One is where the father himself declares the end attained and leaves his children free to act according to their own will and judgment.
The other is where a certain result is sufficient to declare the end attained. The State is in this instance a competent outside judge. For example, if the State entrusts an office to a son, it declares the latter’s education completed; the judgment of the State is the parents’ judicial bond: they must submit to it without appeal: it binds them also morally, and they must submit to it from a sense of duty.
There is finally a third case: this is where parental education is no longer possible, as, for example, on the marriage of the children. The daughter then gives herself to her husband and becomes subject to his will: she can therefore no longer depend upon her parents’ will. The son assumes the care of his wife, conformably to her wishes; he can therefore no longer be guided by others’ wishes, not even by those of his parents.
These three cases do not yet exhaust the question; for we may suppose a fourth: the one where the children are not called to a function, by the State; when they do not marry, and when the parents are nevertheless unwilling to relax their authority, seemingly wishing to uphold the obedience of early childhood. In this case, the parents evidently overstep their rights; for it is obvious that at a given time man must belong to himself. This time has been fixed by the State; which determines when one attains to his majority. In granting to a son the free disposal of his property, the liberty to make contracts, to traffic, the right of suffrage, the right to marry, etc., the State puts an end to paternal authority as an authority armed with restraint, yet certainly not as a moral authority, for in this respect it is indelible. The son having become a person, and being in his turn invested with moral responsibility, may lay obedience aside, but he does not with this lay aside the respect, gratitude, and affection he owes his parents.
Even after the emancipation of the children, there still exists between them and their parents a moral tie.
Parents, especially if they have been, as we suppose, the educators of their children, know their inner being, theirdisposition: they have seen it develop under their eyes; they have formed it. They therefore know it better than the children themselves can know it. They consequently continue to be their best advisers. There is then left to parents a special duty, namely, that of advising their children, and on the part of the children a correlative duty, that of listening attentively to the advice of their parents, and of considering it carefully. Thus do parents retain their care and solicitude for their children, and the children the duty of respect.
These duties of respect and gratitude toward parents have been admirably expressed by the ancient writers.
Plato, after speaking of the honor which should be given to the gods, says: “Next comes the honor of living parents, to whom, as is meet, we have to pay the first and greatest and oldest of all debts, considering that all which a man has belongs to those who gave him birth and brought him up, and that he must do all that he can to minister to them: first, in his property; secondly, in his person; and thirdly, in his soul; paying the debts due to them for the care and travail which they bestowed upon him of old, in the days of his infancy, and which he is now to pay back to them when they are old and in the extremity of their need. And all his life long he ought never to utter, or to have uttered, an unbecoming word to them; for all light and winged words he will have to give an account; Nemesis, the messenger of justice, is appointed to watch over them. And we ought to yield to our parents when they are angry, and let them satisfy their feelings in word or deed, considering that, when a father thinks that he has been wronged by his son, he may be expected to be very angry.”[83]
Plato, after speaking of the honor which should be given to the gods, says: “Next comes the honor of living parents, to whom, as is meet, we have to pay the first and greatest and oldest of all debts, considering that all which a man has belongs to those who gave him birth and brought him up, and that he must do all that he can to minister to them: first, in his property; secondly, in his person; and thirdly, in his soul; paying the debts due to them for the care and travail which they bestowed upon him of old, in the days of his infancy, and which he is now to pay back to them when they are old and in the extremity of their need. And all his life long he ought never to utter, or to have uttered, an unbecoming word to them; for all light and winged words he will have to give an account; Nemesis, the messenger of justice, is appointed to watch over them. And we ought to yield to our parents when they are angry, and let them satisfy their feelings in word or deed, considering that, when a father thinks that he has been wronged by his son, he may be expected to be very angry.”[83]
Xenophon, likewise, relates to us an admirable exhortation of Socrates to his oldest son Lamprocles, on filial piety. It is well known that the wife of Socrates, Xantippe, was noted for her crabbed disposition, which often sorely tried Socrates’ patience. No doubt this was the case with the sons also; but, less patient than their father, they yielded sometimes to their anger. Socrates recalls Lamprocles to his duty as a son, enumerating to him all that mothers have to endure for their children:
“The woman receives and bears the burden, oppressing and endangering her life, and imparting a portion of the nutriment with which she is herself supported; and at length, after bearing it the full time, and bringing it forth with great pain, she suckles and cherishes it, though she has received no previous benefit from it, nor does the infant know by whom it is tended, nor is it able to signify what it wants, but she, conjecturing what will nourish and please it, tries to satisfy its calls, and feeds it for a long time, both night and day, submitting to the trouble, and not knowing what return she will receive for it. Nor does it satisfy the parents merely to feed their offspring, but as soon as the children appear capable of learning any thing, they teach them whatever they know that may be of use for their conduct in life; and whenever they consider another more capable of communicating than themselves, they send their sons to him at their own expense, and take care to adopt every course that their children may be as much improved as possible.”Upon this the young man said: “But, even if she has done all this, no one, assuredly, could endure her ill-humor.”“And do you reflect,” returned Socrates, “how much grievous trouble you have given her by your peevishness, by voice and by action, in the day and in the night, and how much anxiety you have caused her when you were ill?... Or do you suppose your mother meditates evil toward you?” “No, indeed,” said Lamprocles, “that I do not suppose.” “Do you then say that this mother,” rejoined Socrates, “who is so benevolent to you, who, when you are ill, takes care of you, to the utmost of her power, that you may recover your health, and who, besides, entreats the gods for many blessings on your head, is a harsh mother? Oh, my son, if you are wise, you will entreat the gods to pardon you if you have been wanting in respect toward your mother, lest, regarding you as an ungrateful person, they should be disinclined to do you good; and you will have regard, also, to the opinion of men, lest, observing you to be neglectful of your parents, they should all contemn you, and you should then be found destitute of friends; for if men surmise that you are ungrateful toward your parents, no one will believe that if he does you a kindness he will meet with gratitude in return.”[84]
“The woman receives and bears the burden, oppressing and endangering her life, and imparting a portion of the nutriment with which she is herself supported; and at length, after bearing it the full time, and bringing it forth with great pain, she suckles and cherishes it, though she has received no previous benefit from it, nor does the infant know by whom it is tended, nor is it able to signify what it wants, but she, conjecturing what will nourish and please it, tries to satisfy its calls, and feeds it for a long time, both night and day, submitting to the trouble, and not knowing what return she will receive for it. Nor does it satisfy the parents merely to feed their offspring, but as soon as the children appear capable of learning any thing, they teach them whatever they know that may be of use for their conduct in life; and whenever they consider another more capable of communicating than themselves, they send their sons to him at their own expense, and take care to adopt every course that their children may be as much improved as possible.”
Upon this the young man said: “But, even if she has done all this, no one, assuredly, could endure her ill-humor.”
“And do you reflect,” returned Socrates, “how much grievous trouble you have given her by your peevishness, by voice and by action, in the day and in the night, and how much anxiety you have caused her when you were ill?... Or do you suppose your mother meditates evil toward you?” “No, indeed,” said Lamprocles, “that I do not suppose.” “Do you then say that this mother,” rejoined Socrates, “who is so benevolent to you, who, when you are ill, takes care of you, to the utmost of her power, that you may recover your health, and who, besides, entreats the gods for many blessings on your head, is a harsh mother? Oh, my son, if you are wise, you will entreat the gods to pardon you if you have been wanting in respect toward your mother, lest, regarding you as an ungrateful person, they should be disinclined to do you good; and you will have regard, also, to the opinion of men, lest, observing you to be neglectful of your parents, they should all contemn you, and you should then be found destitute of friends; for if men surmise that you are ungrateful toward your parents, no one will believe that if he does you a kindness he will meet with gratitude in return.”[84]
Although children, when of age, belong legally to themselves, there are yet two serious circumstances, where they should exhaust all the forms of respect and submission before they make a harsh use of the rights which the law grants them: these are marriage, and the choice of a profession. In the firstcase, both the law and morality require the consent of the parents; and it is only as a last extremity, and after three respectful appeals to them, that proceedings may go on. Here again, although the law permits it, it may be said that, except in extreme and exceptional cases, it is always better not to proceed, but wait till some change of circumstances brings about a change in the mind of the parents. In fact, the parents’ resistance in these cases is generally in the interest of the children; they wish to protect them against the impulses of their passions. They have, besides, a sort of right to interdict the admission into the family and the taking of its name to any one that might be unworthy of these favors.
The obligation not to marry without the consent of the parents (except in extreme cases) does not carry with it the obligation of marrying against one’s will in order to obey them. This would be the violation of a duty toward others; you have no right to jeopardize the happiness of a third party, that you might on your side practice the duty of obedience. To marry with repugnance is contrary to duty, for it is entering into the bonds of an unhappy union.
As to the choice of a profession, the obligation to conform to the desires and the will of the parents is less strict than in marriage; and it is obvious that the first, the stricter duty here, is to choose the profession one is best fitted for. But as there is here also, on the side of the children, much inexperience (as among the various professions there are some very difficult, even dangerous ones, where success is often very rare, and which for this reason are all the more tempting), it is clear that in such a case it is the children’s duty, except where there is an irresistible proclivity, to allow themselves to be guided by a more enlightened and more prudent experience. At any rate, the strict duty is to confer with the parents, consult their superior wisdom, and delay as much as possible a final resolve. These principles once set down, it is certain that, on the other hand, one should not, to obey one’s parents, follow a profession one felt no capacity for whatsoever.There the duties toward society and toward one’s self take precedence of the family duties.
128. Fraternal duties.—Socrates, who has spoken so well of the duties of husbands and wives and the duties of children, shall here again be our guide as to the duties of brothers and sisters. Two brothers, Chæsephon and Chæsecrates, did not live well together. Socrates tried to reconcile them with each other by an exhortation, of which the following gives the principal points:[85]
1. Brothers are better than riches; for they are things endowed with reason, whilst wealth is but a senseless thing; brothers are a protection; riches, on the contrary, need protection.
2. One had rather live with fellow-citizens than live alone; how much more would one not rather live with brothers.
3. Is not the being born of the same parents, the having been brought up together, very strong reasons to love one another? Even among brutes a certain affection springs up between those that are raised together.
4. Even though our brothers be of dispositions difficult to live with, we should make advances to bring them nearer to us.
5. It is for the youngest to make advances to the oldest.
A modern moralist, Silvio Pellico,[86]expresses most delicately the duties of brothers and sisters in their intercourse with each other:
“To practice properly, in one’s relations with men, the divine science of charity, one must have learned it at home. What ineffable sweetness is there in the thought: ‘We are the children of the same mother!...’ If you wish to be a good brother, beware of selfishness. Let each of your brothers, each of your sisters, see that their interests are as dear to you as your own. If one of them commits a fault, be indulgent to it. Rejoice over their virtues; imitate them.”
“The familiarity of the fireside should never make you forget to be courteous toward your brothers.
“Be still more courteous toward your sisters. Their sex is endowed with a powerful attraction; it is a divine gift which they use to make the house pleasant and cheerful. You will find in your sisters the delicious charm of womanly virtues; and since nature has made them more feeble and sensitive than you, be attentive to them in their troubles, console them, and do not cause them any unnecessary pain.
“Those who contract the habit of being ill-natured and rude toward their brothers and sisters, are rude and ill-natured toward everybody else. If the home-intercourse is tender and true, man will experience in his other social relations the same need of esteem and noble affections.”
129. Duties of masters toward their servants.—One of the most important functions of home administration, is the management of domestics. It comprises two things:choiceanddirection. It is well known how important in a household the choice of servants is; as it is they who attend to the marketing and pay the bills, so that the finances of the house are, to some extent, in their hands.[87]But this is but one of the lesser features of the influence of servants in a household; the most serious one is their familiar intercourse with the children; and it is there especially that it becomes necessary to make sure of their fidelity and honesty. Yet to make a careful and successful choice is of no use, if one is ignorant of the art of directing and governing, which consists in a just medium between too much lenity and too much severity. The master of the house should, of course, always have his eyes open, but he should also know that no human being learns to do things well, if he is not allowed to act with some sort of freedom.
Surveillanceandconfidenceare the two principles of a wise domestic government. Without the first, one is apt to be cheated; without the second, one cheats one’s self in deprivingthe servant of the most energetic elements of human will, responsibility and honor.[88]
The master, again, should avoid being violent and brutal toward his servants. He should require of them all that is just, yet without pushing his requirements to the point of persecution. Many persons deprive themselves of good servants, because they cannot patiently bear with the inevitable defects inherent in human nature.
On the other hand, the servant owes his master: 1, an absolute honesty. As it is the servants who do the marketing and pay the bills, they have the funds of the family in their hands. The more one is obliged to trust them the more are they bound to restrain themselves from the slightest act of dishonesty. 2. They owe obedience and exactness in the duties pertaining to their service. 3. They should, as much as possible, attach themselves to the persons whose service they have entered; the longer they stay with them, the more will they be considered as part of the family, and the greater will be their right to the regard and affection due to age and fidelity.
130. Duties of children toward servants.—It is not only the master and mistress of the house that have duties to fulfill toward servants, but the children also. The latter are, in general, too much disposed to treat servants as instruments of their wishes and the playthings of their caprices. Although slavery is no longer allowed, some children, if let alone, would very soon re-establish it for their own benefit. To command, insult, beat, are the not uncommon modes of procedure with children that are left entirely free in their relations with inferiors. The latter, on the other hand, do not hesitate to employ force, in the absence of the masters, and pass readily from slavery to tyranny. All such conduct is reprehensible. The servant should never be allowed to strike; but he should himself not be struck or insulted. In childhood, it is for the parents to oversee the relations between their servants andchildren. Later it is for the children themselves, when they have reached the age of reason, to know that they must not treat servants like brutes. The same observations may be applied to workmen, in circumstances where workmen are in some respect in the service of the family.
Although servants are no longer slaves, nor even serfs, one may still, modifying its meaning, quote Seneca’s admirable protestation against slavery: “They are slaves! rather say they are men! They are slaves! Not any more than thou! He whom thou callest a slave, was born of the same seed as thyself; he enjoys the same sky, breathes the same air, lives and dies the same as thou.” Seneca closes this eloquent apostrophe with a maxim recalling the Gospel: “Live with thy inferiors, as thou wouldst thy superior should live with thee.”
As to the duties of servants to their masters, they belong to the class of professional duties which we shall take up further on (Chap. XIII.).
DUTIES TOWARD ONE’S SELF—DUTIES RELATIVE TO THE BODY.
SUMMARY.
Have we duties toward ourselves?—The person of a man should not only be sacred to others, it also should be so to himself.Even though man ceased to be in any relation with other men (as, for example, in a desert island), he would still have duties to perform.The duty of self-preservation.—Suicide.—Arguments of Rousseau for and against suicide.The different standpoints from which one may condemn suicide: 1, either as contrary to the duties toward men; 2, or to the duties toward God; 3, or, lastly, to the duties toward ourselves.Kant’s fundamental argument against suicide:“Man cannot abdicate his personality as long as he has duties to perform, which is the same as to say, as long as he lives.”Case of conscience.—Not to confound suicide with self-sacrifice.Of voluntary mutilations and of the duty to avoid injuring one’s health. That this duty should be understood in a wide sense, and not as an encouragement to constant preoccupation about the condition of one’s body.Of cleanliness.Other duties concerning the body.—Temperance.—Temperance recommended for two reasons: 1, as necessary to health, and consequently as a corollary to the duty of self-preservation; 2, as necessary to human dignity, which, through intemperance, falls below the brute.Of the moderate use of sensual pleasures. That we should elevate them by attaching to them ideas and sentiments.Other virtues: Decency, modesty, propriety, etc.
Have we duties toward ourselves?—The person of a man should not only be sacred to others, it also should be so to himself.
Even though man ceased to be in any relation with other men (as, for example, in a desert island), he would still have duties to perform.
The duty of self-preservation.—Suicide.—Arguments of Rousseau for and against suicide.
The different standpoints from which one may condemn suicide: 1, either as contrary to the duties toward men; 2, or to the duties toward God; 3, or, lastly, to the duties toward ourselves.
Kant’s fundamental argument against suicide:
“Man cannot abdicate his personality as long as he has duties to perform, which is the same as to say, as long as he lives.”
Case of conscience.—Not to confound suicide with self-sacrifice.
Of voluntary mutilations and of the duty to avoid injuring one’s health. That this duty should be understood in a wide sense, and not as an encouragement to constant preoccupation about the condition of one’s body.
Of cleanliness.
Other duties concerning the body.—Temperance.—Temperance recommended for two reasons: 1, as necessary to health, and consequently as a corollary to the duty of self-preservation; 2, as necessary to human dignity, which, through intemperance, falls below the brute.
Of the moderate use of sensual pleasures. That we should elevate them by attaching to them ideas and sentiments.
Other virtues: Decency, modesty, propriety, etc.
131. Have we duties toward ourselves?—This has beendisputed, and it seems rather strange that it should have been. No one, say the jurists, binds himself to himself; no one does himself injustice, they say again. In short, man belongs to himself: is not that the first of ownerships, and the basis of all the others?
“No,” replies Victor Cousin, “from man’s being free and belonging to himself, it is not to be concluded that he has all power over himself. From the fact alone that he is endowed with both liberty and intelligence, I, on the contrary, conclude that he cannot, without failing in his duty, degrade his liberty any more than he can degrade his intelligence. Liberty is not only sacred to others; it is so in itself.“This obligation imposed on the moral personality to respect itself, it is not I who established it; I cannot, therefore, destroy it. Is the respect I have for myself founded on one of those arbitrary agreements which cease to be when the two parties freely renounce it? Are the two contracting parties here I and myself? No; there is one of the parties that is not I, namely, humanity itself, the moral personality, the human essence which does not belong to me, which is not my property, which I can no more degrade or wound in myself than I can in others. There is not even any agreement here or contract.“Finally, man would still have duties, even though he ceased to be in any relation with other men. As long as he has any intelligence and liberty left, the idea of right remains in him, and with that idea, duty. If he were all at once thrown upon a desert island, duty would still follow him there.”[89]
“No,” replies Victor Cousin, “from man’s being free and belonging to himself, it is not to be concluded that he has all power over himself. From the fact alone that he is endowed with both liberty and intelligence, I, on the contrary, conclude that he cannot, without failing in his duty, degrade his liberty any more than he can degrade his intelligence. Liberty is not only sacred to others; it is so in itself.
“This obligation imposed on the moral personality to respect itself, it is not I who established it; I cannot, therefore, destroy it. Is the respect I have for myself founded on one of those arbitrary agreements which cease to be when the two parties freely renounce it? Are the two contracting parties here I and myself? No; there is one of the parties that is not I, namely, humanity itself, the moral personality, the human essence which does not belong to me, which is not my property, which I can no more degrade or wound in myself than I can in others. There is not even any agreement here or contract.
“Finally, man would still have duties, even though he ceased to be in any relation with other men. As long as he has any intelligence and liberty left, the idea of right remains in him, and with that idea, duty. If he were all at once thrown upon a desert island, duty would still follow him there.”[89]
Kant has likewise defended the existence of the duties of man toward himself.
“Supposing,” he says, “that there were no duties of this kind, there would not be any duties then of any kind; for I can only think myself under obligations to others, so far as I am under obligations to myself.... Thus do people say, when the question is to save a man or his life: I owe this to myself; I owe it to myself to cultivate such dispositions of mind as make of me a fit member of society (Doctrine de la vertu, trad. franç. de Barni, p. 70).”
“Supposing,” he says, “that there were no duties of this kind, there would not be any duties then of any kind; for I can only think myself under obligations to others, so far as I am under obligations to myself.... Thus do people say, when the question is to save a man or his life: I owe this to myself; I owe it to myself to cultivate such dispositions of mind as make of me a fit member of society (Doctrine de la vertu, trad. franç. de Barni, p. 70).”
132. Duties concerning the body.—Duty of self-preservation.—The duties toward one’s self are generally dividedinto two classes: dutiestoward the body, dutiestoward the soul. Kant justly criticised this distinction, and asks how can there be any obligations toward the body—that is to say, toward a mass of matter—which, apart from the soul, is nothing better than any of the rough bodies which surround us. Kant proposes to substitute for this distinction the following: duties of man toward himself as ananimal(that is, united to animality by the corporeal functions), and the duties of man toward himself as amoral being.
Considered as an animal, man is united to a body, and this union of soul and body is what is called life. Hence a first duty which may be considered a fundamental duty, and the basis of all the others, namely, the duty of self-preservation. It is, in fact, obvious that the fulfillment of all our other duties rests on this prior one.
Before being a duty, self-preservation is for man an instinct, and even so energetic and so universal an instinct that there would seem to be very little need to transform it into duty: so much so is it an instinct that man has rather to combat in himself the cowardly tendency which attaches him to life, than that which induces him to seek death. Yet does it happen, and unfortunately too often, that men, crazed by despair, come to believe that they have a right to free themselves of life: this is what is called suicide. It is, therefore, very important in morals to combat this fatal idea, and to teach men that, even though life ceases to be a pleasure, there is still a moral obligation which they cannot escape.
133. Suicide.—J. J. Rousseau and Kant.—The question of suicide was treated with great ability by J. J. Rousseau in one of his most celebrated works. He put into the mouth of two personages, on the one side, the apology for, and on the other, the condemnation of suicide. We will not cite here these two pieces, the eloquence of which is somewhat declamatory, but we will give an abstract of the principal arguments presented on each side in favor of its own position.
Arguments in favor of suicide.—1. It is said that life is not our own because it was given us.—Not so, for, just because it was given us, is it our own. God has given us arms, and yet we allow them to be cut off when necessary.
2. Man, it is said, is a soldier on sentry on earth: he should not leave his post without orders.—So be it; but misfortune is precisely that order which informs me that I have nothing more to do here below.
3. Suicide, it is said again, is rebellion against Providence.—But how? it is not to escape its laws one puts an end to one’s life; it is to execute them the better: in whatever place the soul may be, it will always be under God’s government.
4. “If thy slave attempted to kill himself,” says Socrates to Cebes in thePhædo, “wouldst thou not punish him for trying unjustly to deprive thee of thy property?”—Good Socrates, what sayest thou? Does one no longer belong to God when dead? Thou art quite wrong; thou shouldst have said: “If thou puttest on thy slave a garment which is in his way in the service he owes thee, wouldst thou punish him for laying this garment aside in order the better to serve thee?”
5. It is said that life is never an evil.—Yet has nature implanted in us so great a horror of death that life to certain beings must surely be an evil, since they resolve to renounce it.
6. It is said that suicide is a cowardice.—How many cowards, then, among the ancients! Arria, Eponina, Lucretia, Brutus, Cato! Certainly there is courage in suffering the evils one cannot avoid; but it were insanity to suffer voluntarily those from which one can free himself.
7. There are unquestionably duties that should attach us to life.—But he who is a burden to every one, and of no use to himself, why should he not have a right to quit a place where his complaints are importunate and his sufferings useless?
8. Why should it be allowable to get cured of the gout and not of life? If we consider the will of God, what evil is therefor us to combat, that he has not himself sent us? Are we not permitted, then, to change the nature of any thing because all that is, is as he wished it?
9. “Thou shall not kill,” says the Decalogue.—But if this commandment is to be taken literally, one should kill neither criminals nor enemies.
Next comes the answer of my lord Edward, namely, J. J. Rousseau:
Arguments against suicide.—1. If life has no moral end, one can unquestionably free one’s self from it when it is too painful: if it has one, it is not permitted to set it arbitrary limits.
2. The wish to die does not constitute a right to die; otherwise, a similar wish might justify all crimes.
3. Thou sayest: Life is an evil; but if thou hast the courage to bear it, thou wilt some day say: Life is a good.
4. Physical pain may in extreme cases deprive one of the use of reason and will; but moral pain should be borne bravely.
5. No man is wholly useless; he has always some duties to fulfill.
It has been justly observed, we think, that this second letter is feebler than the first, and that Rousseau displayed more talent in justifying suicide than in combating it; at any rate, the following peroration will always be considered an admirable passage to quote:
“Listen to me, thou foolish youth: thou art dear to me, I pity thy errors. If thou hast at the bottom of thy heart the least feeling of virtue left, come to me, let me teach thee to love life. Every time thou shalt be tempted to put an end to it, say to thyself: ‘Let me do one more good deed before I die!’ Then go and seek some poverty to relieve, some misfortune to console, some oppressed wretch to protect. If this contemplation does not stop thee to-day, it will stop thee to-morrow, or the day after, or perhaps for the rest of thy life. If it does not stop thee, go then and die; for thou art not worthy to live.”
Suicide may be considered from three different standpoints,which are all three involved and blended in the preceding discussion:
1. Suicide is a transgression of our duty toward other men (inasmuch as, however miserable, one can always render some service to others).
2. Suicide is contrary to our duties toward God (inasmuch as man abandons thereby, without being relieved of it, the post intrusted to him in this world).
3. Finally—and this is for us here the essential point—suicide is a violation of the duty of man toward himself; as, all other considerations set aside, he is bound to self-preservation as a moral personality, and has no right whatsoever upon himself.
Kant’s discussion.—Kant is, of all philosophers, the one who most insisted on this latter view of the matter, and developed it with the greatest force.
“It seems absurd,” he says, “that man could do himself injury.” (Volenti non fit injuria.[90]) Thus did the stoic regard it as a prerogative of the sage, to be able, quietly and of his own free will, to step out of this life as he would out of a room full of smoke. But this very courage, this strength of soul which enables us to brave death, revealing to us a something man prizes more than life, should have been to him [the stoic] all the greater incentive not to destroy in himself a being endowed with a faculty so great, so superior to all the most powerful of sensuous motives, and consequently not to deprive himself of life.Man cannot abdicate his personality as long as there are duties for him, consequently as long as he lives; and there is contradiction in granting him the right of freeing himself from all obligation—that is to say, acting as freely as if he had no need of any kind of permission. To annihilate in one’s own person the subject of morality, is to extirpate from the world as much as possible the existence of morality itself; it is disposing of one’s self as of an instrument, for a simply arbitrary end; it is lowering humanity in one’s own person.
“It seems absurd,” he says, “that man could do himself injury.” (Volenti non fit injuria.[90]) Thus did the stoic regard it as a prerogative of the sage, to be able, quietly and of his own free will, to step out of this life as he would out of a room full of smoke. But this very courage, this strength of soul which enables us to brave death, revealing to us a something man prizes more than life, should have been to him [the stoic] all the greater incentive not to destroy in himself a being endowed with a faculty so great, so superior to all the most powerful of sensuous motives, and consequently not to deprive himself of life.
Man cannot abdicate his personality as long as there are duties for him, consequently as long as he lives; and there is contradiction in granting him the right of freeing himself from all obligation—that is to say, acting as freely as if he had no need of any kind of permission. To annihilate in one’s own person the subject of morality, is to extirpate from the world as much as possible the existence of morality itself; it is disposing of one’s self as of an instrument, for a simply arbitrary end; it is lowering humanity in one’s own person.
134. Résumé of the discussion on suicide.—From the above point of view the sophisms of Saint-Preux in J. J. Rousseau are easily controverted. I can cut my arm off, you say; why can I not destroy my body?—But in destroying awithered or mortified arm, I nowise injure the human personality, which remains within me entire; and, on the contrary, I deliver the moral personality within me of a physical trouble which deprives it of its liberty.
I can, you say, avoid pain: no one is obliged to bear a toothache, if he can free himself from it.—Yes, unquestionably; but in finding a remedy for physical pain, instead of wronging the moral personality of man, I free it, on the contrary, of the evils which, in crushing it, tend to debase it. Besides, there are, moreover, pains from which it is not right to free one’s self. For example, it is not right to leave the sickbed of one dear to us because his pains are unbearable.
But life is full of misery, and, in certain cases, the evil is without any compensation.—The question is not whether life is agreeable or painful: it might be a question, if pleasure were the end of life; but if this end is duty, there are no circumstances, however painful, which do not leave room for the possibility of fulfilling a duty.
It is a sophism, they say, to call suicide a cowardice; for it requires a great deal of courage to take one’s life.—No one denies that there is a certain amount of physical courage coupled with taking one’s life; but there is a still greater courage, a moral courage, in braving pain, poverty, slavery. Suicide is therefore a relative cowardice. It matters not, moreover, whether suicide be a brave or a cowardly act; what is certain is, that man cannot destroy within himself the agent subject to the law of duty without implicitly denying this law and all there is within contained.
Finally, it will be said that the moral personality is distinct from the body, and that in destroying the body, one does not injure the personality. But we shall answer, that the only personality of which we can dispose, and of which we have the care, is that which is actually united to our physical body. It is that very personality that has duties to perform; it is that which we cannot sacrifice to a state of things absolutely unknown to us.
As to our duties toward others, there is no one that has absolutely no service to render to his fellow-men; and each of us is always able to render them the greatest of services, namely, to give them the example of virtue, courage, gentleness, and patience. Finally, in respect to God, if we look upon life as a trial, man has no right to free himself of this trial before it is ended; if we look upon it as a punishment, we have no right to cut short its duration as long as nature has not pronounced on it. Can we not, then, it is asked, change any thing in the order of things, since all is disposed by God?—Certainly we can; we can, as we see fit, modify things, but not persons.
God, it is said again, has given us life: we can, then, do with it what we like.—But life is not purely a gift, an absolute gift: it is bound up in the moral personality which is not in our power, and which is not to be considered a thing to traffic with, give away, or destroy.
To admit the legitimacy of suicide, is to admit that man belongs to himself as athingbelongs to its master; it is implicitly to admit the right to traffic with one’s own personality and, according to Kant’s energetic expression, “to treat one’s self as a means and not as an end.”
135. Suicide from a sense of honor.—All suicide, having for its motive the escape from pain (exception being made, of course, of suicides caused by insanity), should be condemned without qualification. But is it the same with suicides instigated by a feeling of honor, either to avoid an outrage one is threatened with, or to escape the shame of an outrage one has suffered?
We should certainly not blame too severely acts that have their source in purity and greatness of soul, and in such matters it is yet better to forgive the excess, than accustom one’s mind, by too cold reasoning, to look upon dishonor with patience or complacency. After all, the love of life speaks enough for itself without its being necessary to give it too much encouragement. Nevertheless, to consider the matterclosely, it is certain that no one is responsible for acts he has not consented to; that, consequently, an act imposed on us by force, cannot inflict real dishonor; that ill-natured interpretations should have no weight with a strong mind, and that conscience is the only judge.
“We should,” says St. Augustin, speaking of Lucretia’s suicide, “resist the temptation of suicide when we have no crime to atone for.... Why should a man who has done no harm to another, do some to himself? Is he justified in killing an innocent man in his own person, to prevent the real criminal from perpetrating his design, and would he criminally cut short his own life for fear it be cut short by another?”[91]
With still greater reason will suicide be condemned in cases where shame, if there is any, can make reparation. Let us, for example, suppose the case of a merchant obliged to suspend payments. This suspension may be caused by overwhelming circumstances, as, for example, unforeseen physical catastrophes, or negligence, imprudence, or even dishonesty on the part of the merchant. In the first case, the merchant is obviously innocent,[92]and, as we have already remarked, it is an outward and not a real shame. Instead of giving way before a misfortune, he should, on the contrary, strive against it and find in himself the means to repair the damage. If, on the contrary, it is through his own fault, through dissipation, laziness, etc., that the trouble was brought about, he is all the more obliged to make honorable amends, and by his courage and energy rehabilitate himself. If, finally, the evil is still graver, if he failed through lack of honor, he owes it to himself to expiatehis fault, for in trying by suicide to escape a merited shame, he only eschews a well-deserved punishment.
Modern conscience refuses even to admire without reserve, the noblest and most generous of suicides, those, namely, occasioned by the grief over a great cause lost: I mean Cato’s suicide. The capital error of this kind of suicides (laying aside the reasons already pointed out), is to think that a cause can be lost. On the one hand, there is never any reason strong enough to persuade any one that what is lost to-day, is definitively lost; and if each of those who belong to that cause should kill himself, he would only contribute his share toward the loss of that cause. Besides, even supposing a cause to be definitively and absolutely lost, the honor of humanity requires none the less that the cause be faithfully and inviolably represented to the end by its adherents: for if they do not serve thereby their own cause, they serve at least that of loyalty, fidelity, and honor, which is the highest of all. Certainly an act as impressive as was Cato’s, shows how far man can carry the devotion to a creed, and such heroism elevates the soul: thus may we admire it as an individual act, but not as an example to be followed. For, although it presents itself to us under a heroic form, it is, after all, nothing but an escape from responsibility.
136. Suicide and sacrifice.—One should not confound with suicide, the voluntary death—that is to say, the death dared and even sought after for the sake of humanity, the family, country, truth. For instance, Eustache de Saint Pierre and his companions, Curtius, d’Assas, voluntarily sought or accepted death when they could have avoided it. Are these suicides? If we carried the matter as far as that, all devotion would have to be suppressed altogether. For the height of devotion is to brave death; and one would have to condemn even the man who exposes himself to a simple peril, since he has no assurance that this peril may not lead him to death. But it is evident that the suicide deserving condemnation is that which has for its source either selfishness, or fear,or a false sense of honor. To carry the subject further would be sacrificing other more important duties, and giving to selfishness itself the appearance and prestige of virtue.
137. Mutilations and mortifications.—Care of one’s health.—One of the obvious consequences of the duty of self-preservation, is to avoid voluntary mutilations. For example, those who mutilate themselves to escape military service, fail first in their duty to their country, and next in their duty to themselves. For, the body being the instrument of the soul, it is forbidden to destroy any part of it without necessity. This is partial suicide.
Must we count among the number of voluntary mutilations, the religious mortifications or macerations by which the devout manifest their piety? If it can be proved that such practices are injurious to health, it is certain that they should be condemned from a moral point of view. But if they are nothing more than self-imposed privations of pleasure, no one can disapprove of them. For man is always permitted to give up this or that pleasure. Thus abstention from animal-flesh which the school of Pythagoras taught its adepts, can not be considered contrary to the duty of self-preservation, as long as it cannot be demonstrated that this diet is unfavorable to health.
Besides, this duty not to injure one’s health, must itself be understood in a large and general sense. Otherwise, taken too strictly, it would become a narrow and selfish preoccupation, unworthy of man. One should select and regularly observe such diet as, from general or personal experience, would seem most suitable to the preservation of health; but, this principle once established, precautions too minute and circumspect lower man in the estimation of others, and, if nothing more, give him a tinge of the ridiculous, which he ought to avoid. One should therefore not take as a model the Italian Cornaro, who had a pair of scales at his meals to weigh his food and drink, although this method, it is said, prolonged his life to a hundred years. The learned Kant himself, although he was very high-minded, carried the rules he had laid down for his healthto extravagant minuteness. For example, in order to spare his chest, he had made it a rule, never to breathe through his mouth when in the street, and, to faithfully observe this rule, he always walked alone, so as not to be obliged to speak. Care carried to such minute details falls into a sort of littleness very unbecoming a being destined for higher thoughts than mere physical self-preservation. One may say of such exaggerated prudence what Rousseau, though most inappropriately, said of medicine: “It prevents illness less than it inspires us with the fear of it; it does not so much ward off death as it gives us beforehand a taste of it; it wears life out instead of prolonging it; and even if it did prolong it, it would still be to the prejudice of the race, since it takes us away from society by the cares it lays upon us, and from our duties by the fear it inspires us with.”[93]
But, if too minute attention to health is not to be recommended, one cannot be too observant, within a reasonable measure, of course, of the obligation to follow a sensible and moderate diet, which is as favorable to the mind as it is to the body. Hygiene, in this respect, forms no inconsiderable part of morals.
To avoid sitting up late; to avoid too long or too rich repasts; to make an even distribution of one’s time; to get up early; to dress moderately warm: are measures recommended by prudence; this, however, does not exclude the liberty of doing away with these rules when more important ones are necessary. The principle consists in not granting the body too much, which is the best means of strengthening it.
The ancients attached a vast importance to the strength and beauty of the body; and for this reason they encouraged gymnastics; these were an essential part of their education. This taste for physical exercise seems to be reviving at the present day; it enters more and more into our public education, and its good results are already felt. Men should, as much as possible, reserve some time and leisure for such exercises; forthey not only impart strength, health, and skill to the body, but they accustom the soul to courage, preparing it by degrees to encounter more serious perils; the same may be said of military exercises.
138. Cleanliness.—Among the virtues belonging to the duty of self-preservation, there is one which a philosopher of the XVIII. century considered the first and the mother of all the others, namely,cleanliness. This is saying much; and it may be thought that Volney, in his moral catechism, exaggerated somewhat this virtue. It is, however, one of very great importance, for its opposite is especially repugnant. Cleanliness, moreover, in addition to the part it plays, as we know, in the preservation of health, is often indicative of other virtues of a higher order. Cleanliness presupposes order, a certain delicacy of habits, a certain dignity; it is really the first condition of civilization; wherever we meet with it, it announces that higher wants than those of mere animality have been or are soon to be felt; wherever it is wanting, we may be certain that civilization is only apparent, and that it has yet many deficiencies to supply.
139. Other duties in regard to the body.—Temperance.—We have just seen that man has no right to destroy his body, or mutilate it, or, in short, uselessly to reduce or enfeeble its power; in a word, he must not voluntarily injure his physical functions: for, in impairing himself as a physical being, he thereby injures his personality, which is the principle of all morality. But there are two things to be distinguished in the functions of the human body: on one side, their utility, and on the other, the pleasure which attends their healthful exercise. The same function may be exercised with more or less pleasure on the side of the senses. Hence a moral problem: What is to be granted to the pleasures of the senses?—Certainly for the proper exercise of their functions a certain sensuous agreeableness is necessary; a good appetite, for instance, is a pleasant seasoning which excites and facilitates digestion. Nevertheless, we all know thatthere is not an exact and continued proportion between the pleasure of the senses and physiological necessity; we know that enjoyment may by far exceed necessity, and that health even often requires a certain limitation in enjoyment.
We know, for example, that the pleasures of the palate may be far more sought after and prolonged than is necessary for the gratification of the appetite. Man needs very little to live on; but he can continue to tickle his palate long after his hunger is satisfied. Thirst, in particular, has given rise to a multitude of refinements invented by human industry, and which are but very distantly related to the principle which has given them birth. Wine and alcoholic drinks, which, used in moderation, may be useful tonics, are stimulants demanding a constant renewal: the more they are indulged in, the more they provoke and captivate the imagination.
From this disproportion and incongruity which exist between the pleasures of the senses and the real wants of the body, arise vices, certain habits, namely, which sacrifice want to pleasure, and the consequence of which is the depravation and ruin of the natural functions. Pleasure, in fact, is, in a certain measure, the auxiliary, and in some sort, the interpreter of nature; but beyond a certain limit, it can only satiate itself at the expense of the legitimate function, and by solidarity, at the expense of all the others. Thus too much eating destroys the digestive functions; stimulating drinks burn the stomach and seriously injure the nervous system. The same, and with still graver consequences, attends upon the pleasures attached to the function of reproduction.