward
course, with the full conviction that he ought to pursue
it. The first and chief requirement of conscience is benevolence; and if this be not rendered, there can be no
conscientiousness in outward life. It is right and duty
to be honest in business, and the man who scrupulously
discharges this outward duty is sometimes regarded as
conscientious; and so he may be, but the outward right
ness does not prove it. Conscientiousness is anl inward
state, and not any outward act or course whatsoever.
But was not Saul conscientious in his course of persecution, since he verily thought he ought to do  Saul's consci
many things contrary to the name of Jesus of entiousness.
Nazareth? No, hle had not a right or benevolent heart,
and  hence failed to meet the primary requisition of con
science.  Ilis own testimony is conclusive: " Being ex
ceedingly mad against them, I persecuted them even
unto strange cities"-a spirit utterly opposed to benevolence. lHe was sincere in his belief that what he was doilg  ought to be done, but he knew that the hatred which
he   cherished was wrong.  It would not have materially
changed the case if his outward course had been right.
The malice within would have corrupted the whole ac       4*
81 
M')RAL IPHILOSOPHY.
tion,and excuded conscientiousness.  Sincerity in refer
ence to the outward action, with a bitter, malignant heart.
is the characteristic of fanaticism, and the moral state is
all the same, whether the outward action be right or
wrong. Benevolence alone is conscientiousness.
Honesty, in the high sense of the word, is conscientious
ness.  It is meeting one's convictions;  and
True honesty. the first grand conviction of a moral being is
that all good must be regarded.  Honesty, then, nmust begin at the fotundation,witli rightness of heart.  Thus the
honest man is the thoroughly true man, or, as Pope calls
him, "the noblest work of God."
Two persons equally conscientious may differ much ir
Difference of their outward conduct. They are alike in
conduct.    their subjective state, act upon the same great
principles, are equally virtuous and worthy of approbation, but differ in the light they have, and hence in their
,udgmient of outward duty. There is ground for mutual confidence; they can trust each other's hearts while
they distrust the judgment.
The doctrine is sometimes maintained, perhaps more
Sinerity,    often reprobated, that it is not important what
partial and
complete.    one believes or does if he is only sincere; he
is virtuous and to be approved. In one view the doctrine
is false. The partial sincerity involved in a particular
course of conduct, which is believed to be right, does not
necessarily imply moral rightness. This was the sincerity of Paul in his persecution.
In another view the doctrine is true. The sincerity
which(,l begins with the heart and sets it right upon the
great point of obligation, involves all that is essential to
nmoral rectitude.  The theoretic belief may be inadequate
and erroneous the outward life defective, according to
62 
CONSCIENCE-IS IT A GUIDE?
the standard of objective rightness; but the man is right
at heart,and cannot be in any fatal error. The usual i.
lustrations of a traveller that has wandered firom the path
and of a ship's crew that have lost their reckoning, by
which it is attempted to prove that sincerity cannot save
from the destruction which comes from error, are utterly
fallacious. They overlook the distinction between an error of the heart and of the head, and assume that men can
be mistaken in fundamental duty, when with all honesty
of heart they aim to be right.
Is conscience the creature of education?   Certainly
not; it is one of the original faculties of our Education of
moral  constitution.   It is even  doubtful  conscience.
whether the rational, intuitive faculty, which alone dis
cerns obligation, can be educated in any proper sense
Perhaps it mnay be educated, in the same sense as the eye,
t;o see with discrimination, what, without education, it
would still see.  No being can be taught obligation,who
has not the idea to begin with. The judgment may be
educated to discern more clearly the objective right
The feeling of obligation may be quickened by culture,
and the Aesthetic moral sense may be developed and
modified; but in none of these senses is conscience made
by education.
By an enlightened conscience we ought to mean an
enlightened judgment, a clear discernment Conscience,,
enlightened
of outward duty.  A tender conscience is a  tender, seam
keen sensibility in refbrence to right and wrong. Men
are probably different constitutionally in this respect, and
the difference is enhanced by habits of life. A seared
conscience is a hardened sensibility an obtuseness of
feeliiog in reference to moral conduct, the result of habits
of sin.   This is sometimes partial, sometimes genera];
83 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
but however extreme the obtuseness of feeling, there
must remain, while moral agency remains, the intellec.
tual apprehension of obligation. Conscience proper can
be obliterated,only by the annihilation of moral agency.
By a perverted conscience we should mean a perverted
erverted    instinct, the esthletic conscience, which scan
)nsciences.  not given as an ultimate reliance; or we
might refer to the judgment of outward duty,misled by
education, by custom, and habits of life.   But the rational facutltvy of conscience, that which perceives obligation, cannot be perverted.  The affirmation of primary
duty is for ever the same.   The great axiom in morals
involving the obligation to choose good, rests upon the
same general foundation as an axiom in mathematics;
and no perversion of the reason is possible which admits
of the denial of one more than of the other. Such a condition,in either case,involves a subversion rather than a
perversion. The man has ceased to be rational and ae.
countable.
84 
CHAPTER IX.
UNIITY OR SIMPLICITY OF MORAL AOTICN.
IN order to a more complete elucidation of the nature
o'f moral action, it seems necessary to discuLss   Question
the question of its entireness or unity.  Can     stated
virtue and sin co-exist in the same heart?  It is perfectly
possible that they should alternate, because either is
always in the power of every moral agent. The virtuous
man can become sinful;the sinful man can become virtuous.  Can the same man be both at the same time?
With few exceptions, writers on morals and theology
answer this question in the affirmative; but if the foregoing views of the nature of moral action, of sin and
virtue, be correct, the question must be answered in the
negative.
Let it be remembered that all moral action is voluntary —that virtue and sin are found in the Virtue and
sin contradie,.
action of the will,in ultimate choice alone-  toyntradi.
that virtue is the voluntary choice or regard of good as
good, or on its own account, and that nothing else is virtue-that sin is the voluntary refusal to choose or regard
the good, and that nothing else is sin; and the conclusion
eems inevitable that the two cannot co-exist, that where
one is the other cannot be.
The two forms of action are directly contradictory to
each other, and,in the very nature of the case,eachl must
exclude the other. Their co-existence is neither conceivable nor possible, but upon the hypothesis of a dual action of the will, which in effect involves two wills and g 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY
double personality.   Even then there is no proper co
existence, for we have essentially two persons instead of
one. If virtue and sin, then, are confined to the actio
of the will, there would scarce seem room for argument
uad if they are not confined to the action of the will
lley are no longer virtue and sin.   But let us attend
to the various hypotheses upon which a deficiency of
virtue is maintained, resulting in a character in one
point of view praiseworthy, and in another blameworthy
at the same time, or in reference to the same action.
It is maintained by some that as the powers of the
Virtue defect- race have been dwarfed by the fall, and by
lve from the
faln.      the sin of past generations, and as the law of
duty is the same as for a race with perfect powers, all]
ulfilinent of obligation is necessarily defective; the virtue must fall short of the true standard, as the powers
employed do of full perfection.
The obvious mistake here is in the assumption that
Obligation    the law of duty is not adapted to tie powers
and ability. of the subject, whatever those powers may be.
By the law of nature, ability and obligation go hand in
hand; and the very conception of the existence of obligation in the sense of present duty, where there is no
ability, is impossible. The divine law corresponds in
express terms with this law of nature: "Thlou shalt love
the Lord thy God withl all thy heart, with all thy soul, with
all thy mind, and with all thy strength." Ilere the mea
sure of duty is the power we have, not any ideal power
sU(Ih as the race might be imagined to hlave if there had
)eeil no sin.  But is not this accommodating the law to
iiim,nan infirmity? Certainly it is: to infirmity of power;
and a law which is not accommodated to human infirmity
is no law of duty or obligation.   If we deny our necessary
se 
UITY OR SIMPLICITY OF MORAL AC'ION.
convictions in this matter, there is an end of all knows
edge of duty.
But it is urged again that by our own sin we have
weakened  our energies  and obscured  our  Defects from
mninds, while the law of duty requires of us  persona. sin
according to the powers we might have had.  It is not to
be supposed that men by any wicked act of their own
should diminish their obligation or duty. The argument
is only plausible.  MIen can by their own sinful act diminish their power to do, and to the same exteit their
subsequent obligation to do.  They are held responsible
for that past act or course of sin by which their powers
were injured, and are liable to plunishment for it; but
ever after it is required of them according to that they
have, and not according to that they have not. This we
know directly and absolutely, as we know a truth of
mathematics.  "But can a man who owes a debt, cancel
his obligation to pay it by wilfully destroying his own
property? " He cannot escape the fact of past obligation
nor the guilt of wilfully declining to meet it; but for all
subsequent time he fulfils actual obligation by doing the
best he can. When ability returns, the obligation revives in all its force. The fact of weakened powers,
then, affords no foundation for the idea of defective virtue, whether the power was lost by the fault of others,
or l)y our own.
Again it is said that thle purpose or intention, the a,:
of the will, may be right, and yet many of the  Sin in thoglia
tiiotkrhts and feelings may be such as they  and feeling,
ouilit not to be.  It may be replied that such tliouiglits
and feelings do not fall within the field of obligation.
They are involuntary exercises, to a greater or less extent
indrirectly under the control of tile will.  If the voluntary
87 
MORAL PHILOSOPH Y.
attit,:de be right, the thoughts and feelings will be con
trolled so far as they are subject to the will; beyond this
there is no power, and no obligation. It should be re.
memnbered that temptation to sin, addressed to the thought
or feeling, is not sin, except as it is voluntarily admitted
or cherishled.  What are calle(d wicked thoughts and fel ings are sometimes of this nature.
Another theory is that the motives which bear upon us
Mixed mo-    at allny time are various, some good and others
tives    bad, and that the resulting action must be
complex like the motives, partly good and  partly bad.
There is confusion in the use of the term motive. MAotives may be contemplated in two points of vievw-first,
as the outward facts and forces which address themselves
to the thought and feeling, and secondly, as the inward
reason in view of which the mind chooses and acts.  Thus
motives are objective and subjective.  The character of
the action must turn upon the subjective motive, that is.
the reason which is accepted as the ground of action. It
matters not what the objective motives may be; only that
which actually moves the will, is of account in character.
Motives, objectively considered, are of two classes; thos(
which appeal to the intelligence and persuade to a regard
for good on its own account; and those which address
the feelings desires, and passions, and persuade to a disregard of good. To suppose that these two are accepted at the
ame tinme as reasons of action, involves that contradictory
movement of the will, the dual action, which we have seen to
be impossible. Motives are mixed objectively, not sub,
jeetively; thus they afford no foundation for mixed action.
Again it is maintained that the choice of good, in
PaN alrerd  which virtuie lies, may be defective, from its
not embracing al' good, or rather all appre
88 
UNITY OR SIMPLICITY OF MORAL A('fON.
hended good. But we have seen that to regard good in a
single instance on its own account, which is implied in the
choice of good, is to regard all good. It is the benevo
lent attitude of will, and any other good will be em.
braced without any change of spirit or of action. Ii
one arbitrarily limits his regard to the interests whiceL
are agreeable to him, or sustain some special relation to
Iiim, then riegard for good is not at all his principle of action. He is not benevolent even in a partial sense.  Partial
benevolence is a selfcontradiction.
A more common ground upon which defectiveness of
virtue is maintained, is that the choice of Deficiency of
good, though  genuine, may lack intensity,  intensity.
and thus the action  be partly right, partly  wrong.
A psychological inquiry arises here, whether we can
predicate different degrees of intensity of that ultimate
att'tude of the will which alone is moral action.  It is
conceivable, and perhaps probable, that the different degrees of intensity in our action pertain to our emotional,
executive activity, rather than to the ultimate choice.
[n that case the regulation of the intensity of our action
lies out of the field of obligation. But if the will acts
with a varying intensity in its ultimate, moral action,
the regulation of this intensity may be under our control or it may not. If not, then obligation does not pertain to it. All that can be required is that our benevolence be genuine; and the degree of its intensity will be
ieterminiied by conditions for which we are not responsi
ble. But if, on the other hand, the will determines the
intensity of the choice as well as its general character-the
only supposition upon which it becomes an element of
moral action-then, in order to a genuine choice at all, the
will inlst act with all its energy.  If it does not, then self
89 
MORPAL PHILI,OSOItY.
indulgence or personal ease is preferred to good, and the
choice is utterly vicious; or the will is divided between the
vhoice of goo)d and the refiusal to choose, a ease of that contradictory, dual action whlichl is inconceivable and impossib e. The inference, popularly expressed, is that virtuous
action, to be genuine, must be wholehearted.  Allyreservation of power corrupts the whole.
A more popular form in wlhich the doctrine of mixed
Acts opposod action is maintained, is found in the idea
to ultimate
choice.    that a good man, still retaining his benevolent, virtuous choice, rmay, from sudden impulse, perform
acts in conflict with this choice, and thus be virtuous in
his fundamental choice, and sinful in the opposing acts.
Tlhus, it is said, a man with a purpose to go to New York,
may turn aside for business or pleasure, without surrenderinig his final purpose.  The execution of it is merely
lelayed. But the illustration does not meet the case.
The going to New York and the turning aside for business or pleasure, are both proximate to some other end
of pleasure or of profit, to which they both contribute.
IJence the two actions harmonize in their relation to
that ulterior purpose. But the relation of ultimate
choice to executive action is totally different. The benevolent choice, while it exists, necessitates the perft rmance of all acts judged to be promotive of the good, and
the abstaining from all others.  If an opposing act be
performed, then benevolence has failed; another and opposing principle of action is accepted.  It is doubtless
true that a good man, yielding to ilnpulse or temptation,
and sinning, has a feeling or expectation that he shall return to his virtuous, benevolent life; but such a feeling
o)r thought is not benevolence.  It is doubtless true that
many good thoughts and feelings and proximate purpose
14 C) 
UNIY OR SIMPLICITY OF MORAL ACTION.
survive a fall into sin, and co-exist with it, and seemn,in a
degree, to obscure to the erring man the nature of his
action and his character. But these good thoughts and
feelings and purposes are not virtue; thev are but con
stitutional exercises, or the echo of a goodness that lia
failed   Such thoughts and feelings constitute a saving
l)ow-e,aconstantpressure to restore the man fiom his
way-ward action, and terminate the lapse from righteousness   All that goes to make up the habit of action remainr. an ever-present motive soliciting a return  from
the abterration.  Thus we cjnfidently expect when a good
man falls he will rise again; and there is ground for the
expectation in the nature of the case, as well as in the
divine  promise.  There are doubtless other forms  in
wvtich the doctrine of mixed action is set forth, but they
must involve essentially the same principles as those
which have been presented.  In every form they seem
to overlook the very nature of moral action.
A thorough examination of the teachings of Scripture
would show that they are in harmony with            criture
the necessary deductions of our reason upon           cg.
this question. There are several passages which seem to
teach the doctrine of simplicity of action with almost
philosophical directness, and there are multitudes of
passages in which the doctrine seems to be assumed;
and we look in vain for a passage which upon any proba
ble interpretation implies the opposite doctrine. Take
the following texts as examples: " No man can serve two
,nasters; either he will hate the one and love the other,
,r else he will hold to the one and despise the other. Ye
annot serve God and mammon." " le that is faithful in
that which is least, is faithful also in much; and he that
ii unjust in the least, is unjust also in much."  "Except a
91 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
man forsake all that he hathli, he cannot be my disciple."
'For whosoever shall keep the whole law and yet offend
ill one point, he is guilty of all." " If any manl love the
world, the love of the Father is not in him."  The Sa
vioiur's exhortation: "Be ye therefore perfect eveni as yori
Father which is inii heaven is perfect," taken in its con ection, accords with the doctrine.   The  perfect love
which he requires is simply genuine love, the benevolence
which embraces enemies and friends, the evil and the
good.  It is not an exalted state of virtue to which he
exhorts, but simply genuine virtue.  Nothing lower than
this meets his approbation at all.
The spontaneous utterances of the teachers of practical
Practical   virtue and religion, take the same tform.  With
beaching.   one voice they require whole-heartedness, and
announce that any voluntary reservation corrupts the
whole action, and mnakes the apparent virtue a hypocrisy.
It is only when their theory comes to mind and qualifies
the expression that we hear any other voice; and the
theory is never presented to one who comes with the earnest enquiry: "Wherewith shall I come before the Lord
and bow myself before the high God?"
Even philosophical writers, with their attention directed
Spontaneous  to the nature of moral action, often announce
Taylor.     the doctrine of simplicity or unity of action
in  the  strongest terms.   Thus,  Dr.  N.  W.  Taylor:
"While such is the peculiar and exclusive character of
the benevolent and selfish preference, every moral being
is doomed  by a necessity of nature to place himself
under the absolute dominion and control of the one or
the other of these preferences.  It is an ordinance of his
very being, that he cannot serve both these nmasters,
and must serve one.  The preference of one of the only
92 
UMTY OR SIMPLICITY OF MORAL ACTION.
two objects of moral choice excludes the other from all
thought except to oppose and resist it, and therefore
shluts off all controlling influence from it as an object to
be attained, as it were, by its utter annihilation, and so
consecrates his whole being to the attainment of the
supreme object.  He thinks, he feels, he wills, he acts,
he lives, or, as the case may be, he dies for it. Such is
the nature, such the tendency of each of the two great
moral principles, or preferences of a moral being, as a
predominant principle." And yet Dr. Taylor in other
places discards the doctrine of simplicity of action, but
without explaining the grounds of its rejection.
MAetcalf, in a recent work on the nature of obligation,
says: "Unless the law of right be taken as
Metcalf.
the rule of duty without reserve, there is not
the beginning of the spirit of holy obedience to it. If an
ntention to disobey in one point be reserved, so that only
partial obedience is intended, the whole is vitiated.
Not being a purpose of the highest good, it is wanting in
an essential element of virtue." On the opposite page
we read: "In some parts of this treatise, the author has
found difficulty in expressing what he conceives to be the
exact truth, without implying more than is true.   Although, in some instances, his language may seem to imply that there can be no true virtue in a man's character
when that character is not perfect in holiness, or entirely
firee from sin, or that he can perform no part of his duty
without performing the whole, yet he has not designed
to convey this sentiment." And yet he has not undertaken to show how one can perform a part of his duty
without performiIng the whole. There ought to be some
strong reason for rejecting a view which seems an inevitable deduction from the very nature of moral action, and
93 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY
which is essential to a proper presentation of I)ractical
duty; a view, too, which is not only consistent with the
,(Ieral current of Scripture doctrine, but seems to be in
-.lcated by its express words.
Tile following popular objections present some of the
reisons that are supposed to bear against the doctrine.
The prevailing consciousness of men is a refutation of
Ol)jections,   the doctrine.  It is the feeling of all who re
popular con-                              z
ciouess.   fleet on their own moral state, even of the best
aen, that their goodness is not complete, that their best
achievements are marred with deficiency. " Forgive the
iniquity of our most holy thiings," has been the petition
of the good in all times. They neither wholly approve
nor wholly condemn themselves.  No mere logical inference can stand against this testimony of the common consciousness of men.
The general impression of deficient goodness is admit           ted; and the fact of deficiency is also admit"swer.      ted; but it is a deficiency which arises finom
the alternation of good and evil in the heart, and not
fromn their co-existence.  A  brief retrospect of a good
man's experience will bring into view things to approve
and things to condemn; and hence the impression which
he has of a mixed life and character. Ilis consciousness on
the subject is not so definite as to discriminate between
these two forms of mixture; either of the two will account
for his experience, and explain the general consciousness.
We are at liberty. then, in the presence of this general tesimnony, to adopt that view which the nature of the case
-cems to require.
Again, allowance must be made for some confusion in
confusion or  the minds even of good men in reference tij
thoughts.   the nature of virtue and of sin.  A want of
94 
UNITY OR SIMPLICITY OF MORAL A(CTION.
discrimination between thlouglits and feelings and purposes, and a failure to locate the moral element in it,
proper place, would produce a general impression of tlhe
o-existence of virtue and sin,even when there is no suchl
o-existence.  We have seen that the seat of moral chalr
wcter is below the surface of tliougllt,and feeling,and )lir
['ose, and that the reflective consciousness often fails to
reach it.  Hence, the judgments of men in reference t(
their own present moral state are always to be received with
caution. It is an accepted doctrine of a large portion of
the Christian world that the character of the unregenerate
is entirely destitute of virtue, that there is no adlmixture
of good and evil,even by alternation;  yet there is with
these the same consciousness of a mixed character, the
same vague impression that they are partly right and
partly wrong. A want of discrimination and a superficial
consciousness will explain the impression. Some allow.
ante, too, must be made for the theories of Effect of tha
moral character which are in vogue. These ories.
will be reflected in the experimental consciousness. Instead of being proof of the theory, the consciousness is
simply the result of the theory. The case of the person
in President Edwards' congregation who was convicted
for the sin of Adam, is an instance in point.  But no va,gue
impression of the general consciousness, which admits of
various satisfactory explanations, can be urged in opposition to the clear intuitions of the mind,and the teachings
of Scripture.
Another objection brings in the negative testimony of
onsciousness against the theory of unity of Neative boo
ction.  It is said that when  a good man  timony.
falls into sin, if the character changes from wholly good
to wholly bad, there ought to be a shock in experien ~e, a
95 
MORAL PIIILOSOPTY.
convulsion, as in the fall of an angel and his transforiiis
tioii into a demon.   Consciousness reveals no such conivul
sion.   The man is often left in great uncertainty as tc
the fact of his failure, and may need some light from
without to reveal it.  This experience is supposed to in
m'cate that the only change is in the ratio of the good
-itd the bad in the soul, involving a little less of the
good,and a little more of the bad.
We  must  bear in mind the ambiguity of the word
character. It is often used to embrace all
Answer.
Anwer.   that belongs to the soul, thoughts, feelings,
purposes, all in the man that relates to the present, the
past, and the future.  Our inquiry does not relate to chai
aeter in this wide sense, but to character as expressing
simply the moral status, the condition as to virtue and
sin at a particular moment. A change from virtuous tc
sinful action does not necessarily imply a change in any
thought or feeling or proximate purpose.  These, in gen
eral, do not admit of any sudden change. If the moral
character becomes permanently changed, the thoughts
and feelings and purposes will be modified to a greater
or less extent. But yielding to a sudden temptation to
evil, does not affect at once these exercises of the superficial consciousness. There is for the moment a surrender
of the principle of right action which underlies these
conscious exercises; then the right principle is resumed
again, and the current of conscious action goes on without interruption. It may require subsequent reflection,
and an earnest inquest upon one's self, to bring out into
flll consciousness the fact of sin. It is not rare that the
great moral change of life, the commencement of a lifo
of virtue, occurs without any such experience as to reveal the fact in immediate consciousness.  It is common
96 
UNMTY 011 SIMPLICITY OF MIORAL ACTIOiN.
to refer this great moral change to a moment of high
emotional experience, but often there is no such experi
ence; and when there is, it probably does not mark the
precise instant of the moral change. That any sudden
lapse into sin should be marked by any instantaneous
emotional experience, is still less probable.
The objection assumes a difference between the vlrtu
ons and the sinful, which in general does not  Assumed di
exist.  The difference is in moial character,  ference.
while in many thoughts and feelings and purposes they
are alike. The good man is not an angel in ecstatic
emotion and exalted view, and the bad man is not a demon in malignant feeling and malicious purpose. These
are but the extreme points toward which their divergent courses tend.  In this life,these points are probably
never reached. They are the result of a long course of
development and growth. The difference in moral character is indeed a capital one, but other differences are
mnore distinct in immediate consciousness.
If virtue, wherever it exists, is entire and complete, then
there is no room for improvement, for growth;   No room for
no use for moral discipline and culture.  The    growth.
man may be dismissed from the world as finished.
There is still room for establishment in virtue, for the
attainment of persistency and  stability,  a
habit of virtuous action.   Character, in the         wer.
broader sense, is incomplete from moral inconstancy.
Is not this condition of instability the conscious weakness and want of all in their first experience of a virtuous
life? The attainment of greater stability is one of thit
results of a "patient continuance in well-doing."   In
this respect the work is essentially the same as to eliminate the remaining evil from a heart in which virtue and
5
97 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
sin co-exist, as upon the hypothesis of mixed action. On
the hyp)othesis of simplicity of action the struggle is be.
tween two forces, one within and the other without tie
t~itatel; upon the other hypothesis the opposing fores
loll,e joint possession.
Then, again, there remains. as work to be done, the
attaimnenlt of all the particular virtues and graces of
character.  Benevolence is the root or germ of them all
but a complete character, in the broader sense, involves
tle carrying out of this principle in all relations,under
the guidance of " sound wisdom and discretion."  With
time, and opportunity, and self-culture, the principle of
benevolence extends its transforming power to the whole
innerando:iter life.  Htere is work, even in the domain
of one's ownl character, for the longest earthly career, and
room for every form of discipline.
But are there no degrees of goodness?  Are all good
Degrees of    men equally virtuous?  And is the same man
goodness.   no more virtuous after years of experience
and progress than at the commencement of his virtuous
course?  If virtue is complete wherever it exists at all,
it would seem to follow that no good man can be more
virtuous than another; and this is contrary to the instinctive judgment of men.
One mnan may be more virtuous than another in the
Aswer.   sense that his virtue is more persistent, and
suffers less interruption.  There is more of
virtue in his continuous life.  In the same way a maii
may be more virtuous at one time  than  at another
lThien, again, one man may afford a better example of
practical virtue than another; and every man may make
progress in the applications of the law of benevolence to
his outward life. These differences in character afford
98 
UNtIY OR SIMPLICITY OF MORAI ACTIl(.
abundant ground for the popular idea of d(lifferent degrees
of virtue. But whether, in reference to the momentary
moral state, one good man is more virtuous than another
in the sense of more praiseworthy, is a curious question,
somewhat difficult to answer upon either of the twc
hypotheses of moral character.  If there be such a differ
ence, is the higher virtue with him who has the higher
light,and superior advantages and motives for a virtuous
life, or with him whose situation is less favorable? We
certainly admire more the virtue that struggles through
difficulties, and "comes out of great tribulation,"  It
excites surprise, and the surprise enhances our approbation. The probability would seem to be that all virtuous
beings, in reference to their momentary moral state, are
equally praiseworthy. They differ in the permanency of
their fidelity, in the intensity and energy of their virti
ous activities, in the success with which they apply the
law of benevolence to all outward action, and in the
magnitude of the powers and energies subjected to that
law.
In reference to degrees of sinfulness the case is some.
what different.  The guilt of sin undoubtedly    Degees of
increases with the light under which the sin   sin lIness.
is committed. Sin is the refusal to regard the good, and
the guilt or ill desert of it must be proportioned to the
apprehended value of the good that is disregarded.
Every additional interest perceived enhances the guilt of
persistence in the sin. The effect of temptation, upon the
guilt of sin,is to be determined on this prin- Temptation
ciplg  When temptation obscures the under-   ard guilt.
Btanding, diminishes the light, it would seem to abate
from the guilt;  but if, as the case often seems to be,
+emptation quickens the perceptions, and places in a
99 
MORAL PHEILOSOPTY.
Stronger light the good or evil involved, it must  increase
the guilt of transgression. Perha.ps no one has so strong
a sense of the guilt of murder as he who has stood face to
face with the crime, with the deliberate thought of its
perpetration. In this ease it may not be the temptation
proper that increases the light,  )ut attendant circumstances. At every point of his career, the sinner is guilty
of disr egarding all known good, and the guilt must increase with his wider vision    The converse of this principle does not seem to apply in the case of virtue.  The
virtue may not increase necessarily with the sense of the
value of the good regarded.
LUpon the theory of simplicity of action, is one justified
L1aim of paSt  in the claim to have lived for any definite
nl-sne3ss.   time in the past, without any moral failure?
There is no ground of positive knowledge that  there
nas been no such failure. Even present failure is not always a matter of distinct consciousness; and the past
belongs to memory and not to consciousness. Only distinct consciousne,ses reappear in memory, and even these
are often lost. No claim canll be justified that is more
positive than the knowledge, aside from any question
o)f propriety or impropriety on other grounds.
In concluding this topic, it may be said that the doeLogical result  trine of simplicity of action seems a logical
of axiom.    inference from the axiom  that moral character, virtue, and sin, can be predicated only of voluntary
states; and if thlis axiom be rejected, all clear ideas of
virtue and sin, of good and ill desert, must go with it.
Sin that has not its seat in the voluntary action, can
sever be felt, or thought of, as sin. That is the deepest
view of sin which brings it nearest to our personal responsibility; any other view must break the force of ob.
100 
UNITY OR SIMPLICITY OF \[ORAL ACTION.
ligation to virtue, and of condemnation for sin.   The
doetrine of simplicityof action seemstocontributetoclearei
apprehensions of the nature of moral character, of Sill
and holiness; in other respects its practical bearings
may not differ greatly from those of the opposite do(
trine. The theory of mixed action presents formidable
difficulties of its own, which it is not necessary to con
sider here.
it)l 
CHAPTER X.
THEORIES OF OBLIGATION.
ThE great problem in morals is,the origin of duty, o
rhe great    the nature  and  foundation  of ol.Iigation.
question. Hiow, under what circumstances, does the
perception or affirmation of obligation arise in the mind;
and what is that obligation in its simple, elementary
fbrm?  "The nature of virtue" is sometimes given as
an expression of the problem; but this is too limited;
the nature of sin would convey the idea as well. Virtue
and sin are the two opposite modes of action in view of
obligation; the real question is, what is obligation, as to
its nature, and the conditions of its existence?
The answer to this question must of course be found
Different an-  among our primary intuitions and judgments;
swers.     and,at first thought,we should anticipate perfect harmony among  ethical writers upon this point.
But remarkable as it may seem, it is the point upon
which the gravest differences of opinion exist.  In practical morals, where we might look for difilerences of jud,gment, there is essential harmony; in the theory of the
science there is as yet 1no harmony. These differenees
must arise, not from the fact that men differ in the data
of consciousness, but from the different degrees of success
in the analysis and interpretation of the facts of conReasons of sciousness. Our primary perceptions are il
dffer.-ences. accordance with facts, and facts are for ever
the same; but there are various degrees of success in
reaching and expressing these perceptions. The case 
THEORIES OF OBLIGATION.
has many parallels.  In general it is most difficult to exp)lain the origin and mode of our knowledge, when the
knowledge is immediate and direct.  Noething, is more
surely and directly known than the fact of our own existence; but tie origin and history of the knowledge itif
difficult  to trace.   A  belief in the being of God 
found in all minds, but whllence its origin and authority
is   matter of question.  Our intuitive judgments and(
direct perceptions we fail to traee,whilewe can always
give a reason for the results of our laborious processes
and deductions.   This view may indicate the occasion
of difference, on a question so fundamental as the origin
of obligation.
Without attempting a history of ethical opinion, or
even a synopsis of the various shades of doctrine which have
had currency, we may still be profited by a brief review
of some of the leading theories of obligation which have
prevailed, or are still in vogue.
According to the older Greek Philosophy, as represented by Socrates and  Plato, right action  Socrates and
is the certain and necessary result of knowl- Plato.
edge.  All wrong action is the result of ignorance; of
wrong action in spite of knowledge, they seem to have
had no distinct conception. The idea affords no proper
foundation for moral merit or demerit. The only failure
is ignorance, and knowledge is the remedy.
Aristotle held that personal happiness is the great
good, and virtue is moderation; such a reg- viva of ris
ulation of the desires and passions as leads to  totle.
happiness-the attainment of the golden mean betweei
excessive indulgence and the suppression of desire. Tlhe
ultimate aim of virtuous action is one's own happiness.
Two prominent ideas divided the schools of Grecian
103 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
Philosophlly after these leaders. One view is represented
Doctrine of   by the Stoics, who inculcated a contempt of
the Stoic. happiness, treated the advantages and disad
vantages of life, its pains and pleasures, with equal indifference, and made the good to consist in living according
to nature and reason. This is virtue, right action, the
sole good; not because of the satisfaction resulting, but
because of its rightness. The connection between virtue
and happiness is an accident. The standard or law of
right action is revealed in nature, and is not regulated by
any reference to well-being in the form of happiness
either of ourselves or others. The virtuous man is selfsuflicient, because in his virtuousness he has attained the
true good, and hence all that is essential is within his own
control.
The other view was maintained by the Epicureans,
Of the Epicu- who held that happiness, in the sense of enjoy
reans.     ment, is the true good,and the proper aim of
life. Epicurus himself was not properly a sensualist.
His idea of happiness was not realized in immediate or
corporeal pleasure, but in the higher pleasures of the
mind. He was a materialist, and hence his rules of conduct had no scope beyond the present life.
All the leading theories-of modern times gather about
Modern theo- these two centres, either making happiness
ies.       the supreme good, or finding ultimate good in
she right, objective or subjective.  Of those which account happiness the supreme good, there are again two
classes; first, the theories which represent one's own hap
pil ess as the ultimate aim,and grand motive of all virtuols action; and secondly, those which regard the happiness
of all,general well-being,as the end.
Of the writers that have maintained the first view
L04 
THEORIES OF OBLIGATION.
Paley in England, and Dr. Taylor of New Haven) maj
be  taken  as representatives.  The  second  proition of
various writ
view has been maintained by Priestly and  ers
Bentham in England,  Jouffloy in France, and  Presi.
dents Edwards, Dwilght, and Finney, in Anierica, with
others less Frominent.  Each of these writers has his
peculiar views and modes of statement, but the theories
may still be embraced in two general classes.
Paley defines virtue to be, " doing good to mankind in
obedience t~ the will of God, and for the   Paley's doo
sake of everlasting happiness."  The end of  trinle.
all proper action is one's own highest happiness. The
means by which this end is to be secured is doing good to
mankind, beneficence; and the rule by which this bene
ficenee is to be regulated, is the will of God; because
God is infinitely wise, and his will indicates the proper
mode of action. The difference between the good and
the bad, according to Paley, is that one seeks everlasting
happiness, the other happiness in this life.
What  has sometimes been called the  New  Haven
theory, represents that all conceivable motive   New Haen
to action is desire of happiness.  Says Dr.   theory.
Taylor: " Intelligent voluntary beings never act volum.tarily,without acting from a regard to their own well-being."  Again, "There can no more be motive except in
the formn of good or happiness to the agent, than there
can be motive which is not motive." And again, " There
can be 1no tendency to moral action, in a moral being,
except ultimately to obtain happiness by acting; andi
the greater the happiness known by the agent to depend
on one kind of moral action, the greater thile tendency to
that action." To the same effect, but even more emphiatically, Mr. Metcalf says: "It is a law imposed by
5*
10.5 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
an in vincible necessity of his nature upon every ratioial
sentient, voluntary being, that in all his voluntary action
he must seek happiness.   To escape from the dominioni
of this law is an absolute impossibility."  These same
Xotive tobe- writers teach that the true motive to benevovolence.    len(e, or doing good to others, is in the perceiv
ed adaptation of the action to promote the happiness of
the agent. Says Dr. Taylor: "Were the agent wholly
uniisusceptible to happiness from the happiness of others,
and as, therefore, lie must be wholly indifferent to their
happiness, he lmust be wholly indifferent to benevolence on
his own part, as the means of their happiness." Aetealf
maintains that the happiness of others is the objective end
in benevolence- that which awakens desire; but that the
-atisfaction of that desire, or the happiness of the agent, is
the subjective end, in fact the only final motive.   Tlhe
happiness of others is soughlt, because it is the mieans of
View ofbe-   highest satisfaction to self.  In his view, it is
nevolence.   benevolence to regard the good of others as
the greatest good to self, and to pursue it for that reason.
[In his own words: "The holiness of a holy being consists in seeking and finding his happiness in loving and
serving and pleasing God, in contenml)lating and promnotimg the highest happiness, and of course the highest holiness, of all the subjects of his moral government."  "This
instinctive, innate, irresistible yearning, after good is the
ultimate reason, the last reason that can be given for
holy action."   "The last subjective reason that can be
g,ven for holy action is, that by this only can the agent's
highest happiness be secured," and the suljective reason or
motive is " the motive felt in the consciousness of the
mind."  Sin is seeking one's happiness in the
wron way........only possible supreme
106 
THFEORIES OF OBLIGATION.
choice which we can make i,i regard to our seekiiig hal)p
nesS, is to choose in which of these two methods -l  whthle
in benevolence or selfilness, in the right or wrong, we will
seek it; in other words, to choose from what sources we will
seek to derive our happiness, and on what ob-    3bligation
jects we will place our supreme affections."    andutility
Obligation to benevolence or to any choice, according to
this theory, is conditioned upon the usefulness of the
choice, ultimately, and in fact to ourselves, but iimmedi
ately in the promnotion of tihe direct object of the benev
alence.  Says Paley: "We canl be obliged to nothing but
what we ourselves are to gain or lose something by."
Says Dr. Taylor: "All the worth or value of lman or of
any other moral being consists in his capacity of happiness, and of that self-active nature which qualifies him to
produce happiness to other beings and to himself.  Al]
the worth, or value, or goodness, or excellence which pertains to action on the part of a moral being, is its fitness
or adaptation to produce these results;" and this writei
seems continually to confound the obligatoriness or right.
niiess of an action with its worth, or value, or tendency
to prodace good results. Indeed, he seems to have no
3ther conception of obligation.  Says Mietcalf: "The intent and tendency of holy action to promote happiness,
is the reason why it is, in and of itself, immediately
pleasing, agreeable, and comely in the siglt of God  and
of all holy beings." This view of obligation has given
the svstem the name of Utilitarianism; while its view of
virtuous action, as in the last analysis, regard for self,
self-gratification, has given it the name of the selfish systeilu
Among the difficulties and errors pertaining to this view
of obligation are the following:~
The mistake  out of which all the others spring, is the
.107 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
assumption that desire is the only motive to action.
The funda-   This is a preva-ent psychological error, and
mental error. disfigures many systems of morals and of the  logy. It is true that there can be no motive for action to
a being destitute of sensibility-the susceptibility to good
and evil; because to such a being there could be no cop
ception of good, and hence no idea of obligation,which
is the logical consequent of the idea of the good.   A
moral being must have a sensibility; but having, received
the idea of good through the sensibility, that apprehended
value becomes a motive for action, whether the good
be in himself or another.  It is true that the good, intel lectuall, apprehended, is calculated to awaken desireperhaps always does; but the final motive for virtuous
action is not the desire, but is the value of the good as
perceived by the intelligence —not its value to me as related to my desire, but its value absolute and in itself. According to the theory that desire is the only motive to
action, there is no absolute good known to us but the
good  of self.  The good  of others is simply relativaegood in that it awakens desire in us, and the realization
of the good gratifies that desire; thus it becomes a means
of happiness to us. This is not the view a rational being has of the good of others. He judges of that good
in the light of his own experience of good, and knows
.hat the good of one like himself is the same as his own
good, and has an absolute value. It is as obvious as
aiy fact of reason that that good is to be respected on its
own account, for its own value, independently of any desire that may be awakened,or may not be. The obliga
tion to respect or choose it, is seen at once, even if there
be no desire mnoving to the choice, or if all the desirei
be against it.
108 
THEORIES OF OBLIGATION.
Thus, in apprehended value, there exists a source ol
motive aside from desire of our own happi- Destroys fro
ness,or any other desire, and this is the proper  dom.
motive to virtuous action.  We  have, then, two sources
of motive to moral beings, and thus, and thus only, is
provision made for moral fireedom.  Here, then, is the
,econd obtjection to this system, that it leads logically and
iievitably to necessitated action; not that its advocates
deny the fieedom of the will: they are among its stannchest defenders.  But if there be no possible motive but
desire. there can be no freedom. Is it maintained that
the fi'eedom lies in choosing between the desires, and
gratifying this or that,at will?:But there must be a motive to this choice, and that motive must be some differ
ence in the desires themselves, or some other desire that
lies back of the choice. If the motive be in this third
desire moving to the choice, there is no fieedom; for
there is no power to get back of the desire and modify
it. If the motive for choice be in some difference in the
desires, and if desire is still the only motive, then that
difference must be a difference in strength, and the
strongest desire will control. If it be any other difference that determines the choice, it is a difference that
appeals to the intelligence, as, for exanmple, the propriety
or profitableness of the gratification of one desire rather
than another, and thius we have at once a miotive for action aside from the desire. Some such ground of action
there must be, or there is no escape from the domination
of the strongest desire, or rather from the resultant of
the desires. And such a ground of action there is in
the consciousness of every man, so that he denies one
]esire and gratifies another, or denies both, all in obedi
ence to his convictions of interes* or propri(ty, or duty
109 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
This difli,,lty pertains to the psychology of the system
rather than its morality, and is by no means peeculiar
to the upholders of this theory.
An error, more strictly ethical, is in the character
t;truptsbe-   which the system ascribes to beiievolence
e l ence.    and here the appeal must be to the conscious
knowledge of every man.   Benevolence does not consist
in doing good to mankind for the sake of everlasting
happiness, or for the gratification of desire, near or remote, or for the sake of anything whatever, except the
value of the good of mankind in itself.  We feel and
know that benevolence is vitiated when it looks,for a motive,bevond the good itself; to some satisfaction to be derived from the action. We call such an action prudence
or shrewdness, not benevolence. It is true,beyond doubt,
that there is such satisfaction to be derived from benevo,ence-a satisfaction higher than any other;  but when
hlat satisfaction is the motive, it fails at once, because
benevolence has failed.  "tIe that  savethl his life shall
lose it."  Benevolence is choosing the good of mankind,
and of all sentient beings, because of the value of their
good, and the resulting satisfaction springs from the disinterested action.
The good manlTaboring, zealously in a good  cause, is
Mistakes mo- not actuated by desires terminating finally
tve oofand the   on himself.  Ile is not pursuing his own hapgood and                 t         e        z
ad.        i)iness as the sole motive.  He puts his happiness in with the common interest, where it belongs, and
finds it safe in the end. Still less is the bad man, in yieldng to his desires and passions, pursuing his own happiness
o,r interest, iii any proper sense. Sinful action does not even
involve the delusion or thought of pursuing one's own
good, The theory, then, fails to explain the principle of
110
iI
I
i
ii
I
t 
THEORIES OF OBLIGATION.
action m the case of both the virtuous and the sinful.  Ta
yield to the control of desire is not to pursue happiness.
The theorv fails to furnish ground for the differenoe
'between the good and the bad.  Their subject-  Provides for
ive motive is the same-desire of happiness.  no differenoe
They differ in the means they use.  But in the pursuit
of an end, every man uses the means which commend
themselves to his judgment, and can use no other; else
he surrenders his end. The difference between the virtu- i
ous and the sinful, then, niust be a difference of judgment, 
and sin is a mistake. The true difference is that the good
man followis his convictions, and chooses the good of all;
the bad man follows his desires, and neglects the good of
all.
The theory could never suggest the language of Scrilp
ture, nor be suggested by it: " If any man Doesnotmeet
will come after me, let him deny himself and  Scripture.
take up his cross and follow me. For whosoever will save
his life shall lose it; and whosoever will lose his life for my
sake shall find it."  "If any man come to me and hate
not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and
brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot
be my disciple. So likewise, whosoever he be of you that
forsaketh not all that he hath, he cannot be my disciple."
The theory is wrongo in making the utility of benevolence a condition of its obligatoriness.  Be-  Mistakes re                                               lation of'itinevolence is seen to be obligatory at once  ity.
np(,n the apprehension of the good, without any thought
(r consideration of the question whether  the benevoencie will promote the good.  Benevolence is a state of
vil favorable to the good, regardful of it; it is not
purpose to promote it.  Such a purpose will spring from
benevolence when it is ascertained that anything can be
ill 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY
done to promote it.   But  antecedently to all such
thought or information, the obligation to choose the good
because of its value, is clearly seen.  This choice puts
one in the attitude to promote the good, a readiness foi
the work; but it precedes all purpose. Such is the pri
mary, benevolent choice; and the obligation to it is
grounded in the value of the good, not in any tendency
in the action whatever, either to promote the good  )f the
agent or of any other b,in,.  On the contrary, if there
were positive knowledge on the part of the agent that
his benevolence would yield no result, the obligation tc
choose the good would still subsist in full foree. Indeed
if he positively kInew that his benevolence would do harm
instead of good, and should attempt to withhold his benevolence, this very act would still imply benevolence.
Of course there is an absurdity in the refusal to be benevolent for such a reason; but the supposition shows
that the obligation is independent of tendency. Any
purpose to do good, or any executive action whatever
could be restrained for such a reason; but the primary
attitude of benevolence would still remain, implied ill the
very withholding of the purpose. Hence, benevolence
in its fundamental form, lies back of any purpose
whatsoever. It is the voluntary attitude out of which
good purposes grow, whenever they are seen to be
proper.
And here we mark a distinction between the ultimat
Utility as re- benevolent choice, and all executive acts and
lated to execttive actioa. purposes which spring from it, in the fact that
obligation to benevolence arises immediately upon the
perception of good, while the obligation to form purposes
and put forth executive acts,does not arise until it is as.
certained that such purpose or act will probably or possi
112 
THE)RIES or oBLIGATION.
bly be useful. The obligation to executive action is con
ditioned uponl perceived useful tendeney; the obligationr
to benevolence is independent of tendency.   We  are
bound to be benevolent toward Sir John Franklin, lost in
hlie Arctic seas; we are not bound to form any purpose,
)r put forth any act, until we perceive a tendency in the
,urpose or act to help him.
This distinction leads to a remark upon the second
class of theories which make happiness the  The termutl                                              itarianism
sole good, but find the grand motive for ac- misapplied
tion, not in self-love or desire of good, but ill the value
of the go(od wherever perceived.   All good  is to be
chosen and pursued; and this choice of good is benevolence, which alone is virtuous action.   Many writers
have failed to disting,uish between these two classes of
theories, and have applied to them both the term utili
tarianism, which is no more applicable to the doctrine of
benevolence,as set forth by President Edwards and President Finney, than to the transcendental views of Zen(
or of Kant.  It is true that some of the advocates of the
doctrine of benevolence, as co,iprehending  Occasion for
the misappreall virtue, have, by their want of discrimina-  hension.PP
tion, exposed themselves to the charge of utilitarianism,
and have even accepted the title as appropriate to the
doctrine.  Thus the younger Edwards, who maintained
the true doctrine of benevolence, as set forth by his
father, asks, " What is the primary reason that it is my
duty to love my fellow-men? " and after considering,
with great discrimination, the various answers given to
the question, presents his own view thus: "I am  obli
rated to love my fellow-m-n, because that love tends to
their happiness, and to the happiness of the intellectual
eystem."   He fails to discern that the love of which he
113 
MORAL, PHILOSOPHY.
speaks is not primary benevolence, but that course of
action which follows it, the obligation to which  does
depend upon the tendency of the action. This is clear
fi'om  his next sentence: "But if love and attachment
to an individual, ill any ease, as to a murderer, whose
life and prosperity are ilnconsistent with general liappiness, tend to ilmpair the general happiness, I am not
bound in that case to love him."  How could so discerninus a mran deny the duty of benevolence towards a inurderer or any other being? He failed to discern the real
nature of benevolence, as a disposition of mind lying
back of all purpose to do 7ooc, and of all executive acti tn.  That antecedent,benevolent disposition is as really
obligatory toward a murderer as a saint; and is exercised in the effort to inflict the penalties due to him, as
tr-uly as in showing mercy.  Dr. Taylor,and the writers
of his school,have made the same mistake, and thus have
contributed to bring, the reproach of utilitarianism upon
the noble doctrine of benevolence as set forth by the
elder Edwards. It is not the worth, or value, or tenExcellence of  deney of benevolence, that is its most signifibenevolencet   cant characteristic, but its obligatoriness; and
not in its utili~ty.       its value, worth, tendency, depends upon its
obligatoriness, ratller than its obligatoriness upon its value
or tendency.  No consideration of tendency or of usefulness ever enters into th,- original percepltion of the obligation of benevolence. It does enter into the estimate of
the obligation of every subordinate act.  I am  to be be
nevolent, or to love my neighbor because his g,od is aa
absolute value, and therefore I see that it ought to be re
garded in the heart; I must pursue thlis or that course ol
life because it is useful, or tends to pro,mote the good.
Tlfis distinction is clearly in our consciousness, and, prop
114 
THEORIES OF OBLIGATION.
erly c(,nsidered,would save from confounding the true
doctrine of benevolence with utilitarianism.
A modification of the idea that happiness is the sole
good, and that obligation is seen only in the  Combinatio.
In ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~f holinessi
li,ght of this good, represents that simple hap-  andhappines,
piness is not the true good, but the happiness which re
Aults from virtue, or " holy happiness," as President Hopkinis calls  it.  This is an attempt to blend the two distinct ideas of virtue and happiness into one comnpound
which shall differ from both components.  But they are
still distinct. The good man is both virtuous and happy,
and his happiness results greatly from his virtue; but the
virtue is in the action of his will, and the happiness is a
condition of his sensibility. The two things are so utterly
unlike, that if one is ultimate good, the other is not.
Both are ultimate in a very important sense, but in different ways.  Happiness is ultimate as good, benevolence
is ultimate as obligation. Virtue rests on its own intrinsic authority; but it exists only in reference to one fact,
and is only seen in the light of that fact; that fact is
happiness,or the good. If one kind of happiness is to be
chosen rather than another, then happiness is not iltimate, but that is ultimate in the light of which the kind
of happiness to be elosen,is determined.
115
orl 
CHAPTER XI.
THEORIES OF OBLIGATION.
WE will next consider some of the theories which find
Of rightas ul- the ground of obligation in a standard, or )rin
tiniate.   ciple, or fact of ultimate right —this right
itself haviing, no foundation, ald needing none.  Back of
this righit, our reason canTlnot go. The theories are vari
ous, and have little ill common, except this fact of au
ultimate ground of right,or law of duty, which is differ
ent in the different theories.
A popular notion of the foundation of obligation or
Will of God  duty is,thlat it originates in the will of Godthe origin of
duty.      that his command renders one tliino right, another wrong, and that there is no other known reason for
the rightness or the wrongness; that the will of God
does not merely indicate or reveal the right, but constitutes it.  This view of the origin of morality is not
maintained distinctly by any large proportion of ethical
w-iiters but is held in a popular way by large numbei
who have not been accustonied to any analytical tliouglit
upoln such questions. With some limiitations and mnodifications, it is maintained by Paley, Warburton, RiellcTard
Watson, Dymond, Chalmers, MIansel, and others.
Among the modified forms of the doctrine, is tihe viewv
Modification  of Warburton, and perhaps of Manasel, tlll
of the theory.  there may be a distinction, in the nat'ure a
thinigs,between right and wrong, which is appreciable in
thought, yet it carries no force with it as law. There is 
THEORIES OF  OBLIGATION.
no obligation, or thought of it, except as imposed by
God's command.  Still another modification of the theory
is, that obligation has its origin, not in the will of God,
but in his infinite and perfect nature, or in his reason;
that it is the province of reason to originate principles,
inc not of will.
The general argument by which the theory is sustained,
is this, that obligation or duty implies a law, Mode of arand a iaw implies a law-giver, and this law-  gument.
giver is God.  The same argument is often used to prove
the being of God, firom the acknowledged fact of obligation, even by writers who do not refer the origin of obligation to the will or nature of God.
The apparent force of the argument lies in the ambiguity) of the word law.  One use of the word
Its fallacy,
is to express a fact or principle, or order of
events, or a certain dependence and relation of things,
without reference to any origin whatever. Thus we
speak of the law of gravitation, the law of the binomial
series, the law of obligation; and it never occurs to us that
we imply a beginning of the law, or a lawgiver,in using
the expression. There is no such significance in the
word as thus used. It is only when we speak of law as
a statute, an enactment by some legitimate authority, a
part of the machinery of moral government, that it implies a lawgiver. The argument derives its apparent
orce from the transfer of this sense of the word to the
other case, where it has no proper application.
Another form of the argument is that obligation im.
plies an obliger; but this does not corre-  Another form.
spond with our consciousness.  We affirm ob
ligation without anythought or knowledge of one who
imposes the obligation.  It is dout tless true that the fact
117 
MORAL PHI LOSOPHY.
that duties are endorsed and eifoiced by the divine corn
tialld, greatly adds to their force and authority withl us
l;)it without any knowledge of such a fact, obligation still
,.xi,ts, and is recognized.  The knowledge of God,and of
iti law, adds the sense of accountability to that of obli 4ation, and gives vitality and power to duty; but this
sho(uld not be mistaken for the origin of obligation.
Among  the obvious difficulties of the theory are the
followingg:
It fails to afford a foundation that satisfies our thotught.
Not the ilti- A  reason can be asked and given, why we
mate reason. ought to obey God; and the attempt to rest
upon his coimmand as ultimnate, is vain. ]Beibre we  are
aware, we find ourselves affirming)  that God's will is
right, that his law is "holy and just and good," that he
is infinitely wise and good, and therefore his command
must be righit, and ought to be obeyed. All this shows
that we have in our tlhought somnethlilg back of thie mere
will, upon which we depend.  If G(o's will were utltimate, we could ask no reason, and offer none,wliy we
should obey hinm.
We know that love to our neighbor would  be duty,
Benevolence   even if God should not require it; and in refoblilgatory in
itself.     erenee to many particular duties, we perceive
first that they are duties, and then infer that God requires
thtem.  If duty originated iu his will, the order would always be reversed. If two beings like ourselves should
exist alone in the universe, we can see that they would
,e boundl to respect each other's interests.  God does not
eate or  origiliate the  principle  of obliatio,I.L.
cieates moral beings and in tle er  nature o  tif    e nase
.the.come under the law of obligation.  He does not create space, but he uses it in the disposition of the material
118 
THEORIES OF OBLIGAT1ON.
nniverse.  le does not create geomnetry, but le "geollectrizes "-nor morality, but hlie establ)slises and  lllaxilltlil
his -overnmient in accordance with its princil)les.  It iF
no I)art of the honor due to God, to attribute to limi i,Ji
i)(,ssi})ilities.,
AVWe speak of the goodness of God and believe in it
\We have an idea of moral character in him,  No bafi, tot
and regarid that character as the perfection  nes'. god
of virtue. All tliis would be ipl)ossil)le to our tlhought
-— incoueeivable. if we did not look beyond lhis will for
the riglht.  AVe could have no conception of his inorali
character, and hlie could have no such character.  Our
idea of goodness in him  shows that we have a standard
of goodness outside of his will.  God  is holy, virtuous,
because he is benevolent; lie meets o:)ligation.  As a
moral being' he comes under the great law of duty.  Ile
is not under authority or government, still he confor,si
to the law of obligation, and thus is the object of our
moral approbation.
But here the modern believers in "the relativity of
humiian kno-wledge" meet us with the ol)jec- Relativity of
tion that we know morality, duty, obligation,  morality.
only for ourselves; that the law of obligation, as we know
it, is relative, is obligation for us; of God we can make no
affirmation of duty.  Says M[ansel:  "The fiction of an absolute law l)inding on all rational beings, has only an alq)arent universality, because we can only conceive other ra.
tional beings by identifying thleir constitution with one
3Wll and inalking humian reason the measure ald represen
ative of reason in general."  A writer in the P'rincet(on
[eoview makes a practical app)lication of this principle of
relative moralitv.  " The perennial fact in huinan j(]dg
VCent, that God's nmoral administration of this world l]as al
lig 
3MORAL PIIILOSOPHY.
ways seemed to human reason less perfect in justice than
the n.oral standard which man sets up in each age as the
criterion of moral conduct, seems conclusive that the
finilte moral conceptions of man furnish no adequate type
of the rule of God's conduct, whose ways are not as our
ways, in his eternal administration over the life of man."
Ift' these views were correct, then our thought of God's
goodness would be but a fancy with which we atmuse
ourselves, the reality of which  is utterly beyond our
knowledge.   The principles of morality rest upon  the
Fami,( foundation as those of Mathemnatics, and all necessary truth.  They are absolute truths-truie to us and to
all rational beings. It is the nature of the truths in
themselves, and not the nature of the faculties by which
we apprehend them, that gives them their authority.
The whole tenor of Scripture corresponds with this
Correspond. view. It is always assumed that men have
ence with
Scripture.    faculties to judge of God's character, and lihe
submits to be judged upon the common principles of mora]ity.
Of the modification of the doctrine, that obligation has
Foundationin its origin in the reason of God, it is only nethe reason or
natureofGod.  cessary to remark that reason does not originate principles or truths, it only perceives those already iii
existence. The reason of God must perceive and affirm
obligation, and so does the reason of man. Of the statement that obligation originates in the nature of God, it
does not seem unreasonable to say that the idea is too
transcendental for ordinary comprehension.
A few ethical writers find the standard of action, that
Ofworthiness upon which obligation turns, in one's own
as t;mnate.   worthiness;  and all questions of duty are,
according to this view, to be referred to the bearing of
120 
THEORIES OF OBLIGATION.
the action on our worthiness of approbation,or of happiness.
Thus, Kant, in his "Critique of Pure Reason," proposes
three questions about which all interests gather:
1. What can I know?
2. What ought I to do?
3. What may I hope?
The second question covels the field of morals, and his
general answer to it is, "' Do that which will render thee
worthy of happiness." This answer presents the germ of
the theory in question, but it is not the theory which
Kant himself adopts and expands in his system of
ethics.
Dr. Hickok, in his "Moral Science," adopts this view,
making  "the  highest good, the  summu.            Hickok'!
bonumr, worthiness of spiritual approbation."      view.
"Every man has consciously the bond upon him to do
that, and that only, which is due to his spiritual excel.ency." "Every virtue finds here its end.  Why he should
be benevolent toward man, and why reverent toward
God, have each the samne end-namely, then, and then
only, is he acting according to that which is due to his
spirit, and thlus worthy of spiritual approbation." "Every.
where, in acting for spiritual worthiness' sake, I shall be
fulfilling what I intuitively see to be the end of my spiritual being." The rules for action, according to this
theory, are "the imperatives of the spirit's own excellency; " implying a faculty by which we discern directly,
in every question of duty, what is consistent with our
own worthiness.
The following are among the difficulties of the theory
The worthiness spoken of does not appear to be an
ultimate good at all.  It is a condition or re-  Worthinesw
not a ultl ai-d
lation of a moral being, resulting from a cer-      mate 
6
1'21 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
tain course of action-the simple fact of his having met
obligation. That fact is no ultimate good. It is a sine
q?a non of blessedness, and hence is a relative good; but
only the satisfaction itself is ultimate.
But if worthiness be the ultimate good, the summ,u;n
Dil leso    bonum cannot be our own worthiness, but the
vworthiness. worthiness of all moral beings. Our neig]libor's worthiness is of equal value with our own.  Elow
then, can we be worthy while living and acting with reference to our owvn worthiness?  The true end must be
the worthiness of all. If it be said that we secure our
own worthiness by aiming at the worthiness of all, this
is true, but it proves that the proper end is the worthiness of all, which is contrary to the theory.
The theory inverts the dependence of worthiness and
Order invert- of action. We determine our worthiness irl
ed.w     the light of our action, and not our action in
the light of our worthiness.  We  first judge of duty,
and, in performing it, have the consciousness of worthiness; while the theory requires us to determine our duty
by a reference to the test of our own worthiness. We
have no faculty for seeing duty in the light of our own
worthiness, but we have the faculty of seeing our worthiness in the light of duty performed.
Worthiness and unworthiness are incidental results of
Worthiness   moral action, but cannot be clearly thought
not an aim in
action.     of as the aim in either kind of action.  Worthiniess sustains the same relation to right action, that unworthiness does to wrong action. In either case the action is independent of that result. Practically the theory
must have much the same bearing as that which grounds
obligation on self-love. It tends to make all action and
aL thought revolve about self  To such self-centred ac.
122 
THIEORIES OF OBLIGA11CX.
tion the scriptural name love could never be given
True virtue looks abroad, seeks not its own chiefly, cither
in the form of blessedness or worthiness, becomes bothi
worthy and blessed in its comprehension of all good
This is the most obvious and conscious  quality of vir
tuous action.
There is a modification of the Edwardean doctrine of
benevolence which represents that virtue is Virtueas
in itself a good. Happiness is a good, but highest good
the choice of happiness is a greater good; the choice of
happiness is virtue, the love of virtue is a higher virtue.
Thus we have two objects of virtuous action; first the
happiness of being, and secondly, and higher, the virtue
of being. This view is attributed, by certain of his admi.
rers and reviewers, to Edwards himself.  The  Attributed t(
President Ed.
ground of claim is that Edwards distinguishes wards.
between primary love of being, or simple benevolence,
and the love of virtuous being which involves moral approbation or complacency; thus: "When any one, under
the influence of general benevolence, sees another being oi
the like general benevolence, this attaches his heart to
him, and draws forth greater love to him than merely his
having existence." He goes on to say that this "comrnplacence" is but a form of benevolence, and necessarily
springs from it.  "Loving a being on this ground, necessarily arises from pure benevolence to being in general, and
comes to the same thing." It is doubtless true that Edwards failed to distinguish clearly that love of comnpla
cency differs from benevolence only in the addition of
the illvoluntary, intellectual, and emotional element of
approval of virtuous action.  The psychology of his time
had not clearly discriminated between the voluntary and
involuntary in choices and emotions; but there is very
123 
MORAL PHfILOSOPHY.
little apparent ground for the idea that he reckoned this
Complaeency a different style of virtue, higher than pure
benevolence   He expressly names this form of virtue benevolence.  "A secondary ground of pv'ae benevolence,"
he says, "is virtuous benevolence itself,in its object."  T)r.
Hopk-ins, the pupil and friend of Edwards, recognizes the
love of complacency as benevolence modified by the enmotion of approbation.  He writes thus:  "This love of
benevolence does not exclude, but necessarily includes
that whichl is called love of complacence; for he who is
good, benevolent, and friendly, must delight in goodness."
"Therefore  a complacency and delight  in holiness or
moral excellence is always implied in holiness." "Therefore when we think and speak of holy love, benevolence
should be the primary and chief idea in our minds, as
being the sum of all, and implying the whole; for holy
complacelncy, is complacency in benevolence, and a benevolent complacency.  And if we leave benevolence out
of our idea of the love of complacency, we have no idea of
true holiness, nor understand the Scriptures where they
speak of holy love in God or creatures." The ground of this
complacency Edwards represents to be, a certain quality
of excellewe or beauty in the virtuous being.  " Virtue is
the beauty of those qualities and acts of the mind that
are of a moral nature, i. e., such as are attended with
desert. or worthiness of praise or blame." This intrinsic
quality of beauty in virtuous action, he often refers to,
meaning of course the quality of moral rightness, which
excites our approbation, in which virtuous action differs
fhoniom all other things.
These views of Edwards and Hopkins have been exAndover    panded into what we may be permitted to
heory.  call the Andover theory of virtue, as repre~
121 
TIILORIES OF OBI,IGATION.
sented by various writers in the "Bibliothcca Sacra," as
follows: * "Accordingly there are two diNisions of viituie;
the love of benevolence, or good  will toward being
viewed as capable of happiness or holiness, or both; and the
.ove of complacency, or good will toward beings viewed
as holy. The love of benevolence is exercised on account
of, and in proportion to the susceptibilities or capacities of
sentient being; and the love of complacency is exercised
on account of, and in proportion to,the holiness of being.
The love of the general happiness is a good in itself; and
does not derive its goodness merely from its being a
nmeans of the general happiness. The love of the general
holiness is also a good in itself, and does not become such
by its mere conduciveness to some other end.  The greatest good in the universe is holiness, although, in point of
time, the last good aimed at is the general happiness.  In
kind, the highest of the specific virtues is the love of comnplacency, although, in the order of the growth, the root of
all other virtues is the love of benevolence.  In point of
dignity and worth, the chief end, which is a good in itself,
is the love of geneial holiness; but in the order of development, the final object of pursuit, the last but not the
best, is the general happiness." Another of these writers
speaks as follows: t   According to this theory, virtue is
the highest good in the universe, though the general hap.
iniess is the last or ultimate end of virtue."  " This hig'
est good secures, or is that in which consists,the higher,
tappiness of the universe. In its primary form it ha,
happiness for its immediate object; in its secondary forn
t has the love of happiness for its immediate object
and in its highest formn it has the love of the love ol
happiness, a. e., the love of complacency, for its inmmedi
VoL X., p.                                   f Vol. XXII., pp. p84, .
* Vol. X., P. 72&
t Vol. XXII., pp. 484, 485. 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
ate object.  In one sense this last form of virtue is iti
highiest forni,."   But not feeling quite sure-tooted in
these transcendent regions, the third heavens of virtue, the
writer feels for a firmer foundation in the following sentelice: " Still, this love of complacent love, is virtue only
M it is an emnanation fiom, and so involves benevolence o
iove of happiness." This is solid ground.
In reference to this view of virtue as having a two-fold
or three-fold nature, the following suggestions may be
offered:
Complacent love differs from benevolence only in the
Nature of    additional element of approbation of charac
complacency. ter. This approbation is not strictly volun
tary. It involves the intellectual apprehension of virtuo
as praiseworthy, and a feeling of delight in the contempla
tion of it.  This intellectual and emotional exercise is experienced more or less in every human soul, even where
benevolence does not exist; but whatever the degree, it
is not virtue. It is the involuntary testimony of human
nature to the excellence of virtue. All our responsibility
.n reference to it is, to take the attitude of benevolence;
then the complacency arises when virtuous character is
the object of contemplation.   A  benevolent attitude is
favorable to comnplacency, because it puts one in sympathy with the virtuous character contemnplated, and gives
a better understanding of it. This is the love of complacency, as the term is generally used. In this sense complacency must be proportioned to the holiness of the char,cter contemplated.   This is manifestly the sense in
which Edwards and Hopkins use the term, and this is
the sense of the writers quoted. What is there virtuoiiis
in the exercise, except the benevolence? and what proprieta in reckoning it a distinct type of virtue?  With equal
1. "f) 
ruEOR1IES OF OBLIGA'TION.
propriety might justice, and mercy, and gratitude, and
veracity be distinct types, being benevolence modified by
special perceptions and emotions.
But admitting that complacency is a distinct form of
virtue, what authority have we for reckoning Not a higher
it a higher form than simple benevolen,e?  foinmofvirtaoue
Is it obviously a higher attainment, or reach of virtue, ti)
love the virtuous than to love the sinftil?  "Peradventure for a good man some would even dare to die; but
God commendeth his love toward us in that while we
were yet sinners Christ died for us." The love connected
with displacency, the love of the sinful and of enemnies,
seems, according to Scripture, to take the lead; but ac
cording to the writer quoted, the love of the general lioli
ness stands first "in point of dignity and worth;" noc
the cAoice of the general holiness, for such a choice is
benevolence, not complacency, and is proportioned to
capacity for holiness, not to the possession of it.  "First
n dignity and worth; " but what is the dignity and
worth of virtue, but its virtuousness? and is the virtuousness of love for the deserving, greater than of love for
the undeserving?   Where is the authority, and what
is the standard?  Undoubtedly the immediate subjective satisfaction in the love of the virtuous, is greater
than in the love of the sinful; but the pleasantness of
a virtuous exercise cannot be the test of its dignity or
worth.
And if the love of benevolence is higher than benevolenee, and the love of the love higher than  Ascending s
the love, why stop at this third degree?  The  ne
law developed seems to indicate an endless, ascending
series in the scale of virtue.   We  are constrained to
think that we have here the results of a misdirected logic,
127 
MORtAL PHIIILOSOPIIY.
and not the content of consci( asness.  But such error in
result indicates error in the premises.
This error seems to begin in the confusion of using the
Conflusion in term good as applicable both to virtue and to
theterm ngood. happiness. Both are called good, different in
kind, to be sure, but alike in such a sense that they can
)e compared together, and virtue pronounced the higher
or greater. HIence, as there are two kinds of good, there
must be two kinds of virtue, and that the higher which
has the higher good as its basis. But now we encounter
another confusion.  Consistency would require that as one
style of virtue is choice of happiness, a voluntary act, the
love of being, so the other should be the choice of virtue,
also a voluntary act; but this choice, too, would terminate
on being, and be only benevolence, as these writers seemn
to admit. Hence, it is called love of virtue, and the clear
thought is lost in the ambiguity of the word love.   In
logic it is the voluntary exercise called love which is required; in consciousness it is the emotional exercise whick
is yielded; and thus that which  by the reasoning is
a virtue, is in thought not a virtue, but an involuntary
exercise.
But, then, is not virtue an ultimate good? Yes, in the
Senseiro     only sense in which action can be good-in
which virtue
Is good.    the simple sense of virtuous, meritorious,
praiseworthy. It is also good in the sense of promotive
of happiness, subjectively and objectively; thus it is a
relative good, a means of happiness; lort its virtuousness,
its moral goodness, its beauty, as Edwards uses the term,
does not consist in, nor depend upon,this adaptation to
produce happiness.  This peculiar characteristic is its
rightness, its satisfaction of obligation; and if we call it
good, we must so define the term as to designate this pe
128 
THEORIES OF OBLIGATION.
culiar quality, or we are at once involved in confusion
Only in this sense of the term good, is it an objeet of
complacency; in any other sense it is but the object,or
rather instrument, of benevolence.  But in this sense it
is not an object of ultimate choice at all; it Virtue a qnal
S propellv a quality of that choice. or, more  not its objetct.
oosely, the choice itself as exhibiting the quality; the
choice must terminate on the good of being, and thus it
becomes right, virtuous, beautiful.  In this view it is an
object of complacency, of intellectual approbation and
emotional satisfaction, not of virtuous choice.  Ilappiness is good, virtue is right; and the two admit of no
comparison in the way of competition, to determine the
greater or the less.  The choice of the good of being is
virtue, and that choice is obligatory to every moral being
absolutely, unconditionally, while in the use of his ra
tional faculties. Thus virtue has a su-e foundation in
the  nature  of things, irrespective of its tendency.
Virtue is right in itself, and happiness is good in itself;
and they are inseparably connected in the fact that the
only conceivable virtue is the choice of happiness or regard for being.
The view which is sometimes called the Rightarian
theory, finds the foundation of obligation in  Abstract right
the nature of things, and finds also in man  asultimate.
moral reason, a faculty by which the nature of things is
perceived with reference to obligation.  It holds that
action in accordance with the nature of things is seen to
be right and obligatory, and that no reason for the right
ness can be given beyond the fact that it is, and is seen
to be; that this rightness of the action is the reason foi
6*
129 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
its obligatoriness,and the chief motive for its performance
The theory maintains that obligation is apprehended in
reference to a variety of objects, and in connection w;thl
many different relations of the nmoral agent, and thas we
have a variety of virtuous courses or actions, independent
of each other, and having nothing in common except the
fact that they are in accordance with the nature of
things; thus the good of being ought to be chosen, truth
ought to be respected, gratitude toward a benefactor
ought to be exercised, virtue ought to be loved and rewarded, crime ought to be detested and punished, an
honest man trusted, the parent honored and obeyed by
the child, the child protected and guarded by the parent,
God reverenced and honored by his creatures, and so
through all the different natural relations. In each particular case the duty rests on a special foundation, something in the nature of the case, and is seen directly in its
own light.  The view is, that we are not left in general to
inquire into the tendency and probable results of the action, but duty is seen at once without reference to consequences.  The maxim of the theory is, "do right for
Maxim and   the sake of the riht," and its fundamnental
axiom of the
theory.     axiom is, that everything ought to be treated
according to its nature. This view is maintained, with
special forms of   statement, by the great majority of
writers on morals, and is perhaps the prevalent doctrine
of the Christian world. After what has already been
said, only a few suggestions need be offered.
The fundamnental axionm is true in a special sense.
Axiom exam- Good,well-being,ought to be treated accordned.       ing to its nature.  But in the whole range of
thought or experience,there is no other object which sug.
gests the thought of obligation as to its treatment. No
130 
THEORIES OF OBLIGATION.
other object has a nature calling f(,r any special treat
ment.  The element of truth in the axiom is,that natura;
good, happiness, must be respected because of its nature
But we can stand face to face with truth, and beauty,
and intellect, and will, and body, and space, and tinie,
and eternity, without the thought of obligation, until sen
tient being, with its capacities and wants, comes before
us.  There is nothing in the nature of anything else to
call for any action whatever, except as it comes into relation with sentient being. The good of being is seen to
be flt to be regarded on its own account, and in the light
of it we perceive obligation and understand the nature
of virtuous action.
The particular duties of gratitude, veracity, reverence,
confidence, justice, mercy, and the like, as we Special virtues
have a common
nave seen,  are  not so many  independent  foundation.
forms of virtue, each with its special foundation in the
nature of things, but they are merely the forms which
benevolent action takes in different relations, and modi
fled by different intellectual and emotional elements.
Primary duty is seen directly, as the theory claims,
without any inquiry as to consequences or tendencies;
but the only duty thus seen is the all-compre-  Are not seen
..!,  1.   r n..,}.    ~~independenthensive duty of benevolence.  This in fact is  ly.
the only duty that exists, the only absolute ultimate
right; but the various directions which benevolent action
should take, all subordinate duties, are determined by ai
knowledge of tendencies and probable  results.  Sucl
knowledge is our only guide to practical duty.
There is, in the theory,no provision for that unity of
virtue which the Scripture recognizes.  Be-   No unity of
nevolence, or the love which is the fulfilling   virtue.
of the law, is only one amoing a multitude of independ
13 i. 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
ent obligations, and is the only one to which ithe term
love is appropriate. If the theory in this respect be true
the Scripture statement given in so many different fcrmsi
can only be received as a figure of speech.
The  grand motive  for action  is not the rightness
mghtnes1 not of the action, but is the value of the good iL
amotive.    view of which obligation is perceived.  Riiglit ness is a quality of the action, but the motive for action
is in the nature of the object contemplated, whichl sug.
gests obligation; and that is the value of the good.
The proper maxim for action is not, to do right for the
Maximexam,  sake of the right, but to choose good and do
lned.       good for the sake of the good.  The right is a
mere relation, an abstraction, for the sake of which nothing can be done; the good is a living, breathing interest
addressing itself to every power and susceptibility of our
nature, for the sake of which it is possible and right t(
live and to do.  The first of these maxims leads to fatnati.
cisin. It conveys the impression that there is a righteous
ness which is above respect to particular and, perhaps,
minute interests-that has its eye on a right which is a
sure guide, for ever the same, unmodified by changing
circumstances and contingencies. The man who adopts
the maxim is wont to appeal to the eternal principles of
rectitude in justification of his questionable course, and
exhorts others to "do right if the heavens fall," carefil
to allay their misgivings, however, with the assurance
tha the heavens will not fall. The other maxim tends
to secure a just respect for all interests, and makes the
careful, considerate man, for whose benevolent regard no
being, or good, is too low or too high.
But what is meant by "acting from triinciple?"  Are
there not fixed principles of action, which are to be out
132 
THEORIES OF OBLIGATION.
guide, forever fight and subject to no contingencies I
Yes, the principle of benevolence is such a   Acting from
principle, and out of that springs the principle    principle.
ol obedience to the will of God-a duty as unchangeable
as the duty of benevolence and the divine nature.  \Where
the will of God is specifically expressed, there is no room
for inquiring, except to ascertain that will. But in general, the expression of his will is in terms as brortd as the
duty of benevolence-love to God and man;a and iVe are
left to judge, in the midst of multiform interests, whlat
course benevolence requires.  By immediate instincts, by
judgment, and by experience, we settle certain general
rules of conduct, which we call principles, and l)y which,
in general, we govern our li e. Among these are the
duties of respect for property and life, of obedience to au
thority in the family and in the State, of simplicity and
truthfulness in communication with our fellow-men; but
such principles derive all their authority from their rela.
tion to the duty of benevolence; and, from time to timne.
as circumstances change, we are o' liged to limit or miod
ify the practical principle, in obedience to the higher, unchanging law of benevolence.  To act thus, is to act from
principle-the only eternal principle that exists.
Lastly, the rightness which is supposed to be ultimate
in thought and in fact, is not ultimate. Rightness not
Rightness is conformity to law, and the law  ultimate.
is the perceived obligation, and obligation arises only in
the presence of the good.  The good is thus the founda
tioni of the right. We always ask and give a reason for
the rightness of an action; and that ever recurring reasoni
is, the value of the good of being.
In concluding this brief discussion of the foundation of
obligation, it may be remnaked. that the the,)ry of beney
133 
IMORAL PHILOSOPHY.
olence as comprehending all vilrtue, and having its foan
Incidental ad. dation inl the immutable nature of tllingh
vantage.   has this to recommend it, in addition to its
intrinsic reasonableness, that it combines the leading ideas
of the two great classes of philosophers. It accepts th(
doctrine of the utilitarians, that all ultimate good is in
the satisfaction of sentient being; that is, all good whiclh
is an object of ultimate regard or choice. At the sanme
time, it holds, with all classes of anti-utilitarians, that the
foundation of obligation is in the nature of things, and
that virtuous action is obligatory, independently of all
tendencies and relations. It avoids the tendencies of the
selfish system, which corrupts benevolence by presenting
desire of happiness as the only motive of action; and of
the utilitarian system, which at the best degrades virtue
illto the position of a mnere servant of lial)l iness, having
no authority, or excellence, or worth, exc.el t as it tends
to promote happiness; while on the other hand, it presents no cold abstraction called right, the measure and the
end of virtue, which robs it of its warmith and soul.
The virtue which the theory provides for, is warni with
all living sympathies, having an ol)ject which the soul
embraces with perennial interest, and works for with a
strength cheerfully expended, but always renewed. It is
the love which fulffis the law.
134
I 
PART IL
PRACTICAL ETIICS.
PRELIMINARY REMARKS.
TrE enqniry in this department of morals pertains to
olliga,;iDn, orduty, in particular circumstances Gener,al,tit
and relations. The grand primary duty of ment.
benevol(nce is already determined; it remains to ascer
tain thc' outward fbrms which benevolence assumes in the
various relations of life-not that a knowledge of these
things is a pre-requisite to the meeting of obligation.
Every person in the exercise of the faculties of moral
agency is in a condition to meet his obligation. Hie can
exercise and maintain the benevolent temper of mind.
without any knowledge of outward or practical duty; but
that benevolent disposition at once puts him upon the
work of ascertaining outward duty, the ways and means
of serving God and his fellow-men. The pursuit of such
knowledge, then, is the necessary dictate and outgrowth
of benevolence, and neglect of it is utterly inconsistent
with benevolence.  In this enquiry we are not looking
for any standard of abstract right, which shall indicate
duty in each particular relation. The sole principle to
guide us is the good of being; and in every case the final
enflliiry is, what will advance the general in- Knowledge o,
practical
terests?  Of course, knowledge of practical  duty.
duty, to finite beings, must be contingent, not absolute 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY
except where there is an express divine revelationi, indi
eating the duty. In many cases the duty is so clear as to
admit oif no doubt; in others, honest, conscientious and
intelligent men will differ, and the judgment of the
Christian world will vary, from age to age. It might
seem convenient to have more perfect knowledge, but it
is not necessary to the complete fullfilment of duty.
"Who does the best his circumstance allows,
Does well, acts nobly, angels could no more."
It is necessary that the knowledge of fundamental duty
should be absolute, and admit of no contingency; but
the knowledge of subordinate duty may, in some cases,
be dim, and uncertain, and varying, without involving
any necessary failure in moral character. Such, in fact,
is our condition in this world. Coming to the work with
a benevolent heart, we are in an attitude most favorable
to a knowledge of objective duty.
The subjects cf which we propose to treat may be conSubjects tobe vt'niently arranged under the general dividiscussed.    sions of Government, and Personal Rights
and Duties; not that these divisions are perfectly distinct,
and exclusive each of the other, but they afford such a
grouping of topics as will serve our purpose.  The field
is of indefinite extent, and an attempt to cover the whole
must be vain.
136 
FIRST DIVISION.
CHAPTER I.
GOVERNMENT-ITS NATURE AND FOUNDATIOCN.
GOVERNMENT is a systematic arrangement,for the exer
cise of power and authority over moral beings, to secure their conformnity to obligation,
and thus promote the individual and general well-being.
In every government there are two parties-the person
or party that governs, called the ruler, or simply the gov
ernment, and those who are governed, called subjects
The authoritative expression of duty is called law-somelimes positive or objeetive law, to distinguish it from the
great principle of obligation in the nature of things,
wvhich may be called al)solute law, and from apprehended
duty as affirmed in the reason, called subjective law.
The motives which the government brings to bear in en
forcing duty are called sanctions.   These  are  of two
kinds, rewards, and punishments, or penalties.  In general, penalties are most conslpicuous; the reward of
obedieni(e consisting chiefly in thie enjoyment of the adrantages secured by the government.  It is somewhat
comimon to speak of sanctions as an essential part of the
'aw; and hence, it is often said that a law without sanetions is no law. It seems more simple to regard the
mnere authoritative expression of duty as law, and sane 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
tions as a part of the necessary machinery of government,
without which it is no governmenet.
The proper end of goverinment is the promotion of the
Object of gov-  good of all concerned in it, by seculring, to a
ernnment    greater or less extent, conformity to obligation. It exists not for the pleasure or benefit of the governing party alone, but chiefly for the advantage of the
subjects of the goverinment-really for all.
in its adaptation to secure these interests, we find the
its right to   right of a goverinment to exist.  Finite beings,
exist.      cotuing( into relations with each other, whether
well or ill disposed, require some regulative authority to
provide for the general good, and guard and limit ilidividutal interests.  This is the siiiiple ground upon which
any government can claim a right to be; and if this neressity should cease, the government ought to terminate.
Its furthler existence is an impertinence.  No one can
have a right to govern moral beings simply for his own
pleasure or amusement.
Who has the rig,ht to govern?  Manifestly, he who
The right to  possesses  such  qualifications, and occupies
goveri.
govern   such a position, that he can best secure the
ends of governmient.   These qualifications extend  te
moral character, and to mental and physical endowmlents
-everything(  that  will contribute to one's power as a
ruler.  Proper position involves such conspicuity in the
one iwho affects to rule, that the subjects of the government will most naturally concede to himn the right t(
govern.
The duty to govern, in general, accoinpalies the right.
Dulty to gov-   The  possession of such qualifications is a
emn.     power for good, and the refusal to employ
that po,,wer is a failure in duty.  The power to goveir
138 
GC VERNMENT-ITS NATURE AN'D FOUNDATION.   139
gives the right, and implies the duty to govern. In the
family, the parents have not only the right to govern, it is
their dutv as well.  The same is true of the teacher in
the school, and of the ruler in the state; neither
teacher nor ruler can abdicate his authority without a
failure in duty.
There is no fixed and universal method by which th
ruler is to be designated.  He may be indi-   Ruler, how
cated by his position, or by the possession of   designated
qualifications so pre-eminent as to admit of no challenge.
Thus parents stand in the family, and the teacher in the
school. Or, one may have in himself such conscious
strength and ability as to make it safe for him to assume
the government; as in the case of a skillful navigator on
dhip-board in a storm, in the midst of a disorganized
crew, or a well-disposed and vigorous man in a group of
quarrelsome boys. They need to be governed, and he
feels competent to the task; he needs no other charter.
One may come legitimately to the government by birth,
as in a hereditary monarchy. In such a case, position
stands before other qualifications, and is made by the
thought and habits of the people the chief element in the
power to govern.
Among those essentially equal in ability and position,
the natural mode of designating the ruler is        Amon
by election.  Such a designation gives posi-        equalB
tion and power to govern, and therefore the right.  It is
only in a case of extreme necessity,that any qualification
whatsoever in another, will indicate that he should gov
ern,iiistead of the one elected.
That form of government is legitimate which is bes
adapted to answer the end of government,  Form of gov
under all the circumstances of the case. It is ernment. 
VMORAL PHILOSOPHY.
not self-evident, nor even probable, that one form of gov
ernment is under all contingencies the best. That gov.
irnment is relatively the best, which, on the whole, best
promotes the interests of its subjects; it may be a democracy, a monarchy, limited or absolute, or even a military despotism.  Whatever, under the circumstances, is
best, is legitimate, and needs to offer no apology for its
existence. A change of conditions may make another
form better.
The extent to which the authority of a government
Extent of    may reach, is to be determined by the wants
authority. of the community to which it pertains, and
by its ability to meet those wants. In general, the right
to control extends no farther than the interests of the
subjects demand.  A parent has a right to control his
family,to the extent of the interests of the famnily, and no
farther. Any authority beyond this,transcends the legiti
mate scope and purpose of government.
In order to the right of a government to exist, it ip
Right not in  not necessary that all who are to be its sub
desire.    jects should  desire it, nor  even that  any
should. It is enough that they need the government, and
that there is one who can govern to their advantage. It
is often a duty to do for others what they need to have
done,without their consent, and even against their will;
as to rescue one who, on the point of freezing, chooses
to sleep, or to save one who purposes suicide.  The less
the children of a family or the pupils of a school, desire
to be governed, the more they need it. The right to
govern on the one part, implies the duty of obedience on
the other. The right and the duty are correlatives; each
implies the other.
The principal governments in which we are concerned
1 N 
GOVERNMEFNT-'TS NATURE ANAD FOUNDATION.  14]
&re the Divine  government,  Civil government,  and
Family government.  These are permanent  Leading go.
and universal; there are others which are  ernments.
temporary, limited in their application, as in thle case of
associations for business, or for literary or religious pur
poor. 
CHAPTER II.
THE DIVINE GOVERNMENT.
THE Divine government embraces as its sul)jectf all
[ts constitu- finite moral beings, and the authority of the
fion.      government extends to all their moral conduct;
hence the government is, in every sense, universal. The
head of this government is God, who in his own person
exercises all the functions of government-legislative,
judicial, and executive. Thus he is absolute Monarch
no constitution limits his authority, and he receives no
counsel firom his slub-jects in aiiy form.  HIe needs none,
either in himself, or for the satisfaction of his stlubjects.
Any participation, o)n the psrt of finite beings, in the gov.
f (nlent,'woIIld not add to our confidence in the government, but detract fi'om it.
God assumes thle government, not simply because he
What aie not is the Creator, and therefore has a right to do
the reaions.  vwhiat lie will with his own.  In a very iml ortant sense hle owns the universe; but there is no sicli
ownership of moral beings possible, as makes it preper
to dispose of them arbitrarily, without reasonable regard
to their good. God never claims the right to appoint
arbitrarily, without due reason, the destiny of his creattuoes.  Nor merely becaluse he is good does he claini the
riglht to govern.  There are other good beings in the nni.
verse, but they have no such right.  Good'iess is one of
the qualifications, but that alone does not confer the right.
The duty would exist without the goodness; he wnld 
THE DIVINE GOVERN-IENT.
be under obligation to become good, and to establish a
righteous government.
God governs the universe because it needs to be governed, and because he, and he alone, is per-  What are tLe
fectly able to govern.  These two facts would   reason.
constitute him ruler, even if he were not the Creator
rhe fact of his being Creator demonstrates his qualifications-reveals him to man as the infinite and perfect, capable of universal dominion. Hie does not ask the consent of his creatures to his exercise of authority.   Hlis
right to govern rests on no such contingency. Hle assumes
the government, and requires the obedience of his sub
jects. All moral beings are constrained to acknowledge
his right to govern, and their own duty to obey.
The law which God proclaims and enforces, is the moral
law-the law of nature and of reason.  The    The divine
great principle of obligation he does not cre-   law.
ate. It exists in the nature of things, is affirmed in his
own reason, and re-affirmed in every finite reason. As
thus existing in the reason, it is law-subjective law, a
real expression of obligation; and conformity to it would
be virtue. God adds to this original principle of obligation the authority of his own will, and pubishbes and enforces it throughout the moral universe.  It thus becomes
the law of God, having a vitality and impressiveness to
his creatures, indefinitely greater than that of any abstract principle.  This expression of his will is found in
the constitution of his creatures, in the course of hi
providence, and in his written word.
The knowledge of God's existence and attributes,
)rings to men, from their own moral constitu-   How knowv
ticn, the conviction that he holds them ac-   to men.
countable for all their moial conduct. The ap)prehension
143 
MOR AI. PIIILOSO'IIY.
of accountability is not strictly intuitive, like that of ob
ligation; but the conviction of it fastens upon the sou,
with an authority which it can never throw off, however
at may resist  ]ien do not need an express announcement
that this accountability extends to every thought, words
aind deed-all their moral life  the knowledge of God's
character, and of their dependence upon him, brings with
it this conviction. Children look to parental authority
for q vindication of the common principles of humanity
and morality. No child could complain, if punished for
an %ct of cruelty, or an immorality, that the parent had
not expressly forbidden it. The relation itself, in which
he is placed, leads him to expect such supervision of his
life, and to regard all matters, seriously affecting charac
ter and conduct, as embraced, of course, in parental law.
So men instinctively look to God, when once they know
nim, as their guardian in reference to all matters of obligation. In virtuous action they expect his favor, in sin
they dread his frown.  Thus they apprehend that the law
of nature and of reason, the law of obligation, is the law
of God. All this is true to thoughtful mninds, even without what we call revelation. But his written word cometi
with its clear utterances, the published law of God's gov.
eminent, and removes all excuse even from the thoughtless.
The revealed law we have in the decalogue, the ten
commandments.  These express, not the ab
stract principle of obligation, but the law of
duty in its application to the great interests of life-the
lawc in a concrete form.  The general method is to sug
gest the great classes of duties by leading examples. Thusn
in the fifth commandment, honor to parents is expressed,
and duty in all similar relations is implied.  In the sixth,
14 
THE DIVINE GOVERNMENT.
murder is expressly forbidden, and all malicious injury
to life or limb is prohibited, by implication;  and  so
throughout the decalogue.   In  this form  the law is
adapted to the comprehension of the unreasoning, serving
all the purposes of an abstract, comprehensive statement of
obligation, and of a definite, specific expression of objective
duty. The later revelation presents the law in the more
comprehensive form of love to God, and love to our neighbor; and again in the practical, suggestive form, called the
golden rule: "As ye would that men should do to you,
do ye even so to them "-a maxim which furnishes a
stand-point from which our duties to men are to be
viewed. At last we have the expression of duty in its
simple, subjective form: "Love is the fulfilling of the
law,"-implying that the attitude of mind required,
toward God and toward men, is essentially the same, and
'.hat virtue is one thing and only one-benevolence. It
E worthy of remark that in every one of these forms, in
which the law of God is embodied, sentient being alone
is made the object of regard. Every precept expressing
duty, every prohibition forbidding crime, directs the
thought to God or man. We have no abstract right or
truth set up as an object of respect, but every command
is warm with living interests, presenting the great object
upon which obligation centers.
The authority of examples, the actions of good men as
recorded in the Bible, extends to the principle   Authority of
of action alone-subjective duity, not objective.   examples.
Abraham was obedient, walking according to his light
We are to take his life as an indication of his spirit, and
cherishing the same spirit, must walk according to our
light. So of all the good men of the Bible: their outward life is not our guide, but their inward obedience
7
145 
MORAL PIILOSOPHY.
The good mian, under our clearer lighlt, can l)e as good as
tlhe faithful of olJi only by l)resentitg a better outward
lite.
Is it not possible that a similar principle applies even
rhe Sa viour's to the Saviour's example? In appearing
efafuriu.   aluolig men, his outwar-d conduct niust be
suchl as could coimmend itself to the judgineLit ot' the
gool around him.   In order to this, he miust walk by
li,lght accessible to themi, not by  his own  clearer vision.   Upon  any  otlher pIiineil)le tlhai  this, his charaeter woull have been misunderstood, and his coniiduct
would have raised questions not pertinent to his mission.
lie camne to exhibit the spirit of love and obedience.  It
was just as necessary that his lite should take on bforms
.whlichl the people could comprehend, as that he should
speak to tlemn in a languag,e which  they  understood.
llis lite was such as the best of his time would approve.
It is not certain that his style  of  dress as a inan  or
his work as a carpenter, should be accepted by us as a
model, or that we should use wine because he made  and
used it.  Though gifted with infinite knowledge, he was
obliged in a great degree to conform his outward life to
human judgment.   The world was not sufferi-ing for light
in referencee to outward dlty, but for motives to inward
righteousness.  We imitate the Saviour, then, by partaking of his spirit of benevolence, and walking by the light
we have.
It is to be observed that obedience to the divine law
Genuine vir- iS genuine virtue; that its requirements refer
tue required. primarily to the internal moral state, and secondarily to the outward conduct. The law is satisfied
with the inward obedience, not with any outward conduct
vhatever. In this respect it differs from all human laws
146 
THE DIVINE GOVER-NMiENT.
The illlmediate object of human law is the outward con.
duct; it is satisfied with conformity in this re&,pect,with)ut reference to the moral state. "Man looketh on the
,utward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart."
We sometimes hear that physical law is a part of the
aw of God, and ought to be obeyed.  The  Physical law,
.anguage implies great confusion of thought.  notmoral.
Physical law is simply the mode in which forces act in
the natural world, or the order of events in the relation
of cause and effect. It is a fact which is to be considered
in our judgment of outward duty. The facts of our
physical constitution, the laws of life and health,as they
are called, are of account to us, and call for attentionare to be taken for what they are worth in determininig
duty.  But every law which ought to be obeyed, wlicli
involves the idea of obligation, is a moral law.    Physi
cal law contains no ougqt. If it is merely intended that
the laws of our physical constitution are always to be con
formed to, so as to secure the highest health and the
longest life, even this is not a universal truth. The
moral law often leads us where health and life are sacrificed. It sends the gospel missionary to a malarious
climate, the soldier to the battle-field, the martyr to the
stake, and lays upon men, in the work of every day
burdens which crush their strength and shorten their
days.
The law of God is strictly personal; it addresses every
one on the ground of his own personality,  Personality o
and adapts itself completely to his condition  thelaw.
and circumstances.  It has no average standard of duty,
adapted to families, or ages, or races; and the final ap
Dointmient of good or evil is not made to men in gr'oiups
or by nations, but with a discrimination which takes note
1.1.7 
MORAL PHILOSOPHTY.
)f personal character.  Yet there is a sense in wllich the
dlivitie government peirtains to famrilies and nations, ini
Application   their collective (chIaaecter.  Tlicse have a kinld
(, famnilios
rnd nations.   of iunity, a continuous  collective lite, trans.
tllitted from generation to generation.  The individual
']hat c(nilpose the family, or the nation, pass away;but
tlteis succeed to thleir places, sustain similar relations
nd responsibilities, and atdopl)t the practices and princiI)les of' actioni, and thus endorse the deeds of those who
hiatve p)receded tlem.  Thus, in a oeneral wa, we attriI)lit to the British nation, or to the French, the charactei, and acts even, which have been exhibited in their
Jistory during several generations.  We refer them to no
individual, but to the nation at large.  In a simiilar manner, God, in his word, speaks of the Jewislhi people, and
of otler nations, and clarges upon them  sins which, in
their specific f,rmn, had been coimnuitted( ages before.  But
the sin lead never been put  away; no amends h]ad even
neen atteripted, and the people still held to thle same general course.   A nation may adopt a system of injustice
or oppression, and transmnit it, as we have seen in our own
land, from generation to generation, becoming thus a nation of oppressors.  The guilt is all personal, as all sin
must be.  The sin of the nation is but the aggregTate of
the individual sin; it characterizes the nation, and it is a
part of God's administration to s]how his disapprobation
of such nations, that other nations may be instruceted.  The
yations dealt  career of nations is limited to this wvorld, and
xilh in this
world.      the display of the divine judgment upon nations must be made here.  The catastrophe may be long
]eifrred, blut it comes at lengtl, and bring,s retribution fobr
the sins of generations; thus God " visits the iniquities
of the fathers upon the children to the third and fol'th
L48 
THE DIVINE GOVERNMAIENT.
generation  of them that hate him."  Still the guilt is
all individual; and in the final allotlment of the dcstiiiies
of men, this national sin will be distributed to its })rol)el
owners.  " The son shall not bear the iniquity of tlifalther, neither shall the father bear the iniquiity of tl)(
son.  The righteousness of the righteous shall be uipo
him, and the wickednes-s of the wicked shall be upon
him.""
WThat is properly called a national sin imust have some
specific outward formn, either sanctioned by v atiai
<  Nati(- Hal sins.
the government, or sustained by general society, or both. But one may share in the national sin, who
has had no connection with it in outward form. It; in
any respect, he has failed in obedience to the divine law,
he lias,so far,presented an examnple of disobedience.  Thus
he gives his sanction, in the most effective form, to any
wrong to whilch the people may be inclined, and strength
ens and extends the national sin.  Hence, the duty of repentanice for national sins, and confession of them, pertains to every member of the community who has not
"a conscience void of offence toward  God  and  toward
men."
It I 
CHAPTER III.
?ENALTIES JUNDER THE DIVINE GO)VERNMEl'T.
PENALTY is evil inflicted by the government  upc: L a
Nature of   transgressor, as an expression of his guilt or
penalty.    ill-desert.   The object of the penalty is, in
general, to sustain the government and the law, and thus
to suil)seirve the public good.
The effect of the penalty is two-fold: First, it induces
Primary     fear, the apprehension of similar evil in the
effect.     case of transgression.  The immediate effect
of fear as a motive, is to secure an outward conformity to
the law. Thus, Burns says:
"The fear of bell's the hangman's whip,
To haud the wretch in order."
Such outward confo)rinity secures thie end of humnan gov.
ernment, but in the divine, outward conformity is no obedience.  True virtue cannot result immediately from fear,
but indirectly it may. Fear leads to reflection, and reflection often leads to a renunciation of sin, and the practice
of virtue.  Hience, the fear of punishmnent is a proper
consideration to urge upon the thoughtless and the waywarld.
But a second and much more important effect of pensecondary   alty, is to make an impressive exhibition of
effect.    the nature and ill-desert of sin, and thus lead
to its renunciation. The guilt of evil-doing is most forcibly exhibited in the light of the penalty which it doe
serves and incurs. Crime unpunished ceases to be reo 
PENALTIES UNDER THE DIVINE GOVERNMENT.   151
garded as crime, and the denial of punishment in the
divine government is wont to be attended by a low estimate of the guilt of sin.  It may be the occasion or the
consequence of the denial, or both; but when  penalty
ceases to be contemplated, sin will be considered an igno
rance or a blunder.
It is a matter of intuitive perception that the evil-doe
deserves punishment, but ill-desert is not a IL.aesert and
sufi cient reason for the infliction of punish-  penalty.
me 4t; if it were, pardon would always be wrong when
pn? isliment is deserved.  It is true, we have an "ethical
nal Ire," involving a sentiment of justice, which is gratifie( with the appropriate punishlment of sin; but we
ha, a, as well, a sentiment of compassion disposing to mercy.
Ne tlher of these feelings, nor any other feeling, is a
gl tle to right in the case.  The proper end of punishme it is not to meet the desert  of the sinner, and thus
sat sfy the law; it nmay be abstractly right that he
shcould have his deserts, but abstract right is not an end
to be pursued, still less is it a reason for inflicting any
evil; and the law, apart from the good it secures, is nlothing.
The satisfactory reason for punishment is, that it is necessary to the general good.  Its tendency to  Reasons fot
restrain from transgression, to promote vir- penalty
tue and happiness, warrants its infliction.  Any coimbination of circumstances which removes this reason for tho
pena,ty, makes its infliction imprcper.  The existence of
ill-desert is necessary to punishment but of itself it is nt
satisfactory reason for punishment. Ill-desert exists evei
after pardon has been bestowed, bat it is not a reason for
punishment.
In regard to the extent of Denalty, its degree and du. 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
ration, we have no natural, intuitive rule. To the hu
;ent of    man understanding, there is no common tnea I-etyl.    sure of guilt and of evil, by which we can
balance a given degree of guilt by its equivalent of pain.
And, again, if there were such a standard, it is not self:
evident that the penalty should iii every case reach tlhe
,xact desert of the tiransgression.  It could not properly
exceed the guilt; but if it were clear or probable that the
public good could be as well sustained by a penalty less
than the desert, it would be ri,ght to inflict the lighter penalty; because the only true reason for the penalty is, that
it subserves that good.  Unlquestionably there should be
some general correspondence  between the penalty and
the sin, the more  aggravated crine being visited with
the sterner penalty; beyond this somewhat vague idea,
we have no exact knowledge. It is a matter of experlience, in human governments, to ascertain how severe iii
degree and in duration its penalties should be-hlom
many years of imprisonment to appoint to a given criene,
and how much of hardship should be involved in the
imprisonment.  These question, are settled only by tlhe
experience of generations; and it is altogether possible
that the proper standard of Decalty in one state of society, may not be suited to another. If it be true that
lighter penalties, in our day, answer the ends of government, as wet as did the severer ones of former genera ions, this of itself does not prove that those severer
p)enalties were out of place. Perhaps they were needed
then.  Such is the attitude of the transgressor of law,
that it is just to inflict upon  him  any evil that is
necessary  to  counteract the  mischief of  his  doings.
Until that degree  of penalty is reached, he  cannot
(complain that it exceeds his desert; but beyond that
152 
PENALTIES UNDER THE DIVINE GOVERNMENT.
there is, in the nature of things, no warrant for inflicting
penalty.
A distinction is to be made between discipline and
penalty.  These are often confounded.  Dis-   Discipline
cipline, is imparting instruction and culture   not penty
b)y the infliction of pain. It sometimes follows transgress
ion, for correction; and sometimes it is bestowed in advance, for prevention.  Its chief aim is the improvement
of the subject, and it sustains no certain relation to
guilt.   Discipline may exist without guilt, punishment
cannot. Discipline is not always an expression of moral
disapprobation; it always indicates a want, for which the
discipline is offered as a remedy. Punishment, on the
other hand, respects the public good. The criminal has
forfeited his own good by his crime, and the government
is required to remedy, as far as may be, the mischief of
the crime by punishment. The good of the community
and not of the offender, is the measure of the punishment. If it can be made to subserve his good, at the
same time, all the better; it serves then the double pur.
pose of discipline and of punishment. Such a comnbination often exists, especially in family and  Combination
school government; but, even in the family,  of the two.
the idea of good to the offender must sometimes be
relinquished, and punishment must be inflicted for the
good of the family alone.  It is not true, then, that
punishment contemplates, primarily, or even at all, the
reformation of the offender, nor is it necessary that, in
form, it should be adapted to this end.  The first point
to be secured is the protection of society; and whatever
can be done for the offender, consistently with this, be
nevolence requires should be done. Punishment aims
to prevent crime by its effect upon the subjects of the
7*
153 
.IMORAL PHI.OSOPHY.
government at large, and not chiefly by its effect up)on
the criminal himself.  The term penitentiary is an in
adequate name for the state prison. It should be first
a prison, and afterward a school of reform; and it cannot
be a successful school of reform, without being distinctly
a prison,
Penalties are of thie same essential nature in the diPenaltyin di- vine government as in human government,
vine governmtnt.      and must be inflicted upon tile same conditions,and for the same end. They are natural evils, inflicted
upon  the transgressor by the governmient, to counteract the mischief of the transgression, and promote obedience to the law. The necessity for penalty in the divine administration, is the same as in any government.
It is a government of moral beings, by motive, not by
force; and an essential element in the moral power of
the government, is penalty. There is a vague idea, somewhat prevalent, that God, by his attribute of almighty
power, can govern the world without such motives; but
the subjects of his government are moral beings; and
virtue, which alone is obedience to the divine law, is the
free action of moral beings. Almighty power can create and destroy moral beings; it cannot compel virtuous
action. Omnipotence and moral power are totally distinct, and one cannot take the place of the other.  The
material universe, God controls by physical power; lhe
persuades to viIrtue by motives.
Of the form, and degree, and duration of penalty in
Degree and   God's  government, we  have  no  intuitive
duration.  knowledge; all that we know, positively, is
matter of revelation, either thlrough God's providence or
his written word, and a full discussion of the subject belongs rather to Biblical Theology than to morals.  It
154 
PENALTIES UNDER TIlE DIVINE GOVEITNMENT.   ] 53
may be sutfflcit-nt to say here that the announcements of
the penalty of sin are among the most striking and  in
pressive and  unambiguous declarations of God's word(J
They are found, not in the older  ilebrew  Scripture
atone, but, in most positive and definite forms, in the
latest revelation, and none more significant than thoso
which fell from the lips of the Saviour himself.  -Iis work
of redemption and pardon needed to be exhibited upon
the terrible back-ground of the penalty of the law, to
save it from misconstruction.  The human conscience, in
all ages, has responded to these declarations, and has even
formed to itself such conceptions, without the light of
revelation.  Speculative philosophy has sometimes  attempted to break the force of these announcements, by
showing that there was no ground for thein-that there
could be no such ill-desert on the part of finite beings as
would justify everlasting punishment. A simple reflection uipon the n ature of guilt, will set aside the Guilt everspeculation.  Guilt is, in its own nature, as  lasting.
enduring as the subject of it.  While the sinner exists,
he must be guilty for every sin he has committed. The
sin renders him ill-deserving, and that ill-desert attaches
to his personality, and can never be discharged. No subsequent virtue can offset it, because the virtue can never
exceed the obligation under which it exists. It canuot be cancelled by punishment; it is not in the nature
of punishment to remove guilt. The ill-desert is just as
great after punishment as before. Piardon sets aside
penalty, but does not remove the guilt. The pardoned
sinner receives favor that he nevel  can deserve.  Giul
is, in the nature of the case, as lasting as the soul. Tlti,
affords a natural condition for everlasting punishment.
If such punishment is necessary, it will not be unjust, Of 
MORAL PHILOSOP HY
its necessity, human reason cannot properly testify. Of
the fact of such punishment, revelation alone can speak
It is often maintained that guilt is itifntite, and therefore
pu.iishment may be everlasting. It is better to say, what
seems clearly comprehensible and true, that guilt is end
ess.
It is sometimes urged, that the natural consequences of
Natural con-  wrong doing are the proper penalty of the
s,equences  and
penalty.    sin, the appointed means by which God ex presses his disapprobation of it. This view is restricted,
wholly, to the divine government.  No one dreams that
the natural consequence of transgression can be penalty
in any human government. Does it answer this purpose
in God's government?
Natural consequences of acts of transgression are of
Twokinds or two kinds; the consequences of the outward
consequences. act as a physical act, and the consequence of
the inward sinful state.  The result of the outward act
is the immediate physical effect, of which the act itself is
the cause. The pain and injmuy of burning, come from
contact with fire, the inevitable consequence,whether the
act, with reference to its internal character, be sinfii, accidental, or benevolent. The effect of taking poison, is
death, whether the act be intentional or not. So, of
drinking alcoholic spirits, the result is intoxication, without reference to the motive of the act. The injury of
the burn is not the penalty of encountering the fire; if
The injury   so, the fireman is punished for his heroic benot penalty. nevolence. Death is not the penalty of swallowing poison; if so, the innocent are often punished. In
all these eases, the consequence is the mere effect of the(
external act; but it does not serve the purpose of a penalty.  It is in the established order of nature, and thus
156 
E5ALr lES-i UNDEIR THIE DIVINE GOVERNMENT.   1;
i., part of the divine arrangement; but the evidence io
ei;irely wanting that it is an expression of God's disap
pr)bation of the act, any more than the pleasure of an
act of sin is an expression of his approval. If so, he
does not discriminate between an act of duty, which in
volves self'sacrifice and pain, and an act of sin.  It is in
.Conceivable, that penalties uinder God's administration
should be dispensed so iiidisciminately.  Any government must fail that should depend onl such a distribution
of penalties. The sinple fact is, that God has connected
the consequence with the external act, without reference
to its character. In general, it is duty to avoid the act,
and the injury that follows.  At tiles, it is duty to elncounter the evil. It is not possible to conceive that God
punishes anl act of duty.  Can we, then, discriminate and
say, that when the act is virtuous, or innocent, the evil
consequence is not punishment, but it becomes punish
ment when  the act is sinful?  But the fact that it is in
evitable, whether the act was virtuous or sinful, miust destroy its effect as penalty. It is not seen to be an unequivocal expression of disapprobation on the part of
the government.   The acts in  question become  sin
ful, only in consequence of the evil that follows.  The
use of intoxicating drinks would not be sinful, but for the
harm that follows.  We have, then, the singular combination of a penalty attached to an innocent act, which becomies sinful on account of the annexed penalty.  To account these inevitable consequences penalties, cannot fail
to lead to confusion, in reference to the divine governmnent
and to abate firom the significance of God's disapprobation.
It is a common remark, that physical laws are God's
_aws, and that these inevitable consequences  Physical lawy
are the penalty of physieal 14w.  We have  and penalty 
M1ORAL  PIIILOSOPIIY.
seen that, to speak of physical law as obligatory, or capa.
ble of being violated, or as bringing punishment, involves
utter conftision.  Physical law is no law of obligation,
and can have no penalty.  There is no clear thought thia'
answers to these words.
But is not the remorse, the self-condemnation, which
le remorse    attends upon a sinful act, a real penalty?  I
penalty?   iS true that this does not occur without sin,
unless it sometimes results, under morbid conditions,
from fancied sin.  Remorse is a natural consequence of
sin, provided for in the very constitution of moral beings;
and the very fact that it is an inevitable c(onsequeince,
inseparable, in thought, from a moral being in an act
of sin, unfits it to serve the purpose of penalty. It cannot serve as penalty in human government, because it'not inflicted by the government, and can be no10 expression of  its disapprobation.    I-luian governlmeilt
may bring its penalties  to bear, in connection with
-his tendency of the soul.  It may shut a mlan up to
himself, and compel to reflection, and thus make its penalties effective.  For the same reason, mere self condemnation cannot become penalty in the divine government.
Its existence is not the result of a governmental arrangeinenit.  It is true that God created the moral constitution,
but it is inconceivable that a moral being could be made
without the constitutional necessity for self-condemnnation.  Ilence, simpler inevitable self-condemination does'
not carry with it evidence of disapprobation from the
government. It would arise all the same, if moral be
!ngs could exist and sin, without any divine governiiient. It is not a result of government, but rather
of the perception of obligation, and a failure to meet it.
and obligation is not founded on goverinment, but gov.
158 
PENALTIES UNDER THE DIVINE GOVERN ENILNT.   159
ernmentt is founded on obligation. Remorse, in itself, id
not properly penalty, under the government of God; but
penalties may reach the sinner through this channel,
That remorse which results fiom providential  May be made
arrangement, involving the evidence of God's  penalty.
tiitervention, the pain of which is intensified by the con
sciousness of his displeasure, is an effective punishment
This is no mere natural consequence.  It is a positive
divine action upon the soul, through the natural channels
of the moral nature.
There is also an important distinction to be observed between natural and providential consequences.  Providential
Many of the firequent results of sin, which we  consequences.
call natural consequences, are not strictly such.  They
are not the inevitable, necessary sequences of the acts,
hut come about through a combination of forces which
FugOgest,the intervention of providence. A drunkard, in
his intoxication, is precipitated from a height and crushed.
This is not strictly a natural consequence of his sin. It
.s not rare that such circumstances attend an event of
'he sort, as to impress all beholders with a conviction
that it comes of divine appointment.  It is true that an
innocent blind man may suffer a similar catastrophe, and
it may be dicffiult to determine what circumstances are
necessarv to indicate that one of these events is a divine
judgment, and the other not; but the difference is sometimes so clearly marked as to remove all doubt, and tot
impress all beholders with awe, in view of this foreshladowitlIg of "the righteous judgment of God."  Such evente
has e occurred in the history of individuals, and of nations)
rlley come, to all human appearance, througth the operal
t iol, ofC natural laws; but they are accepted is providen
tial, not merely natural, consequences 
CHAPTER IV.
CIVIL GOVERNMENT.
CWIL GOVERNMENT rests on the common  f)undation
!ttfounds   -of all government-itsnecessity for the welltion.       being of its stlubjects.  It seems essential to
the safety and prosperity of mnankind. Without it, there
is no progress in civilization, in the general social or
moral condition; and in proportion as the government
becomes settled, and is made effective for the protection
of the interests of the people, the general condition of the,
community is improved.
This fact, of the necessity of government to the well
being of any conmmunity, gives to one who  occupies a
Right to    favorable position, and possesses other qualif
govern.     cations, the  right to govern, and imposes upon
the rest the obligations of obedience.  In order to this
obligation, it is not necessary that the ruler should be
desi,gnated in anyv one specific form.  The  mode of his
designtation, or appointment, is involved in the form of
the government; and the form of government, actual or
possible, depends    greatly upon the condition of the peo
pormn of gov- ple, as to intelligence and virtue; but more,
eriimeit.   perhaps, uponI their  origin  and  historical
growth. Out of these the ritling forces of society commonly arise. The civil governments of the world have not,
in most cases, been adopted arbitrarily, nor have they
been complete, in form, at their first institution.  They
nave grown to their ultimate proportions from some formative principle, existing in the earliest condition of the 
CIVIL GOVERNMENT.
people, and from additional forces which have operated
from time to time.  iAIueh depends upon the original
chlaracter of the people, as a whole, and somewhat upon
the mouldinug power of individual minds that have appeared in its history.  There seems to be no power in a
ration to change, utterly, and at will, its form of government.  Great and sudden changes occur, but they were
provided for in the antecedent condition of the people,
and do not come arbitrarily.
That form  of government, then, is legitimate which
actually exists; because, in general, it is the  Legitimate
form which is adapted to the people, by reason  governlment.
of their character and history.  It is legitimate, because
it best subserves their interests.    TWhenever another form
will better serve the purpose of government, will better
secure the interests of the governed, they have a right to
secure it.
A distinction has been made between a government
de facto, and a government de jure —between  A common
the existing and the legitimate government.  distinction.
But the existing government, whatever it be, must bie aecounted legitimate until a better or another takles its place.
The government exists because there is at present  no
power to secure a better; and it must be respected, and sustained, within the limits always set to submission to human
authority.  It nmay have originated in wickedness, or usurpation, as most of the governments of the world have done.
yet, until something better can be secured, allegiance is due
it. We are not to look at its origin but at its immediate bear
ing on the interests of the people. It ceases to have author
ty when a better is attainable.  The " Southern Confed
eracy," if successful, would have been a legitimate govern
ment, to the extent of claiming the obedience of the peo
161 - 
MNIORAL PHILOSOPIIY.
ple, although it originated in a wanton and wicked re
bellion.
A tyranny is a government which is administered foi
the pleasure or advantage of a class, or of a
a tyranny
tyranny    few, in opposition to the interests of the many
[t fails to answer the ends of government.  Any govern
ment may properly be called a tyrIanny,whichl holds it3
place and form to the exclusion of another which is possi.
ble, under all the circumstances., and which would better
promote the end.  In this view, many governments are
tyrannous in some of their features, while beneficent on
the wh-ole.  The chaltacter of a government does not depend, wholly, upon the personal character and intentions
of the rulers.  They may be corrupt, in character, and
yet not able to pervert the government; or they may be
honest and well-disposed, and still be unable to give the
government a beneficent bearing. Good rulers may
render a badly constituted government tolerable, and bad
rulers may pervert a good government.
The constitution of a government is the established
The constitu-  mode in which the   overnment is adminisIfh oat ion.-  erm
tion.       tered, including the appointment of rulers,
and the distribution of the fiunctions of government.
The constitution may exist in a generally accepted order
of things, transmitted from one generationi to  another,
with little change or questionI-an unwritten constitution
or it may exist as a written document, prescribing, in definite terms, the mode of administration.  A constitution
written or unwritten, to have stability, must conformn t(
the general views and life of the people. It must be the
outgrowth of the social forces which prevail.  A written
constitution, to be successful, must, in general, exist before
as an unwritten one; or rather, it must lhave its found,
162 
CIViL GOVERNMENT.
tlon in the established thought of the people.   A  constitution, written, ard formally adopted, cannot be consid.
ered as established, until it has been subjected  Its establishto years of trial, and has served its purpose in ment.
times of conflict, as well as of peace. No constitution can
be established for all time.  The people change, and thus
arises anew adjustment offorces.  New emnergencies arise,
not anticipated, and for which no provision has been
made. Hence, constitutions must change. Their only
binding force, or sacredness, is in the interests they sustain.  When they fail to meet the want, they must give
way.  If the change can be effected by modes prescribed
in the constitution itself, it is well; but in any case, the
safety of the people is to be secured, if possible, even if
the constitution suffers. The constitution is a means, and
not an end.  Every progressive state is evolving new
constitutional principles.
The somevwhat popular idea that civil government is
a social compact, and derives its authority Not a social
fi'om general agreement, or consent, is not an compact.
axiom, or even a truth. With rare exceptions, governments have not arisen in this manner; and even if such
had been their origin historically, it would not have been
the foundation of their authority. Alen need to be governed. If they consent, it is well; if not, they must still
be governed. It may be said that, in yielding, they consent; but the right of the government to command, precedes the yielding. It may compel the obedience of
e, or of many.
The right to govern does not,universally, rest with the
i,aj(frity. It is not a question of will, but of Riht of tan
nterests.  The presumption is in favor of the  majority.
majority; but if, at any time, a few can better secure the
163 
IIMORAL PHILOSOPI]Y.
interests of all, it is their right and duty to do it. This
is always the case in the fathmil.y-, and iii the school; it
may sometimes be so in thi state.
The principle of representation, as a condition of obli
erincipre o    nation to obey and support the government,
,on.    is not a universal one.  It is not always true
liat such a constitution is possible, as shall secure fuil]
representation of all classes;yet the government is valid,
and can require the support of its subjects, while it serves
the ends of government.  Taxation without formal representation, is not necessarily tyranny.  Where protectionI is afforded to persons and to property, the right
of taxation exists, both on the basis of persons and of
property. The cost of protecting the person can be required of each person; and the cost of protecting property, of each holder of property.
The right or privilege of voting for rulers is to be deRight of vot- termined upon similar principles.  The lri(rht
ing.        depends uponl the constitution of the government, and the constitution of the government is determined by what is possible and best.  It is not a right
which attaches to human nature, unconditionally, and ne
one can demand it as a condition of submitting to gov.
ernient.  No one can claim the privilege, except upon
the ground that his exercise of the right will be promo
tive of the public good, or, at least, not detrimental to it.
If the right is claimed for foreigners, the claim must be
based, not on any abstract justice, but on a probable
benefit to the community.   If the claim is made  in
)ehlalf of women, it must be on similar grounds.
The exercise of the right of suffrage is a governinental
Duty of vot- function.   It directs and controls the advini.
Heg.       istration of the government, and hlence should
164 
CIVIL GOVERNMENT.
be contemplated as a responsibility, and not as a per.
tonal privilege, to be used or neglected at will. Those
to whom the right is extended, have a duty to perform, and carelessness or dishonesty is a breach of trust.
if the intelligent and the virtuous neglect this duty,
they surrender the government to the ignorant and the
vicious. It is not a question of personal convenience, or
interest, but of public responsibility. The ballot does
not of itself afford a just distribution of influence. It
gives to the ignorant and the corrupt the same weight in
government, as to the wise and virtuous. This, in itself,
is wrong; but the evil is, to a great extent, remedied by
the operation of personal influence, which gives to a
wise man the direction of the votes of the ignorant and
Thoughtless. Thus, a widely extended suffrage becomes
safe and just principle of government.
The idea that rulers, in a democratic state, are the servants of the people, to execute their will, con-    A false de
rains only a partial truth. They are servants,
in the sense that they are to promote the real interests
of the people, not to do their pleasure. They are elected
to govern, not to serve. In the same sense, parents are
servants of their children, and teachers of their pupils.
They are to do what is needed —not always what is de
sired. There is a similar error in the doctrine of instrue
tion-that a representative must vote accord-    Doctrine of
ing to the will of a majority of his constitu-   instruction.
ents.  Hle is to take his place in a deliberative assembly
where the interests of all parties, and of all portions of
the country, are to be considered. These interests, in all
their extent, are to govern his vote, not simply the special
interests of those who elected him, and certainly not
their mere will.
165 
1MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
In every civil gove nment, whatever its form, the will
: of the   of the governed is a controlling powel, wletlie(.verned.    er expressed by vote and representation, or
,,lot. A government in direct conflict with the aggregate
,vill of the people, is always impossible.  An  absoltute
IIollIarclI is not indepen~lent of his subjects.  Sooner or
later, he must yield what is required.  In a democratic
government,  there  are settled, constitutional  methods
in whichl the public will makes itself felt.  This removes
all excuse for revolutions and violent convulsions, and,
to a great extent, removes the inducements to such inovemenTts.  Whlen suclh a constitution is consistent withl thle
degree of intelligence and virtue  whichl  prevails,  the
public security, and the pertanetice of the governmetnt,
are best secured by it; but, in every governmnent, there
is a tendency tc -hange aind revo,lltion,ultil  all interests
are properly p)r(,vided foir.  To;onstruct a government
whllich shlall provide for all the interests of a p)eople, for
'niany generations. is a pr(ol)letn that lias prolbably never
been solved.  The history of the world leaves little room
Tendency to  for doubt that the tendency, in all progressive
democracy.   society, is to a democratic form  of governnieit; and the nature of the case seems to present tlle
same idea. The hereditary advantages of classes niust
lillally disappear with the general progress of the people,
and the natural and necessary result must be an equa,
representation of all classes in the government. A teiidetncy to the democratic form, in any government, is pre
suinptive, not conclusive, evidence of progress in civili
zation; and such chlanges should be hleartily welcomed,
because they lie in the direction of the ultimate cojidition.  On the other hand, all re-action from demnocratic
formus should be resisted, or accepted, with great reluct
166 
CIVIL GOVERNXMIENT.
ance, 1)ecause every such re-action is a loss which Iniitt
be retrieved, if there is to be continued progress ill (:isvi
ization.  It is a misbfortune to a people to be ol)liged tf
takle such a step.  The safest and surest nmeans to duIlit
u-ratic liberty in government, is advancement in  iilllIi
,eiiee and virtue.  Political revolution, if necessary, i
A later step in the inovetment; and anarchy or despoti.cii,
not liberty, is the result of premiature attempts.'tt revo
lution.
The ordinary work of human government is sufli
ciently obvious, but it is more difficult to de-   Speres o
n                        ~~~~~~~~~~~Spheres of
termine the precise limits of its proper ope-   government
rations. What interests it can wisely undertake to regu.
late, and what should be left to the spontaneous action
of the people, are questions that can be settled only b)y ex
perienee.   They belong to political and social sciec(,e,
rather than to morals.  As a quiestion of right, it is lear
that government should undertake such responsibilities
as it wisely can, and the light which is to guide, is derived fiom experience. In one state of society it is wise,
and therefore right, to underltake whlat, under other  ciircumstances, would be impossible.  The maxims  adal)ted
to  one  state of society, will not  apply to  anotler.
Whether the regulation of the interests of education, and
of religion, belongs properly to government or not, can be
determined by no intuitive principle, and the question
admits of no universal answer.   Whatever is wise, in any
case, is rioht.  Government, like an individual, iyiust (t
what good it can, and it is under no obligation to make al
tteinpt when there is no reasonable prospect of success.
Thie positive requirements of government must be, at
far as they go, re-ena(tments of the law of RIelatioi to
obligation.  It can never rightfully require  righteousune
1 C). 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
what it is wrong for the subject to do, but its require
ments may properly fall far short of duty.   They aIre
probably, never complete expressions of duty.  In t4ii
respect they differ firom the divine laws.  The divine law
covers all duty;  human law only such duty, and so'
uiiel  of it, as properly falls within its sphere.  Many
matters of important obligation are never touched  by
human law. Indeed, the substance of all duty, the duty of
benevolence, is not at all enjoined by human law.  But
aside from this, there are multituiides of outward duties,
which ihumani law does  not contenmplate.  It does not
require politeness, or chlaiity, but these are mlanifest dluties.  The payment of all honest debts is not provided
for by law.  Certain forms of debt, only, are made co,l('etable.  All this lies in the nature of the case. It is irmi,,)ssible to do more.
Even in matters of which hnunan legislation takes note,
the law must often fall far short of obliga-M -  fall short.
tion.  It cannot always coffe up to the standard of objective rigihtniess.  In legislating for the suppression of drunkenness,  the question is not so much
what is desirable and right, as what is practicable; and
what is practicable determines what is proper.  What can
be done,is the measure of what ouglt to be done.  The
prohibition of all harmful use of intoxicating driinkls is
)bjectively right; but if such a law cannot be executed,
a less comprellensive, but more effective one, must be accepted(l. There is neither duty nor propriety in the enactment of a law which cannot be maintained.  It is not
necessary, however, that a majority of the community
should approve a law in order to its execution.  A small
minority of determined men  can sometimes give effecttveness to a righteous law. At other times, such may be
t68 
CIVIL GOVERNMENT.
the stupidity or ignorance of a whole people that the legislation cannot be brought up to the standard of outward
righteousness.  The law of divorce among the Hebrews,
in the time of Aioses, is an example.  There was no lack
of wisdom  in the legislation, but, for  "the  hardness
of their hearts," they were suflered, on certain con
ditions, to put away their wives. It was the best tha
could be done with such a people.
In connection with such a conforming of the law to human weakness, two mistakes are sometimes          Two mismade; first, that it is a sanctioning of ini-    takes.
quity to abate, in the form of the law, from the perfect
standard of righteousness, on account of the wickedness
of men. For legislators to do the best they can in the
suppression of wickedness, is certainly no sanction of
wickedness. Prohibiting and suppressing a part, is not
approving of the rest. The second mistake is, that conformity to human law, in reference to any obligation, is
the fuilfilment of the obligation. The law does not undertake to express the full obligation, but only so much of
it as is essential to the outward regulation of society
God's law, not man's, is the standard of righteousness.
169
9 
CHAPTER V.
PENALTIES IN CIVIL GOVERNMENT.
THE use of penalties in human government is the same
Je of penal-  as in the divine-to restrain by fear of'pnnishties.      ment, and to instruct by an exhibition of the
ill-desert of crime.  Since outward conformity is all that
human government takes note of, fear operates directly
as a motive to obedience; but the far more important influence is, the light which the penalty throws upon the nature of the crime itself.  The wickedness of transgression is the great restraint, and nothing so impressively
exhibits this wickedness as an appropriate penalty. The
right to inflict penalties has the same condition and foiundation as in the divine government-they are deserved
and are necessary. The same distinction is to be observed between discipline and punishment, and the right
to punish is to be maintained against the sentimentalism
which would substitute reformation for punishment.
There has been a tendency, in some parts, to attribute
Adan, erou   crime to ignorance, and account it a misfor  A   anerous
tendency.    tune, to speak of the criminal as the victim
of a false social system, and to blame those whom he
wrongs, rather than the wrong-doer himself.  There is,
doubtless, room  for pity, in the case of every criminal,
and crime is never perpetrated without temptation; but
pity should not be more prominent than blame,in the
treatment of crime, and temptation does not remove the
propriety or necessity of punishment. It is never to be
forgotten, that the criminal is a man, and has a claim to 
PENALTIES IN CIVIL GOVERNMENT.
all] the offices of humanity which are consistent with the
treatment of him as a criminal. The humanitarian sen
timent which rejects punishment, is most prevalent in
communities where crime is least known.  In the presence
of monstrous offences against society, it can find no place.
[L connection with the recent rebe]lion, and the crime
rlhich follows, it meets with little favor.
The right of government to inflict capital punishment
has been specially resisted. The death pen- Capital pun.
ishment, how
alty has obviously another aim than the good  justified.
of the criminal, and hence urgent, and persistent, and partially successful, efforts have been made for its abolition.
The grounds upon which capital punishment is to be
justified, are, that it is deserved, and is necessary. That
murder, treason, and other crimes which imperil life, de
serve the penalty of death, is beyond question.  These
crimes, in their own nature, suggest death as the approi)riate penalty. The penalty must be an expression of
the guilt of the crime. No other penalty so fully serves
this purpose, either in form or in degree. The offence
is against life, and what more fit than that life should
answer for it? Any other penalty would fail to meet
the demand  for correspondence in form.   There  are
crimes of such a nature that no corresponding penalty is
possible; but where it is possible, the correspondence is desirable.   In degree, no other penalty meets the case
Life is the highest earthly interest, and a penalty which
ffccts a less interest, fails to express the guilt of crimes
against life. In the nature of the case, then, this penalty
eems necessary.
The experience of the world sustains this view of its
necessity   Those nations and communities  Testimony of
that have made the highest attainments in  experience.
171 
MORAL PHILOSOPIHY.
social order, have done so in the use of capital punish
ment for marder and related  crimes.  The thought of
lispensirng with it, was never suggested in these commu
ities until murder had almnost ceased to occur, and the
quiestion had become theoretical rather than practical
Probably not an instance can be found, in the history of
he world, of any great progress n civilization without
this penialty.
Capital punishment is sustained by revelation. The
injunction upon Noah and his posterity was,
Scripture. Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall
his blood be shed, for in the image of God made he
man." The connection shows that this is a positive precept, apparently intended for all the coming ages.  The
reason given is perpetual.  Capital punishment was prescribed in several of the laws given to the Jews, indicating that it is sometimes appropriate. The ground upon which it was prescribed, is significant   "The land
cannot be cleansed of the blood that is shed therein, but
oy the blood of him that shed it."
The objections to capital punishment which call for
consideration, are the following:
The spirit of the New Testament, and the whole drift
Objections.   of the gospel, is against such punishment.
Spirit of New
Testament.    The injunction, "Love your enemies, do good
to them that hate you, and pray for them that despite fully use you and persecute you," is essentially a prohibi tion of capital punishment.
The obvious answer is, if such general precepts forbid
Iapital punishment, they forbid  all punishment, both
fines and imprisonment. But it is a mistake to suppose
that the benevolence required by the New Testamnent, or
that in the nature of the case can be required, is incon
172 
PENALTIES If CIVIL GOVERNMENT.
sistent with any necessary punishment.  Love  to man,
requires the use of all means necessary to human wAelfaie.
If capital punishment is adapted to this end, its infliction is benevolent.
Again, it is objected that capital punishment is not no
cessary, because  solitary imprisonment for
life is just as efficacious in the prevention of    ecery
crimne; and this is maintained, on the ground that it is
naturally as influential, and that in experience it has beel
found to be as effective.
In reply, it may be said, that the convictions of men do
not accord with the idea that imprisonment is as inpressive. In the nature of the case, it is not so. A few per
sons have been known to commit suicide to escape imprisonment, but more have done the same thing to escape the
evils of life.  Such cases do not present the normal judg
ment of men; they are exceptional. Few cases of capital punishment occur without a strenuous effort in behalf
of the criminal, to secure a commutation of his sentence
for imprisonment; and such a commutation is welcomed
almost like a pardon. The question is not whether, in
actual experience, solitary confinement may not be as terrible as death, but whether it strikes the mind, in conteimplating it, with equal force. To this question, but one
answer can be given: life under almost any conceivable
conditions, is preferred to death.  The great Dramatist
has, unquestionably, expressed the common feeling:
"The weariest and most loathed worldly life,
Which age, ache, penury, and imprisonment
Can lay on nature, is a paradise
To what we fear of death."
It is not actual terribleness, but impressiveness, that ii
required in a penalty   If, as is probable, solitary con
173 
MORAL PHILOSCIPHY.
fneinenet for life is, in actual experience, so distressing
[mpressive-   as to make death seem preferable, this fact is
nets needed.  in favor of death instead.  The effect of iln.
prisonment, in anticipation, is by no means as great as
that of death, yet those who have seen their friends becoming hopeless, imbecile, and idiotic, under the pressure
,)f solitary confinement, have sometimes, in view of this
Petitioned for the death penalty.   Benevolence would
dictate that those years of hopeless wretchednessshould
be spared to the criminal, buried, as he is, from the eyes
and the thoughts of men.  The simple announcement of
the sentence is all that operates upon the public mind; of
the years of misery that follow, there is almost no knowledge, and little thought.  Solitary confinement, with all
its hopelessness, is far less effective as a penalty, and is
probably less merciful. The opportunity of preparation
for death,is quite as favorable to him who meets it in the
full possession of his faculties, as to one who, shut away
from every wholesome influence, gradually lapses into
hopeless idiocy.
The limited experience of recent times, in the substitu
Experience   tion of solitary imprisonment  for  capital
oolimited.   punishment, cannot be regarded as satisfactory.  In the first place, it is, by no means, generally
agreed, in the communities where the experiment is in
progress, that the result is auspicious. The conviction,
on the part of many of the most trustworthy and
thoughtful men, is that the actual result is unfavorable.
But, again, if statistics should show no marked increase
.f crime, during the few years since the experiment began, no positive inference can be drawn,favorable to tllhe
abolition of capital punishment. The experiment is inadequate. It is made in communities where the public
174 
YENALTIES IN CIVIL GOVERNMENT.
sentiment, in reference to murder, has been produced by
the operation of the death penalty. )Icre than one
generation will be required, to show distinctly the effect
of any other system. In such a community, if all penal
ties for murder were abrogated at once, the effect might
not be immediately visible. It is not true that in suchl
communities there are multitudes of persons intent on
miurder, and only restrained by fear of punishment; but
an inadequate penalty must in the end produce crime.
The tree will finally be known by its fruit, but it may require generations to mature it.
Objection is often made to public executions as demoralizing, and the proof commonly adduced Thiblic execu
is, that such occasions gather the low and tions.
vile, who exhibit in their demeanor a loathsome levity,
rather than the solemnity which befits the scene. But
we must distinguish between the exhibition of wickedness, and the promotion of it. In all gatherings of the
degraded, wickedness will appear, but this is no proof
that the gathering is unprofitable.  The solemn exhibition may profit even the degraded, and it may be profitale  to the community  to know what vileness is hidden in its dark places. But if experience shall prove
that public executions are corrupting, they can be
dispensed with. The public exhibition is not an essential part of the penalty. The public announcement of
the day and the hour, and, perhaps, the tolling of a bell,
would give the needed publicity.  One of the great advantages of the death penalty is, that it does not need
to be witnessed in order to be impressive.
Another objection is, that so strong is the general feeling against capital punishment, that juries Popllar feecannot be brought to convict, even the mani-  Ing against It
175 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
festly guilt, because they shrink from the penalty that
must follow. A sure penalty, it is said, is better than a
severe one that cannot be executed.
Undoubtedly there has been an indisposition to iniiflict
capital punishment, and many a murderel has escaped in
consequence; and such a public sentiment may at length
compel the adoption of another penalty. But it will b6
observed that this is no proper objection to the penalty
itself. If the sentiment be a false one, let efforts be
made to correct it. The crime which the sentiment will
nourish, will, in the end, correct the sentiment, and the
proper penalty will be invoked again. In the presence
of the great crimes connected with the rebellion, and consequent upon it, the false sentiment is nearly obliter
ated.
It is said, again, that the capital penalty is suited to
A relic of  a barbarous age, when  less striking penalties
barbarism. would have little force, and that Christian civilization has made men more sensitive to evil, so that milder
penalties are sufficient. Thus there has been a constant ten
dency to mitigate penalties, and to make them less loathsome in form,and less severe in fact; and the same movement continued, will at length render capital punishment
unnecessary, and bring about its abolition.
We answer, if,in the progress of civilization,the barbarous crime of murder shall become unknown, capital punishment will, of course, disappear, because not needed
but as long as so much of barbarism remains that it is
necessary to prohibit murder, let that penalty, which
properly represents the crime, sustain the prohibition.
Objections like these, that "human life is inviolable,'
Frivolous ob  that "we have no right to take away what
Secions.   we cannot restore," and that "capital punish
i il 6 
PENALTIES IN CML GOVF,ERNMENT.
anent is the perpetration of murder for the prevention of
mniurder," are so utterly foundationless, as to require no
answer.  All objections must be essentially frivolous,except sicel  as are urged against the necessity of capital
unishment.
r
17IT 
CHAPTER VI.
LDITS OF OBEDIENCE TO CIVIL GOVERN.NT
OBEDIENCE is to be rendered to all human govern >(>oegient  ments, in subordination to the will of God.
ubordna    These governments are a recognized necessity,
in the nature of the case, and their existence is manifestly in accordance with the divine will. Hence the presumption is always in favor of the authority of civil law;
and any refusal to obey, must be based on the moral
proof that obedience will be sin. The one who proposes
to disregard human law, must be persuaded in his own
mind that, in that course, he will meet the approval of
God. It is too obvious to need discussion, that the law
,f God, the great principle of benevolence, is supreme,
and that " we ought to obey God, rather than men," inl
any case of conflict between human law and the divine.
This is the principle of the "higher law" doctrine,
Higher law.   as it has been called in political circles in
Lower la.   our land.  The "lower law" doctrine, which
hlas been maintained in opposition to this, is, in its leas'
odious form, that,as "the powers that be are ordained of
God," obedience to human government is always obligatory, and in accordance with his will. This doctrine,
puslhed to its legitimate consequence, implies that God
has given to human government authority to abrogato
the divine law. and release men from obligation to God
This absurdity proves the doctrine faise.
A modification of the doctrine is maintained as appli 
LIMnITS OF OBEDIENCE TO CIVIL GOVERNMElNT.   179
cable to our democratic government, that as the people all
have a voice in the making of the laws, they In a demomust render obedience to every law, while   cratic state
.t remains a law, usillg their influence, meanwhile, for the
repeal of a wvicked statute. The principle will not bear
investigation. The voice of the people is not the voice
of God, and we have no license to "go with the multi
tude to do evil." There is no power in a democrati.
majority. to set aside personal obligation.  The fact that
the government is democratic, and that there is a mode in
which every one can make his influence felt in setting
right the wrong, has its force in rendering revolutionary
mnovements unnecessary and improper; but the great
law of personal duty must hold against all such considerations. Cases may arise, under any government, in
which the individual conscience, which is but the jutdg
lent of duty, will require a course of action inl opposi
ion to the law.
It would seem satisfactory if some general test could
De presented, by which such cases of duty  No general
may be determined; but no general formula  formula.
is possible.  Each case must be settled in its own light,
and settled, too, by each interested person, for himself.
Two equally intelligent and conscientious men may pursue different courses, and both be not only subjectively, but
objectively right. What is duty to one, in the case, may
not be duty to the other, because of their different rela
tions. The question is, like all questions of practical duty,
to be decided in the light of the claims of benevolence, alld
the will of God.  A few suggestions may not be amiss.
It is manifest that all laws, requiring what is just an(
proper  is itself, must  be obeyed.   These  Just laws t.
right acts would be obligatory, if not enjoined  bo obeyed 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
by law, and the law affords an additional reason foi
their performance. This needs no proof.
Acts indifferent in themselves, cease to be so when re.
Indifferent   quired or prohibited by human law.  We are
also.      not to follow our own convenience or plea
sure, against the naked authority of the law. The gov.
ernment is essential to the good of society, and it must
be sustained at the sacrifice of personal preference, and
even of personal interest. We are often bound to do as
much as this, out of regard to the judgmenit or feelings
of a neighbor; more is due to the influence and authority of the government.   In a case of doubt, the law
should have the benefit of the doubt.
Laws  which  may  properly be called unjust, muse
U1njst at    sometimes be obeyed.   An improper or un            equal tax, unless levied for immoral purposes
may, in general, be paid without hesitation.   The inter
est of the subject is infringed upon, but it will not be se
cured by resistance to the law; and even if it were, it is
still better to make the sacrifice to the authority of the
government.  It is wrong for the government to levy an
unjust tax, but it is not, therefore,wrong for the subject
to pay it.  It might be wrong for him to make such a
payment if not required.   It is possible that human'aw
Possible   should  make  that right, which would  be
effect.    wrong without the law.  The principle, sometimes announced, that "a law requiring what is wrong is
no law," has its limitations, and is true only in this sense
that what is wrong, even after it is required by law, can
not be binding by reason of the laiw-a manifest truismn
The fact simply is, that government is an interest, as real
as any other, an essential means to the general welfare
and that it is better to submit to some injustice rathle
I80 
LIMITS OF OBEDIENCE l'O CIvIL GOv ERNMEENT'r.    181
than to interrupt the established order.   l'o)r this reason
an officer may collect a tax, which, in individual cases, he
sees to be oppressive and unjust, rather than interrupt the
regular operation of the laws.  The degree of the injus
ice is an important element in the estimate of duty. The
injustice may be so gross that the, government would suffer more detriment in its permission, than in the irregu.arity involved in its prevention.   But in deciding upon
duty, in reference to any act required or prohibited by the
law, the fact of the law is to have weight, and this will
sometimes make proper what would otherwise have been
wrong.
After all these exceptions and allowances, it is still true
that obedience to human law often involves    Obedience
sometimes
sin against God and man.   There are cases so    wrong.
clear that no one can question the duty to refuse obe
dience. In all times and in all lands such cases have
arisen. In a case of this kind, either of two courses is
possible: to disobey the law, and resist the  Two coursed
government in its attempt to execute it, or to  possible.
disobey and quietlv suffer the penalty. The first is revolutionary, and can be justified only when the case is flagrant, and affects such numbers that a revolutionary
movement will be sustained. Sometimes a decided atti
tude, on the part of a large number, in opposition to a
wicked law, will set the law aside, and make it inopera.ive. Such a movement is as justifiable as any revolution.
But these cases are rare. The second course will, in general, commend itself to considerate and conscienti(us men.
It is a testimony against the law as unrighteous, and,at
the same time,a recognition of government as a grave interest. It is not, however, duty to invite the penalty, or
to expose one's self vol.untarily to it, as a reparation fox 
MORAL, PHILOSOPHY.
the hlarm done in violating a wicked law. We may es.
cape the penalty by honorable concealment, or by sona
technicality, or by flight, according to the Saviour's ad.
vice to the disciples, " If they persecute you in one city
flee ye to another."  All such devices are to be preferre
to a violent resistance of the penalty. Violence is comn
monly mischievous.
The duty of subordinate officers and magistrates, exe
Duty of a sub. euting the laws under a higher authority
ordinate.   sometimes involves doubt.  They are not re
lieved fi'om all personal responsibility, at liberty to do
whlatever is enjoined upon them,without enquiry.  The
wickedless of a wicked law is not confined to the legislative p(w er, but extends to all who knowingly share in its
execution.  In ordinary cases, a sheriff or a soldier may
ho without question what he is bidden to do; but if there
oe manifest wickedness in the transaction, or ground to
apprehend that there is, the subordinate must judge of
his duty for himself, and act on his own  responsibility.
fle cannot shift the burden from himself to his superiors.
They must answer for their duty, and he must answer for
his.
It is maintained by some, that in all cases of a conisciMst he re-   entious inability to execute the law, the subeign?       ordinate must retire from his office, and, of
t ourse.leave it to be occupied by one who will perpetrate
(lie wrong.  This is by no means a manifest duty.  Let
him retain his place, and withstand the injustice, while h
an   Such an extension of responsibility is an importan
3afegnard against tyranny.   But for this principle of
)ersonal responsibility, extending to inferior courts and
tilagistrates, all the checks in the exercise of power are removed and a government like ours is subordinated to the
182 
LIMITS OF OBEDIENCE TO CIVIL GOVERNMENT.   183
control of the supreme court. The custom of inferior courts
to follow the decisions of the higher courts, instead of
iudging each case on its own merits, is a questionable
surrender of persona  responsibility.  Would it not be
higher wisdom to discard unrighteous precedents, and,iu
every new case, to "judge righteous judgment," laying
nl)on the higher court the responsibility of reversing it?
When a government becomes inefficient or corrupt,
and the constitutional means of remedy fail,  Extraordinthe people have a right, if they can, to supply  ai measures.
the deficiency, or correct the wrong, by extraordinary
means. The necessity is a painful one, and the experiment is always hazardous, but the emergency justifies it.
A resort to violence in rectifying the abuses of the gov
ernment, always tends to disorganization, and it is difficult to arrest the movement at the proper point;but the
concurrent judgment of the friends of public order, will
sometimes warrant the undertaking.   The  "vigilance
committee" of San Francisco, in 1856, is an example of
justifiable and successful interference with the operations
of government.
When a government becomes a tyranny, and fails to
do its essential work, it is the right of the i)eo-  Right of re
ple to break it down,if they can, and institute olution.
a better. This is the right of revolution. It is based on the
principle that government rests for its lawfuil authority
uponi the interests of the governed.  A manifest and utte
failure to secure these interests annuls its right to exist
It matters not what the form of the government may
be; the right of revolution pertains to all forms, after all
constitutional remedies have been applied in vain. The
dangers, and difficulties, and probabilities of success,are
to be balanced, as far as may be. and a revolution under 
MORAL PHILOSOPHiY.
taken when the circumstances justify it.  An attempt tc
set right, by violent means, a great wrong in government;
is wise, and right, if there be reasonable hope of suc
cess; if not, it may be folly and madness. We sometimes
admire the daring and heroism of tile man who daslhe
himself against an obstacle, that,to all human calculation
is immovable.  Hie may have some inward light that
justifies and sustains him in the encounter, and the result may show that the wisdom that guided him was
more than human. Such cases are exceptional, and lie
beyond the range of ordinary rules of duty.
A revolution is justified where the interests of the govWhen justif-  erned require it. This is the ground and limit
able.       of the right.  The fact that men desire it for
their pleasure or pride or ambition, is no justification of
it. it is not the will of any number that makes it right
but their real wants.  Nor will the interest of a few jis
tify a resort to violence, nor a trifling interest of many
The remedy for such inconsiderable imperfections in
government, is in moral effort, light, and persistence, and
time. An attempt at revolution, without sufficient reason, is rebellion, and the result does not change the character of the undertaking.
It is often urged that the right of private judgment,
Objection   as now maintained, in reference to obedience
tends to anarchy.        to the laws of the land, will subvert government, and introduce confusion and anarchy.  Whatever
danger there may be in this direction, is to be properly
considered and provided for, as far as may be; but the
right and duty of meeting one's own convictions of conscience still remain, and government must get on with
the difficulty as well as it can. The da,,nger, however, is
greatly over-estimated.  Government is never the gaine
184 
LIMITS OF OBEDIENCE TO CIVIL GOVERNMENT.   1 8
in the execution of a law that is manifestly unjust. It
may set forth the strength of the government in mere
physical force, but there is a loss which more than counterbalances, in the diminished respect and confidence of
the people.  That loss is in part averted by the conscientiots refusal to obey such a law, or by a quiet interrupion of its execution, on the part of a private citizen or
an officer.  Strength ill injustice, on the part of governmenit, is not strength, but weakness.
Conscientious men are not the elnemnies, but the friends,
of any government but a tyranny. They are its strength,
and not its weakness.  Daniel, in Babylon, praying, contrary to the law, was the true fiiend and supporter of the
government; while those who, in their pretended zeal for
the law and the constitution, would strike down the good
man, were its real enemies.  It is only when government
transcends its sphere, that it comes in conflict with the
consciences of men.
But it is objected that the example is corrupting-that
a bad man will violate a good law, because the     Example
good man refuses to obey a wicked law.  The        harmful.
cases are just as unlike as right and wrong, and any attempt to justify the one by the other, is gross dishonesty.
Unquestionably, the principle can be abused by the wicked, and so can any truth, whatever;but the principle of
unquestioning obedience to human law, is false, and
needs no perversion to niake it mischievous. Practically,
the cases are few, in well-established governments, where
the law encroaches upon the rights of conscience; but if
she principle be surrendered, the cases will multiply.
Obedience is, of course, the rule, and disobedience the
rare exception.
It should always be remembered, that the great end ot 
MORAL Pl'HILOSOPHY.
government is human well-being-that law and antho
Eld of gov- rity are nothing in themsel ves, and that aL
ernment.   their sacredness arises from the uses which
thev serve. The machinery of government is valuable,
only for the work it does; in itself; it has no value. It is
better that the just result should be brought out, even at
the expense of a little jostling of the visible machinery
The vital power of government is not so much in its outward adjustments, as in the hold it hlas upon the respect
and confidence of men; and that hold is proportioned to
its effectiveness for good, rather than to the regularity of
the outward working. Both are desirable, but one is necessary. The true estimate of government lies between
two errors.  Jurists  and  legislators-those
Two errors.
who are chiefly occupied with the forms and
processes of government, are liable to over-estimate these
forms. The machinery comes to have, to their thought
value in itself, and they learn to depend Upon its perfeet working. Any irregular operation or friction, is
cause of grave apprehension. They fail to see that the most
grievous of all imperfections in government, is the failure
to secure the just and good result, and that injustice and
oppression are not made tolerable, by being in strict accordance with the law.   Nothing is surer,in the end,than
the reaction of such wrong to break down the most perfectly constituted government. On the other hand, if
the general welfare is carefully provided for, even with
some irregularities in the working, the governmiient will
grow strong in the midst of convulsions which would
shatter any government, the strength of which was in its
perfect organization. The other error is on the part of
those who hare little thought of forms and organizations
snd whose chief attention is directed to the outcome
186 
LIMITS OF OBEDIENCE TO CIVIL GOVERNMENr.   187
They undervalue the importance of established arrangements, and would accept almost any irregularity with the
promise of immediate good. They fail to observe that
tire novelty which serves them now, may to-morrow prov
their enemy; and that the steadiness and regularity whiel
seemed to work to their disadvantage, is their surest reli
ance. In its best forms, human government will be im
perfect; and it is often better to tolerate the imnperfec.
tions, than to peril the general good by any rash attempt
at re-adjustment. For the settlement of all these questions, science furnishes no universal formula.  Every
emergency brings with it the best light for the guidance
of those who are to meet it. 
CHAPTER VII.
THE RELATIONS OF NATIONS TO EIAOH OTHMLI
THiE various nations of the earth, through their govern
Obligation of  ments, act upon each other, and affect each
ations.    other's welfare.  In these relations they come
under the great law of benevolence, as really as individuals. A nation can have no more right to act without regard to the welfare of other nations, or to promote its
own advantage at the sacrifice of their interests, thait
persons have, in similar circumstances, to disregard each
other.
The relations of nations are, comparatively, few and
Obligation    remote.  In the present state of the world
limited.   national jealousies are so prompt and general,
that comparatively little can be done by governments to
help each other. The proposal on the part of one nation
to help another, would often be regarded with suspicion,
and be a source of weakness instead of strength. The
government accepting suchn help, would sometimes endan
ger its own existence. Ilence, to a great extent, the action of nations upon one another, is, necessarily, of a negative character, leaving one another to pursue the path of
interest without obstruction, giving here and thlere such
countenance and support as may be possible. The law
of benevolence still holds, and the nation should ac
tnowledge its claims, as well as the individual.
Among civilized nations, certain habits of propriety
Laws of ta-   and comity have been established, which are
,ions.     recognized as the laws of nations.  There is 
THE RELATIONS OF NATIONS TO EACH OTHER.   189
no recognized authority to define or execute these laws;
blt the nation which contravenes a well-estabslished priniciple of intercourse, wvill find its violent dealing returning
upon itself, in the treatment it receives from other nations.  These established principles, so far as thev go,
are an approach to the law of benevolence in the case
but they are often very imperfect expressions of it. The
constant intercourse of nations, and their progress in
Christian civilization, will effect a clearer definition, and
an extension of these laws; meanwhile, it is the duty of
every nation to coniform its conduct to the requirements
of benevolence, and to respect the interests of other nations, even beyond the demands of recognized international law.
Nations are bound to respect one another's sovereignty.  The people of the world are arranged  Norightto
nnder separate governments, and their wel- absorb.
fare depends upon this separate national existence. No
nation can have the right to assume the control of another people, setting aside its government, and absorbing
into itself its resources and powers.   Such a centralization of the powers of government, would no more  conduce to the general welfare, than would the assumption,
on the part of the strong, of control over the weak, in
personal relations.  A nation acquires no such right by
the conquest of another people in a just war, except, in a
possible case, where the existence of the conquered people,
as a separate nation, is a nuisance to themselves and thei
neighbors.
Nor can one nation have a right to render anotlihe
dependent upon itself, and tributary.   The  Or make tri1
weak may be naturally dependent upon the t y.
strong, and may be under obligation to make return  foi 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
the hell) theyl receive, as in the case of two indivlidtlals; but
no nation can have a right to demand of aiiotller colltri I)Iltions of nmen or money for its own advanitage.   Stlch
pr lacrLetice does not differ, in its morality, from robbery.
It must be the duty of one nation to aid another, when
to aid.  its existence is threatened by vi(lence, pro         vided the relations are suchl that the prof
fer will be a real help. The obligatioln is the same as in
the case of individuals, to hlelpl those that  need; the
powel to help is more limited, becallse of nlational jealousies, and the danger that what is intended as help may
prov-e a hindrance.
In cases of unwarrantable rebellion, it is the duty of
Duty in rebel- surrounding nations to give their countenance
lion.
and moral support, at least, to the lawful authorities of the distracted country; and it is a gross fail
nre in public morality to exhibit such sympathy, or per
mit such support to rebels, as will tend to overthrow the
government, or prolong the contest.   The nation that
fails to respond to such obligations, must, at leingth, reap
the fruits of its own meanness and selfishness.
In all treaties, and arrangements for national iiiter
Duty in trea- course, it is duty to aim  at mutual benefit.
Belt     Any attempt to get the advantage, in slch  a
transaction, is as dishonorable as in personal mnatters, and
any exultation over a one-sided treaty, is rejoicing over
dishonesty.  The only proper aim of diplomacy, is to secire an equal and honorable adjustment of all questions
of interest; and a resort to concealment or chicanery, in
a1iy form, is as contemptible as in personal intercourse.
Questions of tenritorial lines, and other interests, between
neighboring nations, should be settled with the same
magnanimous respect for each other's rights and views, as
190 
THE RELATIONS OF NATIONS TO EACH OT 11 E R.   19 ]
in the case of two neighbors.  The wish or aim  to elicroach upon the domain of another nation, is l1alli)l~
selfishness and injustice.  A  readiness to enter ilto allI
freaties promotive of the general welfare, and to abitl,
,)y treaties when formed, is as manifestly the duty ot al
ins, as a similar spirit on the part of individuals.
All restrictions of commerce, and of intercourse 1)e'ween nations, mnust be regulated by the re-   In commer                      I n         ~ ~~~~~~~~~~~cial initerquirenents of benevolence.  Each nation is   coaui.e.
bound to favor the trade and commnerce of other natiol,s,
to the extent of the common welfare.  A nation cannot
be bound to sacrifice its own essential prosperity, for tlhe
sake of fostering the coinmerce of another nation.  It is
the privilege of a nation to restrict its trade with others
by any necessary impediments, when  its own  good  requires, as a family may limit its purchlases when its own
good demands.  A tariff of duties on importations or exportations, to limit, or even to prohibit trade, in cerltail
things, and at certain times, is not, nrecessarily, an  immorality. The only self-evident principle of morality
that applies to the case, is the universal duty of benevolence.
Since vast interests depend upon the maintenance of
the organic existence of the state, it is the  Duty of self
d(uty of nations to protect themselves, and  preservation.
the interests which depend upon them.   This involves
the uightfiulness of war-the use of whatever force mnay 1)3
necessary for self-protection, and the defence of the in
terests at stake. This right of self-preservationr. is in
-olved in the right of a government to exist.  A  natio,n
bus maintaining its existence, is contending nriot merely
for its owr immediate interests, but for the common
right upon which  all governments must stand.  Take 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
away this right, and governments have practically no al
thority.
It is generally conceded, even by those who deny the
Genera con- rightfulness of war under any circumstances
essio.  that a government must have the right to
execute its own just laws.  If resistance is offered to
te execution of them, it must be put down, or govern
ment is at all end.  If a mob interferes, the mob  must
be quelled, at any necessary sacrifice of life; otherwise
government is impossible. If the resistance grows into
an insurrection, it must still be suppressed, and all the
appliances of power, necessary for the work may be freely
brought to bear. If such a manifestation and use of power
is war, then war on the part of a government, in the
execution of its wholesome laws, is right.
But it is said by those who accord to government this
Objection to right to put down resistance to its own au
the name.    thority, and still deny the rightfulness of war,
that such a use of power is not war; that an army
raised for such purposes, is only the police force of the
country engaged in its legitimate work of enforcing the
laws.  The name is not much, but the principle is important.  Whatever the work be called, it is lawful for a
government to maintain itself, and the interests it protects, by any necessary force, and at any necessary sacrifice of life, against any violence from within.
Is it not evident that that same right exists for a govAse,,i on   ernment to protect itself, and the depending
frm without. interests, against any violence from without
If there be any difference in the two cases, the latter is
the stronger. Violence from within, may indicate a
weakness in the government,  a failure to meet the necessities of the people;and what is called a rebellion,
192 
THE RELATIONS OF NATIONS TO EACH OTHER   193
may be a justifiable revolution. There is no such presumption, in the case of the attack from without; aLd
must the nation yield to the violence, and submit  to the
overthrow of its institutions and interests, when it has
power to prevent it? Only a direct revelation to this
effect could warrant the improbable conclusion, and we
have no such revelation. War, then, carried on by a useful
government, for its own existence, is not wrongs on the
part of that government.
lN*or can it be reasonably questioned, that a strong nation may be bound to defend, even by war, Duty toward
a weak naa weak nation unjustly attacked.  In most  tion.
cases,a simple protest, or warning, would prove sufficient.
but the force of the protest lies in the fact that war impends, if it is disregarded. Then, again, a nation may
be bound to punish or crush a power that indulges in
piracy and robbery, and becomes the common enemy of
mankind.
Thus our government broke the power of the piratical
states of Northern Africa, and delivered the Toward a pt
nations from their aggressions-a work of  ratical one.
oenevolevnce and imercy.  In a similar way, the leading
Christian nations have combined to prevent the slavetrade by ships of war, stationed on the coast of Afrtica.
An oppressed people may have the right to overthrow a
tyrannous government, and establish a better, war fr,revo
even at the expense of war. The war will lution.
involve great calamities, but these may be accepted in
preference to injustice and oppression. The sentiment
ttributed to the late Daniel O'Connell, that "no politi
cal change is worth one drop of human blood," is not sustained, either by reason or by history. Many of the privileges of civilized society have been bought with blood,
9 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
and we could better afford to pay the price asain, than
to part with them.
It is sometimes asked, if one nation sustains obligations
case of cor upt fcover-  of benevolence to another,  may it not be
melt       the duty of a powerful, civilized people, to
put down a corrupt government, and give a better one tc
an oppressed people, or to restore peace where civil dis
cord prevails? An intervention of this kind is, in genera!
unprofitable. A stable and free government, can only
come from within-the result of forces in the nation itself.  Any force from without, will prove a disturbance,
rather than a help.  A settlement, resul ing from such a
force, is not permanent, and will show its instability
when the external force is removed. When long continued civil strife in a nation,interferes with the quiet and
prosperity of other nations, these nations may have the
right to compel its cessation. The propriety of the intervention will depend upon the probable result.
The question, is war right or wrong, admits of no
No direct    direct answer, because war is not a simple
answer.    moral act.  There are always two parties concerned, sustaining very different relations to the war. It
is not rare that both parties are guilty of wrong, and
that either might have prevented the war by an honorable course; but it is evident that one party may be the
aggressor, and that the other may be acting merely in selfdefence.  It is preposterous to state the question of the
Rightfulness of war, in such a way as to overlook this
difference of position.
When a nation is unjustly attacked, the presumption is
The presump- that it has a right to repel the violence and
tio.    prevent the injustice and  injury  by  suach
force as maybe required. If this right is called ir Ads.
194 
HEI RELATIONS OF NATIONS TO EAOC  OTHIER.  195
tion, it must be on the ground that such resistance ias
wrong in its own nature, or that it is directly prohibited
Dy the law of God, or that there is a better way to prevent the injury.
If national self-defence is wrong in its own nature, it
ie because it is unbenevolent.  If it be incon-  Opposed to
*             Opp~~~~bneosedcto
sistent with benevolence, it is, of course, nevolence
wrong.  That it is unbenevolent, is maintained on two
grounds; first, because it necessarily involves an unbenevolent heart in those who share in the war. Benevolence is love, a disposition to benefit and bless; and this
is due towards enemies, as well as friends. War involves
violence and evil towards enemies. True, and so does
the punishment of crime, by fine or imprisonment or
death. But the highest benevolence requires the punishment of crime, and the officer of justice performs a benevolent act in inflicting the penalty. It is just as consistent with a benevolent heart, as an act of charity or
mercy. To save a nation from threatened danger, is an
act of benevolence, and the patriotism which leads one
to risk his life for his country, is one of the noblest forms
of virtue. It springs naturally and necessarily from
love to God and love to man, and involves no hatred towards the enemy, even in the very act which causes his
death. The responsibility of the act is to be accepted,
as a stern and awful duty, like the execution of the sentence of the law upon a criminal. In such a spirit men
may, and do, engage in war.
But, secondly, it is urged that the evils of war are sw
great as to prove that war is "contrary to the  The erlU,
order of nature," and therefore wrong. But the g9at
evils of injustice and oppression and outrage are also great
aed unless it can be shown that national resistance to un 
IMORAL PHILOSOPHY.
just aggression increases the evils of the world, the argu
ment from the evils of war has no force. The evils of wai
are manifold and fri ghtful to contemplate. They come in
siich forms, and are so concentrated, as to be appreciable to
the d u'lest apprehension; but the evils of tyranny, and op
Sression, and national degradation, though less striking in
torm, affect the character and condition of every individ
ual, and endure through generations. The general judgmnent of men has been, that war is sometimes to be preferred to these evils, and the result has often justified
the judgment.  The punishment of crime involves great
evils, but to leave it unpunished involves greater; and
no one could urge the horrors of the prison and the scaffold as an argument against the punishment of crime.'
That defensive war is prohibited by divine command,
Divinely for- does not appear, unless the general requireidden.     ment of love to enemies, and the exhortation
not to resist evil, be taken as such a prohibition. But if
these prohibit war in self-defence, they equally prohibit
the infliction of any evil in punishment of crime.  This
interpretation is manifestly too sweeping, and is in conflict with the whole tenor of Scripture, and with sound
reason.  The love due to mankind, is not opposed to the
ir;:liction of any evil which the good of mankind req tires. These general precepts can be brought to bear
at;ainst defensive war, only by showing that it is not nec,ssary to the good of mankind.
That there is a better way to avert the evils which war is
better ay. employed to remedy, is maintained on differ           ent grounds; first, it is said that God will
p,otect a people that comnmit their cause to him.  No
D rlnepro-   doubt he will; but he works by means, and
to ro-   the means he has been accustomed to employ
196 
THE RELATIONS OF NATIONS TO EACII OTHER.   197
for the protection of his people, is theil courage and
strength, inspired and sustained by his own presence and
power.  lie enables " one to chase a thousand. and two
to put ten thousand to flight." What right have we tc
trust himn for deliverance, while we decline to use  +ht
means which hlie provides? God's view of such remiss
ness, is expressed in the curse pronounced on those whl
"came not up to the help of the Lord against the mighty.'
Unless we have explicit warrant to forbear isuch effort, oni
faith becomes presumption.  The argument assumes, at
the outset, that any effort at self-protection is displeasing
to God —the very point to be proved.
Again, it is maintained, that an exhibition of the gospel spirit of non-resistance to threatened vio-  Non-resist                                                ance effica
lence, will disarm the enemy, and turn him   cious.
back from his purpose. This argument also assumes that
an attitude of non-resistance is the right and proper atti
tuilde, that which the highest benevolence requires. Un
til this be proved, there is little encouragement to take
the position; and if it be the proper attitude, there is
little ground to expect absolute safety from violence in it.
There would be safety in the final outcome, as there always is in the way of duty. But the proof is wanting
that this is the path of duty.
Again, it is urged that reason and good sense would
suffice to settle all international difficulties,  Good sense Is
,vithout a resort to war.  This is true, beyond  sufficient.
all question; but the difficulty is to bring an aggressive
and ambitious nation to use reason and good sense. It
is not clear that reason and good sense on one side alone,
will secure the desired end; and if these fail, there remains
the right to repel aggression. The triumph of reason anid
good sense in the world, will bring the end of war, and 
.IMORAL PHILTOSOPHY.
of every crime as well-a result for which we are to la
l)or and to pray; and among the essential means of has
teeinig the good time, is the prevention and punishment
of,rimne within the state by governmental force, and the
prevention and punishment of aggression from witl.out,
by a wise and benevolent use of the power of the nation
To rendei' wars unnecessary, and to bring into disus
the whole system of military and naval equip The true aim.
ment, should be one of the first aims of every
enlightened nation. For rational and successful labor in
this direction, it is not necessary to adopt the false princi ple of the wrongi'ulness of war in every possible case.
A_ aggression and injustice is wrong, and the suppression
of this will "make wars to cease unto the ends of the
earth." A readiness to settle international difficulties by
mutual conference and concession, or by arbitration, is
one of the highest duties of the nation; and a resort to
arms for the gratification of malice, or pride, or ambition,
or for national aggrandizemient, or for any unworthy reason, is the greatest of crimes. Public morality in this
matter has already made great advances, but much still
remains to be done. The war spirit, as it sometimes exists in a nation, in both government and people, is the
spirit of demons, a "kind that goeth not out, but by
prayer and fasting."
When a nation engages in a righteous war. all the re   ties in war. quirements of benevolence, in the treatment
of prisoners, in the recognition of the rights
of non-combatants, and in the mnitigation of the calamities
of war in general, are still in force. When thejust object oI
the war is accomplished, it must cease, and no advantage
must be taken from the victory,to injure, or even to hu
mniliate, unnecessarily, the offending nation.
t9s 
CHAPTER VIII.
FAMILY GOVNMENT.
THE family organization involves, among other inter
ests, that of government.  This is, perhaps, not  Government
the most prominent feature, or the highest in-  in the family.
terest, in the family constitution, but it is essential, and
the ends of the organization cannot be attained without
it. The necessity for government, and the objects of it,
are, in general, the same as in civil society: social order,
and the advantage and welfare of every member. The
right, on the one hand, to govern, and the duty of obedience, on the other, rest oni the same foundation: ability to
secure the interests of the family, and the need of direction
and control.
The limits of the family, in respect to the persons embraced, are determined by tile nature of the  Limited in
case.   The parents and their children, and  numbers.
other persons who find their home in the household, constitute the family, and share in its rights and duties.
The limits of the government, in respect to the interests
embraced, are much wider than in civil gov-   Wider In in.
ernment.  Everything that affects the welfare   terest.
of the child, the regulation of his conduct, the cultivation
of his mind and heart, the employment of his time, and
the establishment of relations with general society, falls
within the domain of family government; because, in all
these things, the child needs the supervision and control
of the parent. The right of the parent to control the
child in all these relations, is limited only by the welfare 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
of the family.  He has a right to govern, so far as the
good of the household requires, not at all for his own
pleasure, or under the promptings of any pa:sion.
The constitution of the family, like most other consti Mode of co- tutions is determined by the nature of the
stitution.    case.  It is not properly a social conmpact, ex
cept as to the determination of the two parties that lay
,le foundations of the family, and perhaps in some other
subordinate interests. The original organization of the
family,is strictly matter of independent agreement. The
parties are perfectly free to enter into the arrangelient, or
to decline it; but once having entered into the marriage
relation, they have their general rights and duties assigned themn, by a law above their will. Nothing can
be right or duty to either party, which benevolence does
not permit or require.
Unity of interest and of action is essential to the family
Qustion of  welfare; and in order to unity, there must be
head hip.  a head.  There is little room for doubt that
the man is, by nature, indicated as the head of the house.
The evidence is too patent to require presentation. Even
if there be entire equality in intellectual endowments,
still, the physical constitutions and liabilities of the sexes
would alone determine the matter, and mankind have in
general accepted this determination. Nature and revelation are equally explicit. The man is the head of the
house, in the nature of the case, and only some special inbecility can set him aside.
This condition of things is not the result of any special
Provded for  agreement, nor can any agreement greatly
In nature.    modify the relation.  It is not necessary that
the duty of subordination should be acknowledged by the
wife,in the marriage covenant. The duty is involved iii
200 
FAUlLY GOVERINME.NT.
the relation itself, and depends on no p)romiise for its ex
isteiice. It will not rarely happen that the welfare of
the fainily will depend upon the clearer judgment  and
stronger claracter of the wife; but, even then, true delicacy and the highest decoruim would sugg,est, that shle
ito-,ld direct affairs through the hiubband, as the primine
Iniiister governs  E1nglanid  through  the queen.   The
stronger  character will inevitably control, but this should
not disturb the natural order of the household.   There
nay not be, on either side, the consciousness, even, that the
power is not -lwhere it seems to be, and the world has no
concern in it.  But if the man is so contemptible, by vice,
or any imblecility, that hlie cannot stand in his place, the
womanI must take upon herself the headship of the famnily
in formi as well as in fact.
The view sometimes urged in opposition to this, ia
that in nature there is no precedence on Opposing
either side, that the man and the woman con-  view.
stitulte the "united head," and that they are equal in tl.e
family goverlnment.  There is truth in this view of the
relation, and somewhat of error. To the children, the
will of each parent is law.  " Honor thy father and tny
mother," is the universal doctrine of Scripture, and'he
dictate of good sense.   But if the parents are equal in
authority, in their relation to each other, there may be a
conflict of parental will, which will destroy the governmenit of the family.  To set aside the danger of such
collision, it is made the duty of one, to yield in the finlal
issue.  As  a matter of propriety and courtesy, to forestall the slightest approach to a collision, it is the duty
of either to yield to the wishes of the other, a duty
which probably devolves upon the husband, oftener than
upon the wife.  But if there should occur the misfortune
9*
201 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
of a trial of authority, the woman is to recognize the
head of the house, and honor the divine appointment, as
indicated in nature and in revelation.
But is it not better that the parties should enter the
relation upon equal terms, and find their
Another niew.
place, in reference to each other, as a resul
of their mutual acquaintance and their experience? If
that arrangement had been better, the two sexes should
have been constituted with equal endowments, physical
and intellectual, and neither should have been rendered
dependent upon the other, by any delicacy of constitution,
or liability of condition. But, even in such case. the relation could not have been as happy. It is not desirable
that, at the outset, it should be an open question, which
of the two shall be the head of the house-a question to
be settled by some trial of force or will, or provided for
p advance by mutual contract.
It is better that all such questions should be set aside,
Wisdom of    by indications so marked  that there is no
the arrangement.      ground for hesitation.  That there should be
more of strength on one side, and more of delicacy and
dependence on the other, exalts the relation of marriage,
and changes it from a mere business co-partnership, to a
divine institution, the conditions of which are not determined by mutual agreement, but by the nature of the
case. Any attempt to render it, by mutual contract,
essentially different from what it is in nature, must fail.
It is no mere human arrangement, of which the Saviour
says: "Have ye not read, that he which made them at
the beginning, made them male and female? and said,
for this cause shall a man leave father and ino.her, and
shall cleave to his wife, and they twain shall be one flesh,
wherefore they are no more twain, but one flesh.  What
202 
FAMILY GOV:RNMENT.o
therefore, God hath joined together, let not man put
asunder." Any conception'of marriage as a business
arrangement, between two similar and independent par.
ties, mnst fall infinitely below this divine ideal. But
nature is stronger than a false idea, and the truth will
maintain itself in the world against any false philosophy.
The marriage union, provided for by this divine consti
tntion, is one of confidence and trust, and mu-  A relation of
tual favor. It nmay sometimes be wise to ad- confidence.
just subordinate inerests, affecting the relations of the
parties to others, in matters of property and the like, by
a marriage settlement; but, in general, it is the higher
wisdom to allow all interests to adjust themselves, under
the  natural  operation  of the  marriage  union.   The
civil law may intervene, here and there, to determine
some of the remoter limits of the rights and duties involved, but in general it is too rough a force to be intrusted with the regulation of such relations. Society has
an interest in the prosperity of the family, and has a right
to protect itself against the burdens and immoralities
which must result from its dissolution. Hlence, law naturally comes in to prescribe the rough outlines of duty,
when mutual confidence and affection fail.
Such being the nature of the marriage union, implying
a comtnon life and destiny, a unity of interest,  To be entered
' upon   de'-iberjustifying the bold figure of the early and the  atly. deierlater revelation, it should not be formed at the prompting
of impulse or passion, nor without the most serious purpose to meet it? responsibilities. No man can have a
right to propose marriage with a woman, with whom he
cannot enter heai tily upon the earnest work of life, witl
a satisfactory assurance that she will help him to become
*11l that he is capable of, in excellence and duty, and that
203 
MIORAL PHIILOSOPHIY.
he can help her to be what she needs to be, as a social and
rational being. No woman can have a right to accept the
proposal of any man whose character she cannot respect,
whose honor she cannot trust, and to whose wisdom she
cannot cheerfully yield, in any serious difference of judg ment.
When the union is once consummated, it must be care
Maintained   filly maintained. Although a natural relation,
with care.    it will not take care of itself.  There is con stant opportunity for mutual forbearance. and thoughtful
ness, andl concession, and confidence, and love, a tender ness toward each other's infirmities, a care fcr each
other's convenience and comfort, an appreciation of each
other's burdens and trials; the husband "giving honor
unto the wife, as unto the weaker vessel;" weaker as respects the delicacy of her organization, and dependent by
the conditions of her sex; the wife respecting her husband, and putting him in the place which belongs to him
before the world. Any occasion for the display of authority, or even the thought of it, between the two, is offensive and odious.
There is a natural sphere, where each has the preceRegard for   dence, and each should there respect the
eah ther's
position.   otler's prerogative.  The wife is the proper
mistress of the home, and, within all reasonable limits,
should be left to order its internal arrangements, according
to her own judgment and taste. The husband is the natural representative of the family, in its relations to general
society, and out-door affairs naturally fall to him. Each
may counsel and aid the other, and mutual deference is
ulways in place; but for one party to intrude upon the
other's domain, in the way of control, involves the degradation of both.  These, ard similar, considerations are
204
.I. - 
FAMILY GOVER2X0ENT.
perhaps too obvious to require suggestion, but the importance of the relationshit) will warrant the brief reference.
The relations of the family to civil society, and the
outer world, are not so much individual as   Relation te
organic.  Its duties to society, and its partici-   the state.
ration in public operations, are all subordinate to the
unity of the family. Its voice in public affairs is natu
rally expressed thiough its head. Hle represents not him
self, but the family. The claims upon the family foi
public service, tfall immediately upon him, but actually
upon the organic unity. Hle responds to the claim of
the government for pecuniary support, for service in
office and in war. The family is known in civilized society by his name, and its property is recognized as his;
not because he may use it for his own pleasure, or personal advantage, but because, before the world, he is the
agent of the family, and manages and disposes of its
property. All these and similar arrangements subserve
the family interests, and conduce to its organic unity and
life. If the individual members of the family had each
an independent relation to general society, uttering an
individual voice in public affairs, filling a separate place in
public office and duty, and recognized as con-   Relation to
trolling  separate interests, the organic life   society.
of the family would be feeble and comparatively valueless.
In all the efforts to improve the relations of the individual to society, the interests of the family should not
be forgotten. Every other organization, civil or ecclesiastical, is secondary in importance to the famnily; and all
other valuable organizations flourish, in proportion as a
wholesome foundatiQon for the family is secured.
205 
CHIAPTER IX.
ES OF P1ENT AND CHILD —OF TEACHER AD PUPIL
THE institution of the family contemplates, as its chice
Chief work of object, the proper training of children. Foy
the fmily. this work family government exists, and it is
always tc be exercised with reference to this end.   The
child is made dependent upon the parent, during many
years, to afford opportunity for parental authority and in
fluence to  mould   the  character of the child, and fit
him for the responsibilities of life. This end determines
the direction, and defines the limits, of parental authority.
The child is to be controlled, just so far as his good requires, or for the common benefit of the household. The
form and spirit of this control, are almost wholly deterrnined by the parent. The responsibility is a most sacred
trust, and should be accepted and discharged with conscientious fidelity to the interests of the child.
Parental affection, a powerful instinct, has been pro.
Place of pa- vided as a necessary check upon parental aurental affection.a      thority, and a stimulus to parental duty.
Such control as the parent naturally has over the child,
would be unsafe without this tempering element. Authority, softened by love, loses its repulsive character, and
becomes to the child a fountain of good.  There is noth
Ang he more needs than a kindly and beneficent controlt will to limit his freedom, guided by wisdom and affecti)n   Authority without affection, is popularly, though
often erroneously, supposed to characterize the lot of
kter children and step-children. The mnost scrupulcu
l
i 
DUT1ES OF PARENT AND  HILD. 
conscientiousness cannot make up for the absence of pa,
rental love. On the other hand, the instinctive affection
equally requires the balance of conscientious wisdom.
Mere tenderness toward the child, will as surely miscari]
as stern authority. Benevolence is the comprehensive
duty of the parent-a blending of wisdom and love.
This proper balancing of forces, is divinely provided for
in the union of the different elements of character found
ill the father and the mother. The resultant is a more
wholesome force than either element alone.
The duty of parents to provide for their children, and
secure for them a favorable entrance upon the Leading duty.
responsibilities of life, is second to no other
dtuty.  Parental fondness or pride often perverts the
judgment, and craves for children ease instead of usefulness, social position instead of character, and wealth instead of goodness.  The highest blessings which children
can inherit, it is in the power of all parents to provide;
and earnest fidelity to the interests of the child can
scarcely fail to furnish him with the best of outfits-cheerful hopes, noble principles, and a fair reputation. The
combined resources of wealth and wisdom  and position,
can accomplish nothing more.
The duty of obedience on the part of the child, arises, as
we have seen, from his need of guidance and  Duty of obey.
dienee, and
control, and must continue while this necessity its limit.
continues. The law of the land wisely prescribes the age
at which the child may assume self-control. Thus, some
strnggles may be saved between the spirit of independence
m the child, anld authority in the parent.  There may be
case, in which children are competent to provide for themselves and direct tl.eir own ways, before they reach the legal
age; yet, if parental authority still holds them, they have
207 
MORAL PHILOSOPH]Y.
no right to throw it off. Something is due to the principle
o.f filial obedience.  An example of subordination is prof  itable; and to break away fiom parental control,before
the recognized period, is mischievous in its influence.
Something, too, is due to the judgment and feelings of
parents, who have brought the child on to this condition
of independence.
But it is not true that the duty of obedience termi Maynotterm- nates, in all cases, with the period prescribed
ate.     by the law of the land.  The obligation con tinues during the entire period of dependence, and the
need of guidance.  The child at home, or at school, sus tained from the famnily estate, must listen to parental
counsel; and the duty to respect such counsel, often con tinues after all dependence for material support has
ceased.
The claim of the child to care and support, is a claim
Claim of the of benevolence, not of debt. It is a substanchild.      tial claim, but not such as to make it tolerable
for the child to say, " Father, give me the portion of goods
that falleth to me." The obligation of the parent is as
positive and peremptory, as if the child had earned his
living, but the child must receive the parental bounty
with grateful recognition.
Children cannot require, as a condition of obedience,
Ureasonable  that parents be infallible in judgment or in
requirements. spirit. Nor may they refuse o)bedience, in all
cases, where the requirement is severe and unreasonable.
The child must often obey when his own judgment disapproves of the command, and even when lie knows that
hlis own interests have not been properly considered.  The
parent's command will render that duty which would not
have been duty, or even right to do, without the commandl
208 
DUTIES OF PATENT AND CIIILD.
It might be for the child's interest, and therefore his duty,
to obtain a thorough education; parental authority may
make it his duty to forego these advantages. Of course,
his final interests will lie in the direction of his duty.
But, as in the state, so in the family, there is a limit to
the duty of obedience. Parents may enjoin A limit to the
what it will be wrong for the child to do, after duty.
giving due weight to parental authority. As in other
doubtful cases, no definite line can be drawn between the
right and the wrong; no absolute formula of duty can be
given. A right heart, and such wisdom as is granted to
those who seek, will carry one through the emergency
with "a conscience void of offence toward God and to.
ward men."
When the period of positive obedience has passed, the
duty of respect and honor still remains.  It is Duty in ma,
a most desirable thing, to be able to rise grace- turity.
fully from the position of a child under authority, to that
of a young man or woman, paying all due deference to
the judgment of parents, yet assuming the responsibility
of self-diiection. In this work the parent must co-operate, substituting counsel for command, and laying upon
the child the responsibility of his own conduct. Perhaps
the highest style of family government is that where personal influence is most prominent, and authority is kept
out of sight, resorted to only in an emergency.  Tlen
tie time when  authority ceases, is never known;  thie
youth becomes the man, without any consciousness of
saving escaped parental control.
When conditions are changed, and the parent becomes
aependent upon the child, the duty to render  Duty to de
pendent pacare and support is as imperative on the part rents.
of the child, as before on the part of the parent. It i;
209 
MoRAL PHIILOSOPHY.
just as monstrous for the child to forsake the helplea Is
rent, as for the parent to forsake the child. No plea of
other duties, or of the claims of general benevolence, is
available. The Saviour has pronounced his condemnation upon this hypocrisy.  Such ingratitude is rare; bu
children sometimes fail, in arranging too soon for a de
pendent condition on the part of their parents; too anx
ious to anticipate the possession of the property which
they expect to inherit.  It is more seemly that the old
people should enjoy their pursuits and responsibilities, until they p)refer to lay them off, even if the young people
must comnence with a scanty outfit.
The relation of teacher and pupil rests,ultimately,upon
The teacher's tho same ground as that of parent and child.
authority.  The right to govern, on one side, and  the
luty to obey, on the other, are essential to the teacher's
work, and the pupil's welfare. This is the simple origin
of school government. The teacher's authority has, by
some writers, been derived from authority delegated to
him by the parent. The theory is far-fetched, and unnecessary. If the pupils had been gathered from the streets,
or the forests, having known no parents, the same relation would exist. If parents should refuse their consent,
the teacher must still govern. The teacher's duty is difficult in such a case, but he must govern if he can.  One
who undertakes the instruction of children and youth,
has a right to govern by virtue of his work. Any person
entering a group of children, may, when occasion arises
assume authority.   We  need no more warrant for it
than for liberty to do them good in any other way.
The extent of the teacher's authority depends upon
fte *entt   the necessities of the pupil-Lis age and dis           cre+ion. The degree of control which is prof
210 
DUTMES OF TEACHER AND PUPIL.
stable and proper, ranges from the close restraint of the
boarding-school for children, to the almost complete free.
dom of the scientific and professional school. In every
case, what is best is the test of what is right. In general,
it will be found true that that system of government is
most wholesome and most effective in the school, as weL
as in the family and the state, which provides for indi
vidual responsibility, and acts upon the sense of character
and personal self-respect, rather than upon the regard
for authority, and fear of exposure and of punishment.
Extreme surveillance on the part of teachers, provokes
resistance on the part of the pupil, and puts him in the
position of self-protection. A generous confidence will
;neet a generous response.
In school government there is need of closer defini
tions of duty than in the family, and often of
Need of rules
written rules. There is more room for suspicion of arbitrariness and unreasonableness, than in the
closer personal relations of parent and child, and more
care is required to retain the convictions and sympathy
of the pupils on the side of the government of the school.
Without this moral support of the pupils, the influence
is disastrous upon character, and the government is essentially a failure.
The duty of the pupil involves obedience to all necessary regulations, such as may be deemed ne-  The pupil's
cessary by teachers.   The judgment of the  duty
pupil cannot control in the matter.   It is his privilege
to express, with due respect, his opinion, and to expect
all reasonable attention to his representations and wishes
but here his responsibility in government ends, and the
remaining duty is obedience. The pupil may be wiser
than the teacher, as many private citizens may be wiser
211 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
than the president; yet it is the teacher's duty to govern,
and the pupil'sto obey, and any attempt on the part of
pupils to subvert this order, by dictation or combination,
is pernicious and wrong.
There sometimes exists a strange and painful antagoUnnatural an. nism, in large public schools and colleges, toagonism.    ward  the authorities-not the result of any
real oppression, but the outgrowth of a natural repugnance to restraint. This is often regarded as a necessary
incident to student life, as an opposition party is an in
cident to civil government. In itself it seems a most un
desirable condition of things, one which tends greatly to
counteract the proper influence of teachers. It seems, too,
unworthy of young men, possessed of good sense, and
well disposed, to take an attitude of hostility toward the
government of the school, and to regard with favor
a breach of the laws, as if they were opposed to the
interests of the student.  If any ten of the same students were entrusted with the government, they would
enact the same laws, and maintain the government, essentially, in the same form.  The feeling must, in the first
case, result from thoughtlessness, and a selfish regard to
personal convenience and pleasure; and when once the sentiment is established, it is transmitted from generation to
generation.
The same obligation of deference and respect rests
Duty of mu- upon the pupil, as upon the child in the family.
tueal regard. There should be an appreciation of the teaclher's good intention, a toleration of his infirmities, and patience even under an ill-judged and hasty word. The first
impulse of the pupil may be to place himself upon his
rights, and make an issue with his teacher.  A graceful
yielding is the truer propriety, and the higher wisdom.  A
212 
DUTIES OF TEACHER AND PUPIL.
corresponding duty rests upon the teacher to exercise pa tience, to put aside suspicion, to appreciate the generous
disposition of his pupils. All successful school government
involves this mutual co-operation-teaechers exhibiting a
generous confidence, and pupils responding with a hearty
sul)port of the government, and an intelligent interest in
the order of the school.
In concluding this brief examination of the subject of
government, a remark or two may be offered upon some
tendencies in our country, not altogether desirable.
Respect for authority, and due regard for superiors in
age and position, seems a little odious to our Unfavorable
Intensely democratic sentiments.  There is a  tendencies.
sup)erficial feeling, that it is unworthy of a man to lookl
utip with deference to a tfellow-man in any relation.  Yet,
a hearty respect for age, and wisdom, and authority, is
essential to manliness, and forms an important element
;n every true character.  "Thou shalt rise up before the
hoary head, and honor the face of the old man, and fear
thy God," is the dictate of nature and of inspiration
alike; and if the institutions of a country tend to sub
vert the natural sentiment of reverence, they must in the
end prove disastrous. It would not be strange, if, in the
development of the democratic principle of government,
extreme views should, for a time, obtain, and the natural
and  proper  limitations of  the doctrine  of personal
equality be left out of view.  The rough freedom with
which the highest officers of the governmnent are greeted
in the gatherings of the people, is not wholly satisfactory
It does not indicate a want of hearty respect for the gov
ernment, and confidence in it, but rather the reverse,
Still, it is proof of the breaking down of a natural senti
ment which beautifies charac(ter, and adds a charm to tho
218 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
varied relations of society.   True democracy, while it
corrects the superstitious reverence for those in authority,
does not subvert the natural relations of ruler and subjeet; and we may confidently expect that these extrava,,aiices will ultimately disappear.  The chivalrous regard
-liown to woman, in our country, is proof that, in the end
the sentiments appropriate to all the relations of life will
prevail.
A similar extravagance of democracy, is seen in the
Extreme indi- tendency to extreme individualism, exhibited
vidualisn.    in our civilization.  The attempt at a sharp
definition of human rights-the rights of men:, of women,
and of children, providing a complete legal basis for the
various relations of the family, is an exanmple.  There is,
doubtless, room  for improvement in the laws which define these relations, but there may be danger of siub,ert
ing wholesome institutions, breaking up family unity, in
the endeavor to protect the individual. It is true that
.1l institutions, governmental and social, are entirely instrumental-good tortheir uses, and of no value in themselves, and that all ultimate value is in the individual.
But the good of the individual depends upon these instrumnentalities, and cannot be secured by any other
means.  To resolve the family int) a business organization, chartered by the laws of the land, the interests of
the various partners to be secured by a specified dividend
of the pecuniary proceeds, cannot benefit the individual.
D)iities are quite as important as rights, and social rela
lions as individual standing.
Oui institutions encourage independence of opinion,
independence and, with natural and proper limitations, it i
of opinion the strength of our civilization; but there ii
an extreme of independence which is offensive and up
214 
DUTIES OF TEACHIER AND PUPIL.
safe.  It is in the order of nature that the young shloul(-J
receive many of their views friom others, and formi their
own opinions  slowly, and with modesty.   There ailt
other duties beside that of independence of thoughlt. Ii1
the experience of all whose culture and pursuits incliile
then: to thought, there is a period of transition frion
vouth to maturity, a time for the examination of Oii('s
beliefs, and their foundation.   At this period there is
danger, in the case of young, men especially, that they
will break away from the views in which they have been
educated, before they have become capable of laying sure
foundations for themselves.  Ill-considered and reckless
opinions must be the result, and a general unsettling of
the character. This danger is often encountered in passing from youth to manhood, and it is aggravated by a
general pride of opinion in the community.  M1odesty in
the individual comes with years, and so,we may hope, it
will come to a people.
21 t,, 
BECO1\D DIVISION.
PERSONAL RIGHTS AND DUTIB&
CHAPTER I.
GENERAL PRINCIPLES.
RIGHTS are based upon susceptibilities or wants.  A
tsotf   capacity to enjoy, implies the right to the i  hts.    lative good adapted tc that capacity, unles
some  higher  good, personal or general,  contravenes.
This principle is but a corollary of the broader principle,
that the good of being is to be regarded for its own
value.
The great comprehensive want of every sentient na.
The compre- ture, and the corresponding right, is wellhensive right. being, satisfaction, happiness. The capacity
for this well-being is thle basis and condition of the right
to it.  The nature of each being is his charter of rights,
and these rights can be determined only in the light of
that nature. All the essential conditions of happiness,
or well-being, are embraced in this charter of rights. Inr
a human being, the right to happiness involves the subo-dinate rights of Life, Liberty, Reputation, Property
because these are essential to his happiness.   The list
might be extended, but it is sufficient for our plrpose to
consider these. 
GENERAL PRINCIPLES.
Our Declaration of Independence, in its catalogue of
rights, seems to make the pursuit of happiness a siubordi nate right, co-ordinate with others, whereas it is the sole
generic right, comprehensive of all the rest.
These rights, the general righlt of happiness, and the
subordinate rights, which are the conditions of  Inalienabe
happiness, are often spoken of as inalienable.   ght
The term needs explanation and limitation.  Every hu
man being may forfeit these ri,ghts by crime, making his
happiness, or some of the conditions of it, a proper sacrifice to the good of society. And even without crime, the
right of the individual iiust sometimes be surrendered to
the higher right of society. The only right which is
strictly inalienable, is the right belonging to every being
to be regarded for what he is, to have his interests made
due account of. This right can never be compromised, or
forfeited-is in the strictest sense inalienable; but the
privileges which it secures, will vary with relations and
circumstances.
Duties are distinguished from rights, as having their
basis in faculties, instead of susceptibilities;  Basis of duin power to do, instead of capacity to enjoy;  ties.
blut in common with rights, they spring from the broad
principle that the good of being is to be regarded for its
own sake. The duty of benevolence is generic, and allcomprehending. All other duties come under this coinprehensive one.  Among these may be enumerated, Piety,
Philanthropy, Patriotism, Self-culture, Usefulness, and
uch special virtues as Fidelity, Veracity, and Chastity
No such enumeration can be exhaustive, nor are the du
ties named perfectly distinct.  They spring alike from be
nevolence, and are but modifications of it; and, objectively, they may in some cases include, or imply, each other.
10
21,i' 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY
Duties and rights maybe contemplated as correlatives
Correlation of Every duty which we owe, terminates on
rights and duties.       some being as its object, and implies a right
ill that being-a claim to the fulfilment of the duty. His
right is infringed upon, if the duty is not performed. So
cv ery right, pertaining to any being, implies a correspond
iig duty on the part of all beings who are cogcnizant of
that right.
Duties, in general, are enjoined by positive precepts,
Positive and  while rights are protected by regative prenegative precnepts.ive   cepts.  " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God
with all thy heart," " Remember the Sabbath day to keel)
it holy," " Honor thy father and thy mother," are examples of duties enjoined; "Thou sllalt not kill," " Thout
shalt not steal," " Thou shalt not covet," are examples of
rights protected.  A failure in duty may be forbidden by
a negative precept, and respect for a right may be eiijoined by a positive precept; but this is not a departure
from the principle, for a failure in duty is violation (,f a
right, and respect for a right is fulfilment of a duty.
But while rights and duties are thus intimately related,
Subjects not the subjects of right and of duty are not nethe same.   cessarily the same.  A sentient nature, capacity to enjoy, is the sole condition of rights. and every
sentient being is the subject of rights. A rational or
moral nature is the condition of duties, and moral beings
only are the subjects of duties. Moral beings are also
sentient, and thus are the subjects both of rights and
of duties. While every sentient being is the subject of
rights, the rights must vary with the nature of the being.
Even the brute has rights, which we are bound to respect;
or, to speak more definitely, in brute life there is capacity
for good, whtich moral beings must make account of. A
218 
GENERAL PRINCIPLES.
brute is not to be treated like insentient matter, but always with due respect to his susceptibility of pleasure
and of pain.
The absence, however,.f the rational element, gives us
a freedom in the treatment of brutes, which  Limit to tU
rights of
no being can exercise in the treatment of brutes.
rational agents.  The brute lives in the present.   To
him there is no past, no future. The value of his life
consists in the aggregate of the animal enjoyment,which
is involved in his experience, from the beginning to the
end of that life.  The satisfaction of to-day, is not affected by the remembrance of yesterday, or the hope of
to-morrow. His life is an aggregation, not a unity.
Hardship laid upon him, is simply a subtraction firom the
present animal enjoyment, and leases no sense of injustice,
or of apprehension, to cast a shadow over subsequent experiences.  An unusual accession of enjoyment is simply
an addition to the present good, and can never stand, in
the experience of the brute, as compensation for the past,
or promise for the future.  His enjoyment goes for what
it is worth in the present moment. Again, the fate or
experience of one individual of the species, has no bearing to occasion pleasant or painful remembrances, or
hopes or apprehensions, in another.   There may be a
present sense of loss, when a companion falls, but no pain.
ful inferences mar the animal enjoyment.
"The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day,
Had he thy reason, would he skip and play?
Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food,
And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood."
Ilence, we are permitted to use animal powers and
Lfe as utilities, to minister to our own hap- Tobe treate[
Siness or welfare. To occasion wanton pain as utilities.
219 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
to brutes, is a wrong. It is a destruction of good without
any resulting good.  But if the good is transferred, bj
nereased satisfiLction to a higher being, or even to a be.
,ng of the same order, such treatment is the proper use,
and not the abuse,of brute life. WVe may take brutes to
bear our burdens, or to minister to our good by their life,
ar by their death, and we use them in accordance with
their nature, under the law of benevolence.  Tlhey may
be treated as utilities, with the simple limitation that no
wanton pain shall be inflicted, no animal life wasted.
Such a use of brutes is in harmony with their nature, and
doubtless secures the greatest amount of good,in connection with animal life, of which the nature of the case admlits.
But no such privilege can exist on the part of any
Human be-   being. higher or lower, in the use or treatment
ldgs not.   of human beings.  A  rational being  has a
past and a future, as well as a present. His life is a unity,
and not a continuity.  An experience of ill in tle past, is
not a mere subtraction from his happiness by the amount
of that ill. The experience may bring a sense of injustice,
,)r of fear and apprehension.  Iis highest interests depend upon his personality, his capacity to form purposes
and plans, and realize them, and to sustain responsibilities
and meet them. Subjection to the will of another, in any
such sense as to preclude these plans, or essentially interere with these responsibilities, is inconsistent with his
1iihest well-being.  Again, the experience of one rational
being is of interest to all who become cognizant of that
experience.   Hope  and fear, confidence  and distrust,
arise to men from the experience of others, as well as froro
their own; and thus the interest of one becomes the in.
terest of all The moral universe is a unity. The lhappi
220 
GENERAL  PRINCIPLES.
ness of all depends upon the treatment of the individual;
and injustice or hardship, in a single instance, unsettles the
confidence and security of all, and makes their well-being
mpossible.
Some of the German philosophers seem to overlook
this fact of personality, as distinguishing man  A misappre.
trom the brute, in his conditions of well-being, hension.
and represent nature as careless of the individual, and
careful of the species or the type. Schelling seems to
represent that the individual is contrary to nature; and
when the species is secured, the individual is swept away,
as of no account.
The species man, would be a blot upon creation, if the
individual man were not cared for according to his wants
and rights.
Human society exists for the supply of these wants, and
for the protection of these rights; and it is successful in
proportion as it secures the welfare of the individul.
Let us turn to the consideration of the leading rigL's
with which man in society is invested.
221 
CHAPTER II.
RIGHTS-LIFX.
As  ife is a prime condition of well-being, the generi
as ofr the  right to be happy  embraces the particulat
eight.      right to live.  Every man, whose life does
not stand in the way of the general good, can claim, in
his relation to his fellow-men, the right of continued life.
This  right  is protected by  the sixth commandment:
"'Tliou shalt not kill." The manifest interpretation of
the precept is —thou shalt not murder, but, like the other
commandments, it comprehends,by implication,a class of
)ffelces against the person, and prohibits all violence, a',
wickedness, all carelessness.
The guilt of murder, which is the gravest form of
{uilt of mur- violation of the right to life, lies, of course, in
der.        the cherished ill-will or bad intention-the
misc(hievous purpose.  This is the malice prepense which
constitutes, according to human law, as well as divine
the subjective element in the crime.  Without this elec
ment, homicide ceases to be murder; with it, the guilt
exists, even  if the outward act be wanting.  "Whoso
hatethl his brother, is a murderer."
The legal term, malice, and the scriptural term, hatred,
misunder-  are  often  misunderstood  as  expressing  a
stnding.    malicious feeling, the emotion of malice or
hatred; but this is not the proper signification of the terms.
The nmalice of thi  law, that which constitutes the guilt,
is an intent or purpose, irrespective of any feeling; and
malice prepense is a definite, settled purpose against the 
RldITS —LIFE.
life. The feeling is an unimportant matter, except as it
sheds light upon the purpose,inaquestion of evidence.
Malice of purpose may co-exist with utter indifference of
feeling toward the victim, or even with intense pity.
The highway robber, or the pirate, whose aim is plun.
der, cherishes no malicious feeling towards the unknown
victim,whose life he sacrifices to conceal the evidence of
his crime. The man who plots a railway disaster, with
the hope of plunder, feels no hatred towards the passengers whose lives he imperils or destroys. Yet these are
all murderers, and their malice is in their purpose. They
are enemies of the human race.  The unnatural mother
who murders her own child, may even weep in pity,
while she nerves herself to the deed.
The  purpose  to  commit  the  crime, the malicious
intent, may be more or less distinct and de]ib-  Modifications
crate; hence, it is customary, in legislation  of the crime.
and  in  judicial proceedings, to discriminate  different
degrees of crime. The modification of the crime of murder, which is called manslaughter, is involved in any
destruction of human life, occasioned by negligence, or
carelessness, or recklessness, without a definite purpose to
kill; e. g., leaving a pit uncovered into which men  are
liable to fall; dischlarging a gun under such circumstances
as manifestly to endanger life; driving a railroad train
at a reckless speed, or with an unnecessary risk; attempting a case in medicine or surgery, involving a risk of
life, without the necessary qualifications in knowledge
and skill; or the crime may be committed while in th
perpetration of any other illegal act, as theft or burglary
because in all such crimes there is danger to life. The
essential element, in all these grades of the crime, is the
samne in kind-the absence of proper regard for human life.
223 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
Any crime, such as arson, highway robbery, kidnap
Oter relates ping, slave-trading, obstruction of railroads,
crimes.     which involves danger to life, implies the
guilt of murder, in a degree proportioned to the perceived
danger. The guilt is incurred, even if a fatal result be
averted. An occupation, like that of rum-selling, though
generally recognized as a business, and not as a crime, if
t involves danger and mischief to human life, and is in
no proper sense necessary to the general good, carries
with it the guilt of murder. Every man is held responsible for the obvious and natural consequences of his doings. It does not avail to say that the rum-seller intends
no murder, that he regrets the loss of life which results
from his business. A proper regard for human life would
lead him to renounce his calling. In his regret at the
destruction of life, he does not differ from the pirate, who
would prefer to gather his spoils without murder. The time
is sure to come when such a pursuit will be treated,is a
felony.  According to the Mosaic law, the man who suffered his "ox, wont to push with the horn," to go at
large, was held responsible for all damage to life or limb
which resulted. The principle is just, and capable of
wide application.
The right to life, does not imply the right to preserve
Riglit of self- it at every sacrifice. Another may have no
preservation
limited.    right to demand, what we may be under obligation to surrender. We are not permitted to avoid al
exposure of life, or to pursue always the course which
promises the longest life. The way of duty often lies
through dangers. To keep one's self always out of the
reach of harm, is y no means the privilege of responsib]e beings.
In a common danger, others inay require us to expose
224 
RIGHTS-LIFE.
our lives to repel the danger.   Thle government may
righltfully compel a service, fraught with ex-  Ina comaor
treine peril, as in the mnilitaiy draft.  The life  danger.
of aii innocent person may, in a rare emnergency, be re
quired and taken, to save the lives of many.  The  pan
amount law of benevolence affords thie only criterion foil
suech cases.
The right to life carries with it, with certain limita
tions, the right to protect that life — the righbf
zn  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~Self-defence.
of self-defence.  There are methods of self        -defence
protection, universally acknowledged to be proper.  We
inay avail ourselves of any reasonable opportunity to escape the danger, or of any police arrangement which the
government may afford for protection.  But beyond all
thlese, in a pressing danger, we may repel violence by
such force as we may be able to command, even to the
extent of taking the life of an assailant. The aim should
be, in every case, merely to avert the danger, and never
to inflict injury beyond the requirement of self-protection.
The emergency which calls for such exercise of force
will, of course, preclude very careful discrimninations; but
such as are possible, should always be made.
The right to defend life, extends to lives under our protection; and the right is even broader in ref-  Defence of
erenilee to such lives. We might be allowed others.
to surrender our own lives to an assailant, when we coul,
assume no such responsibility in reference to the life of
aln other.
We can have no right to occasion a wanton destruc
tion of life in self-defence.  We  must have  Wanton desome reasonable prospect of escape; other- struction.
wise, the sacrifice of the lives of assailants is inexcusable
To sell one's life as dearly as possible, is not a prope,
10'
22.5 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
maxim in self-defence. This principle applies only whlen
there is some object to be attained beyond self-preserva
tion. It would apply in the case of Leonidas and his
men, when the safety of the countrv was at stake.
The taking of life in the protection of property, is, in
Not for pro  general, utterly unjustifiable   Those who use
tection of
property.   deadly weapons to protect their grounds from
marauders, have entirely transcended the limits of the
right of selfdefence.  The common law agrees with the
Mosaic code in  discriminating between  the midnight
burglar, whose purpose may be assassination, and the
common thief.   The one may be repelled with deadly
weapons, at the hazard of taking life; the other may not.
An attempt to punish ar assailant,oy inflicting injury
iotto punish upon him, is not self-defence. The fact that
A assilant.   an assailant deserves the blow, is no proper
-eason for inflicting it. When the assault has been revelled, further violence cannot be justified on the ground
of self-defence.  Retaliation must be carefully discriminated from self-defence. Those who discard the right of
self-defence, often fail to make this discrimination. It is
a grosser perversion of the doctrine of self-defence, to repel an insult, or abuse in words, by violence. The corrupt customs of the land have sometimes sustained such
outrages.
The general practice of carrying concealed weapons
Carying     cannot be justified on the ground of selfws~pons.    defence.   The  custom is dangerous, pernicious, and doubtless results in the destruction of life, instead of its preservation. It is an offence against society,
and is properly made a misdemeanor by law.
The barbarous practice of duelling has sometimes been
defended on the ground of self-protection-protection, not
226 
RIGITS —LIFE.
so much of life, as of honor. The principle of self-defence
admits of no such application.   The honor
that is vindicated by the result of a duel, is un-  ueing.
worthy of the name. The preservation of true honor,which
is only another name for rectitude, might justify the sacrifice of one's own life; but to assail the life of another,
on such a pretence, changes honor into dishonor; yet
this is the nature of the modern duel.   The idea of the
duel, in its origin, involved an appeal to Heaven to vindicate the right; and though such an appeal is utterly
unwarrantable, it is not so utterly loathsome, as the
attempt to save one's honor by shedding the blood of
another.   The motive to the duel, as it exists in modern
society, is either vindictive hate, or moral cowardice
under pressure of public sentiment.  Neither of these
notives can save either party in the transaction, from
the guilt of murder.
Objections against the Uoctrine of self-defence are some
times based upon the Saviour's precept, "Re-, Resist not
sist not evil. To him that smiteth thee on the evil."
one cheek, offer also the other." But a caretful study of
these, and similar passages, will show that they are directed
against a spirit of resentment and retaliation, and not
against proper self-defence.   The love which " workethl
no ill to a nei,ghbor,"is only benevolence, and benevo!ence is good-will governed by reason. If self-defence is
reasonable, it is required by benevolence.
The objection that the Lord will protect those who
trust in him, and hence self-defence is unne-,The Lord
eessary, assumes that self-defence is improper. will protect."
If self-defence be right, then a trust in the Lord which is
not presumption, will require the use of the legitimate
means of self-protection. We must trust the Lord for
227 
MORAL PHILOSOPIHY
daily bread; but he that will not work for it, cannot exigect
to eat. Trust, without labor, is not genuine trust.
The idea that the avowal of the principle of non-resist
]ffectiveness ance,would exert such a moral force as, in a
of non-resistance.      great degree, to do away with violence, is
based upon the same assumption of the wrongfulness of
self-defence.  If self-defence be reasonable and right, then
there is no special moral force in tile principle of non-re
sistance.  It is simply an amiable blunder.   As a rare
exhibition, it might move an assailant to forbearance,
like auy other unusual, kind-hearted scrupulosity.
228 
CHAPTER IIl.
RIGHTS -  LIBERTI.
LIBERTY iS the opportunity for the free exercise of out
own faculties, in the performance of duty, and Definition
in the pursuit of good, under the law of be-  and extent
nevolence   The right covers not the privilege of doing
as we wil, but as we believe we ought to will.  Freedom
from the restraints of duty and obligation is license, not
liberty. No one can have a right to use his liberty beyond the limits of benevolence; but, practically, it is impossible to secure to men the privilege of free action,
within the limits of benevolence, without giving them, at
the same time, power to transcend those limits. The
basis and the general limitations of the right, belong to
morals; but the practical degree of freedom to be allowed
by government, under different conditions of civilization
is a problem in social and political science.
That degree of freedom of action, which, under the
circumstances, is consistent with the general  Basis of the
good, is the right of every moral being. Such right
freedom is to him a condition of happiness or well-being;
and the right to happiness, which is the comprehensive,
generic right, implies the right to the essential conditions
of happiness. The limits of the freedom which he can
claim, are not fixed and unchangeable, but vary with his
surroundings, or his relations to others.  A  being exist
ing alone in the world, would be without restraint, except
such as regard for his own good would impose. He
would have a right tQ use e ery utility for his own ad 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
vantage.  Let a neighbor be given him, and his liberty
is at once circumscribed. Adam, alone in the garden, had
a right to consult simply his own convenience and coiifort in his movements. When Eve came, this right was
circumscribed by the fact that her welfare ".s to be re
Epected. Her right is of equal force with his, and thli
ight of eaeL is limited by that of the other.
The opinion has sometimes been set forth, that, in a
Misappre-    state of nature, men are perfectly free; but
hension of its
origin.     choosing to enter society for their own advantage, they surrender to the society, as represented in the
government, a part of their freedom, in exchange for the
advantages it offers, retaining what is not thus surrendered. Such a view is wholly ideal, and does not tend
.o elucidate the subject. A state of nature, as thus represented, has never been realized,except in the case of
the first man.  Men are born into society, and never have
the choice of entering it submitted to them. There is
no surrender of rights, for the advantages of society, as
the theory supposes.  The rights never existed.   No one
ever had any rights, but such as are consistent with the
common good.  These are the facts in respect to general
society.  There are some special relationships, which we
are at liberty to form, or not; and, in forming them, we
surrender a part of our freedom, for the advantages we
secure.   On  this principle, we connect ourselves with
others, in business, or in marriage, or enter a school, or a
church.
The right of liberty, limited lby benevolence, extend
Extends to   to all our powers and activities.  Our bodily
bodily pow.rs.       powers, we are permitted to use, in accordance
with our own wisdom. Others may be more wise, and
thus more competent to give direction to these powers;
230 
RIGHTS-LIBERTY.
but they cannot, for such reason, assume the control of
our powers, except in cases where the general good may re
quire it.  The results of our labor are ours, to use a(ccor(l
iig to our discretion.  We have the right of locomotion,
the choice of place of residence, and of occupation.
Yet these rights all have their limits. The governmelin
may require and compel our service, for the promotion of
the common interests, or restrict our locomnotion, and con
fine us to our own locality, if the public good so demands.
Such limitations may seem to render human freedom precarious, but they cannot be set aside.  It is the more necessary, to guard the right with jealous care.
The same right of self-direction pertains to our intellectual powers, and their results.  These pow-  To intellectu
ers are ours, to cultivate and employ in fiee alpowers.
thought and free expression. True liberty leaves us free,
in the exercise of our tastes-the lower and the higherouresthetic nature. Sumptuary laws, regulating expenliture for personal gratification, are, in general, an infringement of human rights. Extreme public necessity,
as in a famnline or a siege, will sometimes warrant the
regulation of these interests by authority. A depraved
or corrupted taste, like the love of strong drink, injurious
alike to him who indulges it, and to society at large, may
be rightfully restrained by law.
Our moral and spiritual nature comes under the same
principle of liberty, with even less restrictions. To the me.al
We lhave a right to our own opinions, in mat-  nature.
ters of morality and religion; and to a free expression of
our opinions, in action and in worship. Yet, even her6,
liberty has its limits. Society has a right to maintain
public order and morality, and to place such checks upon
individual action as those interests may require. A re
231 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
lig,ious system, like Mormonism, which strikes at the
foundation of public morals, or open idolatry, wljich
tends to break down the religious sentiment of the coin.
iunity, can claim  no indulgence on the plea of liberty
of  conscience.
Absolute toleration of all conceivable teaching and
Limit of tol- practice, in morals and in religion, is by no
eraticn.    means a self-evident principle.  There are sentimnents too atrocious and corrupting to be allowed utterance. The precise limit of legitimate toleration is matter of experience and judgment; and this limit will vary
with conditions and circumstances.  The right to cherish
an opinion is not subject to limitation from without;
but the right to express that opinion is always limited by
the requirements of the general welfare. Until it can be
proved that universal toleration is consistent with the
best interests of men, government must have the right to
impose some restrictions uponi the expression and practice
of what may be set forth as a conscientious belief. Every
error of opinion is more or less mischievous, and subversive of the public good; but, in general, it is wiser and
better to leave such errors to find their own correction in
the conflict with truth, than to attempt their suppression
by authority. When the evil is gross and notorious, the
right to toleration ceases.
The freedom of the press is subject to the same limitaFredom of  tions.  In an ordinary condition of society,
the press.    little restriction is called for; but in times of
public danger, the right to restrict and regulate, must be
maintained and exercised.  The power of the press is to
be used, like every other power, in harmony with tllhe
public interests.
The claims of what is called free discussion, are not ab
232 
RIGHTS-LIBERTY.
solute and universal. Hie who has an opinion to set fortli
cannot always claim a hearing whenever it Free discusmay seem to himi desirable that he should be Zion.
heard. Each man has the right to protect his own famnily against the intrusion of what he deems dangerc us
error; and the promulgator of a doctrine cannot complain
against a conscientious exercise of this right. We have a
right to establish a school in the interest of religion and
truth, and to exclude from its positions of influence the
teachers of irreligion and falsehood; and the conscientious
exercise of this right, cannot properly expose us to the
charge of illiberality or bigotry. We may organize a
church, and build a house of worship, for the mainten
ance of our religious views and our chosen modes of wor
ship; and no demand for free discussion can require us to
invite into the pulpit those whose teachings are subver
sive of our conscientious faith and worship. We must
accord to those of different views the same prerogative in
their own field; and a conscientious exercise of this right,
is neither ungenerous, nor intolerant. We are under no
obligation, in our personal arrangements, to give to error
the same opportunity which we secure to whlat we believe
to be the truth. It is reasonable and wise to listen to
the views of others, even when we deem them wrong,
and often to give even to mischievous error an opportunity to set forth its claim; but the claim to such a hearinig niust be presented on the ground of courtesy, and not
of right, or the hearing  may be granted on the ground
that it gives a better opportunity to the truth.
How much civi. government may properly undertake,
Duties ofecivil in the way of sustaining and enforcing edugovernment.   cation, and morality, and religion, is to be
determined by the prospect of success in the undertaking
233 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
No d prinmi principle can define the limit.   Diffelett
e-,nditions of society will give different solutions of the
)rublemn.  A state church, and ordinances of religion es
tablished and enforced by the government, were approp)riate in the early history of the pecple of Israel.
Oomipulsory education seems still successful in some of
Worship and  the states of continental Europe; but, in genoducation.    eral, voluntary arrangements, both for educatiIon and religion, are found to be more in harmony with
aodern civilization. But this condition of society does
adot require that the government should be indifferent to
education or religion, or should make no provision for
them.  A systemn of public instruction, sustained by taxation, of which the people may avail themselves, is found
to be most efficient, and this fact is the warrant for its
existence. Upon the same principle, the government
may be justified in guarding a day from such secular
occupations as would destroy its usefulness as a Sabbath,
that the people may employ it for the purposes of religion. Such governmental protection seems necessary to
the establishment and successful maintenance of the institutions of religion.  The public enforcement of quiet,
on one day in seven, is not an encroachment upon the
rights of conscience; and if secular interests, in general,
are not injured, then the appointment is in no sense
oppressive. Even without divine authority for the Sabbath,civil government would be warranted in the appointment.
In the domain of personal or private action, our liberty
Subjective    is, of course, limited by our own conscientious
lmitations.   convictions.  We cannot maintain liberty of
action,against our final judgment of duty.  When another
has no right to limit our freedom, our own  consciences
234: 
RiGHTS-LIBERTY.
Impose restrictions. But, beyond this, there is an impor
tant sense in which we are limited by the consciences of
others, and even by their imperfect views and infirmities
Habits and practices, which might be safe and wholesomie
to us, we have no right to indulge, when they become anti
occasion of temptation to others. The apostle yields t(
this limitation of his freedom, when he says: " If mea
make my brother to offend, I will eat no flesh while
the world standetli, lest I make my brother to offend."
Tlhus our  "liberty is judged of another  man's conscience."  The duty of total abstinence from intoxicating
drinks, rests upon this principle more distinctly Total abstithan upon any other. In view of the weak- nence.
ness of men in this direction, and the importance of
diminishing temptation, and strengthening every favoring
,nfluence, it may be the duty of those to abstain, to whom
a simple glass of wine would bring no harm or danger.
If my indulgence would endanger a brother man, it is unbenevolent for me to vindicate my right. The claim of
personal liberty in the case, is the plea of the selfish
and self-indulgent.
The same principle must apply to other indulgences,
entertainments, and amusements, which have Other indulb come  temptations  to  many.   It  is not  gence.
enoug(h that to ourselves they bring no danger, or even
that in themselves, apart from perverted associations, they
iiav be wholesome recreations. If they serve as a snare
to others, the earnest and thoughtfiil will find their recreation in other channels. The effort to recover these
iuestionable entertainments firom their evil associations,
hias generally proved a failure.
In the regulation of one's own conduct in these doubt
tul miatters, definite lines, not to be passed, are of great
235 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
practical value. There is a gradual inclination from the
Use o' do- innocent to the harmful, each downwar(dl step
nite ides.    so gentle and uniform, that one finds himself
on forbidden ground before his attention has been aroused.
In the midst of the enticements of pleasure, the necessary
discriminations will not be made. ".Facils descengu8s,
d revocare gradum "-the descent is easy, the return
is difficult.    There is sound  wisdom  in adopting a
practical rule for ourselves, a rough formula, which we
can always apply, even when, in the pressure of excitement, we cannot undertake an exact solution of the problem of propriety. The young man who adopts the maxim
never to touch, in its mildest form, the intoxicating cup,
will walk safely; while he who undertakes to decide each
case upon its own merits, will be ensnared. Similal
rules will be found profitable in reference to games and
other amusements. These are for the regulation of our
selves, and not a standard by which to judge others.
They are not exact expressions of what is right, but conve
nient approximations.
Encroachments upon personal liberty appear in various
Violations of forms.    Government,  in  the family,  the
fibefty. school, the church, or the state, may oppress the individual with unnecessary restrictions, or with
burdensome requirements and exactions.   These may
have been necessary in their time, and the necessity may
have passed away, so that the subject is entitled to a larger
liberty. Public sentiment, concentrated in the form of
offensive or burdensome customs and usages, may lay
upon the individual burdens grievous to be borne. It is
not rare, in student life, that one feels compelled to incur an
unreasonable expense, or sanction a folly, to maintain his
respectability. Fashion is often tyrannous. No apparent
236 
RIGHTS-LIBERTY.
force is employed, but substantial penalties are inflicted
The most odious instances of encroachment  upon liberty
are in the tform of personal violence- strength, oppress
ing weakness s  and the extreme example of this oppressior
is found in chattel slavery, where manl is treated merely
as a utility, an appendage to another's convenience ol
interest.  Slavery originates in personal violence, and
is maintained by violence. The laws which regulate and
sustain it, spring from slavery; they do not create slavery.
We have a right to maintain our liberty, under an op
pressive government, by moving for its refor- Defence of
miation, and finally by revolution; under an  liberty.
oppressive public sentiment, by declaring our independence, and disregarding the corrupt custom; under personal violence, by an appeal to the law, by flying fromn
oppression, and by personal resistance to aggression. The
riglit of resistance has its limits.   Even a chattel slave
cannot properly vindicate his rights at any unlimited
sacrifice of life, or open a path to freedom through indiserininate slaughter.  An enslaved race or people, may be
allowed to do, for themselves and their posterity, what
fhe individual slave might not do.
237 
CHAPTER IV.
RIGHTS-REPUTATION
PRoMNWr among human interests stands reputatlin
Rep,tteation    To every moral being, it is a condition of
In  iterest.   happiness to be held in esteem by others.  "A
good name is rather to be chosen, than gieat riches, and
loving favor rather than silver or gold."
Reputation extends to all personal attributes and ac
Extends to   complisliments-everything which adds to in
what?       fluenece and power, or enhances one's position
among, men, or which makes one an object of regard.
That reputation is of most value which is based upon
the Ihiglhest qualities.   As moral integrity, genuine up.
rigihtness, is the highlest personal attribute, a reputation
ror such a character is most to be prized.  But it is im
portaint to be held in esteem for good sense, natural ability, professional acquiirements and skill, and every personal
attribute necessary to success or happiness.
Reputation becomes  a good  in  two  respeets,  di           rectly and indirectly.  The moral approval
aowagood.  of others is immediately grateful.   To  be
held in esteem for virtuous character, is, probably, next to
his own approval, the highest good of every moral being.
[here is substantial value, too, in esteem, bestowed for
any personal excellence.  Indirectly, reputation is valuable, as it is a condition of success in the work of lin.  In
any calling, a reputation for honor, and good judgment,
and professional ability, is more important han capital. 
RIGHTS-REPUTATION.
There is no one, however exalted, or howevei humble, t(
whom a good name is not more than property.
The proper claim to a reputation extends no fiuitliet
than the real facts in the case will sustain.   No  oire
can hlave a claim to be regarded beyond his true merit.
The precept of the decalogue wlhich protects this right
r  unterest, is the  ninth:   " Thlou shalt not
bear false witness against thy neighbor."  The  The precept.
grosser form oi offence-false-swearing —gives form to
the precept, but the law unquestionably forbids assault
upon a neighbor's reputation, by positive misstatement,
by insinuation, or innuendo, by expression of suspicion or
apprehension, by partial statements, and even by silence
when the circumstances require utterance.
Even truth-telling, may carry with it the force of slan
der; as when a past misdemeanor, long since discarded
and corrected. is set forth as indicative of character, or
an exceptional act is given as if it were characteristic.
Such truth-telling is prohibited by the law.
The sin of slander, like all other sins, is primarily sub
jective-a state of heart,involving a disregard  Temptations
for a neighbor's reputation-one of the forms  to slander.
in which a want of benevolence shows itself. The temp
tations to the sin are manifold.   One of the most coni
mon, is the consciousness of an unworthy character iii
onle's self, to which an apprehension of similar unlworthi
ness in others affords some relief.  Out of this springs
the disposition to uncharitable judgcinent of others, a
censorious spirit, amounting at times almost to an inca
-)acity of fair judging.  It shows itself in a disposition t(
oe pleased with the failures and frailties of others, a in,)sl
unnatural and unbenevolent pleasure. A hleart greedy
of scandal is another of the results-an ear open to di&
239 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY
paraging reports.  In genera., it requires two parties t.
perpetrate a slander, one to bear the false report, anothler
to receive it. There is usually wrong in both parties to
the ti aisaction.
Another temptation to a disregard of the reputation
Interest in    of others, is in the pleasure derived  from
rsoual mat,rs.       hearing or teAling some  matter of personal
interest. We are so constituted that facts of personal
history and experience are naturally attractive and interesting.   They form  an inviting topic of conversation.
There is a natural love for canvassing the peculiarities
of our neighbors, which leads to hasty judgments of their
character  and conduct, and to inconsiderate statements.
No malicious feeling is cherished, and it may seem a harmless style of conversation; but unfavorable impressions
often result from suchl conversations; the reputation of
a nleilghbor suffers.   These communications  are sometimes excused, on the ground that it is a convenient
method of improving our knowledge of character, of hlltman nature.  We might study anatomy by extending a
neighbor upon the dissecting table, but the end would
scarcely justify the means.  It is better not to cultivate,
or indulge, the habit of dissecting the characters of
neighbors and fiiends.
The habit of making prominent, even in thought, the
Propensity to  weaknesses and foibles of others, is not to be
cacature.    approved.  All have their peculiarities, their
infirmtities.  In a sense, they have  a right to them, as
being inseparable from human  nature.  At least they
have a right to considerate and benevolent treatment in
view of them. Ridicule can be brought to bear upon the
most exalted human character, by making these foibles
prominent, presenting, the character out of proportion.
240 
RIGHTS —REPUTATION.
The result is, A caricature-a real misrepresentation,
painful to the object, and tending to depress him unreasonably in the esteem of others. Ridicutle has its uses,
but it should be aimed at follies, not at personal charac
ter. The pleasure afforded oy it, when thus perverted, is
an unworthy one.  It cannot be denied that men hlave.
very generally, a taste for personalities, and that a tale ol
scanidal gratifies this taste. So does human flesh the per
verted taste of cannibals; but we cannot afford victims
for such barbarous pleasures.
We have a right to speak truth unfavorable to reputation, when the common good requires.  If  Duty of exwe become cognizant of imposture that ought posingwrong,
to be exposed, of crime that ought to be punished, or
)f less formidable misdeeds that should be brought to
light and corrected, it is not only right, but duty, to corn
municate the facts to those who ought to know  them.
Each member of the community is, to this extent, s
guardian of the general welfare.  This principle applies
in more limited communities; for example, in a body of
students; and any view which holds it dishonorable for
any member of the body to discharge such a duty, s
false and corrupting. It may be called honor, or any
other high-sounding name.  It is, in fact, a base betrayal
of grave interests, from a cowardly fear of a dishonest
public sentiment.  True honor requires every membe'
of such a conmmunity to protect its real interests, by tlihe
exposure of crime and dishonor.  There is a cleardistiinc
tion, which every honest man sees, between the work of e
busybody, an informer, and the open and manly exposur,
of wrong.
We have no right to utter even truth. that is prejii
dicial to another's good name, when no interest requires
11
241 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
it.  Disagreeable facts in reference to personal  3har
Slan(ler In acter, are to be left to forgetfulness, unness
truth    some harm is to be apprehended fromI sileiice.
Slander may be perpetrated by speaking the truth, as
wel as by propagating a falsehood.  The same disregard
I a nciglhbor's welfare, is involved in the one, as in tihe
Ither.
242 
CHAPTER V.
RIGHTS-PROPERTY.
TEEx right of property grows out of the prior right to
our own faculties, and their results.  Property  Orgin of tw
is the result of labor, or of the use of our right.
powers. That this belongs, by right, to the producer, is
as evident as that he has the right to use his faculties for
his own good. The possession of the faculty would be of
no advantage, unless its product could be appropriated, or
made property.   The good of the individual, and the
welfare of society, alike depend on the recognition of the
righit. Civilization advances, as this right becomes well
define I and protected. A perfect civilization involves an
exact distribution of the result of labor among the various
partie  that have contributed to the result.  The idea
that the claim of property is wrong and selfish, has been set
forth at times in different formns of socialism and agrarianisin; but the comnmon-sense of mankind repudiates the
idea.
The right of property is recognized and protected in
the eighth comirmandmnent: " Thou shalt not
steal "-a prohibition of the outward act, in         
every form in which the right may be invaded; also in
the tenth: "' Thou shalt not covet," which touches the sin
'n its subjective form, the indulged desire which leads to
fi'aud.
The methods by which property may be rightfully aL
qtiired are various.  The most simple, and  Method a
preol)ably the first, historically, is the appropri-  acquiring. 
IMORAL PHILOSOPHY'.
ation of what nature spontaneously yields.   The capacity
for enjoying, is the warrant for appropriating whatever
may be at hand adapted to the want,  both  for present
nnd future use.  The good thus accumulated, or taken
possession of by fore-sight and labor, becomes prloperty
& new-corner must gather for himself; and not invade
hit neighbor's possessions.
A further step in the acquisition of property, is the employment of our faculties in the cultivation of the soil,
profluting material for food and clothling.  The product
thus obtained, belongs, in the nature of the case, to the
producer. The manufacture of articles for use, from material which nature spontaneously affords, or which is
yielded from the cultivation of the soil, is a simnilar ground
of possession. Articles thus possessed, may be transferCan be tranc- red by gift or by exchange. The owner of
ferred.     property can transfer his claim, in all its force,
to another. The right to property descends, upon the
death of the owner, to children or near relatives. If the
right terminated with the life of the original proprietor,
property would lose half its value. The fact that the
government regulates the succession, does not prove, as
some authorities claim, that the property-right has terminated, and is revived by the action of the law. Tlhe
law merely recognizes the right, and makes it definite.
The fact of discovery is sometimes spoken of as conRight of do  ferring the right of possession.  It is only
overy.      another form of acquiring, by the use of our
faculties. If the finding be accidental, the case is not
materially changed. The article must be appropriated,
to be useful, and the finder is indicated as the natural
owner. This law holds only when there has been no
previous owner, and when the government has made no
244 
RIGHTS!-P-ROI'E.RTY'.
provision for the disposal of the property. This it may
do, on the ground that such commodities belong to sociut)
at large.
Long continued possession may not only confer tlhe
ight of property, but may transfer the right  Effect of po.
from an original proprietor, to the present sesion.
possessor; because his interests are more connected withl
the possession than those of the original owner, and to
disturb such possession makes the right of property
precarious. Even if possession were unjustly secured at
the outset, the principle will still hold in the ease of an
innocent possessor. To disturb such possession, on the
plea of exact justice, is often the height of injustice.
" Extremum j?us, extrema  ifjuria."
There are things which are most valuable in the sense
of meeting  want, which  still  cannot  be  Things not to
be appropri.
appropriated;  either because  they cannot,  ated.
in the nature of the case, be taken possession of,
or because they belong to the race as a common inheritance.  Of this class are air, and water, and sunlight, and
space. Portions of these gifts of nature we can appl)ropriate, and exclude others thus far from their use; because thus only can these things be made useful. But
no one can call the air or water of a vast region his own,
and compel others to compensate him for its use. Equally
preposterous is it, to take possession of the unoccupied
land of a continent, and exact rent of all others who
enter upon it. So much as we can profitably cultivate
and render useful, we are permitted to possess, and
beyond this the claim is very unsubstantial.  The gov
elnment rightly holds these unappropriated lands foi
the benefit of society at large. A barbarous people,
occupying a vast territory as a hunting ground, incapable
245 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
of  vai;llg tlhetnselves of its agricultural resources, may
be eoiiil)elled to accept civilization, and surrender a por tion of their domain to those who need. Their property.
right is very slender, and may be extinguished somnetimei
against their will, but not to their real disadvantage.
Animrals are made property by divine appointment, and
f,nim~s     in accordance with their own nature; and
nade property.         yet they are not property, "to all intents,
t)urposes, and constructions whatsoever." There is an
absolute value in their nature, apart from their utility,
and that nature must be respected. An utter disregard
of their sentient nature is cruelty, and cruelty is a crime.
A rational being cannot be held as property, a mere
Human be-   chattel.   His true good  requires  that  his
1ngs not.   powers be under his own control-directed
by his intelligence, and according to his own convictions
of duty.  Ience, he can never be, rightfully, made a mere
appendage, a means of good to another. No human being can, in this sense, own another. This is the essence
of slavery, according to its legal definition; not mere constraint, or compelled and unrecompensed service; but it
transforms a man into a thing, treats him  as a utility.
One man may claim the service of another, and this
claim may be treated as a property interest, and even
transferred, as in the case of a child or an apprentice;
but in every such case the manhood is respected, and the
property interest is made subordinate to the personal
good. Where the substantial interest of the individual
requires, the property interest may be rightftll~y extingulished.
The right of property, in its fullest extent, has its liar
Limitations   itations.  There is, of course, the moral limJf the xight   itaticn, which belor gs to all rights.  Property
246 
RIGHTS-PROPERTY.
by moral right, is ours, to use benevolently, not waste
fully, or wantonly; to use as we ought, not as we may
please. We have the prerogative of controlling it, as
against others. even beyond this; but to use property
for any other than the best ends, transcends our moral
right.
Our property is liable for the support of government
snd for our fair proportion of the burdens of  Some of its
society.  Property must pay for its own pro-  liabilities.
tection; and assessments,to this extent,may be rightfully
collected, even without the owner's consent.   But beyond this, in great emergencies, the government may
use private property for the public good, affording conipensation where this is possible. In the pressure of war,
private buildings may be appropriated to public uses, or
even demolished, to afford scope for military operations
If compensation is possible, afterwards, it is well; but if
:ot, the right to devote the property to such necessary
public use, must still exist.   The constitution of the
United States, which forbids such use without compensation, expresses only the general propriety, not the absolute
right. A private individual may, in a similar way, overstep the ordinary restrictions, in regard to property, to per
form an act of common humanity, to feed the starving, or
rescue the perishing, or even to save other more valuable
property from destruction. The right of property arises
under the great law of benevolence, and exists in subordination to that law.
In exchange of property, the true principle is, to ask and
offer what is equivalent in value-to give  Law of ex
what, in the market, will exchange for that  change.
which is received. Any other aim is dishonest, a violation of the rights of property. This is true commercial
247 
MORAL PHILOSOPIIY.
integrity.  It is opposed to all sharp bargaininig, and tc
all scheming by which the more valuable is obtained in
exchange for the less. There is abundant opportunity
for skill, and sagacity,and shrewdness in business; bul
these qualities are to be employed in determining the real
value of commodities, and what, and when, it is expe
liest to buy or sell, not in getting the advantage in ex
change. An honest bargain is advantageous to both par ties, and would be entered upon, even if all the facts in
the ease were understood by both.  The boast of having
bought an article for less than its value, is an unworthy
one, as really dishonorable as the boast of having passed
base coin. Yet the perceptions of men are very obtuse
on the subject. " It is naugit, it is naught, saith the buver;
but when  he is gone his way, then he boasteth."  Of
course, the true principle of exchange must take account
of the condition of the market, and permit an article, under pressure, to be purchased for less than its ordinary
value. All such limitations are involved in the principle itself.
The ordinary business maxim, to assume that every
Business   man in trade will attend to his own interests,
maxim.     is, by no means, a safe principle of conduct.
This maxim makes the simple the prey of the shrewd.
Every man is, in some sense, his neighbor's keeper, even in
business transaction; and if he finds him failing in discernminent, he is to protect his interests.
In the matter of setting forth the qualities of the corn.
",t  of the  modities offered for sale, duty will vary with
tender.    circumstances.   Every opportunity must  be
afforded for examination.  Concealed defects must be
disclosed. All that is said in commendation must be truth.
The vender must see that the price he asks is a just and
248 
R1GHTS-PROPERTY.
fair one; and if the buyer is manifestly acting  under
some illusion, or mistake, he is to be set right. Beyond
this, the seller is not, generally, called upon to offer his
judgment in reference to the advantage of the purchase.
Commercial honesty requires the correction of all er
rorz, on either side.  If the goods do not cor-  Coretio of
respond with the bill of sale, or if a mistake  error.
has been made in the transfer, honesty requires that the
matter be set right.
In general, the standard of value is the price in the
market.  It is not often possible to test or  Standard of
correct this standard, by considerations of the val,e.
cost of the article, or by its intrinsic value. Its exchange
value is the point of enquiry, and this is the market price
There are times, indeed, when a conscientious man feels
obliged to look beyond the temporary condition of the
market. He may have every reason to believe, that the,
present price is the result of some temporary excitement
and that he who buys, at such a price, will inevitably suf
fer.  Can it be right to sell at such prices? or must the
general market price be the standard for honest men, instead of the temporary price?  There are practical difficulties in the case, which preclude a general answer tc
the inquiry.  Each case must be decided in its own light
The alternative to a sale, at the market price, will comni
monly be to suspend business until the speculative move
ment  has passed.   This may often be impracticable,
Hence the practical rule, for honest business, admitting of
few exceptions, is to exchange at current rates.
An effort to raise or depress prices, by shrewd maniago.
ment, as in securing a monopoly, or p)rodu- Managingtb
cing a glut, making a profit out of the loss of  maket
others, is utterly unjustifiable. A man of scrupulous in.
11~
249 
,MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
teg'ity would as soon take what does not belong to himn,
by any other indirection. Extravagant prices, forced by
a special and pressing necessity, it is not right to accept.
If a king, in the crisis of battle, offers his kingdom for a
horse, it cannot be right to accept the offer. In such
emergencies, there is no market price; and transactions
must be governed by those primary considerations which
lie at the foundation of values. In cases of general
scarcity, as in a famine, the usual law whirl governs
prices must prevail. It is often duty to distribute to the
needy, at prices below the market rates, but in deference
to the claims of charity, and not of commercial honesty.
Cicero, in his "Offices," proposes an instance under this
general class:
"A ship laden with corn, on its way from Alexandria
Cicero's ex. to Rhodes, while a famine exists at Rhodes,
ample.      passes several other corn vessels, bound for the
same port. When the vessel has reached its destination,
shall the master sell his corn for what lie can get, conpealing the fact that such a supply is at hand, or shall he
tell the facts, and then find a market for his corn"
Cicero decides that he must tell, and that, to do otherwise,
is to act the part of a swindler.
The law of wages, is the same as that which regulates
Law ofwages. other prices. The market rate is, in general,
that which the employer is bound to offer.
There are instances in which it may be necessary to look
behind this, and correct a prevalent injustice, but, in ordinary cases, thie resultant of forces, represented in the market, involves more wisdom than any individual judgment.
The fact, too, that it is impossible to employ labor, on any
large scale, at wages materially above the market price,
will justify adherence to that price. For the surest way
250 
RIGHT —PROPERTY. 
to correct the market, and elevate wages, is not to refuse
to employ the labor, but to open for it every possible
channel.   The price will advance under the increased
demand.
The price of labor, by right, depends upon what the
aborer can accomplish, and not upon his per-  Depends (on
sonal wants. Every laborer needs all that he ability.
can earn; if he receives less than this, he is wronged; if
more, because he needs more, it is charity. If there be
any reason, in morals, why a man's wages Woman's
should be above those of a woman, it must  wages.
be because he earns more, can accomplish more work,
and not because his wants are greater. If the wages of
woman were increased, she would assume a part of the
responsibilities which now fall upon man. It is to be
observed that it is power of accomplishment, rather than
the actual amount accomplished, in a particular employment, which is the basis of wages. In some varieties of
work, a boy may be as useful as a man; but the boy cannot, therefore, demand a man's wages. If you call a man
to do a boy's work, you occupy his powers-call him
away from work suited to his capacities-and must pay
for the power you engage. That a man and a woman
should be employed in the same service with equal
efficiency, and the man receive a higher compensation,
does not necessarily imply injustice or wrong. It does
imply, that the man is out of his place, because his
powers are not employed to advantage. If, on the whole,
in the rough work which calls for wages, with all allow
ance for liabilities to interruption, man is the more pow
erful working force, then there is a moral ground foi
difference in the wages of men and women.
But these principles apply only to those varieties of
t
251 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
service which have an exchangeable value, and which
Work above  are quoted  in the market.   The  highest
waes    forms of service which the world needs, and
which men can render, lie entirely above the plane of
wages.  They  have no equivalent in money.  Of this
higher kind, is much of the work of the faithful preachy
and pastor, the missionary, the philanthropist; and even ot
the patriot soldier. The pittance, furnished in money, does
not pay for such service and sacrifice.  We are ashamed
to offer, or receive, a price for such work. The money
compensation is regarded simply as a necessary outfit for
the service, or, if more munificent, a grateful recognition
of it. In this higher domain lies, to a very great extent
woman's peculiar work —that of the wife, the mother,
the daughter. For these higher services, the highest
that can be rendered to humanity, there is no price.
When we talk of wages, the wife becomes the housekeeper, the mother becomes the nurse, and the daughter
the hired servant and paid domestic.  Wages  afford no
The claim    expression of the value of such work.  Yet
which arses.  the  claim  of the wife,  the mother,  the
daughter, is a real and substantial one, higher than the
claim for wages. It is a claim for protection, and favor,
and love, and all the material good which the husband,
the father, or the son, can bestow from his poverty or his
wealth. The woman, in the family, is neither a beggar
nor a hireling. The law, in adjusting her claims, recognizes her right to wages; but this is only a rough attempt
to save to her a remnant, after her higher rights have
been denied.  It is true, that the life of many  women
does not lie in this higher plane. They are obliged to
fall back upon their power as laborers, and engage in the
struggle for wages.  They must work at a disadvantage
2.52 
RIGHTS-PROPERTY.
but they have a right to such a place as they can occupy
in this field, and to wages corresponding with the work
they do.
Offences against the right of property, appear in all the
forms in which it is possible for one man to Violations of
ecure what belongs to another.  The grosser  the rigkt
oreaches of the right are condemned by public sentiment,
and are disreputable; but the less odious forms often involve grievous wrong. To contract a debt, without prose
pective ability to pay at the appointed timle, or without
a definite purpose to pay, is a common form  of failure.
To defer the payment beyond the time, without any ar
rangement with the creditor, or to neglect the payment
of wages that are due, is a still more frequent failure.
These things betoken an absence of neighborly regarda want of respect for the rights of others. To neglect a
debt until it is legally uncollectable, and then
n.  ~ ~ ~ ~~~~~~~Legal i eleame.
account the claim as liquidated, is a more gross 
dishonesty.  Morally, debts are never outlawed, buless,
originally, they existed with some special limitation
There is, doubtless, propriety in the law which sets a limnit
to the collectability of a debt, but such a law cannot discharge the moral obligation. The proper force of bankrupt laws, is not in any power to release the debtor from
his moral obligation. They have no such power; but it
is in the protection they afford to the debtor, in his effort
to recover himself, and acquire the ability to meet his
obligations. The release from indebtedness is technical
and legal, not real.
Probably, the form of fraud most prevalent in our
country, at present, is that which arises in the  Aialrming d
relation of the citizen to the government. moralization.
From the pitvate Citizen, who conceals his property from
253 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
the assessor, or misrepresents its value, to escape &n i i
significant tax, to the high official, who compromises the
revenues for vast sumns, the lack of honesty is wide-spread
aitd alarming. Unless the demoralization shall be found
to be temporary, a result of the disturbance of values
from an inflation of the currency, and of the sudde
amassing of fortunes, in connection with the vast expeii
ditures of the war, then the future of the country is discouraging and threatening. Corruption, generated in
one relation, will pervade every other; and the very
foundations of society will be broken up. There is reason to fear that the want of conscience toward  the government, as a creditor, will soon display itself in respect
Tendency to to the government, as a debtor. If it is not
repudiation. wrong for the citizen to defraud the government, it cannot be wrong for the government to repudiate its obligations; and, before we are aware, we shall
have become involved ill a permanent national dishonor.
However intolerable this may seem, in itself, it is a light
thing compared with the general corruption of personal
and private faith and morals, to which it must tend. May
God avert the calamity.
The immorality of gambling lies not so much in the
Immorality of fact that it involves the obtaining of money
gambling.    without an equivalent, which gives it the character of ordinary fraud; because the transaction is understood-agreed upon by both parties, each encountering
the risk in the hope of gain.  Undoubtedly the transaction is a dishonest one, in this view. But the chief mischief lies in its effect upon the character, unsettling all
wholesome habits of thought and action, and stimnulating
the imagination, with the hope of easy and speedy
wealth1 without corresponding labor. Gamb)ling, in all
254 
RIGHTS-PROPERTY.
its forms, in the milner's tent, or at the stock exchange,
appeals  to this infirmity of human nature, and  begets a reckless and unprincipled character. There are
modes of conducting business, generally considered legitimate, which involve much of this element of risk and
expectation. A single turn in the market may make or
ruin a fortune.  The man who prays, "lead us not into
temptation," will shun these ways.
In concluding the subject of rights, it may be well to
call attention, again to the fact that the speci- Concluding
tic rights now presented, are but particular remark.
applications of the comprehensive right of well-being;
and that the catalogue of specific rights may be extended
to embrace every human interest. I have undertaken to
present only the more prominent examples.  Let us turn
tc the subject of dutie&
255 
CHAPTER VI.
DUTIES-PIETY.
Dur-ns are distinguished from rights, in having, as then
Origin of du-  basis, faculties-power to do.  They are all
ties.       comprehended in the generic duty of benevo
lence. They are alike, in that they imply regard for good
for its own sake; they differ, in that they present different channels for benevolent action, or different forms of
that action.
The leading duty of man is piety-benevolence exerPiety, its na- cised towards God-regard for him for what
,"M.     he is, in his being and character.  The duty
is expressed in the command, "Thou shalt love the Lord
thy God with all thy heart."  tie is to stand before all
other beings in our regard, because he is before them. So
we necessarily comprehend him. Since his being is greater,
more valuable, than all other being, benevolence towards
him  must give him  his proper place, must make him
sFupreme.
Piety, in its root and substance, is benevolence; but the
Tn conscious  most distinctly conscious exercise of the pious
exercise.   heart is not benevolence, but rather obedience
to specific commands. The benevolence of the child
townard the parent, shows itself in obedience. So,of the
creature toward God. "This is the love of God tha
we keep his commandments."
Love of complacency-approbation of God's character,
l,ol~veom-  and delight in it-is necessarily involved in
placency.   piety.  It is the certain result of a benevolent 
DUTIES-PIETY.
attitude toward God. Benevolence is, doubtless, tfie love
which the law requires; for love to God, and love to our
neighbor are enjoined in the same precept, under one and
the same expression, and must, therefore, be of the same
nature. Any delight in God, without benevolence, is not
the love of obedience.
Piety invo'ves a recognition of personal relations with
God, and the exercise of the feelings of de- Personal re
ognition of
pendence and gratitude and filial confidence.   od.
A benevolent heart places us in the relation of children,
in personal affection and friendship.  It leads to the
exercise of reverence and awe, and all the emotions naturally expressed in worship. These are all provided for
in the human constitution, and follow, spontaneously, the
attitude of good-will toward God.
Piety is the moral or virtuous element in religion, considered as a fact of experience. It is the ele- Relation to
ment of duty-that which man is called upon religion.
to render. It may be called the human element, in that
it is a human exercise, though divinely moved. In religion, as an experience, there is another element-the
divine-the supernatural communication of God with the
soul.  Religion  s not whlolly benevolence, obedience,
duty-doin,g —not wholly human.  It brings pardon, peace,
anid life-divine gifts-God's response to man's obedience.  The entire experience is expressed in such scriptures as these: "If a man love me, he will keep my
words; and mIly Father will love him, and we will como
unto him, and make our abode with him."  "Behold
I stand at the door and knock; if any man hear my
voice and open the door, I will come in to him, and
will sup with him, and he with me." Religion, thus,
vonsists of two elements-duties and experiences —what
257 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
we are required to render, and what God bestows in
responlse.
True morality or virtue always involves religion for
Moality and true morality is benevolence, and benevolence
religion.  implies regard for God above all other beings
A benevolence which should pass by the claims of God,
would be an absurdity. But benevolence looking towards God. is piety. Every truly moral or virtuous man,
is essentially a pioulS mnan; and piety is the duty-element
in religion.  The other expressions attend in their time
ans place.
It follows, of course, that there can be no true religion
Religion    without morality.  Any mere movement of
without morality.    pious feeling, in the form of awe, reverence,
adoration, joy, is not genuine piety, apart from a committal of the will to a true regard for God, as shown in
benevolent obedience. Thus, religion becomes genuine
Dy being grounded in morality.  Attempts have some
times been made to separate these two, which are naturally inseparable.  Moralists, so called, forget God, and
call themselves virtuous; religionists discard morality,
and call themselves pious. They are equally,and fundamentally, mistaken.
Still further, it should be said, that the natural approach
Morality at- to morality is through religion. The most
tained by religion.    potent force in overcoming sin, is the constrainini, motives which religion, as a system of truth,
presents; the great facts of God, his character, his provi
deuce, his government, and his love to the unworthy, are
the considerations which move to repentance, and to virtue.  The first outgoing of the soul, in benevolent regard
is towards him, who is the embodiment of excellence and
goodness.  Men become virtuous in becoming religious
258 
DUTIES-PIETY.
The reverse is a philosophical possib lity, but scarcely a
practical fact.  There is little power in abstract truth to
move to virtue. Regard for the good of being may be
seen to be virtue. The human will may be seen to be
fiee to take the virtuous attitude. Virtue may be seen
to be excellent and righlit-benevolence, the only true
principle of life. The heart will still cling to its idols,
with a result like that in Paul's case: " To will is present with me, but how to perform that which is good, I
find not." The motives of religion, alone, are effective.
Hence, morality prevails, only where the truths of religion
are known and inculcated. The intuitive apprehension
which all men have of virtue, is not effective to produce
virtue. The philosophy of morality is useful and elevating, but practical morality does not spring immediately
from philosophy.  Man's first, great duty, is to come to
God -to renounce self-dependence, and put himself under
heavenly guidance. Thus, morality is realized through
religion, and the extension of morality in the world, depends upon the extension of true religion.
The most common opposite of piety, is not positive
impiety-contempt of God;  but, rather, a opposite of
life of self-pleasing, and neglect of God.      piety.
Piety, as a duty, involves the obligation to observe all
the ordinances of God's appointment-the Duty of woarduties of religion.  Foremost among these,  ship.
stands the duty of prayer-of worship.  This exercise is
a communication of the creature, withtheCreator.  If
such conmmunication be possible, it is an obvious duty.
Thle regard for God, must show itself in expressions of
regard, in acknowledgment of benefits received, in con
fession of sill, in seeking guidance, and help, and bless
ilg.
259 
MORAL  PHIIILOSOPIIY.
This is worship, involving  adoration, tbhanksgiviliig,
Posibiity of  confession, supplication.   rhe propriety of
prayer.     such approach is clear; the only question is
as to its possibility.  This is strictly a theological question, and the answer can only be suggested here.
That prayer-communication of the soul with God-is
possible, may be mnaintained,  (1) From the nature of the
case.   God has made man dependent-needing his help,
and guidance, and access to himself. Hle will afford the
opportunity.   (2) From the general instinctive movement of human nature. All tribes, and races, pray, and
have always done so.  (3) From  Scripture.  This sets
aside all doubt.  Prayer is everywhere presented as a
privilege, and enjoined as a duty.
Speculative objections to prayer are often felt, in referSpeculative ence to which it may be well to offer a word:
objections.   (1) God is benevolent, disposed to do all possible good. Hie can need no urging from his creatures.
True, but he can do more for his creatures when asked,
as a benevolent parent can for his children. The recognition of dependence on God, and the invocation of his
help, gives him an opportunity to do what, otherwise,
it would not be best to do. (2) God works by established
laws, and we cannot suppose that he will modify his
plans, or re-arrange his work, upon the application of his
creatures. I answer, there is some misapprehension here.
We cannot suppose that God is fettered by his own laws,
so that he cannot respond to the expressed  wants of his
creatures. To be thus restrained by the machinery of
his own devising, is a characteristic of a flinite being, and
not of the infinite. God's laws cannot hinder his doing
what needs to be done. (3) Prayer can only be valuable
and i;nfluential, in its reaction upon the petiti,)ner. It
260 
DUTIFS- PIETY
dos  him good to pray, and beyond this it can effect
nothing. Then, when we discover this fact. there is an
end of prayer. No one could ever pray with such a
theory of prayer. The objection makes prayer impossi.
ble, and the instinctive aspirations of men an illusion.
Social and public prayer is as clearly appropriate as
pri vate prayer.  Tile family is, in an impor-  Social and
public wortaiut sense, a unity, with common wants and ship.
trials, and joys and blessings.   How fit to approach, in
this capacity, the Giver of all good!  The larger com
munity of families has a similar demand for common
worship.
THE SABBATH.
Since public worship is an obvious duty, and public
relig,ious instruction an obvious want, a stated A Sabbath de
time, appropriated to this duty and this work, is  sirable.
desirable.  So much is clear from the nature of the case;
out what amount of time, and what precise period we are
to set apart for these uses, is a matter of revelation. The
Sabbath, in its principle, is a law of nature - in its form,
a positive institution.   That positive enact-  Its institu
ment we find in the fourth commandment:  tion.
"Remember the Sabbath-day to keep it holy." The form
of the precept indicates a previous establishment of the
Sabbath. Of this we have the record in Genesis, which
presents the institution as co-eval with the creation of
man; an indication that the Sabbath was fo,r the race,
and not for a particular people.   A Sabbath divinely
appointed, was desirable, to secure uniformity, and to gi\ve
authority. A successful Sabbath, without such authority,
would seem impossible.
The intrinsically important elements in the institution
261 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
are, the proportion of time, and the precise ieriod. The
Two impor- first, divine wisdom alone could deterllinle.
ant elements. Human  experience would  probably nievel
lctiiiitely decide the point.   The last is a matter uponi
viisiCh our judgment might act with more success. The
lav is for rest from secular pursuits, and for religious
celture and worship- a day to lead out the thought
toward  God.  That day, then, most distinctly associated
with the manifestation of God, is the one naturally indicated.   Thus, at the beginning, it commemorated the
work of creation.  If we could not fix upon the day, in
advance, we can, at least, justify the divine selection.
Upon the consummation of the higher manifestation
A change de. of God in the work of redemption, it would
irable.    seem desirable that the Sabbath should carry
with it the associations connected with this higher work.
If the old day were retained, the old associations would
prevail.  It would be difficult to turn the thought conr!ected with the Sabbath.fi'oln the old channel. A chancge
of the Sabbath to another day-a day associated with
the crowning event in the work of redemption - would
serve this end. Thus the Sabbath would be enriched by
the accumulated  memories and associations.   Such a
change would seem desirable, were it only allowable.
As a historical fact, this change was made early in the
The change   Christian era, and has been maintained down
made.      to the present time.  As to the authority for
the change, only a word or two can be suggested here.
Fhe resurrection occurred upon the first day of the week
'Flie disciples gathered to consider the marvellous event.
The Saviour appeared in the midst of them, and blessed
them. A week later, on the first day, as they were
gathered, the Saviour came again.  Six weeks later, on
262 
DUTIES-PIETY.
the first day, the Pentecost, the promised gift of the
Spirit was bestowed. Such memories and experiences
gathering about the day, made it sacred in the regaid of
the disciples.  It would have required a divine prohiyi
tion to prevent their assembling, thenceforth, on the firs'
day. No such prohibition appeared, and it became th
gathering day for Christians.  The indications of this, in
the New Testament, are few, but they are significant. In
Acts xx. 6, 7, we read that Paul tarried seven days with
the disciples at Troas; and on the first day of the week,
when the disciples came together to break bread, Paul
preached to them, " ready to depart on the morrow."
The obvious implication is, that Paul waited for the
usual gathering, on the first day, improved the opportunity with a long, discourse, and left the next day. The
first day was thle gathering day of Christians at Troas.
In 1 (or. xvi. 2, Paul directs that the people, on the first
day of the week, shall lay by their contributions, "that
there be no gatherings when I come," implying that they
were together on that day. In Rev. i. 10, the prophet
says: "I was in the Spirit on the Lord's day," indicating
that at that time a day was designated as the Lord's day
-a name by which the Christian Sabbath has been known
from that day to this. We find no definite, express command, changing the Sabbath; but the manner of the
change harmonizes with the genius of the gospel system.
Other ordinances- public worship, baptism, and the
Lord's supper-were instituted in a similar manner, anr
in the same way the whole ceremonial systiem was abro
ated and the spiritual instituted.
That the ancient law of the Sabbath remains, only
modified in one of its features, as a positive Obligation
institution, is probable, from the fact that all permanet
263 
MORAL PHILOSOP HY.
the reasons for the institution exist as of old. Ratmr
manente lex manet.  The law stands while the reason
stands. The introdluction of the precept enforcing the
Sabbath, into the decalogne, among the principles of flindamental morality, is another indication of its permanence.
The prpper mode of the observance of the Sabbath, we
troperob-    gather fromn scripture, and from consideration
,roervaob  ervance.  derived firom  the nature and purpose of the
Sabbath.  Like all other ordinances and institutions, it
is a means, and not an end.  " The Sabbath was made
for man, and not man for the Sabbath." It is subordinate to the claims of benevolence.  Yet its chief and
highest utility to man, doubtless, lies in its adaptation to
religious uses. For these purposes, it must be protected
from the intrusion of secular business and pleasure.
There is a growing tendency in our land to make it a
day of recreation and amusement, after the fashion of
continental Europe. Such an appropriation of the day
would degrade it from its highest uses.
M]any cases of doubt can be proposed, as to duty, in the
Casesof    observance of the Sabbath.  Such cases usu
doubt      ally bring with themtn the light, in view of
which they are to be decided.  So that an honest purpose to respect the Sabbath be maintained, these particular cases are less important than they may seem;
and men of equal intelligence and integrity may differ
in the decision of them. Students, perhaps, need special
caution in reference to the uses of the Sabbath. Thley
are not taken away fromr the scenes of daily thought and
labor. The associations of every-day life gather abou
them; yet none more need a Sabbath.
The duty of piety includes the obligation to extend,in
the world,the knowledge of God, and the institutions of
264 
DUTIES-PIETY.
religion; not i.e-ely  as a means of securing the wellhing of then, bitrt    promoting that regard and  Duty to 
honor which belong to God in his own right.  motereligion
It is not for us to art that, in his exaltation and independence, he  does Lot need  this service.  We  have
abundant reason from h-s word, and from the nature of
the case, to believe that the regard and love of his crea
tures are a good to him, and that he feels a loss, and a
wrong, in their ingratitude nlid neglect.  Loyalty to God
must lead to all reasonable effort to exalt his name, and
extend his worship in the earth. The view is very inadequate which bases this duty solely on the wants of men.
The.laims of God are paramount.
is
265 
CIIAPTER VII.
DUTIES —PHILANTHROPY AND PATRIOTISML
NExT to piety stands the duty of philanthrory, which
he duty..   is benevolence exercised towards mankindUse nature
Its uature. regard for man, as man, because of his value,
the susceptibility of well-being in him.
Philanthropy is not a mere emotion, but is positive
and responsible action-an attitude of will. It is exercised towards all men, irrespective of character or rela.
tions, the good and the bad, kindred and strangers. The
duty is enjoined in the conmmand:  "Thou shalt love
thy neighbor as thyself."  The duty extends to enemies,
as to friends: "Love ye your enemies, do good to them
that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use
you and persecute you." It co-exists with complacency,
when the object is worthy, and displaceicy, when the
object is unworthy. There is a philanthropy of mere
sentiment-a liking for our kind, which is natural ai)d
commnon to man, and in degree to the brute —a kindly
affection promipting to kindly deeds, more prominent in
somne than in others. This is not inconsistent with the
virtue, but may exist without it.
There has been a tendency, at times, to set philanthlroRclation to   py and religion in opposition to each other.
reigion.  They are, in fact, inseparable; neither is gen.
nine without the other. True benievolence'comnprehends
them both. This is both rational and scriptural. " Ie
hath shown thee, O man, what is good; and what doth
the Lord require of thee but to do justly, to love mercy, 
DUTIES-PHILANTHROPY AND PATRIOTISM.
and to walk humbly with thy God." "Pure religion,
and undefiled before God and the Father, is this, to visit
the fatherless and the widows in their affliction, and to
keep himnself unspotted from the world."
True philanthropy prompts to every honest effort for
the good of man.  It does not aim to promote
woe interest at the sacrifice of another, but is     t
favorable to every real interest. A true philanthropist
may devote himself to a special work in the service of
mankind, on the principle of division of labor, or because
of special adaptedness or ability. Whatever his work
may be, whether in the way of spiritual or intellectual or
material advantage, hlie is still entitled to the honor of a
philanthropist. It is somewhat common to appropriate
the name to those who endeavor to benefit men in their
outward condition; as to Howard, who labored for the
improvement of prisons and hospitals. The distinction
is arbitrary and technical. Paul, who preached the gospel from land to land, was as true a friend to man. Every
good man is a philanthropist.
The best evidence of genuine philanthropy, is not in
the interest felt for some distant object which  Test of phil.
appeals to the imagination, without the often- anthropy.
sive concomitants of actual present misery, or for popular
enterprises, in which it is easy, or fashionable, or romantic,
to be interested, but in the regard shown for those whom wo
can reach, and the help afforded to the needy by our side,
even when a love of ease, or a fastidious taste, or popular
prejudice, would tempt to forget the work. Itf the para.
e of the good Samaritan had been uttered in our land, the
text would have been applied to our national infirmnity
coiitempt for the colored race.  This crime mars much
that is plausible in religion, among us, and pretentious in
267 
MORAL PHILOSOPHYt.
philanthropy.  "Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of these,
ye did it not to ME."
Misanthropy is not the usual opposite of philanthropy.
rhe opposite. This is a feeling of aversion or repugnance to
e op    mankind, with corresponding action.  It is, of
-ourse, opposed to philanthropy; but a life devoted to per
as nal advaneminent, regardless of human interests, using
men for one's own aggrandizement or pleasure, or nieglecting them entirely, is equally opposed to philanthropy, and
far more common.
Patriotis,m is benevolence toward our own  countryPatriotism as the people of our own land or nation. Love of
i virtue.  country-a sentiment of interest in the people
to which we belong —is natural to us.  This sentiment,
sustained and directed by benevolence, is the virtue of patriotism. The natural feeling, associated with the impulsive action to which it prompts, without benevolence, is sentimental patriotism. This lower form of patriotism, is useful in society, gives unity and vitality to the nation, even in
the absence of the genuine virtue. The impulse which rallies the frivolous, the selfish, and the vicious, to the defence
of the flag, is the patriotism of sentiment, and not of principle.  It follows the flag in a just or an unjust cause.
True patriotism is not inconsistent with general benevReqireby   olence, but is required by it.  In the nature
enevolenceof the case, those with whomn we are associated heave claims upon us which others have not. We are
specially responsible for their interests, as having special
ability to serve them.  "He that piovideth not for his
own, and especially for those of his own house, hath de
nied the faith, and is worse than an infidel." But since
patriotism is always regulated and limited by benevo.
lence, it can never require us, in the interest  of our
268 
DUTIES —PHILANTHROPY AND PATRIOTISM.
country, to trespass upon the rights and interests of another
people. It is a blind sentiment, and not a principle of
duty, which makes this demand.  " Our country, right or
wrong," is the watchword of passion, and not of virtuous
patriotism.  The sentiment is pernicious-subversive )f
the true interests of our own country, as of  No wrong to
those of others.  The true patriot does, in-  others.
deed, stand with his country; when wrong, to recall her
from a course of aggression and injustice; when rig,ht, to
maintain the right. Of patriotism, thus regulated and
elevated, the mass of men are wont to be intolerant; and
the true patriot often finds his sternest conflict with those
who are controlled by the blind passion of patriotism.
A low jealousy of other nations, a readiness to take a
belligerent attitude towards them, is, by no means, indicative of true patriotism.  The country may well pray to be
delivered fiom such friends.  Hatred of the " British" is
not love of country.
Intense party spirit is opposed to true patriotism. 1t
is devotion to a faction, and not devotion to  Party  idtt
the country. It is not rare that a political oppose.
party will peril the welfare of the country, to promote its
own interests; and will brand, as a traitor to the party,
the man who, firom fidelity to the country, withstands the
corrupt movements of his party. Political parties are,
doubtless, necessary and wholesome; but they must be
subordinate to the demands of patriotism.
Disrespect toward rulers is unpatriotic-a disposition
to discredit their motives, to injure their rep- Disrespect to
utation, to embarrass their action.   Even  nrllers.
when the ruler is personally unworthy of respect, there is
sominething due to the position he holds.  To treat himn
with the consideration due to the office, is respect for the
269 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
nation, and not for the man. To have rulers whomn we
cannot respect personally, is a source of corruption and of
dang(er.  We fail to discriminate between the man and
his office; and contempt for the man grows into contempt
for the government.  The habit of disparaging an opposing candidate, puts him at a disadvantage when he has
entered upon his office.  A large portion of the people
have been taughlt to despise him, and they do not readily
accord to hiai the honor which is his due.  Thus, intense
and Inscrupulous partisanship makes him, who should be
the hlead of the whole people, merely the leader of a
party. The magistrate, in turn, is too apt to accept this
position, to recognize his political friends as the firiends of
the government, and his opponents as its enemies. Such
are some of the fruits of party spirit not regulated by
patriotism.
A deep sense of wrong in the country, and the govern.
Wrongingov-  ment, sometimes leads to unpatriotic sentitrnment a
temptation. meint and action. The earnest opponents of
slavery have been, in past years, under great temptation.
They were in danger of failing to appreciate the real
value of the government, and of assailing slavery, by acts
and measures, scarcely consistent with patriotism. It is
the common danger of those who rise up against a wrong
sustained by government.
A  strong provincial, or sectional sentiment, setting
intense pro-  aside  proper national feeling, and interest in
cialiM    the country as a whole, is inconsistent witl
true  patriotism.   This was  the  failure in  Southern
society. The people were Virginians, Carolinians, Georgians, Southerners, not Americans. They had not eniough
of national interest and feeling to stand by a stable government. Indeed, the civilization in some parts of the
2'i 0 
DUTIES —PHIL,THIoPY  AND PATRIOTISM.
South was, to a great extent, opposed to the idea of gov.
erilment, whether national, or state, or municipal. The
tendency was to a feudal or barbaric freedom-every man
supreme in his own domain, much after the fashion of the
time when there was no judge in Israel: "Every man
doing that which was right in his own eyes."
Every organization, political or social, which tends to
clannishness, weakens the common interest, Unpatriotic
and diminishes the proper national feeling, is tions.iz
inconsistent with the highest patriotism. Secret political
and social organizations, as existing in this and other
lands, seem to be of this nature.  They tend to disorganize society, to sunder the ties upon which national
uity depends.
271 
CHAPTER VIII.
DUTIES-SELF-CULTURE.
EviRY human being is under obligation to make the
It rature and  most of himself-to become all that is possi reasons.    ble to him, in excellence, efficiency, and capa city for good. The work of making such attainments
may be called self-culture.
The reasons for the obligation are, fbst, the intrinsic
value of every man's being, the absolute good which it
involves; and, secondly, its value in relation to the good
of others. Every human life involves good, in both these
aspects; and the amount of good depends on the culture
attained-the perfection of faculty, and susceptibility.
The work of self-culture pertains to every department
Extends to all of our nature - the moral and spiritual, the
our faculties. intellectual, the emotional, the esthetic, and
the physical; and the demand in these various directions
is more or less pressing, according to the bearing upon our
welfare, or our usefulness.  In itself, a symmetrical culture is desirable, a harmonious development of all the
The true    faculties and susceptibilities.   This is the
ideal.      true ideal, but it is not always attainable, not
always to be aimed at.   The aim of every one must  be
to walk in the path of duty, and to pursue that form and
degree of culture which lies in the line of duty.   He
must meet his obligation; he may or may not attain to
any high standard of culture.  Personal wel
Duty     fare and usefulness, both, require that duty
have the first place; and it is entirely possible that duty 
DUTIESS —SELF-CLULTURE.
may not lie in thle direction of the highest culture. In
deed, personal welfare and usefillness are both subordi
ilate to the general good, or, in other words, to the claims
of duty; hlence, the all-controlling aim of every moral
being must be, to maintain the attitude of benevolence.
Everv form of personal good is subordinate to this. To
maintain a rilght moral attitude, is rather a matter of
self-control than of self-eculture.
The religious faculties and susceptibilities stand first in
their claim upon our attention, requiring what Spiritual cup.
we may call spiritual culture.  It is desirable  ture.
that our spiritual nature should respond fully to the re
vealed facts of the spiritual world - that the truths we
intellectually apprehend and embrace, should move the setr
sibility, and stand before us as permanent realities. It is un
worthy of beings, of a spiritual nature, that the great truths
of the spiritual world, truths pertaining to God and our
own immortal being, should seem to us unreal and dream
like, accepted in the thought, but not reaching the heart
These are the great truths of the universe, and should
have their due place in the soul. This con- Added to vit
dition of experience, and of life, is not identical tue.
with rightness of heart, or a correct moral attitude. It
commences with such a state of heart, but extends to the
intelligence and the affections. It is not attained by mere
exercise of the will, because it is not simply an attitude
of the will; but it is a matter of culture and of growth,
like every permanent habit of the soul.   The first right
step is the commitment of the will to the truth, a treatment of the truth as true -  the exercise of faith, in the
sense in which it is a duty. Continued contact with the
truth will bring the soul permnanently under its powers
This is a work of time and of culture - of  contempla
12*
273 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
tion of spiritual realities, and communion with God in
prayer, and in the ordinances of religion. It is, of course,
Progressive   a progressive work, like all culture, and call
work.       never be said to have reached its limit.  It
requires time, and faithful endeavor, like every other ex.
eellelt attainment; but the result is worth the expenditure. In the technical language of the Church. this work
is often called sanctification, and results in permanence of
the religious life, and enlargement of spiritual power.  All
the spiritual faculties and susceptibilities share in the
5nproveinent, and this growth must continue until, as the
Apostle expresses it, " we all come in the unity of faith,
and the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect
man, unto the measure of the stature of the fullness of
Christ."
At such spiritual culture it is the duty of every man to
ttainable to  aim.  A  good degree of it is attainable, in
S    l.     every walk of life; and what are often reckoned as disadvantages, may be made to contribute to spiritual growth. It is to be distinguished from that moral
state which we call virtue, or rightness of heart. It enmbraces virtue, and is based upon it, but involves conditions
and experiences outside of the attitude of the will.
Intellectual culture is so obviously a want, and a duty,
Duty of inte- as scarcely to require mention.  It is a conldilectual cul- 
tle ual cup    tion of self-satisfaction, and of power for good.
To what extent it is to be pursued, how much of time
and energy are to be devoted to it, are questions which
must be carefully settled in each particular case. There
are duties more pressing than that of high intellectual
culture and attainment. The claims of dependent parents
on their children-of the country, in an emergency, upon
its young men, and ether duties growing out of the natu
274 
DUTIES-SELF-CULTURE.
ral relations, must be carefully discharged, even if the
work of intellectual culture is thereby deferred or arested.
Health is not to be sacrificed in the pursuit of intellectual training, for learning and culture, with- Things to be
held suborout health, lose their power and their value.  dinate.
Money may be freely expended, and the opportunities of acquiring it relinquished, because intellectual culture is better
as a possession and a power. Time may be generously devoted to the work, because the time that remains will bring
richer results; and it is doubtful whether any expenditure
of time, on the part of the young, could be more satisfactory,
irrespective of results, than that devoted to intellectual pursuits. The opportunity of immediate usefulness may be
deferred, in the prospect of higher usefulness to come.
the young, in their ardor, sometimes press into the field,
when they would better serve their friends, their country,
an,i the world, by awaiting the drill and discipline required to make their lives effective. A favorable opening for a settlement in life may be bravely disregarded,
for one who is well prepared for life, will find in this superior preparation more abundant openings.
Inability to secure the advantage of schools, will not
excuse from the duty of intellectual self- Duty under
disadvanculture.  -Iuch is still possible in the way of  tages.
self-improvement; and the more difficult the attainment,
the more useful it may prove. A brave heart will trans form difficulties into advantages.
In so far as the acquisition of knowledge is involved
in education, the useful is to be preferred to Knowledge to
the curious, because culture is to be used, as be sought.
well as enjoyed; and, indeed, the use is essential to the
enjoymnent. For knowledge that is not, useful, there can
275 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
scarcely be a place in a course of education. But the
inexperienced are often deceived in their efforts to dis.
criminate. They seek the knowledge which affords im
mediate material advantage, in preference to that which
enlarges and elevates. Our view of utility must compre.
bend man's entire nature and destiny. There doubtless
is knowledge that is more curious than useful; and a life
devoted to its pursuit, is a life of self-indulgence, lit erary dissipation-less degrading than gluttony or drunk enness, and yet to be avoided.
Our emotional nature, the sensibility, requires care and
Culture of    culture.  Upon this part of our nature, many
ensibility    of the influences from without, the good and
the bad, operate; and from this source spring the impulses which move to action, and which give effectiveness
to action. Motives to right action, and temptations to
wrong, alike address themselves to the emotional nature.
Our established associations, or trains of thought, are
greatly dependent upon the sensibility.   What we call
habits, both in the realm of thought and of action, have
their seat chiefly in the feelings.
Power with others, depends greatly upon a quick and
Gve power.  generous sensibility.  Personal influence, the
Gares power.
power of one man over another, is the result,
not chiefly of superior discernment, or logical acumen,
though these are helpful, but of the impulse and inspiration springing from the emotions. It may not admit of
logical explanation, but it is the secret of magnetic per
sonal power.
There is, properly, no moral character in the move
Relation to ments of the feelings, but the feelings are
moral chat
ter.       greatly dependent upon the character, and
are often indicative of the character. As modified by the
276 
DUTIES-SELF-CULTURE.
moral attitude, tbhey fall within the province of oblige
tion, and hence, in general, appropriate feelings are
required of men.  Still further, from the feelings springs
the immediate impulse to action, the internal force which
rouses the soul, and prompts its movements.  Thus, the
feelings are potent in determining the character; and the
precept of divine wisdom is rendered most appropriate:
"Keep thy heart with all diligence, for out of it are the
issues of life."  What a calamity is a perverted sensibility, depraved and aggravated passions and desires, or
an imagination charged with corrupting and loathsome
imagery! What a blessing is a pure heart, each desire
chastened and regulated, every train of thought tending
to elevate, and the imagination wholesome and helpful
To secure and maintain such a heart. is a work of care
and culture.
It is only indirectly that we can regulate or cultivate
our feelings.  We  cannot, at will, summon  Control inda
those which are desirable, or dismiss the un- rect.
desirable; but we can give direction  to our thoughts,
and occupy our minds with the things which purify and
elevate, according to the injunction of the Apostle:
"Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever  things are
honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are
pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are
cf good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be
iny praise, think on these things." By such diligent and
persistent attention to the things which are excellent, the
imagination can be cleansed and elevated.
The regulation of our associations with others is of
equal  importance.   "Evil communications  Care in smWa
(associations) corrupt good morals."   Cor-  mtercourse.
rupt and degrading feelings are contagious, and diffuse
277 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
themselves mnore readily than mischievous ideas. False.
hood, in thought is, in general, quite obvious; in feeling it
is hidden, and the error enters more readily through the
heart than the head. A sneer is often more effective
than an argument, and an appeal to feeling prevails when
direct attempt to pervert the judgment would fail.  IIu
nmai feeling diffuses itself like leaven.  If the contagion
of impurity exists in any heart, it extends itself to others.
Let your friendships, your life associations, be with the
pure in heart.
Similar importance attaches to the books which we
Danger from take into daily companionship. Each writer
books.     infuses his own personality into the book
Which is an expression of his life; and if his personal
presence would corrupt, it cannot be safe to associate
with him in his books. It is not necessary that the volume should present false ideas or doctrines, or any error
which admits of logical expression. A false spirit is
even more dangerous. A refined and latent misanthropy, or voluptuousness, may be diffuised through the pages,
as potent and as baleful as the miasm which breeds fever,
or pestilence. Positive falsehood, or gross sensuality,
attracts attention, and arouses resistance, while the miscllievous spirit springing from a corrupt sensibility, and
tending to corrupt, escapes observation. The reader is fascluated and degraded, while he imagines himself refreshed
and elevated. It may not have been the purpose of the
writer to lead astray. The mischief is in him, and diffu
ses itself like the contagion of disease. Shun the im
pure, even in their books.
Pleasant and profitable relations with others, depend
Relations   more upon the regulation of the feelings, than
wth others   of the thoughts, (r ideas.  The discords which
278 
DIJUTIES-SELF-CULTUR E.
disturb the family, or society on a larger scale, do not
arise from difference of opinion, so much as from excited
feling, which refuses the control of reason.  Incompatibility of character, which interferes with the relationships
of life, is the offspring of feeling, and not of thought.
What are popularly called notions, as distinguished from
rational convictions and principles, are conditions of the
sensibility. There are characters that seem to be made
up of likes and dislikes, that have their right sides and
wrong sides, that must be managed as carefully as an illtrained animal, lest some perverse feeling should disturb
the quiet.   All such liabilities are unreasonable, the
resuilt of an unregulated sensibility, and are unworthy
of beings endowed with the regulative principle of reason.
Some persons seem to excuse themselves for their unreasonableness on the ground of strong feeling, and even to
require the respect of others for their extravagances of
temper, which render them disagreeable. It is better to
cover up and repress our own infirmnities, while we defer
to the weaknesses of others, as far as the requirements of
good society may suggest. Perfection of character consists in the supremacy of reason, and such Perfection of
movements of the feelings as correspond with character.
the occasion. To this result, self-knowledge, self-govern.
menlt, and self-culture, all conspire.
279 
CHAPTER Im
DUTIES-SELF-CURLTUE.
THE development and culture of the higher tastes is
Esthetic cul- essential to completeness of clharacter. These
ture.    tastes are, in part, intellectual, and, in part,
emnotional; but it is convenient to consider them as a dis tinct department of our nature.   Their improvement
becomes a duty, not on the ground of the intrinsic value
of the beautiful, but of its relative value, its adaptedness
to satisfy a human want, and add to human power.  Theiculture and gratification are sometimes thought to be
unauthorized, as involving an expenditure of time and
means, that should bc. devoted to better uses. but it is no.
difficult to see that they pay their way, blessing their
possessor with a richer subjective life, and endowing him
with greater efficiencv in his action upon others. It is true
that these tastes are an expensive part of our nature.
They multiply and extend our wants.  Our chief expenItsexpensive- diture, in the way of dress, and food, and
neft.       dwellings, and surroundings, is imposed by
our higher tastes.  It is on this account that provision
for human comfort is more costly than for that of brutes,
aInd that civilized life involves greater expenditure than
savage life. But man is better than a stone, or an oyster, because of his multiplied susceptibilities, and necessities;
and his true elevation is found, no(t in suppressing or
Elevatingten- neglecting these wants, but in adjusting
dency.      them to each other, and to his conditions,
in1 giving prominence to the genuine, and permanent, 
DUTIES-SELF CULTURE.
and ennobling, and in repressing the unreasonable,
the factitious, and  degrading.   Those who  have  labored in the dark places, to elevate human character,
have often found, that one of the first steps, is, to awaken
a desire for a better external condition, to implant or
arouse some w;ant or sense of the seemly, and the decorous, in apparel or in dwelling.  To want,,is the nature of
man, and low animal wants and passions are repressed,
and held ill check, by awakening the elevated tastes and
desires.  Nature will break out in somie unseemly form,
if the proper channels for its movements are obstructed.
In place of comely outward adorning and appointments,
we shall have tawdry display and barbaric splendor. In
place of genuine social enjoyment and refinement, we
shall have gross sensual pleasures, and a grovelling life.
The result warrants the expenditure.
But while esthetic culture is expensive, it increases
the productive power of a people in a greater  Increaqes
ratio than the expense. The power of the power.
world lies in the cultivated nations. They not only supply their own increased wants, but have a surplus of energy, and power, to expend in benefiting others. It is
the rude, and uncultured, that constitute the needy and
dependent of the world, even with their diininished wants.
There is power in men, according to their motives for action; and their motives for action are multiplied and
elevated) in the multiplication and elevation of their
wants, and in the conscious excellence of their being
Culture brings self-respect, and in self-respect there L
power.
There is a somewhat prevalent idea that high culture
brings weakness, in the sense of inability to  A miappi*
endure hardship; that the increased sensitive- bensio.
281 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
ness to the annoyances and inconveniences of life, idihcates inability to bear up against them.  The idea is not
well founded. The cultivated man has resources within
himself, which are not dependenlt upon mere outward
condition. He finds relief and refreshment, where another
finds nottling to meet his wants.  He has superior strength
to struggle with difficulty, because he has higher motives in
the conflict, and a greater stake upon the result. This view
is abundantly supported by facts. The men who survive the
lhardships of a perilous expedition, like that of Dr. Kane,
are those wliole minds are enriched, and characters elevated, by the higher culture.  Even with less stalwart
frames, they wvill live to bury their comrades, who rejoiced
in mere physical strength, or to bring them  through by
their superior endurance.  Women, refined by culture to
true delicacy of feeling and perception, stand up and
tive under the self-denials of emigration, and of frontier
life, while those, apparently less sensitive, and better
fitted to endure, die. They have higher reasons for living. Life is more full and rich to them. Young men,
brought up in the midst of the refinements of life, and
trained in the schools, endure the hardships of the camp
and the field, while the rugged, but uncultured, are broken down by disease, or die of nostalgia. We often pity
molt, those who least need our pity.
There, doubtless, is a form, or show of culture, which
Fae refne-  brin gs weakness instead of strength.  There
ment.       is an outside refinement which etherealizes
and attenuates the body, instead of expanding and ennon
bling the soul, which burdens the person with unreal
wants, instead of sustaining him with substantial and
permanent resources.  Thene seems to be a point where
civilization or refinement ceases to be an advantage, and
282 
DUTIES-SBELF-CULTURE.
becomes a burden-a limit beyond which the conveni.
ences and comforts of life become annoyances; and yet
it will perhaps be found that the failure is not in degree,
but ill kind. True refinement has its foundation in the
permanent susceptibilities of the soul, and consists in a
reasonable provision for these. False culture consists ir
generating unreasonable and arbitrary wants, and in a(,
cepting the burdens which they impose. These two are
as clearly distinguishable as the dictates of true taste, and
the demands of fashionable life.
There is, too, a refinement which degenerates into fas
tidiousness-a self-conscious and pretentious  Fastidiousdelicacy, more alive to the offensive than to  ness.
the pleasing. There are those whose culture is more a
source of annoyance to themselves and to others, than of
pleasure, and more to be avoided, even, than rudeness or
coarseness. The preventive and the remedy for this disease,is benevolence; a true and genuine sympathy with
God and humanity.
A true culture is as valuable in our adjustment to
others, as it is satisfactory in internal experi- Power in cul.
ence. If not an original element of power in ture.
personal influence, it is at least a regulative force which
gives effectiveness to personal power. It is like the balance wheel in machinery, which regulates the movement;
or like the oil, which reduces the friction. Steam power
would be utterly useless without  a lubricator.   So a
sense of the proprieties of time and place, an appreciation
-)f fitness and unfitness, brings al' the movements into har,,,v.  It tones down the ruggedness of mere intellec
ilitl or physical power, and gives it wise direction.  A
lelicate and discerning lnovement is more efficientt than
4 stronger but rougher force. Such an instinct of pro
283 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
prieties, in part original and inl part acquired, is some
times called a knowledge of human nature; but it in
volves no theories, no conscious ideas; it  tempers and ad.
justs theories and ideas to practical and effective use.  It
is in demand in all the relations of life. The rough and
uncultivated yield to the charmasreadilyas others.
The influence in society exerted by a lady of true refineThe cultiva- inent and delicacy of character, it is difficult
d lady.     to analyse or explain.  It lies not so much in
beauty or elegance of person, in vigor, originality, or brilliancy of thought.  All these are valuable, and contribute
to the result. Nor is it merely the power of moral worth.
This is essential, and without it there is no satisfiactory
result. But add to this a delicate sense of proprieties,
a quickness of perception, to adjust herself to others, to
occupy the place that falls to her with dignity and ease
and you have a civilizing force not easily estimated
Her power will not lie in the new ideas she sets forth,
nor in the vigorous enforcement of her views. Shle may
not vote or lecture. There is power in the graceful goodness which beams from her countenance, in the beauty
and harmony of her action and her life. Evil will fly before her as darkness yields to light, and truth and goodwill spring up in her pathway.
The general culture of which such a character is the pro   Iowattae   duct, I have called aesthetic culture, using the
Ilow&trained.X
term, possibly, in a wider sense than is coininonly accepted.   Its attainmer t does not  come with
what are technically termed, in education, the acconmplishments.  They may fail to bestow it, and it may be
secured without them. Profie.ciency in the fine arts, even
to the extent of an appreciation of the great masters, is
not a guaranty of true refinement, and genuine culture.
284 
DTIES-SELF-CULTURE.
All these are helpful, but there is a way more sure and
simple.  He who opens his heart to the requiremenets of
benevolence, who conies into sympathy with divine goodleSS and love, walks abroad upon the earth where God's
beauty smiles, and lifts up his eyes to the heavens in
which his glory shines, will sooner or later find that beauty
and glory reflected in his own spirit.  Thus we may attain
a culture higiher than ancient or modern art can give.
The question how much time and means we are per.
mitted to devote to the culture and gratifica-  The attention
tion of our aesthetic nature, has never been proper.
answered,  and  cannot  be.  lIany  modifying  circuinstances enter into each particular case, excluding the
application of any general formula. The claims of
)enievolence are always paramount; and in the ever-varying conditions of life, we must render a conscientious
judgment upon the demands of propriety and duty.
Station in life, and relations to general society, are
among the factors which determine the result.  The man
in public, and the man in private litfe, have different
necessities, and different standards.  What would be propriety for the one, would be extravagance for the other.
The mistress and her mnaid sustain different responsibilities, and, in the mnatter of personal adornment, one cannot
be the Anodel for the other. Life in the city, and life in
the country, student life, and life in general society, have
each their own requirements, and each gives its own
solution of the problem of good taste and propriety.
Some allowance, too, is to be made for personal peculiarities iL taste. To one, a picture, or an instrument of
music, is only less necessary than daily bread. To
another, the absence and the presence of such things are
alike indifferent. These persons have lifferent wants,
""I 8 5 
MORAL  PHILOSOPHY.
and are permitted to make reasonable provision for these
wants. TLe world is the richer for these personal differelices.
Propriety and duty are also modified by the demand
)rtherde-    for effort in other directions.  The world is
,iands to  be
on..idered.   full of pressing want, sometimes at the very
door.  Purple and fine linen and sumptuous fare are
pleasant and desirable; but the benevolent, and the conscieIlitious cannot enjoy them,wliile Lazarus lies at the
gate.  The wants of the country and of the world must
always be considered. In the presence of great destitution, especially near at hand, large expenditures for
the indulgeice of taste are offensive and  unwarrant
able.
Attention to the impulses of taste, to the neglect ot
Neglect of    higher personal wants, is equally unwvorthy.
higher wants. A character formed under exclusive or excessive attention to the niceties and refinements of life, is sure
to be feeble and shallow.  It is thus that dandies and
fine ladies are produced, and the dilettanti of literature
and art, not the soulful men and women, whose personal
presence is a power and a blessing. To buy a coat when
you need a dictionary, to travel for culture when you
need to work or study for discipline and strength to
patronize the milliner and neglect the instructor, are mistakes of this sort.  Taste and art furnish the adornments
of life, not the grand material of life.
A  clear discrimination is to be made between  the
A discrimina- requirements of good taste and the demands
tion.      of fashionable life. A nmoderate outlay would
meet the real natural want, while the arbitrary demands
of fashion and ostentatious display are a bottomless
abyss, swallowing all resources, and yielding only empti
286 
DUTIES-SELF-CULTURE.
ness.  The attempt to meet such demands is utterly vain
and the burden which they impose is too grievous to
be borne.  In this direction, sad mistakes are  nladle.
Those who, with moderate means, could nmeet their own
simple and reasonable wants, and  have a surplus for
works of charity and beneficence, with enlarged resour
es, falling into the tide of fashionable life, find thei,
wants mrlltiplying more rapidly than their means, and
charities give place to indulgences. There is a proper
ratio, variable, not constant, between expenditures for
beneficence and for tine refinements of life; and those
who find the former yielding to the latter, need to readjust their plans.
Our physical powers are given us to improve and tc
use, and the general duty of self-cultutre ex- Physical ca.
tends to these.  This duty has a two-fold as-  tureaduty.
pect. The body is the instrument and organ of the
mind, and our intellectual and spiritual activities and
movements  are dependent upon the conditions of the
body. A sound mind comes with a sound body. Every
disturbance of the physical condition produces a reaction upon our highest and noblest powers. Duty to the
soul, involves duty to the body. Again, our physical powers are among the faculties which we are to employ in
the service of God and lman. To neglect, or abuse, or
pervert them, is to fail in the trust committed to us.
Duty, in the way of physical culture, implies proper
attention to health.   Health is the condition  Attention to
of effective action in all the work of life; and health.
,ny course which undermines the health, or fails to supP]y its conditions, is wrong, and if unnecessarily pursued,
is a sin. Excessive exertion of body or of mind, neglect of
bodily exercise and relaxation, harmful indulgence of
287 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
appetite, are among the ordinary forins of transgression
It is rare, in experience, that due thoughtfulness conmes,
until the evils of neglect and abuse are incurred.
The acquisition of manual accomplishl)ents and skill,
anud  ski   is among the duties connected with the body.
I.Jrlbe.    It was a wise provision of the ancients, that
en erv inan, whatever his condition or calling in life, shoul,'
acquire skill in some handicraft.   This wholesome prac
Vce has fallen into disuse. Yet utter inability to use, for
the ever-present wants of life, so cunning an instrument
as the hand, which God has given to every man, is a misfortune and a wrong.  It gives, even to the best, an appearance of dependence and inefficiency, which is unworthy of them. The hours of leisure and relaxation,
which belong to the busiest life, are adequate to such
attainments.
Proper attention to form, and bearing, and manners,
Peno,olman- belongs to the duty of physical culture. Each
le>@    man should endeavor to get full possession of
iis own person, and be at home with himself-not seem an
ntruder in the body given him to inhabit.  These per%onal accomplishments are pleasing in themselves, and
add to the influence which it is every one's prerogative
and duty to exert.
The formation and maintenance of such personal habits,
And habit. as render one agreeable as an associate itn the
family, and in general society, is an obvious
duty.  No one has the -light to render himself offensive
and loathsome by habits which mar the counten-ancee, or
pollute the breath, or detract from the dignity and excellence of his physical nature.   Nor has one a right to
sllbject himself to the slavery of unworthy habits, in eat.
ing or drinking, or in the use of vile narcotics, which seem
28.q 
DUTIES-SELF-CULTURE.
to be the evril genius of fallen human nature.  From  all
such unclean spirits, it is the privilege and duty of God's
rational creatures to be free.
In a l efforts at Plysical culture, it should be borne in
mind, that the soul is predominant, and the  The soul prt
body subordinate.  The highlest condition of  dominant
tie man is that in which the soul acts with greatest free
d)m and vigor This is, in fact, the highest corporeal
c,,ndition, as well; or rather, it is the condition of great
ebt physical efficiency and enldurance.  It is not estabilied that the fullest muscular development, or the most
porfect exhibition of the animal man, is most favorable
to efficiency or power. It is by no means clear that
muscle is not sometimes cultivated at the expense of
brain, and animal strength at the sacrifice of nervous energy and power. It is at least questionable, whether he
who makes a gymnast of himself, is not sacrificing the
higher to the lower nature, and, whether, in the end, he
s not the loser, even in the domain of physical power
and achievement. This is a question for physiologists,
but it is one which cannot fail to interest every friend of
humanity.
The growing admiration, in our land, for exploits of
mere physical strength and prowess, possess- Retrograde
ing the popular mind, and even invading our tendency.
schools of learning, looks like a retrograde movement in
civilization, rather than an advance. It is, perhaps, but
a needful reaction from the general neglect of physical
culture which has prevailed; but it cannot be necessary
at this day to repeat the experiment of Sparta.
It is a grave mistake, too, in the question of physical
culture, to overlook the predominance of the  The moral
moral element in human nature.  He who  predominant.
13
289 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
studies man, in his capacities and wants, as lie would
study a mere animal, can never trust his conclusions.
Man is a complex being, and must be contemplated in
the completeness of his nature. The effect of moral motives ul~on human power and endurance, must nct be
'ver]ooked.  Men live and work, sometimes, because they
have good reasons for it, and not because there is any apparent basis in their physical condition for so doing. If
the facts were gathered, in reference to those who have
b)een the benefactors of the race, in the fields of literature,
and of moral progress generally, it would probably be
found, that the vast majority of them have wrought under
a constant struggle with some physical infirmity. Pain
has often proved the necessary stimulus to exertion.  The
nervous restlessness, which comes with suffering, expends
itself upon enterprises which bless mankind, and the interest felt in the enterprise reacts upon the sufferer, to
lift him above his infirmity, and give him new energy,
and a longer lease of life.  It is no rare thing that the
feeble outwork and outlive the stronger. All this does
not prove that health is not a good to be sought and preserved. It is one of the compensations by which Divine
Wisdom balances the advantages and disadvantages of
life. Those deprived of full physical vigor, may still
labor with good courage and hope.
These hints may serve some purpose, in suggesting tlhe
different forms in which the great duty of self-improx einent may be pursued. It is a duty that ends only with
life, perhaps not then; and when all that is possible l as
bI)een accomplished, there will still remain sufficient:f
infirmity and defect to save from -elf-exaltation, and to
test the f)rbearance of friends.
290 
CHAPTER I.'
DUTIES-USEFULNESS.
Ti  duty of usefulness may seem somewhat  compre
hensive or vague, but it expresses the obliga- Its naturead
obligatorition resting upon every one to hold himself, his ness.
faculties, and resources, at the service of being, subject to
the claims of God and of man. This is the duty in its
generic form, expressing what should be the aim and purpose of every one, to make his life subserve some good
end; to contribute, according to his ability, to the aggregate of general well-being. A life thus devoted, stands
opposed to a life of self-indulgence-a nursing of one's
own ease, or comfort, or pleasure. It is not, in any sense,
opposed to one's higihest good, or to a true regard for his
own well-being. The duty rests on the double basis of
good to others, and good to ourselves; what we can do,
and what we shall receive.  A  life of usefulness is the
only satisfactory life, and this, of itself; would be a sufficient reason for its pursuit.  It is the practical outworking of benevolence, which is the vital principle of all
duty.   The benevolent man  necessarily enquires, how
much good can I do?-not, how little may I do, and still
secure the reputation and rewards of a virtuous life.
There is in the human constitution, an impulse to uso
ulness, as to every other duty, and much  Thenatural
human effort must be attributed to this gen- impulse.
,rous impulse. It exists in different degrees, in different
natiures. One person is naturally self-seeking, a receiver,
rather than a giver; looking for benefits rather than 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
bestowing them, accounting it a hardship t,) have to con
tribute to another's welfare.  Another is natutrahy self
forgetful, looking for opportunities of usefulness to others,
finding a pleasure in meeting their wants.  The obligations of benevolence rest upon these alike; operating, in
the first case, to suppress the selfish impulse, and form
lihe life and character to generous action; in the second,
to sustain the generous impulse with a permanent principle, and render genuine the goodness which was only
specious. But the duty of usefulness must be made a
study. It is not enough to maintain a benevolent heart,
and assume that the way of duty will open of its own
accord, and the life take care of itself.  "Wisdom is
profitable to direct." The purpose of usefulness must
enter into all plans, and govern the life.
The choice of an occupation, a life-calling, is to be de   a} ocp   termined  by its relation to our usefulness.
ti  quired.  Industry, employment, is a duty, even when it
is not a necessity. Indeed, it may be said to be always
a necessity-a necessity for self-satisfaction and comfort,
if not as a means of support. But, aside from this, no
one can have a right to leave his energies unemployed,
while there is work to be done which would contribute
to human welfare. Every one needs an oc( apation, one
that commends itself to his judgment as worthy of him.
In the first place, it must not be harmful-a business
Not to be   that panders to the vices of men, and derives
trmfni.     its profits from their weaknesses.  The man
is a nuisance in society, whose business contributes to humanl degradation.  In the advance of intelligence and
public virtue, he will be accounted and treated as a felon.
At present, a gross offender is restrained by the necessity
of procuring a lic(,ense from the state, or is restricted in
292 
DUlTIES-USEFULNSS.
his mischief by statutes.  Wiiat relation has the production or sale of ruin or tobacco to the proper work of life t
In the next place, the occupation must not be- useles
No business can be approved which does not
contribute to human  welfare.   It is not          eea
enough that it brings satisfactory returns, and that these
may be used in the work of usefulness. There is no propriety in accepting any return for a work which the
world does not need.  It is of the nature of fraud to take
pay for such work. It is an unworthy occupation to
fasten one's self upon the business of the country, with
the purpose to contribute nothing to its movements, but,
only to divert something to one's own advantage. Such
a man is in a false position, and can give no satisfactory
reason for occupying a place in the world, and receiving
a support. What good account can he give of himself,
whose business is speculation in Western lands, or in
Wall-street stocks?
The pecuniary return which an occupation may yield,
is not the chief point of enquiry. The work The work
more than
is of more consequence than the pay. The pay.
pecuniary return may be regarded as the necessary means
of living and working, not as the prime reason for working. The pay can sometimes be dispensed with, the
work cannot. This consideration applies not merely to
those pursuits which are immediately beneficent in their
aim, as the work of the preacher, the physician, the
teacher, but to all occupations which contribute to the
common good.  The man is unworthy of his calling, who
finds his chief satisfaction in the wages he receives, and
who hastens to shuffle off his work, the moment he can
iive without it.
Any positively useful occupation is a worthy one; but
2,q "I 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
those must be considered as most satisfactory, which beat
Adapted to   most directly and clearly upon human welpow, 8.    fare; and the higher the wants which it meets,
the higher the calling. But there must be a correspondence between the faculties and qualifications devoted to
any pursuit, and the work to be done. It is unseemly to
waste fine abilities, and high education, upon the work of
a porter, or a boot-black, although these are useful and
proper pursuits. Socrates once said: "The man is idle
who can undertake anything better than what he is now
doing." There is a vast amount of idleness of this sort;
and yet it is better to accept the humbler occupation, than
to go staggering under burdens too heavy for us, or to
struggle for positions for which we are not qualified.  It
requires some fortitude and grace to subside from a public to a private position; and he who can do it when the
occasion comes, is worthy of all honor.
It is better that there should remain some surplus of
Not exhaust- strength, after the ordinary duties of the call~.g the enerv     es.   ing- are discharged.  Every man needs a busi
ness that he can manage, and not one that will overwhelm him.  Some men seem to be absolutely swallowed
by their pursuits. You never see the man-only the
merchant, the schoolmaster, the mechanic.  The man is
mnore important than his calling, and should be able to
keep his head above the tide of business. He should roe
serve some strength for the common offices of humanity,
for the family, the neighborhood, and for general society.
We are perhaps more ready to look too high, than too
Not aboe us. low, for an employment. A longing for what
Rot above lu.* 
seems a more worthy occupation, is no rare
tLing in human experience, and it oftener arises from a
fwlure to app reciate the work in hand, than from at con
294 
DUITIES5-USEFULNE88.
ciousness of powers unemployed. One who does heartily
what he finds to do, will not often suffer for want of a
wider sphere of action. The way to get better work to
d), is to do well that we have.  "To him that hath, shall
be given," is the principle upon which work is assigned
by God and by men. There are few that fail in life for
want of favorable openings; many because they do not
earnestly enter into the work before them.
The mistake is sometimes made of confounding publicity or notoriety with usefulness.  A  work  Notoriety not
appears useful, according to the display it usefulness
makes, or the degree of attention it attracts; hence a
disposition to under-value the more quiet pursuits, where
the great work of life is done, and seek the more showy.
It should be borne in mind that a work is to be estimated
by its depth, as well as by its breadth; and that the field
tliich seems a narrow one, may yield richer results, by
eason of its greater depth of culture. The work that is
o wide-spread, is necessarily superficial.
All can become heroic; but only a few can be publicly
recognized as heroes, or become historical. We can all
do brave deeds and if the tide of history turns in our direction, we can launch our bark upon it; but it is not in
the power, even of the strongest, to make history, or to
compel in it a place for themselves.
"Lives of great men all remind us,
We can make our lives sublime;"
but they do not teach us that we can attract the attention
(;f tfe world to the sublimity of our lives. That is th
dream of a spirit of self exaltation, not the lesson of history.
Wealth, as well as personal influence and power, is to
be regarded as a means of usefulness, to be wealth a
employed conscientiously and benevolently  mea
295 
MORAL'PHILOSOPHY.
It matters not how that wealth has been acquired,
whether by inheritance, or by one's own laboI and econ.
omy; the same responsibility attaches to the possessor, to
use it wisely for the common good.   The money is his,
not merely to administer to his eInjoyment, not to be coilumied upon his lusts, but as a sacred trust, to be ein.
ployed according to his highest convictions of duty.  The
responsibility is a grave olne; but it always comes with
possession. It is often found easier to acquire wealth,
than to use it wisely. The struggle for the acquisition,
not rarely perverts the character, and unfits for the enjoyment and wise use of property. The habit of acquiring
and hoarding becomes fixed, and the idea of using or
dispensing cannot be received. "A penntiy saved, is worth
two earned; " but a penny well expended, is better than
either.  Money is good for nothing else.  Careful gather
ing and hoarding are virtues only when directed to a
worthy end.  It is the weakness of men to cling to their
wealth until death, and then purchase the mnerit of a
beneficent life, by bequests to worthy objects. This is
better than to squander it, or to leave it as a burden or a
curse to children; but it is better still to devote it to its
proper uses, while the owner lives to control its distribution and its use. Children are injured, not merely by receiving the property as an inheritance; they are often
ruined by the expectation of receiving.  Let it be wisely
dispensed as it accumulates, and thus avoid both dangers.
Such a course requires benevolence, and wisdom, and decision of character. The owner of property has the prerogative of determining to what good uses to apply it;
this privilege or duty comes with ownership.
Special obligation devolves upon those who have made
large accumulations of wealth. Grant that their acqili.
296 
DUTIS-USEFULNESS.
sition has been honestly made, without any failure in
integrity; it is still true that they have re- Wealth brlngi
ceived more than a fair return for the labor  specialduty.
and skill bestowed.  In the distribution of the profits of
labor and capital, accomplishled by the rough adjustments
of business, they have received more than their  just pro
portion.  No redistribution is called for, or is possible
The results of business, honorably conducted, determine
the property right.  But a thoughtfil  and conscientious
man will not fail to consider, that what he has above an
average return for the labor bestowed, has come by imperfect distribution.  His dividends have been unreasona
bly large, and others have lost what he has gained. He
cannot find the exact sufferers, and make up their loss
but he can regard his wealth as belonging, in a very
proper sense, to the community, and use it to promote
the public interests. In addition to the ordinary claims
of benevolence, this obligation rests upon him as a matter
of justice.
Money may often be devoted to works of immediate
charity.  This use is the most obvious, and  Works of
would seem to involve least question.  But it charity.
is not uncommon that mistakes are made in such a distribution, especially when the donor undertakes to strike
out for himself some new  line of beneficence.   The
work requires the highest diseernment-a wisdom which
aomes only from experience, and the one who undertakes
it without experience, will often be disappointed in the
result.  But the difficulty of the work will not excuse
from the duty.
Another channel for the distribution of wealth is in the
utilitarian enterprises of manufactures, or Usefal enter.
comnmerce or public improvements, whicI fur- vPo
297 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
nish employment to many, and multiply and distribute the
comforts of life. It is true that men, generally, invest in
such enterprises, purely as a business transaction; but a
higher view is possible, and, doubtless, often cherished —
the aim to use the money wisely in contributing to human
welfare.  This aim is sometimes shown in the disposition to
distribute, as far as possible, the profits of the investment,
among the operatives whose labor has won them, either
in increased wages, improved d wellings, or in multiplied
advantages of schools and churches.
The work of the money-lender is also legitimate, and
Money lend-   may be made beneficent.  It brings together
ing.       capital and capacity, and opens doors of useful occupation to those to whom they would otherwise be
closed. One who resists the temptation to take advantage of the necessities of men, and extends a helping
hand to industry and to merit, may serve God and his
generation as a money-lender.
We may use our money for present comfort and sup
Peouses.  port, and retain it as a reasonable provision
for the future, or as an outfit for children entering upon life. We may expend it in the comforts
and refinements of life, in apparel and personal adornment, suitable to our condition and relations, in providinga pleasant home,with suitable surroundings, a refreshment to the owner, and a blessing to the community
-not because we have a right to the money, and can use
it as we will, but because such uses are benevolent and
proper. We have no right to expend a dollar for ourselves, which we have reason to believe would do more
good bestowed elsewhere. Possession does not deliver
us from this stern law of duty.
Social position and personal influence are among the
298 
DUTES-USEFULNESS.
resources which must be made to contribute to useful
ness. This power depends, not chiefly upon Social lnuwealth, but more upon culture and character.  e —
In part it may be inherited, in part acquired. It belongs
not merely to the prominent and the favored, but attaches,
in some degree, to human nature in all conditions, to the
old and the young, the learned and the unlearned, the
rich and the poor. Each, in his own circle, exerts a force
which may be used benevolently, or thoughtlessly and
harmfully; in the correction of what is wrong in society,
and the support of what is right, or in spreading and perpetuating mischief.
Social life has claims upon all, and involves responsibilities, from which we cannot be excused.
It may seem easier to live isolated, to cast off  Dutytoall.
social obligation, because it is so difficult to meet it, or
because of pernicious customs in society, which it is hard
to withstand. The excuse is not sufficient. Society is a
necessity, and the conscientious, and tlhe good, are needed
here, as elsewhere. The quiet, but mighty influence of
oenevolence, and fidelity to duty, will tell, even where
worldliness and vanity seem to be predominant.
The difficulty, often felt, is to meet the mischievous
or questionable customs, which invade social
life, and maintain a conscientious position   he       ty.
without failure or offence.   We  cannot go far without
meeting such difficulties, and if we would shun them lit
terly, "we must needs go out of the world."  The ques tions, how far may we go in the fashionable entertain ments and amusements which tend to dissipation? what
may we join in, and what must we omit? where is the
linle between the permitted arnd the forbidden? can never
be answered  and, if answered to-day, they would return
299 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
to-morrow. One may go forward with a frank and ear nest heart, waiting,where doubt arises, until better light
,hall come, and the difficulties and dangers will not be
found formidable. Conscientiousness, tempered by gen
tleness, will rarely give offence, and will often acconiplisb
more in the way of social reform, than vigorous preaching
or denunciation.  The work calls for courage, and fidelity
and patience, and prayer.
Young people have their earlier experiences of per
fteponsibili-  sonal responsibility in these social relations.
ty of theoh
young.O     They constitute a prominent element in this
department of social life, and have much to do in deter mining its form and character. They need all the prin ciple and good sense that they can command, to avoid
the evil and to follow the good. They determine for
themselves whether their associations shell be refining
and elevating, and refreshing, or coarse  and  low, and
dissipating. It is vain to look for any sufficient light in
definite and formal rules.  Many particular questions
may be answered, but there will often be occasion to fal]
back upon the instinct of a serious and earnest and conscientious heart. This will rarely mislead.
In all efforts at usefulness, it is to be borne in mind,
The groat    that the great want of mankind, is a knowlwork.sr     edge of God, and regard for his will.  This
vant is the source of almost all the dissatisfaction and
misery with which the world abounds; and this want
supplied, the work  that remains is simple, and easily
accomplished. Those who wouldlive lives of usefulness,
need to carry with them this conviction, inspiring their
hearts, and shaping their actions; and, however their
hands may be employed, their efforts shall yield a rich
result of beneficent an I saving power.  The highest good
300 
DUTIES-USEFULNESS.
that one can lbestow upon another, is to make the facts o3t
God's bei(ng and character more real to his thoughts,
and this is the work of the earnest ioul, in every sphere
of life, and n every occupation.
301 
.o
CHAPTER XL
DUIES- FIDELITo
A   Ew  special duties are still to be considered, and,
clenng ol   without attaching any significance to the order,
we will take, first, the duty of fidelity.  This
term is commonly used in the general sense of faithfulness
il meeting all obligation. In this chapter, it will be used in
the limited sense of faithfulness in the fulfilinent of
contracts and promises. This duty is sometimes confounded with veracity, but there is an obvious distinction
between them. Veracity refers to the attitude of mind
in making a statement; fidelity to the conduct which
follows, in the case of promises and contracts.
There are, at least two parties to a contract. These
may  share  alike  in  the  obligations  and
Two par. *advantages, or the obligation may be chiefly
on  one  side, and  the  advantage  on the  other.  In
the latter case, the engagement is ordinarily called a
)romise. The two transactions differ in form, not in
essential nature, and the same principles apply to both.
The binding force of a contract lies in the fact that in           terests are involved in the agreement, and
~Lnding force.
grow out of it.  An agreement in reference
to a matter utterly indifferent to both parties, has no
binding force; or, if any at all, it must lie in the fact that
the mere fuilfilment of the engagement becomes an
interest, as a matter of morality and duty. That no such
)bligation arises, is manifest from the fact that a contract may  be dissolved by mutual consent, when  the 
DUTIES-FIDELITY.
interest of neither party requires its fulfilment. No inquiry or thought arises in reference to the interests of
alorality in the case. If, in any case, the fulfilment of a
promise becomes detrimental to the one to whom  it ii
made, the obligation to fulfil ceases.  No solemnity of
form can create obligation where no interest attaches
Hlence, a threatening differs in its very nature from a
promise, and the obligation to fulfil it, rests  A threat dif
fers from a
on a different condition. When the Lord promise.
sent Jonah to announce the destruction of Nineveh, both
Jonah and the Ninevites felt that the threat might be
revoked, and so it was. If it had been a promnise, the
announcement of some good, their views would have
been different.   A  child promises  to strike another.
Fidelity does not require him to give t?ie blow.   He
promises some  favor;  he  is not  at  liberty, in  the
exercise of his own judgment,  to withhold  Judgment of
promiser not
that favor.  If he ascertains, beyond question,  enough.
that what he thought a favor, is no favor, no  obligation
attaches.  But, in general, the promiser is not at liberty
to be governed by his own judgment  in the case.  iHe
cannot, in general, know what relation the promise may
sustain to the good of the promisee-what interests may
have gathered aboutt the engagement. Hience, the dissolution of a promise, or a contract, requires mutual consent,
in the full and proper sense of the word consent. There
are eases in which the community becomes a party in the
interest.  Then the agreement cannot be dissolved by the
mere consent of the original parties. This is the fact in
marriage which, therefore, cannot be regarded as a simple contract, but becomes an institution.
A promise is binding, in the sense in whi(li it was
understood at the time it was made: that is, in the sensq
303 
X M(RAT PHILOSOPHY.
in which the promiser intended the promisee should an
In what sensie derstand it. In the case of disagreement, thi
binding.    laws of languiage, and the  history of th(,
transaction, must determine the intent. A contract is
binding in the same sense, and under the same conditions
But there are cases in which it is not right for one party
to hold the other to the obligations of his contract, or
promise.
If the contract be unjust or unfair to one of the parSwearing to   ties, whether the unfairness be apprehlended
one's hurt.   or not, the party wronged is bound  by the
contract, but the other party cannot ri,lghtfully enforce
it. It would be taking advantage off the ignorance or
weakness of another.  The scripture aplproves "the man
who swears to his own hurt, and changes not," but it
would not approve the man who holds him to his hurtful
swearing. In morals, it is not sufficient to determine
that a contract is binding. That is the mere legality of
the case. The man who has the advantage in the transaction, must bring the case to the test of benevolence,
before he accepts the fulfilment.
There are circumstances which render a contract or
When nul.   promise null, in  the  nature of the  case.
Wn nab    When the performance is, or becomes, impossible, the agreement is void. If ability returns, the obligation friay revive.  When the fulfilment brings injury
to others, its fulfilment becomes wrong. It is imnmateria
whether  the  injury was  apprehended or not, in  the
making of the contract, the ftlilfilmnent is wrong in both
eases.  The popular maxim, that a bad promise is better
broken than kept, needs qualification or explanation.
There are promises, wicked in the mnaking, which it is
wrong not to fulfil; as when one swears to his own hurt.
.$04 
DUTIES-FIDELITY.
It is wrong to swear to one's own hurt, but the promise
must be fulfilled.   When  one swears to do injury to
others, the promise is utterly null.  It is a sin to make or
receive such a promise, and a greater sin to fulfil, or to
exact it. If injury to others is incidental to the promise,
fand not the express matter of it, the promise may be
binding, to the extent, that some consideration is due to
the promisee in the case, but the third party must not
suffer by the fulfilment of the promise.
AVWen a promise or contract is conditional, and the conditions are not fulfilled, the promise becomes  Conditional
void.  Careful discrimination must be made  contracts.
between essential and non-essential conditions. A condition can be regarded as essential, only when it compares
somewhat, in importance, with the slubject matter of the
agreement.  The letter, too, must be distinguished from
the spirit, both in the conditions and in the agreemnent.
.it is no rare thing, to "keep the word of promise to the
ear, and break it to the hope."
A contract, or promise, may be express or implied; that
is, it may be finamed into words, oral or writ-  Express or
ten, or it may be involved in some voluntarily implied.
assumed relation or position, by the nature of the case
or by the custoins of society. One who enters a hotel,
and accepts entertainment, or takes passage on a steamer,
or a car, in the act itself, without any words, engages to
pay the usual charges. The party tendering the service,
agrees to be satisfied with the usual payment; and it is a
b)reachl of fidelity for either party to fail to meet this un derstanding.  One who enters a family, or a school, enga.
ges, in the act itself, to abide by its established order. It
is by no means necessary, that hle should subscribe a
pledge to that effect; the obligation is the same in eithel
305 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
case.  If he has failed in duty, the written pledge  may
quicken his sense of obligation, but it does not create the
obligation.  A profession al man, tendering his services to
the community, engages to bring to the work the educa
tioa  and skill implied in the profession, and to bestow
upon it the required time and attention. A merchant
offering his goods to the communlity, engages to sell at a
reasonable profit, or at market prices; and he Who orders
the goods without enquiry, comes under obligation to pay
only the reasonable price.
It is in the nature of an oath to impress obligation,
Effect of the rather than to create it. A simple promise
oath.       gives rise to the obligation; the oath adds the
sanctions of religion, and the fear of God, to impress the
obligation upon the heart An oath cannot be binding
ivhen, under the same circumstances, a simple promise
would not bind; and whenever the mere pronmise would be
annulled, the oath fails likewise.  Hlence, the oath caii
never bind to any wicked act, or to any concealnent
which is detrimental to society, nor to any act which is,
in itself, indifferent, and to which a mere promise would
impart no significance.
As a practical illfistration of the duties of fidelity, and
Marriage en-  because the subject is one of special imporgagements. tance to the young, a few remnarks are added
upon the delicate matter of marriage engagements. These
are of the nature of simiple contracts, because society is
not a party to the transaction.  An engagement to marry
is not, like marriage, an institution of society; it i.
wholly a matter of personal concern.
: contract or engagement of marriage, is, of course, in
Imi,lied con   volved in any express  agreement  to that
effect.  There are certaiii conitions, or limi
806 
DUTIES-FIDELITY.
tations, which, in the nature of the case, attach to it. No
definite time may be mentioned; the engagement carries
with it a reasonable limit in this respect. The continued
virtue and respectability of the parties,is a condition of
their claim to the fulfilment of the contract. Slight ab
errations, not seriously affecting the character or reputation, do not set aside the claim. Disclosures, made subsequent to the engagement, of serious constitutional infirmity, like a tendency to insanity, would release from
obligation. Lighter infirmities could not annul it. The
same principle must apply to serious faults of temper, revealed subsequently to the engagement. Conditions like
these, whether expressed or not, apply to all engage
ments.
Arbitrary conditions are sometimes attached, which, in
the nature of the case, cannot hold.  The    Impossblt
continuance of interest and affection, cannot    condition'
be made a condition, because the very point of the obligation is to maintain that interest and affection. The
engagement is not simply to marry, but to bring to the
marriage that state of affection which makes the marriage
desirable. That one shall not fall in with another party
that seems more desirable, cannot be made a condition.
The engagement precludes that freedom of fancy which
the condition implies. A party to such a contract ham
failed in duty when he indulges this freedom of fancy.
A. marriage engagement, like marriage itself, is not based
on a fickle and fleeting emotion, but involves a moral
election, a decision of the will, as bubstantial A moral elec.
and permanent as the character itself. The tion.
affections wait on this moral choice, and are controlled
by it. The faithful lover can walk almong the beautiful
and lesirable of the world, without danger to his fidelity.
307 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
Without such a power of moral choice, overruling and
directing the emotions, marriage itself could never be
safe.  The condition, then, of permanency of interest, is
ruled out of the marriage engagemnent.
Marriage engagements are not formed for the sake of
Object of en- acquaintance, in the light of which the progagement.    priety of marriage  is to be determined.  The
engagement pre-supposes that acquaintance, and the settlemient of the question of the propriety of marriage.
The place for consideration is antecedent to the engageinent. The frequent failure of young people is, to move
upon the spur of some ephemeral feeling or fancy which
dazzles for the hour, and leaves only darkness in the end.
It is the truer wisdom to test the fancy by time and a
quaintance, and the sober light of the judgment, in a
comparison of tastes and tendencies, and aims; to give
the fancy the trial of a winter, as well as a summer, of
absence, as well as presence, to test its vitality. An engagement thus considerately made, has in it the natural
elements of permanence, and the proper aim and purpose
of it is, to provide for that mutual adjustment of thought,
and feeling, and plan, and purpose, and life, which gives
success to marriage.  Marriage, without some such previous opportunity, is liable to involve a want of adjust
ment, which may peril the result.
A marriage engagement, being a simple contract, may
Mutual con- be dissolved by mutual consent. If the pargent.       ties themselves become satisfied that it is not
for their interest to consummate the marriage, they are
at liberty to decline it. But this must be determined by
the free decision of both parties. It is not enough that
one party reaches this decision, and asks the other for a
release.  Of course, a release will be granted; but tlo
308 
DUTIES-FIDELITY.
party released cannot indulge the satisfaction of a dissolution by mutual agreemnent. To ask to be released, is
only' specious form of breaking the engagement.  The
Lindlug force of an engagement increases  Effectof time
with the lapse of timne.  The interests which  and publicity.
cluster about it, in settled affection, and life arrangements
and hopes, are constantly increasing; and on such inter
Hsts the obligations of fidelity are based.   The element
of publicity adds something to its force, involving, to a
greater or less extent, the reputation of the parties.
Like many other contracts, a marriage engagement
may be implied, as well as expressed. In gen- Implied en
eral, any course of conduct pursued by the   gagements.
parties, which, in the common judgment of society, inldicates the intention of marriage, involves the obligation
of an engagement. Persistent and exclusive attentions,
offered on one part, and accepted on the other, without
any definite or formal proposal, may brinig the parties
under obligation. Either party would have the right to
complain, if a subsequent consummation is declined by
the other. Young ladies must be allowed a wider latitude, in this respect, because they receive proposals, and
do not make them.  But they must have the moral cour ag,e and the self-respect to decline attentions which they
would not seriously entertain.  The force of an engag,e ment lies not merely in words, which might express it,
but in acts and relations voluntarily assumed, which ordi narily attend upon the engagement. There is, of course,
a general association, in the ordinary relations of society,
or foir the purposes of acquaintance, which have no such
significaiice.
Again, any course of conduct designed to awaken in
another the particular personal affection of which mar
309 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
riage is the expression, implies the obligation of an offe0
Im1ied obli- of marriage. The only justifiable reason fox
gation.    such an effort, is the purpose to go forward, it
the conquest is made; and a refusal to respond to Ihe
affection thlus awakened, is a gross and wanlton breach )f
tidelity.
Any proposed arrangement, which, in the natural counmc
Grave respon  of things  results in an engagement of the
sibilities.    affections, involves grave responsibility.   2
particular correspondence,maintained between two per
sons, in marriageable relations, for purposes of persona
improvement, is an arrangement of this character.  A
very particular friendship, intended to be of the Platonic
Cast, between two such persons, even though a mutua
pledge be taken that it shall be a friendship, and nothing
more, involves such liabilities. The parties are not in a
condition to maintain an ordinary friendship. Unconsciously, they impart to it a warmth of feeling and imagination, which br ings it under another experience and
another name.  A pleasant melody of Moore's, erntitled
"A Temple to Friendship," will illustrate the tendencies,
and the frequent result. Those who place themselves in
such relations, should understand the case, and be prepared to meet the obligations which result. The young
are inclined to claim for themselves a more extended
liberty in such particulars, and to affect a degree of good
sense and discretion which insures them against danger.
A wider observation or experience will diminish their
-unfidence. These facts indicate the ethics of the subiject. As a prudential maxim, it is safe to assume that
tio more is intended than is expressed in words, and X
withhold the affection that is not distinctly asked for
310 
CHAPTER X
DUTIES - VERACrIT.
VerRACrY, as a virtue, is the benevolent conforming of
our communications with men to the truth. Virtuous VW
Benevolence, in general, requires this con- racity.
fulmity.  It is due to God, as demanded by respect foI
his character and attributes. It is also an essential condition of the existence of society. Every human being
needs reliable information from others; his need constitutes a right; and the right, on his part, imposes duty on
others. This, alone, is the basis of the obligation. The
truth has no sacredness in itself; all its sacredness is derived from the interests of moral beings.
Truthfulness is sometimes discriminated as objective
and subjective-truthfulness in expression, Objective and
and truthfulness in intention. Either may siubjective.
exist without the other.  We may intend the truth, and
fail; or, we may intend falsehood, and state the truth.
Subjective truthfulness alone is obligatory.   Nor is it
enough to intend to state the truth. In order to virtuous veracity, the intention must be grounded in benevolence. Truth-telling from malice, or even from a generous impulse, is not virtuous veracity.
The obligation of veracity is enjoined in the third
command  of the decalogue:  "Thou  shalt  Enjoined la
not take the name of the Lord thy God in  thedecalogu&
vain;" that is, thou shalt not make oath to a falsehood
.ll falsehood is contempt of God-a disregard of his
attributes; and, in this precept, the sin is contemplated in 
MORAL  PHIILOSOPHY.
this view.  False swearing is the forLk  of the  trans
gression expressed, but all falsehood is implied, as exhibit
ing similar contempt of God. Its implied utterance, is:
" howv doth God know; and, is there knowledge in the Miost
High? "  It is also a sin against mankind, a violation of
his right to the truth, and in this view it is prohibited in
telt ninth commandment: " Thou shalt not bear false witaess agaiinst thy nieilghbor."
The significance of the oath, is in the fact that God is
Significance   invoked  as a witness,  and  the  relater  is
,f the oath.   placed  under tihe direct recognition of his
presence.  The imprecation often annexed: "So help me
God," is a prayer for God's favor, on condition of telling
The truth.  It is sometilmes supposed, that the superior
force of the oath lies in the civil penalties annexed to per.
jury; but these penalties could be provided for, without
the oath. The appeal to God, impresses the mind with
the gouilt of falsehood, and the importance of truthfulness
as a condition of his favor. It adds divine sanctions to
human penalty.  The oath does not originate the obligation of truthfulness; it only intensifies and impresses it.
The question sometimes arises, of the rightfulness of the
Its rig,htful- oath. The argument against it is wholly drawn
nilS.      firom the Saviour's prohibition: "Swear not at
all."  A  careful comparison of the various passages of
Scripture on the subject, will sustain the prevalent idea,
that the Saviour refers to the light and profane use of the
ntame of God, without occasion. The oath was enjoined,
in special cases, under the Aiosaic law and the Apostles
seem to have employed it at times.  The solemn appeal
to God, iii courts of justice, and on grave occasions, is not
profanity; it tends to honor God, and not to cast contempt upon himn. It is one of the comparatively few
312 
DUTIES-VE]ACITY.
forms ill which our nation governmentally recognizes Jo
horah. The use of the oath on every trivial occasion, as
in certifying to a business account, or a tax return, seems
undesirable and unwarranted.  The careless adminiistra
tion of the oath, depriving it of all impressiveness and
solemnity, whicl prevails in our courts and legislative
bodies, and even in the senate of the nation, can scarcely
be distinguished from profanity. If it cannot be rescued
from such abuse, it were better that it should be abolished.
The sin of profaning the namne of God, is of the same
nature with falsehood, regarded as contempt Profanity, its
of God; hence, the third commandment is  nature.
properly applied against it, although this is probably not
its primary reference.   The offence is a most gross and
wanton one, and the existence and prevalence of it would
seem incredible, but for the multiplied and painful facts
around us. The only apparent motive for the loathsome
habit, is in the propensity to strengthen and intensify an
utterance.   It is not to be assumed that those who indulge the habit, intend to express contempt of God; but
proper respect for him, would make such utterances seem
shocking.   Is it not possible that the habit of intensifying speech with strong words and frequent exclamations,
indulged even by worthy people, ministers to the prevalent passion which, in the rough and reckless, results in
profanity?
The obligation of veracity may be violated by any
method by which a false impression may be  Violatioas of
communicated - by a positively false state- veracity.
ment, by an exaggeration, by a partial statement, by ai
intonation, by a gesture, or even by silence.  Hence the
explicit requirement of the oath," to tell the truth, the
whole truth, and nothing but the truth."  The forms of
14
313 
MOR&I  PHILOSOPHY.
violation most frequent, and to which those who have
falsehood in their hearts constantly resort, involve the use
of words and expressions of double or unsettled meaning,
giving the hearer a false impression, while the falsehood
cannot be directly fastened upon the words. This method
has the advantage of allowing -he deceiver'o'.omfort
lijilself in the delusion that he has not told an untruth.
There are comparatively few that have the hardihood to
utter a falsehood, distinctly expressed in words. Such an
utterance indicates great boldness or great awkwardness.
The offence is in the aim to deceive;  the  mainer is
immaterial.
The question, as to the limits of the obligation of veraLimits of the city, requires a few words. Are its claims
obligation.   absolute, to the extent that deception is never
allowable under any circumstances, or for any reasons
The common judgment of mankind has always answered
this question in the negative. It is not difficult to state
a case in which deception would be justified, even by
the most rigid moralist, unless a favorite theory were
at stake. According to the views heretofore pre'sented,
the general answer to the question must be, that the
limits of the obligation must be. found in the requirements of benevolence. The only absolute obligation is
that of benevolence itself; all other duties, veracity ineluded, derive their force from this obligation. If, under
any circumstances, proper regard to highest good would
admnit of deception, then the claims of veracity cease.
That such cases arise, there  is scarce room for doubt
The false movements of an army to deceive an enemy,
thie devices of a fugitive from oppression,to mislead the
pursuer, are examples of this kind, never called in question. But to state a principle which shall clearly draw
814 
DIUTTVERACIYY.
the line between the objective right and the wrong, is
probably impossible. In this respect, veracity is ike
every other duty. To say that veracity is obligatory,
when the person asking has a right to know the truth, is
to utter a truism. The very point of the enquiry is,
when does that right exist? To say that the obligation
*xsts when there is need of the truth, is more to the
point; but if we judge of the need by a reference to the
person immediately concerned, and to the case in hand,
we fail to embrace all interests. The principle of veracity is one of grave importance, and meets a permanent
want of moral beings. To maintain this principle, truth
must be told, and deception excluded, even when, in
the particular case, the communication serves  The rule and
no interest, and deception would work no exceptions
immediate harm. Absolute truthfulness in cummunication, is the grand practical rule. The exceptions will be
rare, and indicated more or less clearly, to the practical
judgment, by attending circumstances. In general, it
will appear in these exceptions, that they involve no
appeal to confidence-that something in the circumstances of the case precludes the idea that the communication is to be accepted according to its purport, or
leaves the matter wholly in doubt. An enemny, in war,
expects to be deceived. Even the dispatches of the opposing general may be intended for this purpose. But when
a flag of truce approaches, the presumption is entirely
different. Sincerity in the communication is tendered,
and expected, and the obligation holds, even to an outlaw. The kidnapper expects to be deceived by the
movements of the fugitive. lie has no claim to the
knowledge he desires, on the ground of any need on his
part; and the general principle of veracity is not at
81s 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
stake.  Confidence between man and man,is not shaken
by the deception. Thus, each particular exception must
cairry wi'h it its own vindication.
The view is sometimes maintained, that there is a radi.
W,tds and    cal difference between words and gestures;
estures.    that deception by gestures is often allowable,
by words never. If there be any such difference between
these two means of communication, it must lie in the fact
that words involve an appeal to confidence, in a sense
that gestures do not. There may be some foundation for
this view; but it is often true that a gesture is just as significant as a word, and carries with it all the obligation.
There are cases, too, where words have no such force, and
may be used in a justifiable deception. The relations of
the parties, and of the interests involved, must determine
the case.
Upon this principle, that confidence is not appealed to in
Legal prac-   the case, the present modes of conducting litigatice.V      tions in the courts must be vindicated, if at all.
The lawyer, on either side, is expected to make the best
possible statement of his case.  Hle is not a witness, but
an advocate, and his representation is accepted in this
view. The hope is, that the resultant of the two opposing statements will be the clear and simple truth. This
is the theory of the profession, and thus the obligations
of veracity are not supposed to apply to the ordinary arguiments or representations addressed to the court. If the
lawyer should, at any time, assume the attitude of a witness, or state his positive opinion as a man, thus appealilg to the confidence of the court, his professional privilege,
of misleading or deceiving, must terminate. A false representationi, under tuch conditions becomes unprofessional,
s well as grossly imnmoral.  That the subjective influence
816 
IA'i I  S — V E        I.CITY.l I.
of the misrepresentation and sophistry allowed, should be
unhappy, is altogether credible; and that truth and jus
tice, in the ease, are always served by the arrangemnent
is not supposable. It would seem strange that an ad
vanced Christian civilization should not have devised
some less clumsy means of conducting legal investiga
tionls.
The style of communication allowed in polite society,
in complimentary address, in which more is  Complimenuta
said in words than is meant in the heart, is an  ry address.
out-growth of insincerity and untruthfulness.  It would be
severe to bring upon every one who indulges such a habit,
the charge of untruthfulness. The words are taken for
what they are usually held to mean, and allowance is
made for their loss of force by the prevailing extravagance and insincerity. It cannot be doubted that the
habit is demoralizing, and that a higher type of social
communication would exclude these flattering and unmeaning words. The work of improvement must begin
with the heart, displacing all envy, and selfishness, by sincerity and good-will, rendering unmeaning and extravagant words unnecessary and unnatural. The utterance,
on the other hand, of unamiable, or hateful feelings, upon
the plea of frankness, involves hypocrisy, as offensive as
positive falsehood.
The practice of deceiving in small matters, for personal
comvenience, on the ground that these things  Trifling dare wholly of private interest, and no one has ception,.
a right to know them, cannot be justified. There is room
for reasonable reticence, in reference to one's opinions
and private affairs; but it is an unworthy and cowardly
habit to use deception in regard to them.   Truth is
wholesome, and simple, and safe; falsehood, managed
311 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
with the pr.ofoundest skill, will fail in the very emergency
it was supposed to serve.
The instinct of veracity, is one of the strongest of our
Instinct of e- ethical instincts, and its influence upon the
racity.     character is most salutary.  It is a great dis
ister to have it overborne, or broken down, by loose, pel:
ioial habits, or by the false customs of social life.  It
should rather be guarded with jealous care, as the nattiral safeguard of personal honor and character, and as one
of the wholesomle forces of society.  Any calling, or pros
fession, or practice, which tends to weaken or obliterate
it, neet  to be remodelled or discarded.
318 
CHAPTER ImI.
DUETIES HASTrTr.
THE virtue of chastity has its basis in the sextal con
situation, and consists in a regulation of heart Natue of the
and ~;onduct, with reference to this constitu- duty.
tion, according to the demands of benevolence.
The duty is enjoined in the seventh commandment:
"Thou shalt not commit adultery;" the form
of tLe precept, as usual, being derived from         
the leading offence of the class, while the spirit of it extends to all impurity of heart and life.  It is not the obliteration of the constitutional propensity that is called for,
but a subjecting of it to the claims of benevolence-the
suppressing of even the thought of unlawful indulgence.
The duty requires the cultivation of pirity of heart, by
abstinence from all thoughts, books, scenes, and associations, which tend to corrupt the imagination, or deprave
the soul.
There is, perhaps, no vice which, in its subjective reaction, so much degrades the entire nature as Efect of uw
unchastity, making a wreck of both body and  chaity.
soul. Honor, and self-respect, and modesty, and shame,
fall together.  The poet, whom we cannot suppos, ign( rant whereof  he affirms, in his letter of counsel to 
young friend, says:
"I waive the quantum o' the sin,
The hazard o' concealing,
But ach I it hardens a' within,
And petrifies the feeling." 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
The wickedness of the offence, in its outward relations,
Its criminal.  can scarcely be over-estimated.  With a reck    t'   ~less disregard of the most sacred human in
stincts and interests, it sacrifices the highest welfare tc,
tow, sensual pleasure.  The poor excuse of temti tationj
the only excuse that sin ever has, is all that can be urged
for it, in the least aggravated  cases of  transgression.
For those who, in their wanton wickedness, make a spoil
of innocence and puIity, no condemnation can be too
stern. The crime of murder fails in the comparison.
Society is wont to deal unequally with the two parties
Unequal     to the  transgression.   The heartless  man,
treatment.    loathsome in his wickedness, often retains his
place and respectability; while, for the sinning woman,
there is no toleration, and little pity. She is certainly
not to be held guiltless. She sins against the strongest
instincts of modesty and self-respect, and encounters the
most frightful consequences. It is a fearful sin, whatever
the temptation.  On  the other hand, the man violates
every sentiment and claim of duty, takes the place of a
tempter, and wilfully degrades a being of whose modesty,
and fair fame, and honor, nature made him a guardian.
It is common for the world to measure crime, in a great
degree, by the consequences to the offender, and hlence
the shallow discrimination. The outward result of the
sin, according to this view, constitutes its shamrne.
The true idea of chastity provides for mnarriage —an inMarriage pro- stitution of divine appointment, arranged for
vided fr.    in the human constitution.  Its beneficent
influence is demonstrated in the history of the race. The
whole tendency of the institution is elevating and ennobling, adding to the excellen(ce of human nature, and to
the value of life.   The ascetic notion of chastity, whicb
320 
DUTIES-CHASTITY.
has at times prevailed, exalting celibacy, and represent.
ing marriage as opposed to the highest sanctity of char.
acter, is not sustained in reason nor ill humnan experience.
Monasticism has yielded no flattering results.
The marriage, which the true idea of chastity requires
is a union for life, of one man with one wo- An exclusiv,
man.  This order is indicated in nature, in  relation.
the personal and exclusive character of the domestic
affections, and in the equal numbers of the sexes so mysteriously provided for.  In revelation, too, we have the
fact of the creation of one of each sex, at the beginning
of the race. The early revelation, and the indications of
nature at the beginning, were, however, not so clear but
that good men might mistake. The problem was afterwards wrought out in human experience, and the true
arrangement was enjoined in the later revelation. Polygamy is a sin against nature, and always involves the
degradation, especially, of the female sex. It makes man
a lord, and woman his servant. Polyandry is an offence
so gross that it has never existed as a system, and scarcely
has a name.
That the union must be for life, is clear from the work
which comes upon the family-the training of
Union for life,
children, and the care of dependent parents.
The contemplation of a dissolution of the union, would
destroy the confidence necessary for the undertaking,
while the actual dissolution would utterly frustrate the
wurk, and throw great burdens upon the community. Thus
the community becomes a party in the interest, and has the
right to prescribe the permanency of marriage,     Society a
anid hold the parties to the union.  This rela-    party.
tion to society, renders marriage, in the nature of the case,
an institution, as distinguished from a simple contract
14*
321 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
But permanency is, if possible, more essential to the immae.
diate interests of the family, than as a protection to the
community. The idea of a dissolution of the family, sets
Permaency   aside all that is most sacred in the family re..Xnt~a    lations, and most precious in its benefits and
blessings   The very thought of such dissolution, is to be
excluded by every possible influence and arrangement.
The settled fact that the dissolution is impossible, will
have much to do in ruling out what might otherwise become occasions for it.  There is true philosophy, as well
as simplicity, in the remark of a husband to his wife:
" ly dear, it is of no use for us to quarrel, because we
shall have to make up again." It is sometimes accounted
an offensive thing, that the permanency of marriag(
should be made to depend upon any outside constraint
But the constraint operates to secure the internal condi
tions out of which the permanency grows as a natural reult. The necessity is not consciously felt, in most of the
cases in which it may still have operated as a wholesome
and potent force.
A fair interpretation of the Saviour's teaching on this
Thessaiour'#  subject, seems to convey the doctrine that
rw-.    release from the obligations of marriage can
be morally justified only on the ground of adultery-a
crime which, in its very nature, involves a rupture of the
marriage tie, and disorganizes  the  family.  For  this
cause alone, can either party, properly, put away the
other. Against this scripture view, human reason can
bring no satisfactory argument. Perhaps this absolute
principle would never have been reached in the convictions of men without such a revelation, but the wisdom
of it is justified in the light of the ievelation.
It is often maintained that wilful and continued deser
322 
DUTIESCHASTITY.
tion is a moral ground of release from the obligations
of marriage, and many Protestant ecclesiastical    Anothet
courts so decide.  But who can decide how          ve
long the way should be left open for repentance and re
turn, and at what point the marriage obligation morally
terminates? It is not an uncommon occurrence that desertions, supposed to be permanent at the outset, and so intended, come to a speedy end; and the general recognition
of the fact, that the marriage obligation still survives, and
is acknowledged, even by the party that has suffered the
wrong, will strongly tend to recall the deserter.
The still looser view, maintained by Milton and others,
and gaining greater currency in our day, that    Incompati.
unfortunate marriages, involving incompati-   bility.
bility of temper, should be dissolved, is demoralizing and
dangerous. The contemplation of a separation as possible, will tend to foster the very incompatibilities which
the separation proposes to remedy. It could only be
disastrous to have marriage regarded as an experi.lenit,
the permanency of it to be decided in each case by the
experience of the parties. Under such a view, marriages
would be arranged with little consideration, and as easily
dissolved. We cannot afford to lose the moral power
which comes from the permanency of the marriage obligation, to relieve the few who find themselves unfortunately allied. Facility of divorce cannot fail to multiply
the occasions for divorce.
There are cases in which a formal separation may be
provided for, not releasing the parties from    Allowable
all obligation to each other, or giving them     sparatiod
liberty to form new marriages. It cannot be that a
woInan is required to live with a husband maddened by
intoxication, or malice, or jealousy, to the peril of lher life
323 
MORAL  PHILOSOPHIIY.
But it does not follow that she may put hiln atviy iirev ocably, and close thle door for ever against repentance
and restoration.  An unfortunate marriage is a dire cal
amity, but facility of divorce is not the remedy for such
nm ii;forttunes.
This. as I u'iderstand it, is the moral law in referent
ivil leeis.  to the obligations of marriage, and the propri
tion        ety of divorce.  The question, what the civil
law may allow and provide for, is altogether different.
The civil law, as we have seen, is not always to be brouilit
up  to the standard  of absolute morality.   "For  the
hardness of the hearts" of men, it may be better to allow
some latitude. under the regulation of the law, than to
risk the general license which would follow the prohibition of all divorce. What the law permits, is not necessarily morally right.   In this view, the law of divorce
may properly be different in different states of society,
but always tending to the point of perfect morality.
The tendency to the multiplication of divorces in the
Tendency    land, is cause for grave concern; and the fact,
ilarming.   as shown by statistics, that this tendency prevails in those portions of the land which have attained
to the highest degree of intelligence and general culture,
is still more alarming.   It points to some radical defect
in our civilization; or, at least, to some extravagance of
iiidividlalisn, springing from our progressive deinocracv.
It is possible to press the great fact of individual rights
beyond the limitations which are necessary to social institutions. In protecting the individual, we must not
subvert the family, or other social institutions, by which
individual life is rendered valuable.
MNfarriage being thus, in its very nature, exclusive, in
volving exclusive relations oetween the two parties, any
324 
DUTIES —A S'rITY.
conduct which tends to arouse suspicion or jealousy, on
either side, is an offence against its obliga- Implied obe
tions. It is not enough to avoid the overt acts gatlions.
of infidelity, which sunder the marriage tie. All associations, friendships, familiarities, which tend to disturb
confidence, are excluded by the relation. They are indel
icate and inexcusable.  The pure-hearted and thoughtful
will repel them.
Marriage between blood relatives, of near relationship,
is a clime against nature, called incest. There    Inicestuous
is a natural sentiment against such connec-   marriage.
tions, and they are prohibited by the laws of the land.
This prohibition is based on the established fact that the result of such connections is enfeebled offspring. The final
cause, or reason, for the sentiment, and for the unhappy
natural consequences, is supposed to be the preservation of
"he chastity of persons so closely associated, as members of
the same family. It is also a safeguard against the clannish
ness which results from continual intermarriages, in thf
same family connection.    It binds different families
together, and extends the circle of society; and, possibly
prevents a derangement of human nature, by a constant
reproduction and exaggeration of the same family traits.
The foregoing survey of the field of practical morals
cannot, of course, exhaust the subject. Every    Concludiug
particular relation of moral  beings, every   remarks.
:hange in knowledge or condition, must give rise to new
questions of duty, and to new applications of the great la-f love. The law itself can never change-can neither be
)xtended nor restricted. Wherever moral beings exist, un
lerwhatever conditions, this great principle of obligation
embraces them, binding the universe together in one gi eat
family, and providing for the interests and the rights of the
325 
MORAL rmLOSoPHY.
least and the greatest. It places God at the head of this
great family, and claims for him the supreme regard and oboe
dience of his creatures, and secures to them his providential
care-all the good that his infinite resources can comnnland.
It places finite beings side by side, upon a common platfiorm of duties and of rights, and claims for each the equal
regard and good will of all. Whatever of substantial evil
we experience in this world, springs up in connection with
the violation of this law of love, and the universal preva.
lence of the law would fill the universe with good. Under God's infinite and pertect control, universal benero
[once must bring universal blessedness.
826    
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Sheldon & Company's.ext-..ooks.
HISTORIES OF THE UNITED STATES.
By BENSON J. LOSSING, author of "Field-Book of the Revolu tion," Illustrated Family History of the United States," &c.
Lossing's Primary History.  FOR BEG_wN-ERS. A charm  ing little book. Elegantly illustrated. 238 pages.
Lossing's Outline History of the United States. One
volume, 12mo.                   We invite the careful attention of
teachers to some of its leading points. In elegance of appear  ance and cpious ilu8trations, both by pictures and maps, we
think it surpasses any book of the kind yet published.
2. The work is marked by uncommon clearness of statement.
2. The narrative is divided into SIX DISTINCT PERIODS, namely:
Discoveries, $ettlements, Colonies, The Revolution, The Nation,
and The Civil'War and its consequences.
3. The work is arranged in short sentences, so that the substance of
each may be easily comprehended.
4. The most important events are indicated in the text by heavyfaced letter.
5. Full Questions are framed for every verse.
6. A Pronouncing Vocabulary is furnished in foot-notes wherever
required.
7. A Brief Synopsis of topics is given at the close of each section.
8. An Outline History of IMPORTANT EVENTS is given at the close
of every chapter.
9. The work is profusely illustrated by Maps, Charts and Plans explanatory of the text, and by carefully-drawn pictures of objects and events.
Lossing's School  Histor,y.   383 pages.
Containing the National Constitution, Declaration of
Independence, Biographies of the Presidents, and Questions.
This work is arranged in six chapters, each containing the record of an important period.  The First exhibits a general view of the Aboriginal race
who occupied the continent when the Europeans came.  The Second is a
record of all the Discoveries and preparations for settlement made by individuals and governments.  The Third delineates the progress of all the Settlemeents untitcolonial governments were formed.  The Fourth tells the story
of these Colonies from their infancy to maturity, and illustrates the continual
development of democratic ideas and republican tendencies which finally
resulted in a poiiticai o)nfederation.  The Fifth has a full account of the important events of the War for Independence; and the Sixth gives a conCiSe History of the Republic from its formation to the present time.
These books are designed for different grades of pupils, and adapted to the
time usually allowed for the study of this important subject. Each embraces
the history of our country from its discovery to its present administration.
The entire series is characterized by chasteness and clearness of style, accuracy
of statement, beauty of typography, and fullness of illustration.  The author
has spent the greater part of his life in collecting materials for, and in writing
history, and his ability and reputation are a sufficient guarantee that the work
has been thoroughly done, and a series of histories produced that will be iRvluable in trainimg and educating the youth of our country.
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