"What, then, is taste but those internal powers,Active and strong, and feelingly aliveTo each fine impulse?"
"What, then, is taste but those internal powers,Active and strong, and feelingly aliveTo each fine impulse?"
Nature of these Definitions.—The definitions now given, it will be perceived, make taste a matter ofsensibility, of merefeeling, a sensation or sense, a passive faculty of being pleased with the beauties of nature and art.
Another Class of Definitions.—Differing from this, others have carefully distinguished between the rational and emotional elements, the power ofdiscriminatingand the power offeeling, and have made taste to consist properly in the former. Of this class is Brown. McDermot also takes the same view. This author, in his critical dissertation on the nature and principles of taste, defines it as thepower of discriminatingthose qualities of sensible and intellectual being, which, from the invisible harmony that exists between them and our nature, excite in us pleasant emotions. The emotion, however, though it may be the parent of taste, he would not regard as a constituent element of it.
Definitions combining both Elements.—The greater number, however, of those who have written on this subject, have combined in their definitions of taste both these elements, the power of perceiving and the power of feeling. So Burke: "That faculty, or those faculties of the mind whichare affected with, or whichform a judgment of, the works of imagination and the elegant arts." Alison: "That faculty of the mind by which weperceiveandenjoywhatever is beautiful or sublime in the works of nature and art."Reid also makes it consist in "the power of discerning and relishing" these objects. Voltaire makes the feeling quite as essential as the perception. Benard, Professor of Philosophy in the College Royal at Rouen, in the excellent article on taste, in the Dictionnaire des Sciences Philosophiques, defines taste as "that faculty of the mind which makes us to discern and feel the beauties of nature, and whatever is excellent in works of art." It is a compound faculty, according to this author, inhabiting at once both worlds, that of sense and that of reason. Beauty reveals itself to us only under sensible forms, the faculty which contemplates the beautiful, therefore, seizes it only in its sensible manifestation. The pure idea, on the other hand, in its abstract nature, addresses not the taste but the understanding; it appears to us, not as the beautiful, but as the true. Taste, then, has to do with sense. Still, says Benard, "the essential element which constitutes it, pertains to the reason; it is, in truth, only one of the forms of this sovereign power, which takes different names according to the objects which it deals with;reason, properly speaking, when it employs itself in the sphere of speculative truth;conscience, when it reveals to us truths moral or practical;taste, when it appreciates the beauty and suitableness of objects in the real world, or of works of art."
These three Classes comprehensive.—Other authorities and definitions, almost without number, might be added, but they fall essentially under the three classes now specified. Which of these views, then, is the correct and true one? is the question now before us. Is taste a matter of feeling, or is it an intellectual discernment, or is it both? Evidently we cannot depend on authority for the decision of this question, since authorities differ. We must examine for ourselves.
Etymology of the Term.—To some extent the word itself may guide us. Borrowed, as are most if not all words expressing mental states and acts, from the sphere of sense,there was doubtless some reason why this word in particular was selected to denote the power of the mind now under consideration. Some close analogy, doubtless, was supposed to exist between the physical state denoted by this word in its primary sense, and the mental faculty to which we refer, so that, in seeking for a term by which to designate that intellectual faculty, none would more readily present itself, as appropriate and suggestive of the mental state intended, than the one in question. This analogy, whatever it be, while it cannot be taken as decisive of the question before us, is still an element not to be overlooked by the psychologist. What, then, is the analogy? How comes this word—taste—to be used, rather than any other, to denote the idea and power now under consideration?
Taste as a Sense.—In the domain of sense, certain objects brought in contact with the appropriate physical organ, affect us as sweet, sour, bitter, etc. This is purely an affection of the sensibility, mere feeling. We say the thingtastesso and so. The power of distinguishing such qualities we call the power or sense of taste. Primarily mere sensation, mere feeling, we transfer the word to denote the power of judging by means of that sensation. There is, in the first instance, an affection of the organ by the object brought in contact with it, of which affection we are cognizant; then follows an intellectual perception or judgment that the object thus affecting us, possesses such and such qualities, is sweet, sour, bitter, salt, etc.. The sensation affords the ground of the judgment. The latter is based upon the former. The sensation, the simple feeling, affords the means of discriminating, judging, distinguishing, and to this latter power or process the word taste, in the physical sense, is more frequently appropriated. We say of such or such a man, his taste is acute, or his taste is impaired, or dull, etc., meaning his power of perceiving and distinguishing the various properties of objects which affect his sense of taste.
Analogy of this to the mental Process called Taste.—It is easy to perceive, now, the analogy between the physical power and process thus described, and the psychological faculty under consideration, to which the name primarily denoting the former has been transferred. Objects in nature and art present themselves to the observation, and awaken pleasure as beautiful, or excite disgust as the opposite. A mere matter of sensibility, of feeling, this. Presently, however, we begin to notice, not the mere feeling of pleasure or aversion, but the character of the object that awakens it, we discriminate, we attribute to the object such and such qualities, take cognizance of it as possessing those qualities. This discriminating power, this judgment of the mind that the object possesses such properties, we call taste. As, in the sphere of sense, the feeling awakened affords the means of judging and distinguishing, as to the qualities of the object, so here. The beautiful awakens sensation—a vivid feeling of pleasure, delight, admiration; deformity awakens the reverse; and this feeling enables us to judge of the object, as regards the property in question, viz., beauty or deformity, whether, and how far, as compared with other objects of the mind, it possesses this quality. In either case—the physical and the psychological—the process begins with sensation or feeling, but passes on at once into the domain of intellect, the sphere of understanding or judgment; and while, in either case, the word taste may, without impropriety, be used to denote the feeling or susceptibility of impression which lies at the foundation of the intellectual process, it is more strictly appropriate to the faculty of discriminating the objects, and the qualities of objects, which awaken in us the given emotions.
So far as the word itself can guide us, then, it would seem to be in the direction now indicated.
Appeal to Consciousness.—Analogy, however, may mislead us. We must not base a doctrine or decide a question in psychology upon the meaning of a single term. Uponobservation and consciousness of what actually passes in our own minds, in view of the beautiful, we must, after all, rely. Let us place ourselves, then, in the presence of the beautiful in nature or art, and observe the various mental phenomena that present themselves to our consciousness.
I stand before a statue of Thorwalsden or Canova. The spell and inspiration of high art are upon me. What passes now in my mind?
The first Element.—First of all, I am conscious of almost instant emotion in view of the object, an emotion of pleasure and delight. No sooner do my eyes rest upon the chiselled form that stands in faultless and wondrous beauty before me, than this emotion awakens. It springs into play, as a fountain springs out of the earth by its own spontaneous energy, or, as the light plays on the mountain tops, and flushes their snowy summits, when the sun rises on the Alps. It is by no volition of mine that this takes place.
A second Element.—Along with the emotion, there is another thing of which, also, I am conscious. Scarcely have my eyes taken in the form and proportions on which they rest with delight, scarcely has the first thrill of emotion, thus awakened, made itself known to the consciousness, when I find myself exclaiming, "How beautiful!" The soul says it; perhaps the lips utter it. If not an oral, it is, at least, a mental affirmation. The mind perceives, at a glance, the presence of beauty, recognizes its divinity, and pays homage at its shrine; not now the blind homage of feeling, merely, but the clear-sighted perception of the intellect, the sure decision of the understanding affirming, with authority 'That which thou perceivest and admirest is beautiful.' This is an act of judgment, based, however, on the previous awakening of the sensibility. I know, because I feel.
A third Element.—In addition to these, there may, or may not be, another phase of mental action. I may begin, presently, to observe, with a more careful eye, the work before me, and form a critical estimate of it, scan its outline,its several parts, its effect as a whole, ascertain its merits, and its defects as a work of art, study its design, its idea, and how well it expresses that idea, and fulfills that design. I seek to know what it is in the piece that pleases me, and why it pleases me. This may, or may not, take place. Whether it shall occur, or not, will depend on the state of the mind at the moment, the circumstances in which it is placed, its previous training and culture, its habits of thought. This, too, is an exercise of judgment, comparing, distinguishing, deciding; a purely intellectual process. It is not so much a new element, as a distinct phase of that last named. It is the mind deciding and affirming now, not merely that the object is beautiful, butin whatandwhyit is so.
Uniformity of Results.—I change now the experiment. I repeat it. I place myself before other works, before works of other artists—works of the painter, the architect, the musician, the poet, the orator. Whatever is beautiful, in art or nature, I observe. I perceive, in all cases, the same results, the occurrence of essentially the same mental phenomena. I conclude that these effects are produced, not fortuitously, but according to the constitution of my nature; that they are not specific instances, but general laws of mental action; in other words, that the mind possesses a susceptibility of being impressed in this manner by such objects, and also a faculty of judging and discriminating as above described. To these two elements, essentially, then, do the mental phenomena occasioned by the presence of the beautiful, reduce themselves.
The Question.—Which, then, of these elements is it that answers to the idea of taste, as used to denote a power of the mind? Is it the susceptibility of emotion in view of the beautiful, the power of feeling; or is it the faculty of judging and discriminating; or is it both combined? Our definitions, as we have seen, include both; the word, itself, may denote either; both are comprised in our analysis of the mental phenomena in view of the beautiful.
Not the first.—Is it the first? I think not. Taste is not mere emotion, nor mere susceptibility of emotion. A child or a savage may be deficient in taste, yet they may be as deeply moved in view of the beautiful, in nature or art, as the man of cultivated mind; nay, their emotion may exceed his. They may regard, with great delight and admiration, what he will view with entire indifference. So far from indicating a high degree of taste, the very susceptibility of emotion, in such cases, may be the sure indication of a want of taste. They are pleased with that which a cultivated and correct taste would condemn. The power of being moved is simply sensibility, and sensibility is not taste, however closely they may be related.
Taste the intellectual Element.—Is taste, then, the power of mental discrimination which enables me to say that such and such things are, or are not, beautiful, and which, in some cases, perhaps, enables me to decide why, or wherein they are so? Does it, in a word, denote theintellectualrather than theemotionalelement of the process? I am inclined to think this the more correct view. Susceptibility of emotion is, doubtless, concerned in the matter. It has to do with taste. It may be even the ground and foundation of its exercise, nay, of its existence. But it is not, itself, taste, and should not be included, therefore, in the definition.
Reason for distinguishing the two.—As we distinguish, in philosophical investigation, between an emotion and the intellectual perception that precedes and gives rise to it, or between the perception and the sensation on which it is founded, so I would distinguishtaste, or the intellectual perception of the beautiful, from thesensationorfeelingawakened in view of the object. The fact that both elements exist, and enter into the series of mental phenomena in view of the beautiful, is no reason why they should both be designated by the same term, or included in the same definition, but, rather, it is a reason why they should be carefully distinguished.
The precise nature of this faculty may be more distinctly perceived, if we consider, more particularly, its relation to thejudgment, and also to thesensibility.
Taste, as related to Judgment.—According to the view now taken, taste is only a modification, or rather a particular direction of that general power of the mind which we calljudgment; it is judgment exercised about the beautiful. It is the office of the judgment to form opinions and beliefs, to inform us of relations, to decide that things are thus and thus, that this is this, and that is that. As employed in different departments of thought, it appears under different forms, and is known under diverse names. As employed about the actual and sensible, we call it understanding; in the sphere of abstract truth it works under the cognomen of reason; in the sphere of practical truth, the thing that is good and right to be done by me, it is known as conscience; in the sphere of the ideal and the beautiful it is taste. In all these departments of mental activity it is exercised, employs itself upon all these subjects, giving us opinion, belief, knowledge, as to them all. The judgment as thus exercised in relation to the beautiful, that is to say, the mind observing, comparing, discriminating, deciding, forming the opinion, or reaching it may be the positive knowledge that this thing is, or is not, beautiful—for this is simply what we mean by judgment in any particular instance—judgment, as thus exercised, is known by the name oftaste. More strictly speaking, it is not so much theexerciseof the judgment in this particular way in given instances, as thefoundationorgroundof that exercise, thediscriminating facultyorpowerof the mind by virtue of which it thus operates.
Judgment does not furnish the Ideas.—Does, then, the judgment, it may be asked, give us originally the ideas of the true, the beautiful, and the good? This we do not affirm. Judgment is not the source of ideas, certainly not of those now mentioned. It does not originate them. Their origin and awakening in the human mind is weshould say, on this wise. The beautiful, the true, the good, exist as simple, absolute, eternal principles. They are in the divine mind. They are in the divine works. In a sense they are independent of Deity. He does not create them. He cannot reverse them or change their nature. He works according to them. They are not created by, but onlymanifested in, what God does. We are created with a nature so formed and endowed as to be capable of recognizing these principles and being impressed by them. The consequence is, that no sooner do we open the eye of reason and intelligence upon that which lies around and passes before us, in the world, than the idea of the true, the beautiful, the morally good, is awakened in the mind. We instinctively perceive and feel their presence in the objects presented to our notice. They are the product of our rational intelligence, brought into contact, through sense, with the world in which we dwell. The idea of beauty or of the right, thus once awakened in the mind, when afterward examples, or, it may be, violations, of these principles occur, the judgment is exercised in deciding that the cases presented do or do not properly fall under the class thus designated; and the judgment thus exercised in respect to the beautiful, we calltaste, in respect to the right,conscience.
Taste as now defined.—As now defined, taste is, as to its principle,the discriminating power of the mind with respect to the beautiful or sublime in nature or art; that certain state, quality, or condition of the mental powers and the mental culture, the result partly of native difference and endowment, partly of education and habit, by virtue of which we are able to judge more or less correctly as to the beauty or deformity, the merit or demerit of whatever presents itself in nature or art as an object of admiration, whether and how far it is in reality beautiful, and of its fitness to awaken in us the emotions that we experience in view thereof. If we are able to observe, compare, discriminate, form opinions and conclusions well and correctly, on thesematters, our taste is good; otherwise bad. Whether it be the one or the other, will depend not entirely on native endowment, not altogether on the degree to which the judgment is cultivated and developed in respect to other matters, but quite as much on the culture and training of the mind with respect to the specific objects of taste, viz., the beauties of nature and art. Men of strong minds, good understanding, and sound judgment in other matters, are not necessarily men of good taste. Like every other faculty of the mind, taste requires cultivation.
Taste and good Taste.—It is necessary to distinguish between taste, and good taste. Many writers use the terms indifferently, as when we say such a one is a man of taste, meaning of good taste, or such a one has no taste whatever, meaning that he is a man of bad taste. Strictly speaking, the savage who rejoices in the disfigurement of his person by tattooing, paint, and feathers, is a man oftaste, as really as the Broadway dandy, or the Parisian exquisite. He has his faculty of judging in such matters, and exercises it—his standard of judging, and comes up to it. He is a man of taste, but not of correct taste. He has his own notions, but they do not agree with ours. He violates all the rules and principles by which well-informed minds are guided in such matters. He shocks our notions of fitness and propriety, excites in us emotions of disgust, or of the ludicrous, and, on the whole, we vote him down as a man of no authority in such matters.
As related to Sensibility.—Thus far we have spoken of taste only as related to the judgment. It is necessary to consider also its relation to thesensibility. Taste and sensibility are very often confounded. They are, in reality, quite distinct. Sensibility, so far as we are at present concerned with it, is the mind'scapability of emotionin view of the beautiful or sublime. Taste is itscapability of judging, in view of the same. Viewed as acts, rather than as states or powers of the mind, sensibility is the feeling awakened inview of a beautiful object; taste is the judgment or opinion formed respecting it. In the case already supposed, I stand before a fine statue or painting. It moves me, attracts me, fills me with delight and admiration. In this, it is not directly and immediately my taste, but my sensibility, that is affected and brought into play. I begin to judge of the object before me as a work of art, to form an opinion respecting its merits and demerits; and, in so doing, my taste is exercised.
The two not always proportional.—Not only are the two principles distinct, but not always do they exist in equal proportion and development in the same mind. Persons of the liveliest sensibility are not always, perhaps not generally, persons of the nicest taste. The child, the uneducated peasant, the negro, are as highly delighted with beautiful forms and beautiful colors as the philosopher, but could not tell you so well why they were moved, or what it was, in the object, that pleased them; neither would they discriminate so well the truly beautiful from that which is not worthy of admiration. If there may be sensibility without taste, so, on the other hand, a high degree of taste is not always accompanied with a corresponding degree of sensibility. The practised connoisseur is not always the man who enjoys the most at sight of a fine picture. The skillful musician has much better taste in music than the child that listens, with mingled wonder and delight, to his playing; but we have only to glance at the countenance of each, to see at once which feels the most.
Sensibility not inconsistent with Taste.—I should not, however, infer from this, that a high degree of sensibility is inconsistent with a high degree of taste. This was Mr. Stewart's opinion. The feeling, he would say, will be likely to interfere with the judgment, in such a case. Doubtless; where the feeling is highly wrought upon and excited, it may, for the time, interfere with the cool and deliberate exercise of the judgment. Yet, nevertheless, if sensibility bewanting, there will not be likely to be much taste. If I feel no pleasure at sight of a beautiful landscape or painting, I shall not be likely to trouble myself much about its comparative merits or defects. It is useless, in such a case, to inquire what pleases me, or why I am pleased, when, in truth, nothing pleases me. There is no motive for the exercise of judgment in such a case, neither is there an opportunity for its action. The very foundation for such an exercise is wanting. A lively sensibility is the basis of a correct taste, the ground on which it must rest, the spring and life of its action. The two are related somewhat as genius and learning which are not always found in equal degree, yet are by no means inconsistent with each other. There may be a high degree of mental strength and activity, without corresponding acquisitions; yet there can hardly be learning without some degree of mental power and activity. There may be sensibility without much taste, but hardly much taste without sensibility. Taste is, in a great measure, acquired, cultivated, an art; sensibility, a native endowment. It may be developed, strengthened, educated, but not acquired. Genius produces, sensibility admires, taste judges or decides. Their action is reciprocal. If taste corrects and restrains the too ready or too extravagant sensibility, the latter, on the other hand, furnishes the ground and data upon which, after all, taste must rely in its decisions.
Cultivation of Taste.—We have investigated, with some care, as was proposed, the nature of that power of the mind which takes cognizance of the beautiful. On the cultivation of this power, a few words must be said in this connection. Taste is an intellectual faculty, a perceptive power, a matter of judgment, and, as such, both admits and requires cultivation. No forms of mental activity depend more on education and exercise, for their full development, than that class to which we give the general name of judgment, and no form of judgment more than that which we call taste. The mind uncultivated, untrained, unused to the nice perceptionof the beautiful, can no more judge correctly, in matters of taste, than the mind unaccustomed to judge of the distance, magnitude, or chemical properties of bodies, can form correct decisions upon these subjects. It must be trained by art, and strengthened by exercise. It must be made familiar with the laws, and conversant with the forms of beauty. It must be taught to observe and study the beautiful, in nature and in art, to discriminate, to compare, to judge. The works in literature and in art which have received the approbation of time, and the honorable verdict of mankind, as well as the objects in nature which have commanded the admiration of the race, must become familiar, not by observation only, but by careful study. Thus may taste be cultivated.
Historical Sketch.
View of Plato.—Among the ancients,Platowas, perhaps, the first to distinguish the idea of the beautiful from other kindred ideas, and to point out its affinity with the true and the good, thus recognizing in it something immutable and eternal. In making the good and the beautiful identical, however, he mistakes the true character and end of art, Previously to Plato, and even by him, art and the beautiful were treated only in connection with ethics and politics' æsthetics, as a distinct department of science, was not known to the ancients.
Of Aristotle.—Aristotlehas not treated of the beautiful but only of dramatic art. Poetry, he thinks, originates in the tendency to imitate, and the desire to know. Tragedy is the imitation ofthe better. Painting should represent, in like manner, notwhat is, but whatought to be. In this sense, may be understood his profound remark, thatpoetry is more true than history.
Plotinus and Augustine.—After Aristotle,PlotinusandAugustinealone, among the ancients, have treated of the beautiful. The work of Augustine is not extant. It isknown that he made beauty consist in unity and fitness of parts, as in music. The treatise of Plotinus is regarded as at once beautiful and profound. Material beauty is, with him, only the expression or reflection of spiritual beauty. The soul alone, the mind, is beautiful, and in loving the beautiful, the soul loves its own image as there expressed. Hence, the soul must, itself, be beautiful, in order to comprehend and feel beauty. The tendency of this theory is to mysticism.
Longinus and Quintilian.—Longinus, and Quintilian, treat of the sublime, only with reference to eloquence and oratory; so, also, Horace, of art, as having to do with poetry.
Bacon.—Among the moderns,Baconrecognizes the fine arts as among the sciences, and poetry as one of the three chief branches of human knowledge, but nowhere, that I am aware, treats of the beautiful, distinctly, as such.
School of Leibnitz.—It was the school ofLeibnitzandWolfin Germany that first made the beautiful a distinct science. Baumgarten, disciple of Wolf, first conceived this idea. Like Plato, however, he makes the beautiful too nearly identical with the good and with morals.
School of Locke.—In England, the school ofLockehave much to say of beauty. Shaftesbury and Hutcheson, while they do not clearly distinguish between the beautiful and the good, adopt the theory of unity in variety, as already explained. Hogarth falls into the same class, his idea of beauty being represented by the waving line. Burke does not distinguish sufficiently between the sublime and the terrible.
French Encyclopedists.—In France, theEncyclopedistscoincide, essentially, with the school of Locke, and treat of the beautiful, chiefly in its moral aspect.
The later Germans.—In Germany, again,Winckelman, an artist, and not a philosopher, seizing the spirit of the Greek art, ascribes, as Plato had done, the idea of beauty toGod, from whom it passes into sensible things, as his manifestations.
In opposition to this ideal and divine aspect,Lessingtakes a more practical view, regarding the beautiful from the stand-point of thereal.HerderandGoethecontribute, also, much to the science of æsthetics. All these do little more than prepare the way forKant, who goes more profoundly into the philosophy of the matter. He makes beauty asubjectiveaffair, a play of the imagination.
Schillermakes it the joint product of the reason and the sensibility, but still asubjectivematter, as Kant.
Schelling and Hegel.—Schellingdevelops the spiritual or ideal theory of beauty.Hegelcarries out this theory and makes a complete science of it, classifies and analyzes the arts. His work is regarded as the first complete discussion of the philosophy of the fine arts. It is characterized by strength, clearness, depth, power of analysis, richness of imagination.
Theory of Jouffroy.—Jouffroy, in France, among the later writers, has treated fully, and in an admirable manner, of the philosophy of the beautiful. His theory is derived from that of Hegel, with some modifications. It is essentially the theory last presented in the discussion of the subject in the preceding section, viz., the expression of the spiritual or invisible element under sensible forms. No writer is more worthy of study than Jouffroy. His work is clear, strong, and of admirable power of analysis.
Cousin.—Among the eclectics,Cousin, in his treatise on the true, the beautiful, and the good, has many just observations, with much beauty and philosophic clearness of expression.
McDermot.—In English, beside the works already referred to, must be noticed the treatise ofMcDermoton Taste, in which the nature and objects of taste are fully and well discussed.
IDEA AND COGNIZANCE OF THE RIGHT.
§ I.—Idea of Right.
The Idea of Right a Conception of the Mind.—Among the conceptions which constitute the furniture of the mind, there is one, which, in many respects, is unlike all others, while, at the same time, it is more important than all others; that is, the notion or idea ofright.
Universally prevalent.—When we direct our attention to any given instance of the voluntary action of any intelligent rational being, we find ourselves not unfrequently pronouncing upon its character as arightorwrongact. Especially is this the case when the act contemplated is of a marked and unusual character. The question at once arises, is it right? Or, it may be, without the consciousness of even a question respecting it, our decision follows instantly upon the mental apprehension of the act itself—this thing is right, that thing is wrong. Our decision may be correct or incorrect; our perception of the real nature of the act may be clear or obscure; it may make a stronger or weaker impression on the mind, according to our mental habits, the tone of our mental nature, and the degree to which we have cultivated the moral faculty. There may be minds so degraded, and natures so perverted, that the moral character of an act shall be quite mistaken, or quite overlooked in many cases; or, when perceived, it shall make little impression on them. Even in such minds, however, theideaof right and wrong still finds a place, and the understanding applies it, though not perhaps always correctly, to particular instances of human conduct. There is no reason to believethat any mind possessing ordinary endowments, that degree of reason and intelligence which nature usually bestows, is destitute of this idea, or fails altogether to apply it to its own acts, and those of others.
The Question and its different Answers.—But here an important question presents itself:Whence comethese ideas and perceptions; their origin? How is it, why is it, that we pronounce an act right or wrong, when once fairly apprehended? How come we by these notions? The fact is admitted; the explanations vary. By one class of writers our ideas of this nature have been ascribed toeducationandfashion; by another, tolegal restriction, human or divine. Others, again, viewing these ideas as the offspring of nature, have assigned them either to the operation of aspecial sense, given for this specific purpose, as the eye for vision; or to the joint action of certain associated emotions; while others regard them as originating in an exercise ofjudgment, and others still, asnatural intuitionsof the mind, or reason exercised on subjects of a moral nature.
Main Question.—The main question is, are these ideasnatural, orartificial and acquired? If the latter, are they the result of education, or of legal restraint? If the former, are they to be referred to thesensibilities, as the result of a special sense or of association, or to theintellect, as the result of the faculty of judgment or as intuitions of reason?
1.Education.—Come they fromEducation and Imitation?—So Locke, Paley, and others, have supposed. Locke was led to take this view, by tracing, as he did, all simple ideas, except those of our own mental operations, to sensation, as their source. This allows, of course, no place for the ideas of right and wrong, which, accordingly, he concluded, cannot be natural ideas, but must be the result of education.
Objection to this View.—Now it is to be conceded that education and fashion are powerful instruments in theculture of the mind. Their influence is not to be overlooked in estimating the causes that shape and direct the opinions of men, and the tendencies of an age. But they do not account for theoriginof any thing. This has been ably and clearly shown by Dugald Stewart, in answer to Locke; and it is a sufficient answer. Education and imitation bothpresupposethe existence of moral ideas and distinctions; the very things to be accounted for. How came they who first taught these distinctions, and they who first set the example of making such distinctions, to be themselves in possession of these ideas? Whence didtheyderive them? Who taughtthem, and setthemthe example? This is a question not answered by the theory now under consideration. It gives us, therefore, and can give us, no account of the origin of the ideas in question.
2.Legal Enactment.—Do we then derive these ideas from legalrestriction and enactment? So teach some able writers. Laws are made, human and divine, requiring us to do thus and thus, and forbidding such and such things, and hence we get our ideas originally of right and wrong.
Presupposes Right.—If this be so, then, previous to all law, there could have been no such ideas, of course. But does not lawpresupposethe idea of right and wrong? Is it not built on that idea as its basis? How, then, can it originate that on which itself depends, and which it presupposes? The first law ever promulgated must have been either a just or an unjust law, or else of no moral character. If the latter, how could a law which was neither just nor unjust, have suggested to the subjects of it any such ideas? If the former, then these qualities, and the ideas of them, must have existedpriorto the law itself; and whoever made the law and conferred on it its character, must have had already, in his own mind, the idea of the right and its opposite. It is evident that we cannot, in this way, accountfor theoriginof the ideas in question. We are no nearer the solution of the problem than before.
In opposition to the views now considered, we must regard the ideas in question, as, directly or indirectly, the work of nature, and the result of our constitution. The question still remains, however, in which of the several ways indicated, does this result take place?
3.Special Sense.—Shall we attribute these ideas to aspecial sense? This is the view taken by Hutcheson and his followers. Ascribing, with Locke, all our simple ideas to sensation, but not content with Locke's theory of moral distinctions as the result of education, he sought to account for them by enlarging the sphere of sensation, and introducing a new sense, whose specific office is to take cognizance of such distinctions. The tendency of this theory is evident. While it derives the idea of right and its opposite from our natural constitution, and is, so far, preferable to either of the preceding theories, still, in assigning them a place among the sensibilities, it seems to make morality a meresentiment, a matter of feeling merely, an impression made on our sentient nature—a mere subjective affair—as color and taste are impressions made on our organs of sense, and not properly qualities of bodies. As these affections of the sense do not exist independently, but only relatively to us, so moral distinctions, according to this view, are merely subjective affections of our minds, and not independent realities.
Hume and the Sophists.—Hume accedes to this general view, and carries it out to its legitimate results, making morality a mere relation between our nature and certain objects, and not an independent quality of actions. Virtue and vice, like color and taste, the bright and the dull, the sweet and the bitter, lie merely in our sensations.
These skeptical views had been advanced long previously by the Sophists, who taught that man is the measure of all things, that things are only what they seem to us.
Ambiguity of the term Sense.—It is true, as Stewart hasobserved, that these views do not necessarily result from Hutcheson's theory, nor were they, probably, held by him; but such is the natural tendency of his doctrine. The termsense, as employed by him, is, in itself, ambiguous, and may be used to denote amental perception; but when we speak ofasense, we are understood to refer to that part of our constitution which, when affected from without, gives us certain sensations. Thus the sense of hearing, the sense of vision, the sense of taste, of smell, etc. It is in this way that Hutcheson seems to have employed the term, and his illustrations all point in this direction. He was unfortunate, to say the least, in his use of terms, and in his illustrations; unfortunate, also, in having such a disciple as Hume, to push his theory to its legitimate results.
If, by a special sense, he meant only a direct perceptive power of the mind, then, doubtless, Hutcheson is right in recognizing such a faculty, and attributing to it the ideas under consideration. But that is not the proper meaning of the wordsense, nor is that the signification attached to it by his followers.
No Evidence of such a Faculty.—But if he means, by sense, what the word itself would indicate, some adaptation of the sensibilities to receive impressions from things without, analogous to that by which we are affected through the organs of sense, then, in the first place, it is not true that we have any such special faculty. There is no evidence of it; nay, facts contradict it. There is no suchuniformityof moral impression or sensation as ought to manifest itself on this supposition. Men's eyes and ears are much alike, in their activity, the world over. That which is white, or red, to one, is not black to another, or green to a third; that which is sweet to one, is not sour, or bitter, to another. At least, if such variations occur, they are the result only of some unnatural and unusual condition of the organs. But it is otherwise with the operation of the so-called special sense. While all men have probably, some idea of rightand wrong, there is the greatest possible variety in its application to particular instances of conduct. What one approves as a virtue, another condemns as a crime.
No Need of it.—Nor, secondly, have we any need to call in the aid of a special sense to give us ideas of this kind. It is not true, as Locke and Hutcheson believed, that all our ideas, except those of our own mental operations, or consciousness, are derived ultimately from sensation. We have ideas of the true and the beautiful, ideas of cause and effect, of geometrical and arithmetical relations, and various other ideas, which it would be difficult to trace to the senses as their source; and which, equally with the ideas of right and wrong, would require, in that case, a special sense for their production.
4.Association.—Shall we, then, adopt the view of that class of ethical writers who account for the origin of these ideas bythe principle of association? Such men as Hartley, Mill, Mackintosh, and others of that stamp, are not lightly to be set aside in the discussion of such a question. Their view is, that the moral perceptions are the result of certain combined antecedent emotions, such as gratitude, pity, resentment, etc., which relate to the dispositions and actions of voluntary agents, and which very easily and naturally come to be transferred, from the agent himself, to the action in itself considered, or to the disposition which prompted it; forming, when thus transferred and associated, what we call the moral feelings and perceptions. Just as avarice arises from the original desire, not of money, but of the things which money can procure—which desire comes, eventually, to be transferred, from the objects themselves, to the means and instrument of procuring them—and, as sympathy arises from the transfer to others of the feelings which, in like circumstances, agitate our own bosoms, so, in like manner, by the principle of association, the feelings which naturally arise in view of the conduct of others, are transferred from the agent to the act, from the enemy or thebenefactor, to the injury or the benefaction, which acts stand afterward, by themselves, as objects of approval or condemnation. Hence the disposition to approve all benevolent acts, and to condemn the opposite; which disposition, thus formed and transferred, is a part of conscience. So of other elementary emotions.
Makes Conscience a mere Sentiment.—It will be perceived that this theory, which is indebted chiefly to Mackintosh for its completeness, and scientific form, makes conscience wholly a matter of sentiment and feeling; standing in this respect, on the same ground with the theory of a special sense, and liable, in part, to the same objections. Hence the namesentimentalschool, often employed to designate, collectively, the adherents of each of these views. While the theory, now proposed, might seem then to offer a plausible account of the manner in which our moralsentimentsarise, it does not account for the origin of ourideasandperceptionsof moral rectitude. Now the moral faculty is not a mere sentiment. There is an intellectual perception of one thing as right, and another as wrong; and the question now before us is, Whence comes that perception, and the idea on which it is based? To resolve the whole matter into certain transferred and associated emotions, is to give up the inherent distinction of right and wrong as qualities of actions, and make virtue and vice creations of the sensibility, the play and product of the excited feelings. To admit the perception and idea of the right, and ascribe their origin to antecedent emotion, is, moreover, to reverse the natural order and law of psychological operation, which bases emotion on perception, and not perception on emotion. We do not first admire, love, hate, and then perceive, but the reverse.
Further Objections.—The view now under consideration, while it seems to resolve the moral faculty into mere feeling, thus making morality wholly a relative affair, makes conscience, itself, an acquired, rather than a natural faculty, asecondary process, a transformation of emotions, rather than itself an original principle. It does it, moreover, the further injustice of deriving its origin from the purelyselfishprinciples of our nature. I receive a favor, or an injury; hence I regard, with certain feelings of complacency, or the opposite, the man who has thus treated me. These feelings I come gradually to transfer to, and associate with, the act in itself considered, and this with other acts of the same nature; and so, at last, I come to have a moral faculty, and pronounce one thing right, and another wrong.
At Variance with Facts.—This view is quite inadmissible; at variance with facts, and the well-known laws of the human mind. The moral faculty is one of the earliest to develop itself. It appears in childhood, manifesting itself, not as an acquired and secondary principle, the result of a complicated process of associated and transferred emotion, requiring time for its gradual formation and growth, but rather as an original instinctive principle of nature.
Sympathy.—Adam Smith, in his "Theory of Moral Sentiments," has proposed a view which falls properly under the general theory of association, and may be regarded as a modification of it. He attributes our moral perceptions to the feeling ofsympathy. To adopt the feelings of another is to approve them. If those feelings are such as would naturally be awakened in us by the same objects, we approve them as morally proper. Sympathy with the gratitude of one who has received a favor, leads us to regard the benefaction as meritorious. Sympathy with the resentment of an injured man, leads us to regard the injurer as worthy of punishment, and so the sense of demerit originates; sympathy with the feelings of others respecting our own conduct gives rise to self-approval and sense of duty. Rules of morality are merely a summary of these sentiments.
This View not sustained by Consciousness.—Whatever credit may be due to this ingenious writer, for calling attention to a principle which had not been sufficiently taken intoaccount by preceding philosophers, we cannot but regard it as an insufficient explanation of the present case. In the first place, we are notconsciousof the element of sympathy in the decisions and perceptions of the moral faculty. We look at a given action of right or wrong, and approve of it, or condemn iton that ground, because itisright or wrong, not because we sympathize with the feelings awakened by the act in the minds of others. If the process now supposed intervened between our knowledge of the act, and our judgment of its morality, we should know it and recognize it as a distinct element.
No imperative Character.—Furthermore, sympathy, like other emotions, has noimperativecharacter, and, even if it might be supposed to suggest to the mind some idea of moral distinctions, cannot of itself furnish a foundation for those feelings ofobligationwhich accompany and characterize the decisions of the moral faculty.
The Standard of Right.—But more than this, the view now taken makes the standard of right and wrongvariable, and dependent on the feelings of men. We must know how others think and feel, how the thing affects them, before we can know whether a given act is right or wrong, to be performed or avoided. And then, furthermore, our feelings must agree with theirs; there must be sympathy and harmony of views and feelings, else the result will not follow. If any thing prevents us from knowing what are the feelings of others with respect to a given course of conduct, or if for any reason we fail to sympathize with those feelings, we can have no conscience in the matter. As those feelings vary, so will our moral perceptions vary. We have no fixed standard. There is no place left for right, as such, and absolutely. If no sympathy, then no duty, no right, no morality.
Result of the preceding Inquiries.—We have, as yet, found no satisfactory explanation of the origin of our moral ideas and perceptions. They seem not to be the result ofeducation and imitation, nor yet of legal enactment. They seem to be natural, rather than artificial and acquired. Yet we cannot trace them to the action of the sensitive part of our nature. They are not the product of a special sense, nor yet of the combined and associated action of certain natural emotions, much less of any one emotion, as sympathy. And yet they are a part of our nature. Place man where you will, surround him with what influences you will, you still find in him, to some extent at least, indications of a moral nature; a nature modified, indeed, by circumstances, but never wholly obliterated. Evidently we must refer the ideas in question, then, to the intellectual, since they do not belong to the sensitive part of our nature.
5.Judgment.—Are they then the product and operation of the faculty of judgment? But the judgment does notoriginateideas. It compares, distributes, estimates, decides to what class and category a thing belongs, but creates nothing. I have in mind the idea of a triangle, a circle, etc. So soon as certain figures are presented to the eye, I refer them at once, by an act of judgment, to the class to which they belong. I affirm that to be a triangle, this, a circle, etc.; the judgment does this. But judgment does not furnish my mind with the primary idea of a circle, etc. It deals with this idea already in the mind. So in our judgment of the beauty and deformity of objects. The perception that a landscape or painting is beautiful, is, in one sense, an act of judgment; but it is an act which presupposes the idea of the beautiful already in the mind that so judges. So also of moral distinctions. Whence comes theideaof right and wrong which lies at the foundation of every particular judgment as to the moral character of actions? This is the question before us, still unanswered; and to this there remains but one reply.
6.These Ideas intuitive.—The ideas in question areintuitive; suggestions or perceptions ofreason. The view now proposed may be thus stated: It is the office of reasonto discern the right and the wrong, as well as the true and the false, the beautiful and the reverse. Regarded subjectively, as conceptions of the human mind, right and wrong, as well as beauty and its opposite, truth and its opposite, are simple ideas, incapable of analysis or definition;intuitions of reason. Regarded as objective, right and wrong are realities, qualities absolute, and inherent in the nature of things, not fictitious, not the play of human fancy or human feeling, not relative merely to the human mind, but independent, essential, universal, absolute. As such, reason recognizes their existence. Judgment decides that such and such actions do possess the one or the other of these qualities; are right or wrong actions. There follows the sense of obligation to do or not to do, and the consciousness of merit or demerit as we comply, or fail to comply, with the same. In view of these perceptions emotions arise, but only as based upon them. The emotions do not, as the sentimental school affirm, originate the idea, the perception; but the idea, the perception, gives rise to the emotion. We are so constituted as to feel certain emotions in view of the moral quality of actions, but the idea and perception of that moral quality mustprecede, and it is the office of reason to produce this.
First Truths.—There are certain simple ideas which must be regarded as first truths, or first principles, of the human understanding, essential to its operations, ideas universal, absolute, necessary. Such are the ideas of personal existence, and identity, of time and space, as conditions of material existence; of number, cause, and mathematical relation. Into this class fall the ideas of the true, the beautiful, the right, and their opposites. The fundamental maxims of reasoning and morals find here their place.
How awakened.—These are, in a sense, intuitive perceptions; not strictly innate, yet connate; the foundation for them being laid in our nature and constitution. So soon as the mind reaches a certain stage of development theypresent themselves. Circumstances may promote or retard their appearance. They depend on opportunity to furnish the occasion of their springing up, yet they are, nevertheless, the natural, spontaneous development of the human soul, as really a part of our nature as are any of our instinctive impulses, or our mental attributes. They are a part of that native intelligence with which we are endowed by the author of our being. These intuitions of ours, are not themselves the foundation of right and wrong; they do not make one thing right and another wrong; but they are simply the reason why we so regard them. Such we believe to be the true account of the origin of our moral perceptions.
§ II.—Cognizance of the Right.
The Cognition distinguished from the Idea of Right.—Having, in the preceding section, discussed theideaof the right, in itself considered, as a conception of the mind, we proceed now to considerthe action of the mind as cognizant of right. The theme is one of no little difficulty, but, at the same time, of highest importance.
Existence of this Power.—After what has been already said, it is hardly necessary to raise the preliminary inquiry, as to theexistenceof a moral faculty in man. That we do possess the power of making moral distinctions, that we do discriminate between the right and the wrong in human conduct, is an obvious fact in the history and psychology of the race. Consciousness, observation, the form of language, the literature of the world, the usages of society, all attest and confirm this truth. We are conscious of the operation of this principle in ourselves, whenever we contemplate our own conduct, or that of others. We find ourselves, involuntarily, and as by instinct, pronouncing this act to be right, that, wrong. We recognize the obligation to do, or to have done, otherwise. We approve, or condemn. We aresustained by the calm sense of that self-approval, or cast down by the fearful strength and bitterness of that remorse. And what we find in ourselves, we observe, also, in others. In like circumstances, they recognize the same distinctions, and exhibit the same emotions. At the story or the sight of some flagrant injustice and wrong, the child and the savage are not less indignant than the philosopher. Nor is this a matter peculiar to one age or people. The languages and the literature of the world indicate, that, at all times, and among all nations, the distinction between right and wrong has been recognized and felt. The το δικαον and το καλον of the Greeks, thehonestumand thepulchrumof the Latins, are specimens of a class of words, to be found in all languages, the proper use and significance of which is to express the distinctions in question.
Since, then, we do unquestionably recognize moral distinctions, it is clear that we have a moral faculty.
Questions which present themselves.—Without further consideration of this point, we pass at once to the investigation of the subject itself. Our inquiries relate principally to thenatureandauthorityof this faculty. On these points, it is hardly necessary to say, great difference of opinion has existed among philosophers and theologians, and grave questions have arisen. Whatisthis faculty as exercised; a judgment, a process of reasoning, or an emotion? Does it belong to the rational or sensitive part of our nature: to the domain of intellect, or of feeling, or both? What is the value and correctness of our moral perceptions, and especially of that verdict ofapprobationorcensure, which we pass upon ourselves and others, according as the conduct conforms to, or violates, recognized obligation? Such are some of the questions which have arisen respecting the nature and authority of conscience.
I.The Nature of Conscience.—What is it? A matter ofintellect, or offeeling; ajudgment, or anemotion?
A careful analysis of the phenomena of conscience, with aview to determine the several elements, or mental processes, that constitute its operation, may aid us in the solution of this question.
Analysis of an Act of Conscience.
Cognition of Right.—Whenever the conduct of intelligent and rational beings is made the subject of contemplation, whether the act thus contemplated be our own or another's, and whether it be an act already performed, or only proposed, we are cognizant of certain ideas awakened in the mind, and of certain impressions made upon it. First of all, the act contemplated strikes us asrightorwrong. This involves a double element, anidea, and aperceptionorjudgment. Theideaof right and its opposite are, in the mind, simple ideas, and, therefore, indefinable. In the act contemplated, werecognizethe one or the other of these simple elements, and pronounce it, accordingly, a right or wrong act. This is simply ajudgment, a perception, an exercise of the understanding.
Of Obligation.—No sooner is this idea, this cognition, of the rightness or wrongness of the given act, fairly entertained by the mind, than another idea, another cognition, presents itself, given along with the former, and inseparable from it, viz., that ofobligationto do, or not to do, the given act: theought, and theought not—also simple ideas, and indefinable. This applies equally to the future and to the past, to ourselves and to others: I ought to do this thing. I ought tohave doneit yesterday. He ought, or ought not to do, or to have done it. This, like the former, is an intellectual act, a perception or cognition of a truth, of a reality for which we have the same voucher as for any other reality or apprehended fact, viz., the reliability of our mental faculties in general, and the correctness of their operation in the specific instance. It is a conviction of the mind inseparable from the perception of right. Given, a clear perception of the one, and we cannot escape the other.
Of Merit and Demerit.—There follows a third element, logically distinct, but chronologically inseparable, from the preceding: the cognition of merit or demerit in connection with the deed, of good or ill desert, and the consequent approval or disapproval of the deed and the doer. No sooner do we perceive an action to be right or wrong, and to involve, therefore, an obligation on the part of the doer, than, there arises, also, in the mind, the idea of merit or demerit, in connection with the doing; we regard the agent as deserving of praise or blame, and in our own minds do approve or condemn him and his course, accordingly. This approval of ourselves and others, according to the apprehended desert of the act and the actor, constitutes a process of trial, an inner tribunal, at whose bar are constantly arraigned the deeds of men, and whose verdict it is no easy matter to set aside. This mental approval may be regarded by some as a matter of feeling, rather than an intellectual act. We speak offeelingsof approval and of condemnation. To approve and condemn, however, are, properly, acts of the judgment. The feelings consequent upon such approval or disapproval are usually of such a nature, and of such strength, as to attract the principal attention of the mind to themselves, and, hence, we naturally come to think and speak of the whole process as a matter of feeling. Strictly viewed, it is an intellectual perception, an exercise of judgment, giving sentence that the contemplated act is, or is not, meritorious, and awarding praise or blame accordingly.
This completes the process. I can discover nothing in the operation of my mind, in view of moral action, which does not resolve itself into some one of these elements.
These Elements intellectual.—Viewed in themselves, these are, strictly, intellectual operations; the recognition of the right, the recognition of obligation, the perception of good or ill desert, are all, properly, acts of the intellect. Each of these cognitive acts, however,involves a corresponding action of the sensibilities. The perception of theright awakens, in the pure and virtuous mind, feelings of pleasure, admiration, love. The idea of obligation becomes, in its turn, through the awakened sensibilities, an impulse and motive to action. The recognition of good or ill desert awakens feelings of esteem and complacency, or the reverse; fills the soul with sweet peace, or stings it with sharp remorse. All these things must be recognized and included by the psychologist among the phenomena of conscience. These emotions, however, are based on, and grow out of, the intellectual acts already named, and are to be viewed as an incidental and subordinate, though by no means unimportant, part of the whole process. When we speak of conscience, or the moral faculty, we speak of apower, a faculty and notmerelya feeling or susceptibility of being affected. It is a cognitive power, having to do with realities, recognizing real distinctions, and not merely a passive play of the sensibilities. It is simply the mind's power of recognizing a certain class of truths and relations. As such, we claim for it a place among the strictly cognitive powers of the mind, among the faculties that have to do with the perception of truth and reality.
Importance of this Position.—This is a point of some importance. If, with certain writers, we make the moral faculty a matter of mere feeling, overlooking the intellectual perceptions on which this feeling is based, we overlook and leave out of the account, the chief elements of the process. The moral faculty is no longer a cognitive power, no longer, in truth, a faculty. The distinctions which it seems to recognize are merelysubjective; impressions, feelings, to which there may, or may not, be a corresponding reality. We have at least no evidence of any such reality. Such a view subtracts the very foundation of morals. Our feelings vary; but right and wrong do not vary with our feelings. They are objective realities, and not subjective phenomena. As such, the mind, by virtue of the natural powers with which it is endowed by the Creator, recognizes them.The power by which it gives this, we call themoral faculty; just as we call its power to take cognizance of another class of truths and relations, viz., the beautiful, itsæstheticfaculty. In view of these truths and relations, as thus perceived, certain feelings are, in either case, awakened, and these emotions may, with propriety, be regarded as pertaining to, and a part of, the phenomena of conscience, and of taste; the full discussion of either of these faculties will include the action of the sensibilities; but in neither case will a true psychology resolve the faculty into the feeling. The mathematician experiences a certain feeling of delight in perceiving the relation of lines and angles, but the power of perceiving that relation, the faculty by which the mind takes cognizance of such truth, is not to be resolved into the feeling that results from it.
Result of Analysis.—As the result of our analysis, we obtain the following elements as involved in, and constituting, an operation of the moral faculty:
(1.) The mental perception that a given act is right or wrong.
(2.) The perception of obligation with respect to the same, as right or wrong.
(3.) The perception of merit or demerit, and the consequent approbation or censure of the agent, as doing the right or the wrong thus perceived.
(4.) Accompanying these intellectual perceptions, and based upon them, certain corresponding emotions, varying in intensity according to the clearness of the mental perceptions, and the purity of the moral nature.
II.Authority of Conscience.—Thus far we have considered thenatureof conscience. The question arises now as to itsauthority—the reliableness of its decisions.
If conscience correctly discerns the right and the wrong and the consequent obligation, it will be likely to judge correctly as to the deserts of the doer. If it mistake these points, it may approve what is not worthy of approval, and condemn what is good.
What Evidence of Correctness.—How are we to know, then, whether conscience judges right? What voucher have we for its correctness? How far is it to be trusted in its perceptions and decisions? Perhaps we are so constituted, it may be said, as invariably to judge that to be right which is wrong, and the reverse, and so to approve where we should condemn. True, we reply, this may be so. It may be that I am so constituted, that two and two shallseemto be four, when in reality they are five; and that the three angles of a triangle shallseemto be equal to two right angles, when in reality they are equal to three. This may be so. Still it is a presumption in favor of the correctness of all our natural perceptions, that they are the operation of original principles of our constitution. It is not probable, to say the least, that we are so constituted by the great Author of our being, as to be habitually deceived. It may be that the organs of vision and hearing are absolutely false; that the things which we see, and hear, and feel, through the medium of the senses, have no correspondence to our supposed perceptions. But this is not a probable supposition. He who denies the validity of the natural faculties, has the burden of proof; and proof is of course impossible; for the simple reason, that, in order to prove them false, you must make use of these very faculties; and if their testimony is not reliable in the one case, certainly it is not in the other. We must then take their veracity for granted; and we have the right to do so. And so of our moral nature. It comes from the Author of our being, and if it is uniformly and originally wrong, then he is wrong. It is an error, which, in the nature of the case, can never be detected or corrected. We cannot get beyond our constitution, back of our natural endowments, to judge,à priori, and from an external position, whether they are correct or not. Right and wrong are not, indeed, the creations of the divine will; but the faculties by which we perceive andapprove the right, and condemn the wrong, are from him; and we must presume upon their general correctness.
Not infallible.—It does not follow from this, however, nor do we affirm, that conscience is infallible, that she never errs. It does not follow that our moral perceptions and judgments are invariably correct, because they spring from our native constitution. This is not so. There is not one of the faculties of the human mind that is not liable to err. Not one of its activities is infallible. The reasoning power sometimes errs; the judgment errs; the memory errs. The moral faculty is on the same footing, in this respect, with any and all other faculties.
Its Value not thus destroyed.—But of what use, it will be said, is a moral faculty, on which, after all, we cannot rely? Of what use, we reply, isanymental faculty, that is not absolutely and universally correct? Of what use is a memory or a judgment, that sometimes errs? We do not wholly distrust these faculties, or cast them aside as worthless. A time-keeper may be of great value, though not absolutely perfect. Its authorship and original construction may be a strong presumption in favor of its general correctness; nevertheless its hands may have been accidentally set to the wrong hour of the day.
Actual Occurrence of such Cases.—This is a spectacle that not unfrequently presents itself in the moral world—a man with his conscience pointing to the wrong hour; a strictly conscientious man, fully and firmly persuaded that he is right, yet by no means agreeing with the general convictions of mankind; an hour or two before, or, it may be, as much behind the age. Such men are the hardest of all mortals to be set right, for the simple reason, that they are conscientious. "Here is my watch; it points to such an hour; and my watch is from the very best maker. I cannot be mistaken." And yet he is mistaken, and egregiously so. The truth is, conscience is no more infallible than any other mental faculty. It is simply, as we have seen, a power ofperceiving and judging, and its operations, like all other perceptions and judgments, are liable to error.
Diversity of Moral Judgment.—And this which we have just said, goes far to account for the great diversity that has long been known to exist in the moral judgments and opinions of men. It has often been urged, and with great force, against the supposed existence of a moral faculty in man, as a part of his original nature, that men think and act so differently with respect to these matters. Nature, it is said, ought to act uniformly; thus eyes and ears do not give essentially conflicting testimony, at different times, and in different countries, with respect to the same objects. Certain colors are universally pleasing, and certain sounds disagreeable. But not so, it is said, with respect to the moral judgments of men. What one approves, another condemns. If these distinctions are universal, absolute, essential; and if the power of perceiving them is inherent in our nature, men ought to agree in their perception of them. Yet you will find nothing approved by one age and people, which is not condemned by some other; nay, the very crimes of one age and nation, are the religious acts of another. If the perception of right and wrong is intuitive, how happens this diversity?
This Diversity accounted for.—To which I reply, the thing has been already accounted for. Our ideas of right and wrong, it was stated, in discussing their origin, depend on circumstances for their time and degree of development. They are not irrespective of opportunity. Education, habits, laws, customs, while they do not originate, still have much to do with the development and modification of these ideas. They may be by these influences aided or retarded in their growth, or even quite misdirected, just as a tree may, by unfavorable influences, be hindered and thwarted in its growth, be made to turn and twist, and put forth abnormal and monstrous developments. Yet nature works there, nevertheless, and in spite of all such obstacles, and unfavorablecircumstances, seeks to put forth, according to her laws, her perfect and finished work. All that we contend is, that nature, under favorable circumstances, develops in the human mind, the idea of moral distinctions, while, at the same time,men may differ much in their estimate of what is right, and what is wrong, according to the circumstances and influences right and wrong to particular cases, and decide as to the morality of given actions, is an office of judgment, and the judgment may err in this, as in any other of its operations. It may be biassed by unfavorable influences, by wrong education, wrong habits, and the like.
Analogy of other Faculties.—The same is true, substantially, of all other natural faculties and their operations. They depend on circumstances for the degree of their development, and the mode of their action. Hence they are liable to great diversity and frequent error. Perception misleads us as to sensible objects, not seldom; even in their mathematical reasonings, men do not always agree. There is the greatest possible diversity among men, as to the retentiveness of the memory, and as to the extent and power of the reasoning faculties. The savage that thinks it no wrong to scalp his enemy, or even to roast and eat him, is utterly unable to count twenty upon his fingers; while the philosopher, who recognizes the duty of loving his neighbor as himself, calculates, with precision, the motions of the heavenly bodies, and predicts their place in the heaven, for ages to come. Shall we conclude, because of this diversity, that these several faculties are not parts of our nature?