Evil is, furthermore, a sociological phenomenon; the general psychological elements take on different forms under different historical conditions; society, in its different forms and functions, is always one of the determining factors of its development. The criminal is, like the saint, the child of his time.
It appears, therefore, that the term "bad" is applied from a standpoint not shared by him to whom it is applied. If the man who stands upon the lower plane of morals possessed the full and clear consciousness that the predicate of badness applied to his conduct, the corresponding feelings and impulses must arise in him, and his conduct be altered. It is psychologically impossible to act against our fixed and full conviction, if this is not blunted by other impulses.
The definition of the good must be, on different ethical planes, a different one. But when a disinterested and universal sympathy determines the ethical judgment, only that can be good which preserves and adds to the welfare of conscious beings, increases their pleasure or diminishes their pain. Every action which tends in this direction without producing further results of an opposite nature, is authorized; every action of which the opposite is true is to be rejected.
Since, in general, pleasure is connected with the healthy and natural use of the powers, with that which preserves and benefits life, and pain is connected with the opposite of this, Ethics merely continues the work begun by nature, in aiming at human progress, at as rich and harmonious a development of human powers as is possible. The problems of Ethics concern, therefore, the pleasures of the moment as well as those of the whole life, the pleasures of the individual as well as those of the whole species. This remains true even if we accept the pessimisticview that all life is pain; the good would consist, from this point of view, in as great alleviation of pain as possible. Even the ascetic tortures himself only in order to gain greater good.
The ethical end as welfare is not to be conceived as a state of continuance on the same plane. Such a continuance is impossible; evolution does not stand still; every step of progress creates new needs, the satisfaction of which again demands endeavor; perfect satisfaction is impossible. Even the development of sympathy makes it easier to wound us in many ways and brings us larger duties. The need of variety alone would make continuance upon one plane impossible; we labor not only in order to arrive at conscious ends, but also in order to relieve ourselves of accumulated energy. The highest end that we can conceive is a progress in which each step is felt as a good because it affords scope for action without over-exertion.
Activity is also welfare. But it is so only in so far as it is healthful activity; when the powers are over-exerted or dissipated in action, having no common end, or when their application in one direction is at the cost of other more important directions, progress ceases to be welfare. The evolution of civilization contains an element of blindness and heedlessness which is bound up with both its excellencies and its faults. But civilization is not an act of choice; it is the continuance of the evolution of nature. Progress is necessary; it is impossible to remain upon any level attained. Ethics must, therefore, accept progress as a fact. It does not feel an admiration for an order of nature in which no advance appears possible without one-sidedness and dissipation of energy. It is not so hard-hearted that it could forget, in the seeming splendor of outward results, the anxiety and pain, the sweat and blood, with which these were won. It demands, therefore, that the heavy burdens be lightened, the scattered forces united, and all capabilities that are of worth developed. On the other hand, Ethics is not so sentimental and short-sighted that it could forget that progress can take place only through exertion and suffering. Its chief task with regard to progress is to impress upon the mind the fact that life should not be made a mere means to the solution of impersonal problems. Civilization is a means for the individual, notvice versa.
The natural division of Ethics is into Individual Ethics and Social Ethics. It has sometimes been assumed that the wholeduty of man could be summed up in Individual Ethics. However, it is not necessarily true that that which assists the best development of the individual serves society as a whole also. When the attention is directed so excessively to oneself, the general welfare is likely to be forgotten. On the other hand, a too great subjection of individual interests makes a man a mere parasite, robbing him of all self-dependence. When Ethics condemns the instinct of self-preservation, it condemns its own means. If the impulse to self-preservation, self-assertion, and self-development were evil, then our essential nature would be evil, and Ethics would be impossible. The right relation of the two principles is given in the principle of welfare. Mill's book "On Liberty" denies the ethical significance of self-development and forgets the individual's oneness with his kind, in declaring personal vices of no importance to the general welfare. That which Mill wished to defend was the freedom of the individual, the loss of which through the compulsion of society and the "moral police" he feared. But he might have accomplished this purpose without denying the ethical value of self-development. There is nothing that is a ground for greater solicitude than the mistake that public opinion and Ethics are one, and that a condition of things is no longer a subject for ethical condemnation when no outer power has the right to denounce it.
The first question which presents itself in Individual Ethics is: How is the individual to educate himself to an ethical personality? Here the development and strengthening of the ethical principle as governing and determining the life of the individual is concerned. The problem is one with the determination of the chief virtue which includes all other ethical qualities. This virtue is justice, which includes in itself the two groups contained under Self-assertion and Self-sacrifice.[78]
In the application of this general theory of Ethics, Höffding maintains the radical-conservative and individual-social position already stated. The principle of welfare demands the reconciliation of the free development of the individual and the progress of society as a whole; the individual does not live to himself alone, hence the state has a right to demand sacrifices; but it must always be able to show good reason for such; the burden of proof lies with the side which would take away the most valuable possessionof the individual,—the right to free self-development in the ever-shifting direction of his need. This very characteristic of change makes it impossible for the state to decide for the individual what are his needs, and how they may be satisfied; hence the best course of the state is a chiefly restrictive one. The relation between state-help and self-help must be exactly the reverse of that which Socialism, in remarkable agreement with Bureaucracy and Absolutism, asserts. Socialism presupposes not only perfection in the governed but also perfection in the persons to whom the government is entrusted. It assumes, moreover, that pleasure in activity and its resulting power of originality and invention would not be weakened if men's right of initiative were taken from them and their needs determined by others. Much of the good even now accomplished by the state in its functions is due to the competition with individual undertakings.
Philanthropy, on the part of individuals as on that of the state, will best follow this same principle of indirect aid, in order to obtain the best results through education of character. Organization is desirable on the part of individuals, but the state will achieve best results by acting through smaller organizations which afford a wider field and the possibility of more intelligent work. In its methods of punishment, also, the state must have regard, not only to prevention through fear, but also and chiefly to the bettering of the criminal character; capital punishment and life-long imprisonment cannot be justified from a higher ethical standpoint. Freedom should be allowed and tolerance shown the various religious sects as corresponding to various needs. The more liberal education of woman, which will make her capable of greater independence of thought and action, is one of the chief means to the solution of the marriage-question. The ideal of marriage is free monogamy; in polygamy, the purely physical must always rule; that part of self which one can surrender to many can be only the animal; long association and sympathy alone admit to the sanctuary of love. It belongs to the nature of true love to believe in its own endlessness; it is, therefore, incompatible with its nature to arrange for a mere temporary union. Yet where an unhappy union exists, divorce should be permitted. Strict divorce laws have always fettered and burdened nobler natures, while light-minded people have easily found means of escape.
The view that the artist occupies a peculiar position in hisideal world, must free himself from the actual world, and live only for his ideal, is ethically false; art should lend form to actual life, defining and clarifying it, broadening the view and educating sympathy. A great artist is, at the same time, half a prophet; his whole people and epoch must learn to know themselves through him. Freedom is to be regarded as both means and end. A representative government is not only an education for the people, who through freedom alone can learn to use freedom, but affords the state, moreover, a firmer foundation in the consciousness of its citizens that they are responsible for the existing condition of things.
The development of conscience in force and extent takes place through thought and imagination. Knowledge alone is not enough; it must be fixed by exercise,—made a persistent thought, until it becomes, by means of the laws of association, such a thought as will easily come in play whenever the case requires it.
FOOTNOTES:[77]Trieb.[78]Selbstbehauptung und Hingebung.
[77]Trieb.
[77]Trieb.
[78]Selbstbehauptung und Hingebung.
[78]Selbstbehauptung und Hingebung.
Moral Philosophy has a scientific and a practical office. Its scientific task is to supply the human being with a clearer, more thorough understanding, founded on ultimate reasons, of his moral life. Its practical task is to answer the important question: How am I to act? How shall I order my life?
It was not left to science first to direct human action. Custom and law seek to order the doing and leaving undone of the members of society. Ethical philosophy ascertains means of testing the actually existing ideas of morality, and thus enables us to better law and custom.
A highest criterion, one only, is necessary, by which to judge of the morality of a deed. If there were more than one, the judgment might fall out differently from the different standpoints furnished by these.
When I regard the qualities which I consider morally good, I perceive that they all have a direction conducive to the general welfare or happiness; and when I regard the qualities which I consider morally bad, I find that they all have an aim prejudicial to the general welfare or happiness.
When I attempt to convince any one that certain conduct which he considers right is wrong, by showing him that it is opposed to the general welfare, my final appeal is to his conscience. And in the same manner, when I correct some of my own moral conceptions, it is my conscience which determines me to the proof of them, and my conscience which is the standard that determines my decision. Conscience is the principle underlying my moral convictions. But I do not possess, in conscience, a moral power which never errs; hence it behooves me to judge carefully. Body and mind both have their laws on which depend the welfare and happiness of society; the last results of science and human experience give us these laws.
There are few things in regard to which there is so great unanimity as there is in regard to the right and good. In the fundamental questions, all the more highly civilized peoples are, for the most part, agreed.
On the lowest planes of civilization, only the narrowest tribal association is taken into consideration in morals, but gradually, with the growth of experience, growth of the understanding, which permits the recognition, in a much higher degree, of the results of action and the power of sympathy, ever larger circles of human beings are regarded,—the tribe, the nation, the whole of mankind, all sentient beings. In this development of conscience and benevolence, there is nothing to cause moral uncertainty or contempt of conscience; for, in that case, the fact that there was once a time when human beings were not on the earth must be a reason for contempt of everything human.
We call various different things good, of worth, others bad, evil; there must be something common to all these, on account of which we apply the common term to them. That which is thus common to them is their relation to a consciousness for which they are good or bad, and not to a merely perceiving consciousness, but to one that feels and wills. As true and false relate to the intellectual side of human nature, so do good and bad relate to the side of feeling and will. Such things are good as are the mediate or immediate cause of agreeable states of consciousness or of the prevention or removal of disagreeable states; and on the other hand, such things are bad as are the cause of pain or the hindrance of pleasure. We say of these things that they are agreeable or disagreeable. Or we may use, instead of "agreeable,"the term "object of desire," and instead of "disagreeable," the term "object of aversion"; for all that is agreeable has an attractive influence upon the will, and all that is disagreeable or painful has a repellant one. Joy is that condition of consciousness which we seek to attain and preserve, whose existence we prefer to its non-existence; and pain is that state of consciousness which we seek to avoid and destroy, whose non-existence we prefer to its existence.
The good is often defined as that which conduces to some end; but an end is nothing other than something willed; that which conduces to an end is the cause of something that is willed, so that this explanation also refers back to a consciousness.
Whatever is existent for us must be existent in us, in our consciousness. Our states of consciousness are either painful, or indifferent, or pleasant. We must turn, therefore, in the last analysis, not to things, but to the mind, if we wish to distinguish what is good and what is bad; and according to the differing constitution of different minds, the same things may be good or bad. There is good and bad with respect to our body or senses, and good and bad with respect to our mind. A moral good is one which causes conscious states of moral satisfaction.
The good has often been divided into the useful and the agreeable. The agreeable is that which causes immediate, the useful that which causes mediate pleasure. A thing may be both useful and agreeable; and the like is true of the disagreeable and the harmful. The useful and the harmful in this, as it were inner, (subjective) sense, are to be distinguished from the useful and the harmful in an objective sense; in the last sense, that is useful which tends to the preservation of life. Between the useful and harmful, and the pleasurable and painful, in this sense, there must exist, as the theory of evolution teaches us, a wide-reaching correspondence. Living beings do that which is pleasurable to them; they avoid that which is painful; they continue alive when they do that which is conducive to life and avoid that which is harmful to life. This continuous process of exterminating those beings to whom the harmful is agreeable and the useful painful, must tend to make the harmful coincide with the painful, and the useful with the pleasurable. The agreement is, however, far from being a perfect one; and it is the less so, the more complicated are the conditions of life. It is the most imperfect in human beings.
Good is that which causes pleasure or prevents pain; that is better which causes more pleasure or prevents more pain. A thing may cause both joy and pain; in this case, the excess decides whether a thing is good or bad; and the greater the excess, the better or the worse is the thing. The greatest possible excess of satisfied states of consciousness in the life of a human being one may call his greatest possible happiness. The greatest possible happiness is hence the standard by which good and evil are determined.
From these reflections is to be seen that a distinction is to be made between that which isdesiredand that which isdesirable. All that is desired is pleasurable, yet much that is pleasurable has pain for its result,—pain that is far greater than the momentary pleasure.
The good is often considered as opposed to the agreeable, and the bad as opposed to the disagreeable or painful. In this case, by pain and pleasure are understood feelings of the moment, by good and bad are understood enduring, or at least long-continuing causes of lasting or oft-recurring pain or pleasure; momentary pleasure may be bought at the expense of long suffering; and short pain may be the condition of the prevention of greater evil.
A thing may be good as regards one individual, bad as regards another. A thing is truly good as regards a society when its total effect has for the society lasting beneficial results, that is, accords with the happiness of the society during its whole existence; and that is for mankind truly good which is, in its total effect, beneficial to present and future humanity.
In general, we may say that, when we order our conduct by the thought to serve mankind to the best of our ability, we have a satisfied consciousness, a good conscience. In so far, therefore, a noble deed is good for ourselves as well as for society. The question whether or not the performance of our duty corresponds to our greatest possible happiness, is a different one. But the good man does not allow this thought the chief role in consciousness; he is filled with the thought of doing his duty in devoting himself to the happiness of mankind, and there is butoneform of his own happiness which he will not forego, namely, the blessedness of a good conscience. This consciousness, this blessedness which unites the human being to mankind, he shouldregard as his highest good; for it is a moral good; and the dissatisfaction which lies in the consciousness of having violated his duty towards mankind he should regard as the greatest evil.
It may be objected that this morally satisfied consciousness, this sort of joy, cannot be called a good. A good is thecauseof pleasurable states of consciousness. But it would appear strange to claim that joy, happiness, are not goods, and pain, unhappiness, not evils; the terms "good" and "evil" and "worth" refer not only to joy and suffering, but also todesireandwill; and no one doubts that happiness is an object of desire, and pain an object of aversion.
From what has been said it appears that happiness cannot be defined as "satisfaction of the desires." Such satisfaction may have unhappiness as its result. Not all desires are to be satisfied simply because they are desires.
The study of the history of moral conceptions appears to show us that most changes in this province are the result of a change of views concerning the effects of actions with regard to the welfare of society; hence, that they were the fruit of experience. This process of change takes place, however, very gradually; the rules which are the result of experience are handed down, for the most part, without statement of reasons; and only in a very limited measure do the new generations labor for a progressive development of moral conceptions. We cannot wonder that a clear consciousness of the highest reasons of moral precepts is seldom to be found. Yet in civilized societies, the conviction is general that at least an average conformity to rules of morality is the indispensable condition of the safety and the good of society. The answer to the question: What would happen if every one were to act thus? has been regarded, from earliest times, as decisive with regard to the moral quality of an act.
When we recognize that actions which we call good and bad are so called because of their causal relation to pain and pleasure, the belief must arise in us, that the worth of qualities of character depends on the promise they contain of future action. The most important power for the happiness or misery of humanity is the character of human beings. Hence the morally good, excellence of character, is to be regarded as preëminently Good. And so it appears that our instinctive judgments are justified by the deliberations of calm reason.
The question: Why shall I act in accordance with the general welfare? is answered by these considerations; because such action is right and reasonable, enjoined by conscience and reason, by human nature itself in its higher development. He who does not recognize this fact, who does not find in it the highest and holiest of commandments, and who yet desires to act reasonably and well, recognizing duties to all men, does not see what he himself really will.
The conception of right-doing is the motive of the human being, in so far as he is good. The teacher who desires to have moral influence will endeavor to awaken this motive in his hearers or readers. For this purpose he must appeal to their actual characters. And it is as much apetitio principiito assume, in Ethics, the existence of moral feelings, as to assume, in Optics, the existence of sight. Just as there are blind persons, so there are persons without moral feelings. These are, however, comparatively few; some trace of moral feeling, of conscience, is to be found in almost every member of society.
The general welfare, that is, the greatest possible true happiness of all, not the greatest happiness of the smallest number which is often the ruling principle of state laws, nor the greatest happiness of the greatest number without consideration of the minority,—is the highest ethical criterion. It may be difficult to ascertain wherein this happiness consists; Bentham demands, for the determination of the worth of an action, a calculation of the intensity, duration, certainty, fecundity, and purity, of the feelings produced by it. But the happiness and misery of mankind is surely the most important object of mankind; it must be, therefore, our highest care to ascertain the results of an actionas far as we are able. And, in fact, the most important results of any form of action are generally ascertainable.
To make endeavor after one's own and others' perfection the criterion of morality is to set up a false standard, a form without a content, since "perfection" designates merely a state that accords with some preconceived concept or end. The question is: What end shall human perfection realize? The criterion of general welfare alone can define human perfection. It is such a constitution of man's bodily and spiritual characteristics as conduces in the highest degree to general happiness.
Too long and detailed a consideration of possible results is notdesirable in every case where action is called for. There is seldom time for a consideration of the intensity, duration, etc., of resulting pain and pleasure. It is well, in most cases, to follow the general moral rules we have attained to through previous reflection. In cases of doubt, we need to appeal to our highest criterion. Often such doubt may be caused by selfishness, by the hidden desire to act, after all, for our own benefit; we need, therefore, to put to ourselves the question: How would we judge the action of another in our own position? Thus we arrive at the highest moral commandment, which is: So act that thy conduct, if made general, would be for the good of mankind. And the force of example is here one of the factors to be considered.
It has been asked what right one has to assert the rule that each one is to count for one, and no one for more than one, in moral decisions. May not one human being's capacity for happiness be greater than another's, and his happiness, therefore, more to be considered? It may be answered that bad men have never been embarrassed for an excuse for selfishness, but that the arrogance of regarding one's own happiness as of greater worth than that of others has brought incalculable harm into the world, and that the only safe method of calculation for the purpose of furthering the general welfare, is the rule above given,—that each one shall count as one and no more.
The rule that the greatest possible happiness ofallis to be striven for, is an assertion that the happiness of every one is to be considered, that not that of the lowest human being is to be interfered with unless such interference isnecessaryin order to prevent still greater harm to others; and that no such interference shall be greater than is positively necessary in accordance with this aim. The highest moral law is thus nothing more than the Christian commandment of love to all men. And the rule "To count each as one, no more," may receive the restrictive clause "in so far as the good of the whole of society is not diminished by so doing."
Some Darwinians are inclined to regard the preservation of existence as the criterion by which to judge the moral quality of action. "Aim for the preservation of the species" would be, from their standpoint, the moral law. But mere existence is not happiness; that is shown by the fact of suicide. However, it is true that health is one of the conditions of happiness. Pessimistsare generally men of an unhappy temperament, often of morbid physical constitution; medical science must, in its progress, help to prevent the development of such morose dispositions. Want of love may also be a cause of pessimism; most pessimists have been lonely men. And want of employment may also lead to pessimism. If we follow Rousseau's advice not to listen to those who are in exceptional abnormal positions, but appeal to those who constitute the great majority, we shall conclude that, in general, the happiness of men greatly exceeds their misery. The increase of suicide is often used as an argument that civilization has not caused an increase, but a decrease, of happiness. To this argument it may be answered that the religious scruples which formerly withheld men from this extreme step have diminished, that men have grown more self-conscious and independent in action; and that, moreover, our age is one of unrest, a transition-period such as no other period has been. When we examine the lives of tribes on a low plane of civilization, we find their existence full of uncertainty and of superstitious fear, and at the mercy of the forces of nature. Without doubt, much misery exists; a great part of it, however, is caused by the disappointment of too extreme demands for happiness; the individual must not require that life shall be continuous rapture.
The recognition of what right action is, is not its accomplishment. Pain and pleasure determine the will,—the pain and pleasure of the person who wills, since he cannot feel with the feelings of others or will with their will any more than he can move with their limbs. He may have a conception of the welfare or suffering of others, but a mere mental image does not determine the will. Only when such a conception arouses pleasure or pain in the subject himself, are will and action possible.
Love consists in joy in the thought of the beloved person, with joy in his joy, and pain in his pain. He who seeks to render happy one whom he loves does not, as a rule, consider the fact that he will himself have a joy in the happiness of that other; his aim is to give pleasure, not to himself, but to the other. But the thought of doing for him is combined with pleasure, the thought of not doing for him is combined with pain; and these present feelings determine the will.
That which distinguishes the moral from the immoral man is that, in the former, the notions of the right and good rouse strongfeelings,—feelings of pain at the thought of acting contrary to them, of pleasure at the thought of acting in accordance with them, feelings which may overpower all others; while in the immoral man these conceptions call forth no feelings or only such weak ones as offer no sufficient opposition to the influence of other feelings. Both men act from feeling, but not from the same feelings.
Do we, by proving that the moral, as well as the immoral man is determined in his action by feelings, show that the one approximates to, or is identical with the other? By no means. In that case, the proof that both the moral man and the immoral man will with their own will, and act through their own limbs, that both possess arms, hands, senses, feelings, understanding, in short, that both are human beings, must show, in the same manner, an approximation of the moral to the immoral man. A perceptive, intellectual, objective side, and an emotional, inner, subjective side are to be distinguished in all action; and only the confusion of the two has led to the fancy that, with the proof that all action proceeds from the pain or pleasure of the person who wills, it is shown that all action, every human being, is selfish, and that unselfishness is a figment of the imagination. It is not the expected pleasure that moves the will; it is only when the conception of future happiness or misery awakens present feelings stronger than other present feelings which would move the will in another direction, that willing and action can follow in accordance with that conception. Hence, there is nothing so remarkable in the sacrifice of one's own happiness. It is not morally desirable that self-love should be weak, but only that conscience and general benevolence should be stronger still.
Many who have recognized the reality of sympathy and benevolence have not regarded them as primary but as evolved from egoism. However, if the word egoism is to have a distinct meaning, it must be interpreted as the conscious preference of one's own good to that of others. But with self-consciousness is likewise developed the consciousness of other beings, and the latter, as the former, clothes itself with feelings—with egoistic feelings, and with sympathetic feelings as well.
It is further to be remarked that the proof that an action is disinterested, is no proof of its moral worth. The worst action,—an action of pure cruelty, envy, or hatred, may be disinterested,that is, it may have for its end the pain of another without consideration of the advantage of the doer.
The effects, as pain or pleasure, of conduct opposed to, or in harmony with, civil or moral law, in so far as such effects can be predicted and, as thus predicted, they influence the will, are called Sanctions. One may distinguish between a physical, a political, a social, a sympathetic, and a moral sanction. Doubtless the conduct recommended by self-love, as a result of these sanctions, coincides, to a very large extent, to a larger extent than egoists in the rule perceive, with that which the good of society demands; but it is just as certain that, in many cases, the way of selfish cunning and that of virtue diverge. The outer sanctions do not insure the coincidence of duty and one's own happiness; nor does the sympathetic sanction secure this, for sympathy is often on the side opposed to duty. There is but one sanction which is ever on the side of action in accordance with duty: the moral sanction, the peace and joy which accompany the knowledge of having done right. Duty and self-interest coincide the more nearly, the better and more unanimous the various sanctions are, and, especially, the more strongly the moral feelings are developed in a society; one of the tasks society has to set itself is to labor for the greatest possible concord of duty and self-interest. But this harmony will never become an absolutely perfect one and self-sacrifice impossible. Man needs, therefore, some end which shall depend upon himself alone, if he is to be kept from discouragement and despair. Such an end is the consciousness of right-doing. He who chooses this as highest end must devote himself to the service of mankind, as well as he who makes the advancement of the good of mankind his end. The thought of this end will prevent him from being blinded by self-interest in answering the question as to what right and duty are, and will also preserve him from permitting himself one or the other pet sin under the excuse that he will atone for it by other good actions; it will compel him to the endeavor to fulfil every duty. And though he may not be perfectly happy, he will be happier than the man who makes the good of humanity his end; since he is less dependent upon outer events. Benevolence and conscience are not the same. The latter constrains us to do right, that is, to perform actions the expected results of which are in harmony with the general welfare; it has attained its endwhen the right action is performed, and it has failed to attain its end when this aim is frustrated. Man has a deep inner longing for happiness of some sort. When he does not find it upon earth, he seeks it in some other world. He has often a deep inner yearning for holiness, and a secret dissatisfaction in his own conduct. Ethics satisfies this double longing in commanding him to renounce his greatest happiness and endeavor to attain moral blessedness, the happiness of holiness.
Perhaps some one may object that this is a selfish view of the moral life. Is it selfish to renounce one's greatest happiness in order to attain only peace of conscience? That no one were without such selfishness! He who sets himself this end will act better, more in accordance with the good of humanity, than he who makes the advancement of human welfare his ultimate aim. Hence the human beingshouldchoose this end. Therefore, the highest moral commandment, the Categorical Imperative, receives this form: "Strive to attain peace of conscience in devoting thyself to the service of mankind."
By "right" we understand what is in conformity with a standard of action which we recognize, by "wrong," what is in opposition to it. The recognition and application of the standard belong to the reason. But not to reason alone; every rule is the outcome of feelings; and this is the reason why ideas of right possess the power of motives.
Judgment of action may take place in two ways: immediately, through the feeling; and mediately, through moral rules, the adoption of which, however, presupposes feeling. According to the disposition, the education, the circumstances, of a man, the one or the other form of judgment prevails. The words "obligation," "commandment," "duty," "law," express the fact that something lies without the mere free pleasure of the acting individual, is withdrawn from its sphere.
It has been said that a distinction is to be made between duty and the sense of duty—that an objective duty still exists, even when no corresponding inner sense of duty is present. This merely means that some one else in distinction from the acting person recognizes a moral law, by which he may blame the action. Duties are actions sanctioned by one or another sort of punishment. The moral sanction is self-blame. But not the performer of an act alone, others also, pronounce judgment on his action,and in the rule there exists a greater or less harmony between his judgment and that of others. To self-condemnation is added the consciousness of having deserved the blame of others.
Human actions are not only an object of displeasure or of indifference, but also of praise, gratitude, love, admiration. Actions which reveal a character above the average are regarded as meritorious according to the measure of their superiority; they deserve recognition, respect, praise, honor.
Three classes of actions to which public opinion applies its sanction may be distinguished: actions blamed; those the neglect of which is blamed; and those which are praised. The first two classes, sanctioned by a punishment, are regarded as duty; the last class, sanctioned by at least mental reward, are actions of desert. Actions the omission of which is punished or blamed are not actions of desert, but of duty and obligation.
The boundary-line between duty and desert is not fixed and definite; in the measure in which the moral condition of a society is perfected, the province of that which is regarded as duty is extended into that which was formerly regarded as desert. The distinction between duty and desert has, in general, only an outward significance; it has regard to the relation to others, to the social sanction. The moral human being does not inquire what entitles him to praise, but simply what is right; and he does not compare himself with others but with his moral ideal. Hence he recognizes, with regard to himself, only duty, not desert. He aspires to attain, not the approbation of others, but his own, and he attains this only when he has done that which he holds to be the best possible.
The moral significance of the outward sanction lies in its educating influence; it acts as counterpoise to inclination to action opposed to the moral law, and facilitates, thus, the victory of the moral motives, which increase in strength through use. If it is true that a condition of "heteronomy" always precedes that of "autonomy," then the outer sanction is the indispensable condition of the evolution of moral feelings.
It has sometimes been said that the human being is under obligation to others only. But it seems that this view has proceeded from a confusion of the moral with the juridic significance of the word "duty." It is not to be doubted that the consciousness of duty would not develop in an individual who grew up insolitude,—but speech and reason likewise would not become his. The law of morality applies not only to social conduct but also to conduct having reference to self.
By "moral law" is not meant a law in the sense that it is imposed on human beings from without, by another; it is exactly the peculiarity of the moral law that it is self-imposed as the voice of conscience.
Virtue is related to duty as the enduring characteristic to the single action, or the lasting will to obligation, to the "ought"; virtue is a disposition to act in accordance with duty. Vice is a characteristic which continually determines actions opposed to duty.
There may be exceptional cases where vice is innate, as is idiocy or insanity, but the records of prisons and reformatories where a moral influence has been attempted, show us that germs of good may exist even in those apparently wholly given over to vice. It is true that the capacity for moral education is narrowed with every added year of life; but it is impossible for us to say, with certainty, how great this decrease of capacity may be.[79]
The most essential influence for moral betterment is that which the personality of an earnest human being exerts by example and precept. The awakening and strengthening of good impulses is not, however, the immediate destruction of the bad; and struggle is often necessary if the good shall conquer. The more frequent the victory, the easier it becomes. Every virtue can be acquired at least in some degree, if the wish to acquire it be sufficiently strong and persistent.
But although such struggle as this is often necessary, exactly the sign of the attainment of virtue consists in the absence of self-compulsion; by this absence, its perfection is measured.
The assertion, occasionally heard, that virtue is in proportion to struggle, amounts to the contradictory assertion that the more perfect the man is, the less is his virtue. The truths which, imperfectly comprehended, lead to this opinion, are these: We distinguish by the name of virtue that moral constitution which rises above the average. It is presupposed, however, that its possessor has, in general, the impulses and capacities belongingto human nature; he could not be called temperate in any particular direction, if he did not possess the capacity of enjoyment which leads many to intemperance. Moreover, the control of strong impulses from a desire to do right presupposes a strong sense of duty; and it is on account of this sense of duty that we respect a man. But if an individual distinguished by a strong sense of duty gradually succeeds in tempering his impulses and ridding himself of his faults, his virtue is not less, but more perfect. And finally, the fact is also to be taken into consideration that, while one cannot necessarily conclude, from a man's innate love for some especial class of good actions, that he will do his duty in other directions also, this is an inference which can be drawn where actions are performed from a sense of duty.
A certain degree of intelligence is a condition of virtue; a being without reason is not a moral being, as the animal is not; but morality requires only average human intelligence.
There is no greater error than the opinion that virtue is not concerned with action; for virtue is excellence of character which leads to right action; action is the test of moral worth.
In olden times, an attempt was often made to set up one especial form of character as universal ideal. Such an attempt is injustifiable, since the nature and circumstances of individuals differ. In morality, too, there may be originality.
In the judgment of an action, two questions must be distinguished: the question whether the action is right or wrong, and the question as to what inference shall be drawn from it with regard to the character of the performer.
In the action, there must be distinguished the following points: the movement of the body; the results of the act; the act of the will; the intent; the presence or absence of a conviction that the action will not have evil results; the part of the intent willed, not merely as means but as end; and the incentive, or feeling from which the action springs. The chief end and the incentive together are often called the motive. The movement of the body is not an object of moral judgment, as are not, also, the outer results of the action as such. Nor is a mere act of the will as such, but its nature, of moral importance.
No human motive or incentive is, in itself, bad. Not even anger and hatred are in themselves evil; since wrath against wrong is justifiable. Yet motives are by no means morally of thesame worth; while where motives directed to the good of the individual are at work, the action will be, in nine cases out of ten, in accordance with the general good; it will be, let us say, in nine cases out of ten, contrary to the general good where motives of malevolence are active. And for this reason the motive in the single case gives us a clue to the character. There exists a certain stability of character which makes it likely that the individual who acts out of good motives on one occasion will do so again. Of greatest worth are the motives which spring from desire for the general good; these are moral motives. Actions may be right, yet immoral, and moral yet wrong. Yet the theory that the objective judgment of an action, and the judgment of the character of the doer have nothing in common is erroneous; for in both cases the highest ground of reasonable judgment is the same; namely, the general good.
Blame is not merely for the sake of prevention through fear; since we may blame a deed and not its doer. When a man does what we consider wrong under the impression that he is acting for the general good, we do not endeavor to frighten him from his conduct by blame, but to convince him of his error.
But the significance of the motives of an action does not lie merely in our inference from them to the character of the doer; from the actual, or inferred, motives of the action spring its most important results; namely, its influence upon the morality of human beings. Every moral action reacts for good upon the performer, strengthening his tendency to such conduct; and it is, besides, an inciting example.
It is not necessary for morality that all actions should take place directly from desire for the general good, but only that the belief be present that they are in harmony with the general good; duty need not be the only motive, but simply the ruling one; one may act immediately from other motives.
The æsthetic judgment of a character is to be distinguished from the moral judgment of it. Much that pleases one æsthetically in character is morally indifferent; and much that is morally of the greatest worth has little or no æsthetic value. The talk of an identity of the beautiful and the good has caused much confusion.
Things have particular qualities according to which they affect us and are affected. All that I can predicate of things, all theirbeing is their effect. And when I say that a certain thing, as long as it does not change, will, under the same circumstances, operate in the same way, I assert merely that this certain thing, as long as it remains unchanged, is this certain thing. It may often be difficult or impossible to determine whether or not the thing has changed, but if it has not changed, it must, under the same circumstances, operate in the same manner as formerly. As everything is, at each moment, a definite thing, so is also every human being; he has definite qualities, and if these do not change, neither does his action under the same circumstances; if it could change, he would act according to that which he is not.
Different individuals have different innate tendencies; and differing circumstances develop similar tendencies in different ways. The history of the human being is his character, if we add what he has inherited to his own history. To reflect upon human nature is to assume its conformity to law; to deny such conformity involves ceasing from thought on it; for thought means the conclusion of like from like. Though the action of the human being depends, in a high degree, upon circumstances, we can often predict, from a knowledge of his character, the general nature of his action. And if our expectation should be, for once, disappointed, we do not say that his character has suddenly passed into its opposite, but that we had an insufficient knowledge of the circumstances, or that we imputed to him a character which he did not really possess. We have thus to distinguish two groups of facts in the contemplation of a particular action: the present constitution of the doer of the action, and that of the outward circumstances concerned; if a change occurs in either, the conduct will also change. Criminal statistics are evidence of the effects of similar circumstances upon similar characters.
Those who deny the action of cause and effect in the conduct of men as contradictory of freedom, cannot refer to physical or political liberty, since the absence of these does not involve the absence of cause and effect. The free will which is said to be peculiar to the human being and not possessed by the animals, is an absence of subjection to the impressions of the moment, and this has been regarded as an activity of pure reason. But, as Höffding says, the contest of the reason with the passions is really a contest between feelings combined with reflections ofreason and other violent feelings that are combined with few thought-elements. This free will is the capacity of reflection gained by experience. It is not a negation of cause and effect, for the act of the will is determined by the feelings, thoughts, inclinations, which precede it; it may be determined by reflection as opposed to the impressions of the moment. The word "freedom" is also used to denote moral freedom, or the freedom from determination by immoral motives; in such case, however, moral motives determine.
But it must be remembered that the natural law of cause and effect is not like a law in the sense of the political law; it is not something imposed from the outside. Natural laws are rules formed by men to express the regularity of events in one sentence; things do not obey the laws, but the laws are according to things. When we say: Gunpowder "must" explode when it comes in contact with a flame, the explosion is necessary; we do not mean that the gunpowder is compelled, under certain circumstances, to explode; it explodes of its own essential nature. "Necessity" designates, not a state of things, but a state of the understanding regarding them. The same is true of the words "possible" and "accidental." The accidental is the unintentional. The bullet which accidentally killed a man was not sent with the intention of killing him. Or "accident" is used of that with regard to which we are ignorant and cannot predict; the word does not, in this sense either, denote an absence of cause. Objectively, nothing is "possible"; either it is, or it is not. Great confusion is, however, caused by a want of clearness in the interpretation of the words "possible," "impossible," "necessary," etc., with regard to the will. When I say: "It ispossiblefor the good man to perform even the worst action, hecanperform it"; and: "It is notpossiblefor the good man to perform a bad act, he cannot do it"; I use the words "possible" and "can" in two quite different senses. The first sentence means: "Even the best man can perform the worst actif he will"; the second: "The good man never has the will; it follows from his nature that he does not possess it; it would be a self-contradiction to say that he has it." The human being can do this or that if he wills, provided no outer force opposes his will; but whether he wills or not depends upon his character. His will is not uncaused.
It has been said that "one should not allow himself to be determined,but should himself determine his act." This assertion makes self something distinct from one's thoughts and feelings. Free will has also been interpreted as choice between motives. The human being does not, however, choose between motives but between acts, and his choice is free in that he can, as has been said, choose this or that actif he will; but his choice is not the less caused. When, in reflection on a past act, the human being says to himself: "It was possible for me to act otherwise," he means, as a rule, simply: "If I had thought as I do now, I should not have acted thus; but I did not think as I do now." The delusion that he might have acted differently under the same outer circumstances and with the same thoughts and feelings, arises from the difficulty of realizing, from his present standpoint, his position at the time of action. It may, indeed, seem to us, after we have chosen a certain course, that another was the easier; but can it be possible that one preferred the former course when he yet really preferred the latter? It is the strongest motive that determines the action. Or, if it be objected to this assertion, that our only criterion of the strength of motives is their effect as overcoming other motives, the assertion that the will follows the strongest motive would still exclude accident in choice; the assertion would amount to this: that the motive which determines the will in the one instance will always, under the same outer and inner circumstances, determine it. So Mill remarks that, when we say that the heavier weight will weigh down the other, we understand by "heavier weight," merely the one which will weigh down the other. Nevertheless, the sentence is not senseless, since it means that there is, in many or most cases, a heavier weight, and that its action is always the same. Education by others, and self-education would be useless, if the same thoughts and feelings could, under the same circumstances, produce now this, now that totally different result, and not always the same one.
Kant's doctrine of freedom includes practical freedom (which is not, according to his definition, opposed to causality) and transcendental freedom; he seems, however, not always to have kept the distinction between the two clearly in view. His theory of transcendental freedom is grounded upon the doctrine of the pure ideality of time. The only method of saving the doctrine of freedom is, according to Kant, the theory that the law ofnecessity applies to things as phenomena but not to things in themselves. If phenomena are not to be regarded as things in themselves, but as mere thought-images, they must themselves have reasons which are not phenomena. Such a cause for pure reason[80]is not determined by phenomena, although its effects appear as phenomena. The causal action of reason does not have a beginning in time, but is the constant condition, outside time, of all free action of the will.
Kant failed, however, to prove the pure ideality of time, as Riehl has sufficiently shown. Moreover, were theintelligibilecharacter of reason the cause of action as phenomenon, there would be no possibility of moral improvement, since the noumenon is not affected by phenomena,—an inference which Schopenhauer makes in adopting Kant's theory. Moreover, if space has, as Kant also assumes, transcendental ideality, plurality is not conceivable; hence, the moral difference of characters, and the science of Ethics itself, could have no transcendental significance. It is evident that Kant argues from the standpoint of an assumption of a "soul-thing," a constant "substratum" of psychical phenomena,—a standpoint which he himself criticizes. He identifies this thing-in-itself, moreover, with the reason, although he himself declares that the concept of the thing-in-itself is but a concept limiting reason.[81]He makes the reason a thing-in-itself outside time, although it is an activity, a process of consciousness in time. The thought of duty, of the categorical imperative, is a phenomenon, and if the will is determined thereby, it is determined by something in time. Kant takes but little account, moreover, of the fact of birth. Is theintelligibilecharacter born? If so, it is preceded by something in time; if not, it must be eternal, existing before birth as well as after death. And how can he assert, too, that an action might have been other than it was, if it depended upon the constitution of theintelligibilecharacter, and this is as it is, and operates as it is?
Schopenhauer's argument for transcendental freedom contains many self-contradictions, and is founded on the fiction of a first free choice of character. Schopenhauer asserts, however, that character is innate. If so, how is it chosen? The theory assumes that one is before he is. An act of choice presupposes a chooser, and, according to his own words, "Everyexistentiapresupposes anessentia"; that is, every existence must have a particular being, essence.
Accountability assumes that some one is held answerable for an action or event, and is, as answerable, amenable to punishment. The punishment may be one of law, of society, or a moral punishment. The concept of responsibility is closely allied to that of accountability; it assumes, in general, that a person is the author of a deed. Responsibility may be immediate, when the author of the deed was also its performer, or mediate, when the performer was another person.
Remorse is pain at the recognition of the immorality of a past action. With the pain is often connected the wish that the action had not been performed. This wish is naturally unreasonable, since it is directed to the impossible. Yet it is not idle, as Schopenhauer asserts, since it has an effect upon future action. There is often also an egoistic regret, or one not called forth especially by the conscience, for a past action. This may or may not be moral, according as it is or is not in harmony with the general welfare.
The friends of the theory of chance as regards the will have asserted that shame, remorse, would be impossible, if the human being recognized the fact that his act was necessary. They have neglected, however, to give any reasons for this remarkable assertion. If a man recognizes that the constitution of his mind was such as to lead unavoidably to vicious acts, this is the strongest motive for condemnation of his own moral constitution, for pain at it, and an endeavor to better it. But if the act had no necessary foundation in his character, if it was merely an accident that his will chose thus, then, since the act is past and there is no reason for drawing conclusions from it with regard to future action, how does it concern him?
Blame and punishment, as well as self-blame, have regard to character and so to the future. Acts are not blameworthy and punishable if they have no cause. Punishment is inflicted from two motives: as a preventive, and as an expression of the felt need of retribution. Originally, mankind punished from a desire for revenge. This is not the moral motive. Not the criminal alone, but the whole constitution of society, is responsible for his crime. If, then, punishment is allowable for the sake of prevention, it cannot, as an evil, be permissible further than is inaccordance with this end. Punishment of the insane could be justified only in case it could prevent insanity.
Nor is desert based upon an uncaused character of the will. We do not admire, praise, and reward great genius the less because genius is inborn; nor do we admire the moral man the less because his father before him was distinguished by deeds of philanthropy. We admire him for what heis.
The doctrine of causality in human action is far from being what it is sometimes called, a doctrine of fatalism. Fatalism assumes that, whatever a man may do, a power outside him determines the event; but the recognition of cause and effect in human action is the recognition of the fact that the actions of human beings are never without result.
It is often said that morality is founded upon religion. Assuming that, by religion, is meant the belief in a personal God and in the immortality of the soul, is this true?
If a mighty tyrant commanded a man to do what was contrary to his conscience, if he promised rich reward for obedience and fearful torture for disobedience, would obedience therefore be moral? Why is it represented as wrong to follow Satan's commands and right to follow God's will? Evidently not because God is mighty but because he is good, and Satan is bad. But if it is, thus, a matter of duty, and not merely one of selfish cunning, to obey God's will, then his will must be directed to the good; and this presupposes the good to be something in itself, without regard to the fact that God wills it. If God is a moral being, this must be so.
This is, in fact, an assumption which the moral members of society have, in general, made. They boast of the morals of their religion, comparing it, in this respect, with other religions; and thus they subject it to the test of morality. Moreover, when we examine the Christian gospel, we find that it in general assumes the moral laws as already existent and only urges obedience to them. The good is, as we have seen, that which conduces to the general welfare. The earliest religions had no connection with rules of morality; these have developed with the social life of human beings and have, in it, their root.
As to the belief in immortality, cannot the human being do right without the thought of the reward and punishment of another life? As a matter of fact, many good men have not possessedsuch a belief. The distance of such an end often makes its effect a weak one, and the motive may easily become selfish. Yet it is true that a loss of faith may include a loss of morality, in case the belief exist that there is no basis for morality outside religion; the responsibility of such a loss of morality lies with those who teach this latter doctrine. Through love to others and the thought of the immortality of influence, the moral man gains a larger life and loses the fear of death. He who has thus faced the thought of death finds life more earnest but not less happy. Each hour has not the less its own joy because there is an end, at last. Nor, in spite of the deep pain the loss of friends causes us, do we lose them wholly, since the memory of all that was best in them may remain with us. Our own pain may bring to us a deeper sympathy with, and love for, others.
If we are able to love the good in God, we may also learn to love the good in those about us, and be incited, by it, to emulation. The love of the good in men has always had stronger effect than love for a distant God of whom but little was known. It was the thought of the man Buddha which exerted an ennobling influence upon thousands, and it was the thought of another human being that moved the "christians" more strongly than did that of a Father in Heaven. Do we love father and mother, brother or sister, wife or child, or our friends, for God's sake? Why may we not love all men, as we love our friends and children, for their own sake?
It has been said that there is no accountability, if not to God. But if God is the author of the world, he must himself be the cause of evil, either by direct influence or by neglect to avert. Where, then, is the justice of his punishment? It does not suffice to answer that God's justice is not our justice; for in that case, what right have we to apply the word to him at all?
History demonstrates the fact that morality is by no means necessarily connected with religion. In the name of religion millions upon millions of human beings, and these often the most upright and conscientious men of their nation, have been put to death, and thus the civilization of whole peoples has been retarded. Slavery in America had no stronger friends than the churches. How is the forgiveness of sins by God to be justified? Are the evils which they caused any the less existent because of such forgiveness, and is it well for the doer to escape, in this way, thesense of responsibility? Only labor for the good of humanity is the way of atonement. We ourselves are the creators of the kingdom of righteousness.
Many claim that Ethics is not indeed based upon Theology, but that it needs a metaphysical, a teleological, foundation. For it presupposes that human life has an "end." If we wish to ascertain how our life should be conducted, we must ascertain what is the end Nature has in view for us.
But an end is an effect imagined beforehand and willed, which we cannot bring about immediately but only through a chain of causes. These causes we call the means to the end. They too are willed, but only indirectly and because the end is attainable only through them. These processes to an end are sometimes treated as if the causal succession in them were reversed, so that the last effect appears as the beginning, and the future determines the present; in this sense, the end has been called the end-cause, because the final link of the process causes the beginning. But this is a senseless conception, since the future, that which does not yet exist, cannot now operate. In fact, the succession of causes and effects is no more broken into in the processes leading to an end than in any other processes. When a human being imagines to himself a result and endeavors to bring it about, these mental processes are not future but present; and they are not determined by an influence of the future upon the present, but by an influence of the past upon the present; they follow from experience, that is, from that which has already occurred. They are causal processes in which the activities of understanding and will have part. Hence "ends" exist in nature in so far as they exist in man and the higher animals; but outside these, ends cannot be predicated, unless Nature is regarded either as gifted with imagination and will or as the creation of a being possessing these. But imagination and will require, according to all our experience, a highly developed nervous system, and to assume their existence where such a centralized system does not exist is scientifically injustifiable. Moreover, the laws of thought by no means determine us to inquire after a cause of the whole world, since the concept of cause is applicable only to changes, not, however, to enduring existences and their qualities.
Or let us assume that we had discovered an end set by Nature. Then, either it would appear useless to interfere with its attainmentand unnecessary to assist in it, or it would appear to us possible to oppose this end. In this latter case, cause must be shown why we should assist, or should resist, the process of Nature.
Many philosophers have said that man should live according to his own nature. If the word "nature" here denotes the totality of his characteristics, it is evident that the worst actions are not less natural than the best. Therefore, the word nature cannot, as here used, have this sense; the natural in this sense is not identical with the moral. Nor can the term as here used refer to the usual, for in that case the greatest moral excellence, as unusual, must be rejected. Nor can it be used to designate the more primary, for in that case, again, the later developments of benevolence and truthfulness should be rejected.
The word can have but one other sense, namely, as opposed to artificial. But what is in man artificial and what is natural? It seems that the natural is understood as that which is not the work of human intention and reflection, of labor, and of education. Innate impulses would be, according to this definition, natural. But it is evident that one cannot abandon himself to his blind impulses; society could not exist under such circumstances.
Or if it be said that, since all organs and impulses of the human being tend to preservation of the species, and that this must, therefore, be the end, then let us say "the preservation of the species," or "the good of mankind" but not "the natural life," is the end for man to attempt.
Nature as a whole is neither good nor bad. Her cruelty in the struggle for life is continuous. Yet this is not "cruelty," in so far as it is not willed. She has often selected the best men for her sacrifices. Yet this is not all that is to be said of the relation of Darwinism to Ethics. The law of natural selection regulates not only the life of the individual but also that of peoples and nations. Evil may arise and prosper in society. But it has no permanent existence. The chances that the descendants of human beings possessing evil characteristics will long survive, that they will not, sooner or later, perish as the result of conflict with the mandates of health, or the laws of the state, or the demands of society, are not great. In the life of nations, it appears more clearly than in the life of the individual, that "Death is the price of sin." Should in any society the opinion gain power that the struggle for existence authorizes or demands aregardless pursuit of one's own interests, an oppression and robbery of the weak by the strong, an annihilation of pain through the annihilation of the suffering individuals, an outrooting of conscience, and the natural voice of pity which raises protest against such a course; should selfishness be bred, and physical strength and refined cunning become the highest ideal; such a community would be on the verge of its own destruction; it would have labored for this result by justifying the struggle of all against all, permitting this the moment that a conflict of interests arose. Let times of need and danger, times of national war, come, and we shall see what is the fate of a society in which love of country, self-sacrifice, a sense of the ideal, respect for truth and justice, are only subjects for scorn. "The world's history is its judgment-day."
All positive human authorities are subject to the authority of the conditions of life. If they do not take note of the nature of things, if they disturb the foundations of social life, their endeavors must finally suffer shipwreck on the rock of this powerful impersonal authority.
Natural selection is therefore a power of judgment, in that it preserves the just and lets the evil perish. Will this war of the good with the evil always continue? Or will the perfect kingdom of righteousness one day prevail? We hope this last but we cannot know certainly.
We ourselves shall decide our future, by our acts.
In an essay written for the Society for Ethical Culture, and read October 10, 1891, before the London branch of that society, Gizycki reconstructs his theory of the right final end of life, advocating as such the General Welfare, instead of Peace of Conscience in the pursuit of the same. The objections to his own former theory offered are, chiefly, that if peace of conscience is regarded as the final end, the individual is likely to take too little account of the outward effects of his action, to be too little impressed by the evil results which should teach him greater care. The good of society is regarded by the virtuous man as more important than his own happiness, as that for which he is willing to sacrifice his own peace.