CHAPTER VII.

“To show the way to him who asks for it; to forbid no one the use of running water; to give fire to him who has need of it; to give advice in good faith to him who is in doubt.”

Plutarch, in the same sense, says that the Romans never extinguished their lamps after their meals, and always left something on the table to accustom the servants of the house to the duties of humanity. By the law of Moses, the owner of a field was obliged always to leave some corner uncut and not glean the ears that had escaped the reapers. Finally, a Greek poet, Phocylides, expressed in the following lines this minimum of benevolence which every one can exercise:

“Give shelter to those who have none; lead the blind; be merciful to those who have suffered shipwreck; extend a helping hand to the fallen; assist those that have no one to help them out of danger.”

Among these primitive duties, which cost him that fulfillsthem but little, the ancients put in the first rankhospitality. It is in fact a virtue of primitive times which exists especially among barbarous and savage peoples. In the poems of Homer we see to what degree the guest was held sacred; it is still so among the Arabs and the Indians of America. This virtue, on the contrary, seems to have disappeared with civilization. The reason of it is that among barbarous populations, where security is feeble, it was the point of honor which guaranteed the security of strangers. But as civilization becomes more complicated, as traveling increases, and security becomes greater, mercenary hospitality takes the place of free and private hospitality. Nevertheless, there can always remain some occasion for this primitive virtue in places isolated and separated from the great centres: this, for example, can still be seen in our days in the great wastes of America and Australia.

67. Benefactions—Duties of the benefactor.—The foregoing actions, however praiseworthy they may be, are too simple and too easy to be presented as real acts of benevolence. This term is reserved for the more difficult actions, which may cost us some real sacrifices more or less great, and which, moreover, are important services. These are what are called benefactions.

Seneca, in hisTreatise on benefactions, has fixed the principles of benevolence:

1. Benefaction consists especially in the feeling which accompanies it, rather than in the thing given.

“What is a benefaction?” he asks; “it is an act of benevolence which procures joy to him who is the object of it and to him who exercises it: it is a voluntary and spontaneous act. It is then not at the thing done and given that we must look, but at the intention, because the benefaction does not consist in the gift or in the action, but in the disposition of him who gives. The proof of this difference is that the benefaction is always a good, whilst the thing done or given is neither a good nor an evil. The benefaction is then not the money that is counted out to you, the present that is made you; no more than theworship of the gods consists in its fattest victims, but in the uprightness and piety of their worshipers.“One prefers a hand that opens easily to one that gives largely. He has done little for me, but he could not do any more. That other has given much, but he hesitated, he delayed, he groaned in giving, he gave with ostentation; he proclaimed his good deed; he did not care to please him whom he obliged: it is not to me he gave, it is to his vanity.” (I., vi.)

“One prefers a hand that opens easily to one that gives largely. He has done little for me, but he could not do any more. That other has given much, but he hesitated, he delayed, he groaned in giving, he gave with ostentation; he proclaimed his good deed; he did not care to please him whom he obliged: it is not to me he gave, it is to his vanity.” (I., vi.)

2. One should do good without caring about ingrates.

“What is after all the wrong the ingrate does you? You have lost your good deed. But there remains to you the most precious part of it: the merit of having done it. There are services one should learn how to render without hope of returns, to people one may presume will be ungrateful, and whom one even knows to have been so. If, for example, I can save from a great peril the children of one who has been ungrateful to me, I shall not hesitate to do so.” (I., x.)

3. There must be degrees in benefactions, and, having to choose, one must first give thenecessary, then theuseful, then theagreeable.

“The necessary,” says Seneca, “is divided into three classes: the first comprises the things without which one cannot live (for example, to rescue a man from the sword of the enemy, from the rage of tyrants, from proscription, etc.); the second, those without which one should not live (such as liberty, honor, virtue); finally (3d class), our children, our wives, our household gods are objects dearer to us than life.—After the necessary comes the useful; it may be subdivided into a great number of species; it comprises money, honors, and above all the progress in the science of virtue.—Finally come the agreeable things which are innumerable.... Let us seek things which please because they are to the purpose; that are not common; that recall the donor; let us above all beware of useless presents.” (I., xi.)

4. The manner of granting a benefit is more important than the benefit itself.

“The simplest rule to follow is to give as we should ourselves wish to be given to.“One must above all give heartily, without hesitation ... after a refusal nothing so hard as irresolution.... The most agreeable kindnesses are those one does not expect, which flow naturally; which anticipatetheir need. It is better to anticipate the request. To forestall this trouble is doubling the good deed.“There are people who spoil their greatest kindnesses by their silence, their slowness to speak which comes from constraint and moodiness; they promise with the same air with which they would refuse.... Their knit brows, their harangues, their disdain make one regret having obtained the promised thing.“Nothing more disagreeable than to be a long time in suspense. There are persons who prefer giving up hope to languishing in expectation.... Promptness then enhances the good deed, and tardiness diminishes it.” (II., ii-vi.)

“The simplest rule to follow is to give as we should ourselves wish to be given to.

“One must above all give heartily, without hesitation ... after a refusal nothing so hard as irresolution.... The most agreeable kindnesses are those one does not expect, which flow naturally; which anticipatetheir need. It is better to anticipate the request. To forestall this trouble is doubling the good deed.

“There are people who spoil their greatest kindnesses by their silence, their slowness to speak which comes from constraint and moodiness; they promise with the same air with which they would refuse.... Their knit brows, their harangues, their disdain make one regret having obtained the promised thing.

“Nothing more disagreeable than to be a long time in suspense. There are persons who prefer giving up hope to languishing in expectation.... Promptness then enhances the good deed, and tardiness diminishes it.” (II., ii-vi.)

5. One must not reproach good deeds.

“One of the first and most indispensable laws, is not to reproach or even recall to the mind of recipients one’s kindnesses. The tacit agreement between the giver and the receiver is, that the one should immediately forget what he has given, and that the other should never forget what he has received. The frequent mention of kindnesses is a crushing weight to the soul.”

6. Benevolence consists sometimes in refusing.

“If the thing asked for is prejudicial to him who asks for it, then benevolence consists no longer in giving, but in refusing. We should have more regard to the interests of the petitioner than to his wishes. As we refuse patients cold water, arms to angry persons, so should we also refuse a kindness to the most pressing requests, if that kindness is injurious to the interested person.... One should no less consider the end than the principle of kindnesses.”

7. Benevolence must be disinterested.

“It is shameful to do good for any other motive than doing good. If one gave only in the hope of restitution, one would choose the richest in preference to the most worthy.... The least benevolent men would be those who had the best means for being benevolent: the rich, the great, the king, etc. ... As an insult is a thing one should for itself avoid, so benevolence is desirable for its own sake (xv.).... There is no benevolence where there is expectation of profit. I shall give so much; I shall receive so much: this is called a bargain.” (xiv.)

We will put aside the other questions, more curious than useful, raised by Seneca (as, for example, whether one should give to the wicked; whether one may be his own benefactor;whether one may allow himself to be outdone by good deeds, etc.), and consider now the duties of the one under obligation.

68. Duties of the person under obligation.—Gratitude.—After having expounded the duties of the benefactor, we have to ask ourselves what are those of the person under obligation. The principle of all isgratitude; that only comes after the kindness; but there are duties which precede the good deed or accompany it. We shall again cite here Seneca as authority. After having set forth the principles which should actuate the giver, he also sets forth those the receiver should be guided by.

1. The first principle is that we should not be too greedy and receive from any one, but only from those to whom we should like to give ourselves:

“It is a painful thing to be under obligations to people against one’s will. Nothing sweeter, on the contrary, than to receive a kindness from a person one loves.... I must then choose the person of whom I consent to receive anything, and I should even be more particular in regard to kindness-creditors than to money-creditors; to the latter one need only return what he has received from them; this reimbursement done we have acquitted ourselves toward them; in the matter of kindnesses, on the contrary, one should pay more than what he has received.”

2. A second rule is that from the moment one accepts a kindness, he must accept it cheerfully.

“When we have concluded to accept a kindness, let us do it cheerfully.... To accept a kindness with pleasure, is making the first payment of the interest (II., xxii.).—There are people who only consent to receive in secret; they wish neither witnesses to, nor confidants of, the obligations they are contracting. If the benefactor is bound to proclaim his kindness only inasmuch as its publicity will give pleasure to the person he obliges, the one receiving should, on the contrary, call together the crowd. One is at liberty not to accept what he blushes to receive (xxxiii.).... One of the lesser paradoxes of the stoics is, that in receiving a kindness cheerfully, one has already acquitted himself.”

3. One must awaken the remembrance of a good deed:to remember is already to acquit one’s self(xxiv.).

“Which, according to you, is the most culpable, he who feels no gratitude for a kindness, or he who does not even keep it in mind?... It would seem that one thought very little about restitution when he has got so far as to forget the kindness.... To acquit one’s self of a kindness, one needs means, some fortune; but the recollection of it is a gratitude which costs nothing. To withhold a payment which requires neither trouble nor riches, is inexcusable.... The objects memory is busy with never escape it; it only loses those it does not often revert to.”

69. Kant’s rules touching benevolence and gratitude.—To the maxims of the ancients which we have just summed up, let us add a few principles borrowed of a modern moralist, the philosopher Kant:

Benevolence.—Benevolence, when one is rich, and finds in his superfluity the means of making others happy, should never be considered by the benefactor even a meritorious duty. The satisfaction he procures to himself thereby, and which does not cost him any sacrifice, is a means of filling himself with moral sentiments. Therefore must he carefully avoid looking as if he thought he was obliging others; for otherwise his kindness would no longer be one; since he would seem wishing to put under obligation the person to whom he grants it. He should, on the contrary, show himself under obligation, or as honored by the acceptance of his kindness, and consequently fulfill this duty as he would pay a debt he had contracted; or, what is still better, practice benevolence wholly in secret. This virtue is still greater when the means for being benevolent are restricted: it is then he deserves to be considered asvery richmorally. (Kant,Doctrine de la Vertu, trad. Fr., p. 128.)Gratitude.—Gratitude should be considered aholyduty. We call, in fact, holy any moral object regarding which no act could entirely acquit one of the contracted obligation. Now there is no way of acquitting one’s self of a benefit received, because he who receives it cannot refuse to him who grants it the merit and advantage of having been the first in showing his kindness.The least degree of gratitude is to render to the benefactorequivalent services. It is, also, never to look upon a kindness received as upon a burden one would be glad to be rid of (under pretext that it places the one under obligation in a position inferior to that of his benefactor, which is wounding to his pride). One must, on the contrary, accept it as a moral kindness, that is to say, as furnishing us an opportunity to practice a virtue. (Ibid., p. 130, 132.)

Gratitude.—Gratitude should be considered aholyduty. We call, in fact, holy any moral object regarding which no act could entirely acquit one of the contracted obligation. Now there is no way of acquitting one’s self of a benefit received, because he who receives it cannot refuse to him who grants it the merit and advantage of having been the first in showing his kindness.

The least degree of gratitude is to render to the benefactorequivalent services. It is, also, never to look upon a kindness received as upon a burden one would be glad to be rid of (under pretext that it places the one under obligation in a position inferior to that of his benefactor, which is wounding to his pride). One must, on the contrary, accept it as a moral kindness, that is to say, as furnishing us an opportunity to practice a virtue. (Ibid., p. 130, 132.)

70. Precautions which benevolence requires.—Benevolence should not be exercised without reserve and precaution. In abandoning one’s self to it imprudently, one may do more harm than good. Cicero on this subject recommends three principal precautions:

“One must take care,” he says:

“1. Lest, in wishing to do a person good, one does harm, either to him or to others;

“2. In the second place, let not our benevolence exceed our means;

“3. Finally, let every one be treated according to his deserts.”

1. Those, in fact, whose benevolence injures him who is the object thereof, should be looked upon as flatterers, rather than generous men. Those who injure some, to be generous towards others (as, for example, to omit paying one’s debts, in order to exercise charity), commit the same injustice as if they appropriated what belongs to others. Thus, when Sylla and Cæsar transferred to strangers the property of lawful owners, they were not generous; liberality may exist then where justice is absent.2. The second precaution is to exercise our benevolence according to our means. Those who wish to be more benevolent than they can afford, are in the first place unjust to their family; since the property, to the inheritance of which it has a right, goes thus over to strangers. Such generosity often leads, moreover, to the enriching of one’s self at the expense of others, in order to provide for liberalities. One sees, thus, many people, more vain than generous, pass for being benevolent. It becomes then a borrowed virtue, which has more of vanity than liberality.3. The third rule is, whilst dispensing our liberalities, to proportion them to merit; to consider the morals of him who is their object, the attachment he shows us, the different relations he may have with us; lastly, the services he may have rendered us. It were desirable he had all these titles to our benevolence; but if he has them not all, the greatest and largest in numbers should weigh most in the scales.

2. The second precaution is to exercise our benevolence according to our means. Those who wish to be more benevolent than they can afford, are in the first place unjust to their family; since the property, to the inheritance of which it has a right, goes thus over to strangers. Such generosity often leads, moreover, to the enriching of one’s self at the expense of others, in order to provide for liberalities. One sees, thus, many people, more vain than generous, pass for being benevolent. It becomes then a borrowed virtue, which has more of vanity than liberality.

3. The third rule is, whilst dispensing our liberalities, to proportion them to merit; to consider the morals of him who is their object, the attachment he shows us, the different relations he may have with us; lastly, the services he may have rendered us. It were desirable he had all these titles to our benevolence; but if he has them not all, the greatest and largest in numbers should weigh most in the scales.

71. Self-devotion—Self-abnegation—Sacrifice.—When charity reaches the highest degree; when it requires we should give to others what we hold most dear—as, for instance,life, fortune, etc.—it takes another name and is calleddevotion,self-abnegation,sacrifice. These three words, with various shadings, express the idea of a precious gift of which one deprives himself to benefit others. One may devote one’s self to others in various ways, in choosing for one’s object either the life, or welfare, or liberty, or the morality and intelligence of others. Let us examine these various forms of devotion.

72. The nature of the benefit.—Diverse forms of self-devotion.—The life, the welfare, the morality of others, etc.—Sacrificing one’s life for others.—Justice requires we should not attack the life of others; charity requires more: it demands that we make every effort to save the life of our fellow-beings, even sometimes at the cost of our own.

This duty, which is a duty of charity for men in general, is a duty of justice for the physician and all those who have care of the sick. The physician owes his devotion to the patient, as the soldier owes his to his country. In both these casesmedical duty,military duty, devotion is a strict duty. It is at the same time a duty towards men and a duty towards the profession. It is in both cases what may be called thehonor of the flag. Thus do we every year see a certain number of young hospital physicians die, like soldiers on the field of honor.

The duty of attending the sick and being thereby exposed to contagion, falls alike on all who have chosen this profession: sisters of charity, the nurses, the male and female attendants in infirmaries. It is also a duty in the family; the parents owe themselves to their children; the servants themselves should assume in a certain measure the same responsibility, although it is the duty of the masters to spare them as much as possible. Moreover, it is known how common this devotion is, especially with mothers, and how many of them die of the illness they have contracted at the bedside of their children. In all these circumstances, it is of course not forbidden to be cautious, and wisdom requires one should not go beyond thestrictly necessary; but the necessary is obligatory; and on whom should it fall more naturally than on the parents?

Besides the illnesses which threaten the lives of men, there are dangers more sudden, more violent, more terrible, which arise from the invasion of the forces of nature: fire and water are the most terrible; conflagrations, inundations, shipwrecks, catastrophes of all kinds imperil the lives of men.

Here the question is no longer one of slow and leisurely attentions. To save a life which a minute later will be extinguished, there is wanted a sudden resolution, a well-tested courage, and the will to risk one’s life for that of another. In these terrible circumstances there are some men who seem to be more naturally called than others to sacrifice themselves; for example, firemen and sailors. It is certain that it is those who are the more familiar with the element it is necessary to combat, that are most called to do so, and for whom self-devotion becomes a greater duty. But it is not always possible to have them immediately at hand; in a sudden catastrophe, all must take their share of the peril; all must be ready to give their life for others if they can do so with some utility.

Devotion towards the wretched.—Next to health and life, what men most esteem are material goods and that which is called fortune. Certainly, we should not encourage this estimation men have for material goods; one should as much as possible teach them to do without them; and the saying that happiness resides rather in a small competence than in riches, is most true. But it is not less true that the material things are absolutely necessary to life, and that the absence of these things is in every respect prejudicial to man, since health, life, and even the interests of the soul and mind, depend on these material goods. How can we educate ourselves without eating? How can we improve the heart and soul when want impels us to all sorts of temptations? Finally, suffering itself, though morality commands us to bear it with courage, is a legitimate object of sympathy. From all these considerations arises, for those who possess anything, the obligation tocome to the assistance of those who have nothing: this is what is calledgift. This obligation can be satisfied in many ways, but the mode should certainly consist with the dignity and responsibility of those who are the object of the gift. Experience has shown that an ill-understood charity encourages idleness and often rewards and perpetuates vice. It is therefore work which should above all be furnished to the poor: the loan should generally be preferred to the gift; but finally, whatever precautions one may take, and whatever be the causes of the misery, there comes always a moment when, in presence of hunger, illness, supreme want, one must give; must deprive himself for others. As to the particular rules which govern benevolence, we have given them above in speaking of benefactions.

Consolations, exhortations, instructions.After the duties toward the body come the duties toward the soul: and this distinction has place for others as for ourselves. It is not enough to insure and save the lives of men, and give them the daily bread; one must also nourish their souls, their intelligences, their moral weaknesses, which also need sustenance. Thence three different obligations: toconsolethe afflicted; toexhortthe weak; toinstructthe ignorant. The consoling of the afflicted is a virtue, which needs no rule, and does not admit of any. One does not console by order, by processes, by principles. Here the heart is better than strict laws. Listen to your heart; it will teach you how to be merciful without being indiscreet; how to touch without wounding; how to say enough without saying too much. In respect to poor people, one often consoles them by relieving their misery, and the duty here blends with benevolence. After the consolation come theexhortations. The duty here becomes more and more delicate. It is no easy thing to advise men; we have not even always a right to do so; for it is attributing to ourselves a certain superiority over them. This duty of exhortation is therefore an affectation of pride rather than an inspiration of fraternity. It is especially withchildren, with young people, that good exhortations properly made can be useful. In a few words, moderate and just, one may often recall to them their duties of respect towards themselves, and of economy, sobriety, devotion towards their relatives. Finally comes the duty ofinstruction. Here it is not the office of all, but only of those who are charged with this function. Yet may we contribute our share towards the instruction of children either by money-contributions, or by visiting the schools, or by encouragement-societies; in a word, by all sorts of auxiliary means. Such are the principal duties in regard to souls.

73. Clemency.—Pardon of injuries.—Love of enemies.—The foregoing duties consist not only in returning good for evil, but also in doing good to those who have not done us any. A superior degree of charity, which is calledgenerosity, consists in returning good for evil, in forgiving the wicked,—not the wrong they have done to others, but the wrong they have done to ourselves. This, in the case of sovereigns, is calledclemency. The saying of Louis XII. is well known, having pardoned the enemies he had had before taking the crown: “The king,” said he, “should forget the injuries done to the duke of Orleans.” The great Condé was moved to tears over Corneille’s celebrated lines inCinna:

“Let us be friends, Cinna; it is I who invite thee:I gave thee thy life as to my enemy,And despite the fury of thy cowardly designs,I still give it thee, as to my murderer.”

The duty of returning good for evil goes even further than clemency and the pardon of injuries: for this is nothing more than to abstain from wronging one’s enemies. But we should do more: we must be capable of doing good to our enemies when they deserve it, or need it; and further still, we should try to carry the virtue even so far as to interdict ourselves any feeling of pride, which would naturally arise in a heart great enough to avenge itself by benefits.

The philosopher Spinoza has admirably expressed this doctrine: “Hatred must be overcome not by hatred, but by love and generosity.”

74. Duties of kindness towards animals.—Among the moralists, there are some who do not admit that we have any duties towards beings inferior to man, namely, animals; others, on the contrary, do not admit any duties towards any above man, consequently towards God; others, in fine, deny that man has any towards himself. There are scarcely any duties, except those towards our fellow-beings, that have not been questioned by one or the other of the moralists: some connecting the latter with the duties towards ourselves, or the duties towards God.

According to us, there are four classes of duties, and these four classes are not reducible the one to the other.[52]

No one can deny from a practical point of view that there are duties towards animals; for we know very well that it is not permitted to maltreat them or cause them unnecessary pain; and every enlightened conscience condemns cruelty to animals. Therefore can there be here question only of a speculative scruple. It can be very well seen that there is a duty here; but it is, they say, a duty towards ourselves; for it is our duty not to be cruel, and cruelty toward animals accustoms us too easily to cruelty toward men. But this is a very useless subtlety, and too roundabout a way to express a very simple thing. We prefer simply saying that kindness toward an animal is a duty toward that animal.

Besides, the reasons given against the duties toward animals, appear to us more specious than substantial. It is said that animals, having neither will nor intelligence, are notpersons, butthings; that, consequently, they have norights, and that we can have no duties toward what has no rights.

These are inadmissible subtleties. One can, in law terms, divide all objects of nature into persons and things; andanimals, not being persons, are things, in the sense that they can beappropriated. But, strictly speaking, can a being endowed with sensibility be called a thing? Is it true, moreover, that an animal has no intelligence, no will—that consequently it has not any vestige of personality? Is it true again that an animal has no kind of rights? This, in the first place, is to suppose what is in question. And, moreover, does not conscience say to us that an animal which has served us long years with affection has thereby acquired a certain right to our gratitude? And, finally, is it really true that we have only duties towards those that have duties towards us? That were a very perilous maxim in social morality. We are told not to be cruel to animals in order not to become cruel towards men. But if one were sure not to become cruel towards men, would it follow therefrom that it is permitted to be so towards animals? No, it will be said; but it is because cruelty, though its object be only animals, is in itself a vice, base and unworthy of man. One should not conclude from that, that cruelty is a direct crime against them. But for the same reason it might be maintained that we have no duties toward others, and only toward ourselves; injustice, cruelty, are odious vices in themselves; goodness and justice, noble qualities; we should shun the one and avoid the other out of respect for ourselves, and regardless of the object of these vices and virtues. If, despite these considerations, it is then thought better to make, nevertheless, a distinction between the duties toward others and those toward ourselves, there should for the same reason be made a distinct class of the duties toward animals. Finally, if we owe nothing to animals, it is not very clear why acts hypothetically indifferent should be treated as cruelties; nor why such acts should be considered as lowering and dishonoring the character.

On the whole, and to avoid all theoretical difficulties, it may be said that we have duties, if not toward animals, at leastin regardto animals.

Our duties in regard to animals, are they, however, of a kindto make us doubt our right to destroy or reduce them to servitude?

The destruction of animals may have two causes; it may be for our defense, it may be for our subsistence. As to the first there is no difficulty; the right of legitimate self-defense authorizes us to destroy what would otherwise destroy us. Between us and beasts injurious to man there is evidently a state of natural war, and in that state the law is that might makes right. This same law is the one which regulates the relations of the animals between themselves: it is also their law in regard to us. The lion, for instance, might not always be as tenderly inclined as the lion of Androcles or the lion of Florence: it would not be well to trust it. We need not, therefore, even theoretically, entertain any scruples concerning the destruction of injurious animals.

Is it the same with the destruction of animals intended for our nourishment? Is this destruction innocent, or must we, as did the Pythagoreans or Brahmins of old (for superstitious reasons, however), interdict all animal food?[53]This question has been so well solved by general usage that it is scarcely necessary to raise it. It is not likely men will ever think of giving up animal food, and no one regrets having eaten of a good roast. Yet for those who like to find out the reason of things, it is a problem to know whether we have the right to do what we do without remorse and scruples; and whether a universal and apparently indestructible practice is also a legitimate and innocent practice. Man, according to us, in living on flesh, is justified by nature herself, who made him a carnivorous creature. Every being is authorized to perform the acts which result from its organization.[54]The human organization, as the nature of the teeth and the whole digestive system indicate, is prepared to nourish itself with flesh. In many countries even all other nourishment is impossible;there are peoples whose very situation makes them necessarily hunters, fishermen, or shepherds; it is only in some countries highly favored, and, thanks to scientific cultivation, the result of civilization, that vegetable food could be made abundant enough to suffice, and hardly that for large masses of population; for we know quite well what disasters follow upon a scarcity of crops. What would be the result if the human race were deprived of half its means of subsistence? Add to this that, whatever may have been said against it, animal food mixed in a certain measure with vegetable food, is indispensable to the health and vigor of the human race.

As to the servitude of animals and the labor we impose on them, its justification lies first in the principle of legitimate self-defense, to which we have just now alluded. Many of our domestic races would, in a savage state, become veritable wild beasts. The wild hog is, they say, the wild boar; the wild dog, the jackal; the wild cat belongs to the leopard and tiger family. In reducing these sorts of animals to servitude, and in making of them companions and help-mates in our work, we thereby deliver ourselves from dangerous enemies. Domestication is better than destruction. Add to this, that if we except the first animals which have passed from the savage state to the domestic state (which, as to our domestic races, is lost in the night of time and escapes all responsibility), the present animals, born in servitude, know no other state, do not suffer from a want of liberty, and find even, thanks to our cares, a more certain subsistence than if they were free. They are, it is true, sacrificed by us to our wants, but they would be so by other animals in the savage state. Whether a sheep be eaten by men or wolves, it is not to be more pitied for that, one way or the other.

The right of man over animals being set aside, there remains an essential duty respecting them, namely: not to make them suffer without necessity.

Fontenelle relates that, having gone one day to seeMalebranche,[55]at the fathers of theOratoire, a dog of the house, big with young, entered the room and rolled about at the feet of the father. After having tried in vain to drive it away, Malebranche gave the dog a kick which caused it to utter a cry of pain and Fontenelle a cry of compassion: “Oh, pshaw!” said father Malebranche, coolly, “do you not know that these things do not feel?”

How could this philosopher be sure thatthese thingsdid not feel? Is not the animal organized in the same manner as man? Has he not the same senses, the same nervous system? Does he not give the same signs of impressions received? Why should not the cry of the animal express pain as does the cry of a child? When man is not perverted by custom, cruelty, or the spirit of system, he cannot see the sufferings of animals without suffering himself, a manifest proof that there is something in common between them and us, for sympathy is by reason of similitude.

Animals, then, suffer; this is undeniable; they have, like ourselves, a physical sensibility; but they have also a certain moral sensibility; they are capable of attachment, of gratitude, of fidelity; of love for their little ones, of reciprocal affection. From this physical and moral analogy between men and animals, there obviously results the obligation of inflicting upon them no useless suffering. Madame Necker de Saussure[56]relates the story of a child who, finding himself in a garden where a tamed quail was freely running about beside the cage of a bird of prey, yielded to the temptation of seizing the poor quail and giving it to the bird to devour. The hero of this adventure relates himself the punishment inflicted on him:

“At dinner—there was a great deal of company that day—the master of the house began to relate the scene, coolly and without any remarks, simply naming me. When he wasthrough, there was a moment of general silence, where every one looked at me with a kind of horror. I heard some words exchanged among the guests, and without any one’s directly speaking to me, I could understand that everybody thought me a monster.”

Connected with the cruelty toward animals are certain barbarous games where animals are made to fight with each other for our pleasure. Such are the bull-fights in Spain; the cock-fights in England; we do not go so far as to rank the chase among inhuman games, because, on the one hand, it has for its object to destroy the animals injurious to our forests and crops, and to furnish us useful food; and on the other, it is an exercise favorable to health, and exercises certain faculties of the soul; but the chase must at least not be a massacre, and must have for its end utility.

Brutality toward the animals which render us the greatest services, and which we see every day loaded beyond their strength, and beaten to bear up under the load, is also an odious act, and doubly wrong, as it is both contrary to humanity and contrary to our interests, since these animals, overloaded and beaten, will not be long in succumbing to the violence of their persecutors.

Nor can we consider as absolutely indifferent the act of killing or selling (except in cases of extreme necessity) a domestic animal that has served us a long time, and whose attachment we have experienced. “Among the conquerors at the Olympic Games,” the ancients tell us, “many share the distinctions which they receive with the horses which have helped to procure them; they provide for them a happy old age; they accord them an honorable burial, and sometimes even raise a monument over their graves.”

“It is not reasonable,” says Plutarch, “to use things which have life and feeling, as we would use a shoe or any other instrument, throwing it away when worn out and ruined by dint of service done; if it were for no other cause than to induce and stimulate us to constant compassion, we should accustom ourselves to gentleness and charitableness,even to performing the humblest offices of kindness; as for me, I should never have the heart to sell an ox who for a long time had ploughed my land, because, by reason of old age, he can no longer work.”

A very serious question has been raised these latter times, namely, the question ofvivisection, and how far, in a scientific point of view, we have a right to practice on living animals. The point is not to interdict to science what is the indispensable condition of its progress and propagation; but we should limit ourself to the strictly necessary, and not with revolting prodigality multiply sacrifices that are not absolutely useful.

One of the principal reasons for condemning cruelty toward animals, is that through the instinct of imitation and sympathy men may get into the habit of doing to others what they have seen practiced on animals. There is a story of a child who caused his brother to suffer the same death he had just seen inflicted on an animal.[57]

The men who are brutal toward animals are likewise so toward each other, and treat with the same cruelty their wives and children.

It is by reason of these considerations of social utility and humanity that the law in France decided to interfere to prevent and punish the bad treatment inflicted upon animals;[58]and the consequences of this measure have been most happy.

DUTIES TOWARD THE STATE.

SUMMARY.

Three groups of societies among men:Humanity,the family,the country,or the State.Analysis of patriotism.Foundation of the State.—Law and rights. Public authority: distinction between society and the State. The three powers. Sovereignty. The right of punishment.Duties toward the State:1.Obedience to the laws.—TheCritoof Plato. Pretended exceptions to this principle. Criticising the laws is not disobedience.2.Respect to magistrates.—The magistrates being the representatives of the laws, to respect them is to respect the law itself; to insult them is to insult the law.3.The ballot.—Obligation to vote. The character of the ballot: 1,disinterested; 2,free; 3,enlightened.4.Taxes.—Immorality of frauds against the State.5.Military service.—Legal and moral obligation. Attempts to escape it: 1, by mutilations; 2, by simulated infirmities; 3, by desertion; want of discipline.6.Educational obligation.Civil courage.—Noted example: Boissy d’Anglas.

Three groups of societies among men:Humanity,the family,the country,or the State.

Analysis of patriotism.

Foundation of the State.—Law and rights. Public authority: distinction between society and the State. The three powers. Sovereignty. The right of punishment.

Duties toward the State:1.Obedience to the laws.—TheCritoof Plato. Pretended exceptions to this principle. Criticising the laws is not disobedience.

2.Respect to magistrates.—The magistrates being the representatives of the laws, to respect them is to respect the law itself; to insult them is to insult the law.

3.The ballot.—Obligation to vote. The character of the ballot: 1,disinterested; 2,free; 3,enlightened.

4.Taxes.—Immorality of frauds against the State.

5.Military service.—Legal and moral obligation. Attempts to escape it: 1, by mutilations; 2, by simulated infirmities; 3, by desertion; want of discipline.

6.Educational obligation.

Civil courage.—Noted example: Boissy d’Anglas.

75. Three groups of societies.—Cicero and Fénélon remark that there are three sorts of societies among men: the first comprises the whole ofhumanity; the last, which is the most circumscribed, is what is called thefamily. But between the family and the human race in general, there is an intermediate society, larger than the one and more circumscribed than the other, and this is what is called thecountry.

76. Patriotism.—The sentiment which binds us to the country, and which, articulated, becomes aduty, is what is calledpatriotism. We have already given elsewhere,[59]an analysis of patriotism. Let us repeat what we have said:

Patriotism is one of our most complex sentiments: it is in fact composed of many distinct elements: it is, in the first place, thelove of the soilwhere we were born; and this soil is at first the narrow territory where our youth passed, and which we embraced entire with the eyes and recollections: it is the native village, the native city. But if this is the first sense of country, it falls far short of embracing the whole country. The love for the native church steeple is not patriotism: it is even its opposite often. The soil must extend, widen, and from the natal house, must gradually embrace, by successive additions, the village, the town, the county, the province, the whole country. But what is to determine the extent of this territory? Who is to decide that it shall go so far and no farther? There enter into it many elements: first, the inhabitants, the fellow-citizens, fellow-countrymen; a soil deserted would not be a country; to the love of the territory there must be added the love of those who inhabit it with us, or of ourfellow-countrymen; to the nomadic people the country is only their tribe. Conversely, the citizens without the soil are not the country either, for exile in common is not the less exile. Finally, the union of soil and fellow-citizens may still not be the country, at least not all the country; a conquered nation may preserve its soil and its inhabitants, and have lost the country: as Poland, for instance. What, then, are the ties to determine the existence of a country? There are a large number of them, such asthe unity of language,the unity of laws,the unity of the flag,historic tradition, and, finally, above all, theunity of governmentand of an accepted government. A country exists only where there is an independent political state. This political unity does not suffice when the other ties are wanting; when it is a constraint, when peoples united under the same government have different manners, customs, traditions; conversely, unity of language and community of habits, will neither be sufficient when the political unity or a certain form of political unity is wanting. But what, before everything else, constitutes the country, is a common spirit, a common soul, in short, a common name, which fuses into one all these separate facts of which no single one is absolutely necessary, but of which each forms an additional element to the strength of the country. Finally, as a last condition, theassociation which is to become a country must not, as was the case with the Roman empire, extend over too much territory; for beyond certain limits, patriotism relaxes.

Nature has endowed us with this sentiment of patriotism. There is no one that does not love his country better than other countries, that is not flattered by national glory, that does not suffer from the humiliations and miseries of his native country. But this sentiment is more or less strong, according to temperaments. Often it is nothing more than a sentiment, and does not express itself in actions. It is the reflective faculties which make of patriotism a duty, which duty demands that sentiment pass into action; demands of all the citizens the same acts, whatever be the personal inclinations of each.

The duties imposed on each man in regard to the particular society of which he is a member, are calledcivilduties. He, himself, in regard to this society, is what is called acitizen; finally, the society itself, considered as one and the same person, of which the citizens are the members, is what is called theStateor thecity.

On the whole, there is no difference betweencountryandState. Country is at the same timeSocietyandsoil. It is called by that name (State) when looked upon in the light of a family of which the citizens are the children, and also when considered in its relations with other nations and other societies. The State is that same society considered interiorly and in itself, not as to its soil and territory, but as to the members that compose it, and in as far as these members form one and the same body and are governed by laws. The country is a more concrete and more vivid expression, which appeals more to the feelings; the State is a more abstract expression, which addresses itself to reason. Besides, we shall understand better what is meant by the State, when we shall have explained the nature of public authority and the laws.

77. Foundation of the State—Rights.—To understand thenature of the State and what is calledauthority,sovereignty,magistracy,law, one must begin with the notion of rights and of the different kinds of rights.

Duty is the law which imposes on us obligations either toward ourselves or toward others; it is amoral necessity(p. 11).Rightsis thepowerwe have to exercise and develop our faculties conformably to our destiny, provided we allow other men the same power: it is amoral power(Leibnitz). Each man, by reason of his enjoying liberty and intelligence, is aperson, and should not be treated as athing. “Man is a thing sacred to man,” said the ancients. He is inviolable in his personality and in all that constitutes the development of his personality.

Thence follows an immediate consequence: it is, that every man being man by the same title, no one can claim for himself a right which he is not willing to recognize at the same time in another; hence theequality of rights. Besides, the liberty of one cannot, without contradiction, suppress the liberty of another, whence this other definition: Right is theaccord of liberties.

78. The rights of man.—What are the principal rights of man? They are: the right ofself-preservation; the right of going and coming, orindividual liberty; theliberty of work; theright of property; theliberty of thought; theliberty of conscience; theright of family, etc.

We have also seen that man (p. 52) has a final right which is the guaranty and the sanction of all others; it is the right of preventing by force every attempt at his rights; toconstrainothers to respect his rights, and lastly, topunishevery violation of his rights. This is what is called theright of self-defense.

79. Public authority.—Man having, as we have just seen, the right of self-defense by opposing force to any attack, possesses, when alone, and far from all human help, this right in all its plenitude. But it is easy to see the dangers and inexpediency of such a right in a society. Each man, in fact,when he meets with opposition to his will and desires, always thinks himself injured in his rights. If every one were free to defend himself in all circumstances, the right of self-defense would keep men constantly under arms; and society, without a regulating power to check their doings, would soon, as the philosopher Hobbes expressed it, be “the war of all against all.” Hence the necessity of the State—that is to say, of adisinterested power—taking in hand the defense of all, and insuring the proper exercise of the right of self-defense by suppressing its abuses. This is what is calledpublic authority.

80. Society and the State.—We must distinguish betweensocietyand theState, ornaturalsociety andcivilsociety.

Society is the union which exists between men, without distinction of frontiers—without exterior restraint—and for the sole reason that they are men. An Englishman and an Indian, as Locke says, meeting in the waste forests of America (Robinson and Friday), are, from the fact alone of their common nature, in a state of society.

Thecivil societyorStateis an assemblage of men subject to a commonauthority, to commonlaws—that is to say, a society whose members may be constrained by public force to respect their reciprocal rights.

81. The three powers.—There results from that, that two necessary elements enter into the idea of the State:lawsandforce. The laws are the general rules which establish beforehand and fix after deliberation, and abstractly, the rights of each; force is the physical restraint the public power is armed with to have the laws executed. Hence twopowersin the State, thelegislativepower and theexecutivepower—one that makes the law; the other that executes it, and to which may generally be added a third, namely,judiciarypower, which, on its part, is empowered to apply and interpret the law.[60]

82. Sovereignty.—These three powers emanate from acommon source which is calledsovereign. In all States, the sovereign is the authority which is in possession of the three preceding powers and delegates them. In an absolute monarchy, the sovereign is the monarch, who of himself exercises the legislative and executive power, sometimes even the judicial power. In a democracy, the sovereign is the universality of the citizens, or thepeople, which delegates the three powers, and even in some cases exercises them.

As to the basis of sovereignty, two systems face each other: thedivine rightand thesovereignty of the people. In the first, the authority emanates from God, who transmits it to chosen families; in the second, societies, like individuals, are free arbiters, and belong to themselves; they are answerable for their destinies; and this can only be true of the entire society; for why should certain classes rather than others have the privilege to decide about the fate of each? The sovereignty of the people is then nothing else than the right of each to participate in public power, either of himself or through his representatives. This principle tends more and more to predominate in civilized States.

83. Political liberty.—Political liberty means all the guaranties which insure to every citizen the legitimate exercise of his natural rights; political liberty is, then, the sanction of civil liberty.

The principal of these guaranties are: 1, theright of suffrage, which insures to every one his share of sovereignty; 2, theseparation of powers, which puts into different hands theexecutive,legislative, andjudicialpowers; 3, theliberty of the press, which insures the right of minorities, and allows them to employ argument to change or modify the ideas and opinions of the majority.

84. The right of punishment.—The right of punishment in a State is nothing else than the right of restraint, which, as we have already seen, is inherent in the very idea of the State; for the State only exists to insure to each the exercise of his rights, and it can only do so by restraint and the use offorce. How far can this right of force go? Can it, for example, go so far as the taking of life even? This is a mooted question between publicists, and upon which we have, moreover, already expressed ourselves (p. 55et seq.).

After having in these summary views resolved the principle upon which the State rests,[61]and the essential elements which enter into the idea, we are better prepared to approach what constitutes the object proper of civil morality, namely, the duties of citizens toward the country or the State.

85. Civil duties.—These duties are the following:Obedience to the laws;respect of magistrates;the ballot;military service;educational obligations.

86. Obedience to the laws.—The first of the civil duties, isobedience to the laws. The reason is evident. The State rests on the law. It is the law which substitutes, for the will of individuals, always more or less carried away by passion or governed by self-interest, a general, impartial, and disinterested rule. The law is the guaranty of all: it opposes itself to force, or rather puts force in the service of justice, instead of making of justice the slave of force. Pascal says: “Not being able to make that which is just, strong, men have wished that what is strong should be just.” This is the jest of a misanthrope. Certainly the laws are not always as just as they might be, despite the efforts made to render them so: the reason of it is, the extreme complexity of interests between which it is difficult to find a true balance and just equilibrium; but such as they are, they are infinitely more just than the right of the strongest, which would alone reign if there were no laws.

The empire of the laws is then that which securesorderin a society, and consequently procures for each of its members security and peace, and through these, the means of devoting himself to his work, whether intellectual or material, and of reaping the fruits thereof.

At the same time that the law guarantees order within, it also insures the independence of the nation from without. For a nation without laws, or which no longer obeys its laws, falls into anarchy and becomes the prey of the first conqueror who presents himself, as is shown by the history of Poland.

It is especially in democratic or republican states, that obedience to the laws is necessary, as it is there the most difficult.

Montesquieu has shown with great sagacity the difficulty and thereby the necessity of obedience to the laws in a democracy; in fact, what in other governments is obtained by constraint, in a democracy depends only upon the will of the citizens.

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