1. The chief question in the Psychology of Ethics is whether the Moral Faculty, or Conscience, be a simple or a complex fact of the mind.
Practically, it would seem of little importance in what way the moral faculty originated, except with a view to teach us how it may be best strengthened when it happens to be weak. Still, a very great importance has been attached to the view, that it is simple and innate; the supposition being that a higher authority thereby belongs to it. If it arises from mere education, it depends on the teacher for the time being; if it exists prior to all education, it seems to be the voice of universal nature or of God.
2. In favour of the simple and intuitive character of Moral Sentiment, it is argued:—
First, That our judgments of right and wrong are immediate and instantaneous.
On almost all occasions, we are ready at once to pronounce an action right or wrong. We do not need to deliberate or enquire, or to canvass reasons and considerations for and against, in order to declare a murder, a theft, or a lie to be wrong. We are fully armed with the power of deciding all such questions; we do not hesitate, like a person that has to consult a variety of different faculties or interests. Just as we pronounce at once whether the day is light or dark, hot or cold; whether a weight is light or heavy;—we are able to say whether an action is morally right or the opposite.
3. Secondly, It is a faculty or power belonging to all mankind.
This was expressed by Cicero, in a famous passage, often quoted with approbation, by the supporters of innate moral distinctions. 'There is one true and original law conformable to reason and to nature, diffused over all, invariable, eternal, which calls to duty and deters from injustice, &c.'
4. Thirdly, Moral Sentiment is said to be radically different in its nature from any other fact or phenomenon of the mind.
The peculiar state of discriminating right and wrong, involving approbation and disapprobation, is considered to be entirely unlike any other mental element; and, if so, we are precluded from resolving or analyzing it into simpler modes of feeling, willing, or thinking.
We have many feelings that urge us to act and abstain from acting; but the prompting of conscience has something peculiar to itself, which has been expressed by the terms rightness, authority, supremacy. Other motives,—hunger, curiosity, benevolence, and so on,—have might, this has right.
So, the Intellect has many occasions for putting forth its aptitudes of discriminating, identifying, remembering; but the operation of discerning right and wrong is supposed to be a unique employment of those functions.
5. In reply to these arguments, and in support of the view that the Moral Faculty is complex and derived, the following considerations are urged:—
First, The Immediateness of a judgment, is no proof of its being innate; long practice or familiarity has the same effect.
In proportion as we are habituated to any subject, or any class of operations, our decisions are rapid and independent of deliberation. An expert geometer sees at a glance whether a demonstration is correct. In extempore speech, a person has to perform every moment a series of judgments as to the suitability of words to meaning, to grammar, to taste, to effect upon an audience. An old soldier knows in an instant, without thought or deliberation, whether a position is sufficiently guarded. There is no greater rapidity in the judgments of right and wrong, than in these acquired professional judgments.
Moreover, the decisions of conscience are quick only in the simpler cases. It happens not unfrequently that difficult and protracted deliberations are necessary to a moral judgment.
6. Secondly, The alleged similarity of men's moral judgments in all countries and times holds only to a limited degree.
The very great differences among different nations, as to what constitutes right and wrong, are too numerous, striking, and serious, not to have been often brought forward in Ethical controversy. Robbery and murder are legalized in whole nations. Macaulay's picture of the Highland Chief of former days is not singular in the experience of mankind.
'His own vassals, indeed, were few in number, but he came of the best blood of the Highlands. He kept up a close connexion with his more powerful kinsmen; nor did they like him the less because he was a robber; for he never robbed them; and that robbery, merely as robbery, was a wicked and disgraceful act, had never entered into the mind of any Celtic chief.'
Various answers have been given by the advocates of innate morality to these serious discrepancies.
(1) It is maintained that savage or uncultivated nations are not a fair criterion of mankind generally: that as men become more civilized, they approximate to unity of moral sentiment; and what civilized men agree in, is alone to be taken as the judgment of the race.
Now, this argument would have great weight, in any discussion as to what is good, useful, expedient, or what is in accordance with the cultivated reason or intelligence of mankind; because civilization consists in the exercise of men's intellectual faculties to improve their condition. But in a controversy as to what is given us by nature,—what we possess independently of intelligent search and experience,—the appeal to civilization does not apply. What civilized men agree upon among themselves, as opposed to savages, is likely to be the reverse of a natural instinct; in other words, something suggested by reason and experience.
In the next place, counting only civilized races, that is, including the chief European, American, and Asiatic peoples of the present day, and the Greeks and Romans of the ancient world, we still find disparities on what are deemed by us fundamental points of moral right and wrong. Polygamy is regarded as right in Turkey, India, and China, and as wrong in England. Marriages that we pronounce incestuous were legitimate in ancient times. The views entertained by Plato and Aristotle as to the intercourse of the sexes are now looked upon with abhorrence.
(2) It has been replied that, although men differ greatly in what they consider right and wrong, they all agree in possessingsome notionof right and wrong. No people are entirely devoid of moral judgments.
But this is to surrender the only position of any real importance. The simple and underived character of the moral faculty is maintained because of the superior authority attached to what is natural, as opposed to what is merely conventional. But if nothing be natural but the mere fact of right and wrong, while all the details, which alone have any value, are settled by convention and custom, we are as much at sea on one system as on the other.
(3) It is fully admitted, being, indeed, impossible to deny, that education must concur with natural impulses in making up the moral sentiment. No human being, abandoned entirely to native promptings, is ever found to manifest a sense of right and wrong. As a general rule, the strength of the conscience depends on the care bestowed on its cultivation. Although we have had to recognize primitive distinctions among men as to the readiness to take on moral training, still, the better the training, the stronger will be the conscientious determinations.
But this admission has the effect of reducing the part performed by nature to a small and uncertain amount. Even if there were native preferences, they might be completely overborne and reversed by an assiduous education. The difference made by inculcation is so great, that it practically amounts to everything. A voice so feeble as to be overpowered by foreign elements would do no credit to nature.
7. Thirdly, Moral right and wrong is not so much a simple, indivisible property, as an extensive Code of regulations, which cannot even be understood without a certain maturity of the intelligence.
If is not possible to sum up the whole field of moral right and wrong, so as to bring it within the scope of a single limited perception, like the perception of resistance, or of colour. In regard to some of the alleged intuitions at the foundation of our knowledge, as for example time and space, there is a comparative simplicity and unity, rendering their innate origin less disputable. No such simplicity can be assigned in the region of duty.
After the subject of morals has been studied in the detail, it has, indeed, been found practicable to comprise the whole, by a kind of generalization, in one comprehensive recognition of regard to our fellows. But, in the first place, this is far from a primitive or an intuitive suggestion of the mind. It came at a late stage of human history, and is even regarded as a part of Revelation. In the second place, this high generality must be accompanied with detailed applications to particular cases and circumstances. Life is full of conflicting demands, and there must be special rules to adjust these various demands. We have to be told that country is greater than family; that temporary interests are to succumb to more enduring, and so on.
Supposing the Love of our Neighbour to unfold in detail, as it expresses in sum, the whole of morality, this is only another name for our Sympathetic, Benevolent, or Disinterested regards, into which therefore Conscience would be resolved, as it was by Hume.
But Morals is properly considered as a wide-ranging science, having a variety of heads full of difficulty, and demanding minute consideration. The subject of Justice, has nothing simple but the abstract statement—giving each one their due; before that can be applied, we must ascertain what is each person's due, which introduces complex questions of relative merit, far transcending the sphere of intuition.
If any part of Morals had the simplicity of an instinct, it would be regard to Truth. The difference between truth and falsehood might almost be regarded as a primitive susceptibility, like the difference between light and dark, between resistance and non-resistance. That each person should say what is, instead of what is not, may well seem a primitive and natural impulse. In circumstances of perfect indifference, this would be the obvious and usual course of conduct; being, like the straight line, the shortest distance between two points. Let a motive arise, however, in favour of the lie, and there is nothing to insure the truth. Reference must be made to other parts of the mind, from which counter-motives may be furnished; and the intuition in favour of Truth, not being able to support itself, has to repose on the general foundation of all virtue, the instituted recognition of the claims of others.
8. Fourthly, Intuition is incapable of settling the debated questions of Practical Morality.
If we recall some of the great questions of practical life that have divided the opinions of mankind, we shall find that mere Intuition is helpless to decide them.
The toleration of heretical opinions has been a greatly contested point. Our feelings are arrayed on both sides; and there is no prompting of nature to arbitrate between the opposing impulses. If the advance of civilization has tended to liberty, it has been owing partly to greater enlightenment, and partly to the successful struggles of dissent in the war with established opinion.
The questions relating to marriage are wholly undecideable by intuition. The natural impulses are for unlimited co-habitation. The degree of restraint to be put upon this tendency is not indicated by any sentiment that can be discovered in the mind. The case is very peculiar. In thefts and murder, the immediate consequences are injury to some one; in sexual indulgence, the immediate result is agreeable to all concerned. The evils are traceable only in remote consequences, which intuition can know nothing of. It is not to be wondered, therefore, that nations, even highly civilized, have differed widely in their marriage institutions; agreeing only in the propriety of adopting and enforcingsomeregulations. So essentially has this matter been bound up with the moral code of every society, that a proposed criterion of morality unable to grapple with it, would be discarded as worthless. Yet there is no intuitive sentiment that can be of any avail in the question of marriage with a deceased wife's sister.
9. Fifthly, It is practicable to analyze or resolve the Moral Faculty; and, in so doing, to explain, both its peculiar property, and the similarity of moral judgments so far as existing among men.
We begin, by estimating the operation of (1) Prudence. (2) Sympathy, and (3) the Emotions generally.
The inducements to perform a moral act, as, for example, the fulfilling of a bargain,—are plainly seen to be of various kinds.
(1) Prudence, or Self-interest, has obviously much to do with the moral conduct. Postponing for the present the consideration of Punishment, which is one mode of appeal to the prudential regards, we can trace the workings of self-interest on many occasions wherein men act right. To fulfil a bargain is, in the great majority of cases, for the advantage of the agent; if he fails to perform his part, others may do the same to him.
Our self-interest may look still farther. We may readily discover that if we set an example of injustice, it may be taken up and repeated to such a degree that we can count upon nothing; social security comes to an end, and individual existence, even if possible, would cease to be desirable.
A yet higher view of self-interest informs us, that by performing all our obligations to our fellows, we not only attain reciprocal performance, but generate mutual affections and sympathies, which greatly augment the happiness of life.
(2) Sympathy, or Fellow-feeling, the source of our disinterested actions, must next be taken into the account. It is a consequence of our sympathetic endowment that we revolt from inflicting pain on another, and even forego a certain satisfaction to self rather than be the occasion of suffering to a fellow creature. Moved thus, we perform many obligations on the ground of the misery (not our own) accruing from their neglect.
A considerable portion of human virtue springs directly from this source. If purely disinterested tendencies were withdrawn from the breast, the whole existence of humanity would be changed. Society might not be impossible; there are races where mutual sympathy barely exists: but the fulfilment of obligations, if always dependent on a sense of self-interest, would fail where that was not apparent. On the other hand, if we were on all occasions touched with the unhappiness to others immediately and remotely springing from our conduct—if sympathy were perfect and unfailing—we could hardly ever omit doing what was right.
(3) Our several Emotions or Passions may co-operate with Prudence and with Sympathy in a way to make both the one and the other more efficacious.
Prudence, in the shape of aversion to pain, is rendered more acute when the pain is accompanied with Fear. The perturbation of fear rises up as a deterring motive when dangers loom in the distance. One powerful check to the commission of injury is the retaliation of the sufferer, which is a danger of the vague and illimitable kind, calculated to create alarm.
Anger, or Resentment, also enters, in various ways, into our moral impulses. In one shape it has just been noticed. In concurrence with Self-interest and Sympathy, it heightens the feeling of reprobation against wrong-doers.
The Tender Emotion, and the Affections, uphold us in the performance of our duties to others, being an additional safeguard against injury to the objects of the feelings. It has already been shown how these emotions, while tending to coalesce with Sympathy proper, are yet distinguished from it.
The AEsthetic Emotions have important bearings upon Ethical Sentiment. As a whole, they are favourable to human virtue, being non-exclusive pleasures. They, however, give a bias to the formation of moral rules, and pervert the proper test of right and wrong in a manner to be afterwards explained.
10. Although Prudence and Sympathy, and the various Emotions named, are powerful inducements to what is right in action, and although, without these, right would not prevail among mankind, yet they do not stamp thepeculiar attributeof Rightness. For this, we must refer to the institution of Government, or Authority.
Although the force of these various motives on the side of right is all-powerful and essential, so much so, that without them morality would be impossible, they do not, of themselves, impart the character of a moral act. We do not always feel that, because we have neglected our interest or violated our sympathies, we have on that account done wrong. The criterion of rightness in particular cases is something different.
The reasons are apparent. For although prudence, as regards self, and sympathy or fellow-feeling, as regards others, would comprehend all the interests of mankind—everything that morality can desire to accomplish—nevertheless, the acting out of these impulses by each individual at random would not suffice for the exigencies of human life. They must be regulated, directed, reconciled by society at large; each person must be made to work upon the same plan as every other person. This leads to the institution of Government and Authority, with the correlatives of Law, Obligation, and Punishment. Our natural impulses for good are now directed into an artificial channel, and it is no longer optional whether they shall fall into that channel. The nature of the case requires all to conform alike to the general arrangements, and whoever is not sufficiently urged by the natural motives, is brought under the spur of a new kind of prudential motive—Punishment.
Government, Authority, Law, Obligation, Punishment, are all implicated in the same great Institution of Society, to which Morality owes its chief foundation, and the Moral Sentiment its special attribute. Morality is not Prudence, nor Benevolence, in their primitive or spontaneous manifestations; it is the systematic codification of prudential and benevolent actions, rendered obligatory by what is termed penalties or Punishment; an entirely distinct motive, artificially framed by human society, but made so familiar to every member of society as to be a second nature. None are allowed to be prudential or sympathizing in their own way. Parents are compelled to nourish their own children; servants to obey their own masters, to the neglect of other regards; all citizens have to abide by the awards of authority; bargains are to be fulfilled according to a prescribed form and letter; truth is to be spoken on certain definite occasions, and not on others. In a formed society, the very best impulses of nature fail to guide the citizen's actions. No doubt there ought to be a general coincidence between what Prudence and Sympathy would dictate, and what Law dictates; but the precise adjustment is a matter ofinstitution. A moral act is not merely an act tending to reconcile the good of the agent with the good of the whole society; it is an act, prescribed by the social authority, and rendered obligatory upon every citizen. Its morality is constituted by its authoritative prescription, and not by its fulfilling the primary ends of the social institution. A bad law is still a law; an ill-judged moral precept is still a moral precept, felt as such by every loyal citizen.
11. It may be proved, by such evidence as the case admits of, that the peculiarity of the Moral Sentiment, or Conscience, is identified with our education under government, or Authority.
Conscience is described by such terms as moral approbation and disapprobation; and involves, when highly developed, a peculiar and unmistakeable revulsion of mind at what is wrong, and a strong resentment towards the wrong-doer, which become Remorse, in the case of self.
It is capable of being proved, that there is nothing natural or primitive in these feelings, except in so far as the case happens to concur with the dictates of Self-interest, or Sympathy, aided by the Emotions formerly specified. Any action that is hostile to our interest, excites a form of disapprobation, such as belongs to wounded self-interest; and any action that puts another to pain may so affect our natural sympathy as to be disapproved, and resented on that ground. These natural or inborn feelings are always liable to coincide with moral right and wrong, although they are not its criterion or measure in the mind of each individual. But in those cases where an unusually strong feeling of moral disapprobation is awakened, there is apt to be a concurrence of the primitive motives of self, and of fellow-feeling; and it is the ideal of good law, and good morality to coincide with a certain well-proportioned adjustment of the Prudential and the Sympathetic regards of the individual.
The requisite allowance being made for the natural impulses, we must now adduce the facts, showing that the characteristic of the Moral Sense is an education under Law, or Authority, through the instrumentality of Punishment.
(1) It is a fact that human beings living in society are placed under discipline, accompanied by punishment. Certain actions are forbidden, and the doers of them are subjected to some painful infliction; which is increased in severity if they are persisted in. Now, what would be the natural consequence of such a system, under the known laws of feeling, will, and intellect? Would not an action that always brings down punishment be associated with the pain and the dread of punishment? Such an association is inevitably formed, and becomes at least a part, and a very important part, of the sense of duty; nay, it would of itself, after a certain amount of repetition, be adequate to restrain for ever the performance of the action, thus attaining the end of morality.
There may be various ways of evoking and forming the moral sentiment, but the one way most commonly trusted to, and never altogether dispensed with, is the associating of pain, that is, punishment, with the actions that are disallowed. Punishment is held out as the consequence of performing certain actions; every individual is made to taste of it; its infliction is one of the most familiar occurrences of every-day life. Consequently, whatever else may be present in the moral sentiment, this fact of the connexion of pain with forbidden actions must enter into it with an overpowering prominence. Any natural or primitive impulse in the direction of duty must be very marked and apparent, in order to divide with this communicated bias the direction of our conduct. It is for the supporters of innate distinctions to point out any concurring impetus (apart from the Prudential and Sympathetic regards) sufficiently important to cast these powerful associations into a secondary or subordinate position.
By a familiar effect of Contiguous Association, the dread of punishment clothes the forbidden act with a feeling of aversion, which in the end persists of its own accord, and without reference to the punishment. Actions that have long been connected in the mind with pains and penalties, come to be contemplated with adisinterestedrepugnance; they seem to give pain on their own account. This is a parallel, from the side of pain, of the acquired attachment to money. Now, when, by such transference, a self-subsisting sentiment of aversion has been created, the conscience seems to be detached from all external sanctions, and to possess an isolated footing in the mind. It has passed through the stage of reference to authority, and has become a law to itself. But no conscience ever arrives at the independent standing, without first existing in the reflected and dependent stage.
We must never omit from the composition of the Conscience the primary impulses of Self-Interest and Sympathy, which in minds strongly alive to one or other, always count for a powerful element in human conduct, although for reasons already stated, not the strictly moral element, so far as the individual is concerned. They are adopted, more or less, by the authority imposing the moral code; and when the two sources coincide, the stream is all the stronger.
(2) Where moral training is omitted or greatly neglected, there is an absence of security for virtuous conduct.
In no civilized community is moral discipline entirely wanting. Although children may be neglected by their parents, they come at last under the discipline of the law and the public. They cannot be exempted from the associations of punishment with wrong. But when these associations have not been early and sedulously formed, in the family, in the school, and in the workshop, the moral sentiment is left in a feeble condition. There still remain the force of the law and of public opinion, the examples of public punishment, and the reprobation of guilt. Every member of the community must witness daily the degraded condition of the viciously disposed, and the prosperity following on respect for the law. No human being escapes from thus contracting moral impressions to a very large amount.
(3) Whenever an action is associated with Disapprobation and Punishment, there grows up, in reference to it, a state of mind undistinguishable from Moral Sentiment.
There are many instances where individuals are enjoined to a course of conduct wholly indifferent with regard to universal morality, as in the regulations of societies formed for special purposes. Each member of the society has to conform to these regulations, under pain of forfeiting all the benefits of the society, and of perhaps incurring positive evils. The code of honour among gentlemen is an example of these artificial impositions. It is not to be supposed that there should be an innate sentiment to perform actions having nothing to do-with moral right and wrong; yet the disapprobation and the remorse following on a breach of the code of honour, will often be greater than what follows a breach of the moral law. The constant habit of regarding with dread the consequences of violating any of the rules, simulates a moral sentiment, on a subject unconnected with morality properly so called.
The arbitrary ceremonial customs of nations, with reference to such points as ablutions, clothing, eating and abstinence from meats,—when rendered obligatory by the force of penalties, occupy exactly the same place in the mind as the principles of moral right and wrong. The same form of dread attaches to the consequences of neglect; the same remorse is felt by the individual offender. The exposure of the naked person is as much abhorred as telling a lie. The Turkish woman exposing her face, is no less conscience-smitten than if she murdered her child. There is no act, however trivial, that cannot be raised to the position of a moral act, by the imperative of society.
Still more striking is the growth of a moral sentiment in connexion with such usages as the Hindoo suttee. It is known that the Hindoo widow, if prevented from burning herself with her husband's corpse, often feels all the pangs of remorse, and leads a life of misery and self-humiliation. The habitual inculcation of this duty by society, the penalty of disgrace attached to its omission, operate to implant a sentiment in every respect analogous to the strongest moral sentiment.
The first important name in Ancient Ethical Philosophy is SOKRATES. [469-399 B.C.]
For the views of Sokrates, as well as his method,[4] we have first the MEMORABILIA of XENOPHON, and next such of the Platonic Compositions, as are judged, by comparison with the Memorabilia, to keep closest to the real Sokrates. Of these, the chief are the APOLOGY OF SOKRATES, the KRITON and the PHAEDON.
The 'Memorabilia' was composed by Xenophon, expressly to vindicate Sokrates against the accusations and unfavourable opinions that led to his execution. The 'Apology' is Plato's account of his method, and also sets forth his moral attitude. The 'Kriton' describes a conversation between him and his friend Kriton, in prison, two days before his death, wherein, in reply to the entreaties of his friends generally that he should make his escape from prison, he declares his determination to abide by the laws of the Athenian State. Inasmuch as, in the Apology, he had seemed to set his private convictions above the public authority, he here presents another side of his character. The 'Phaedon' contains the conversation on 'the Immortality of the Soul' just before his execution.
The Ethical bearings of the Philosophical method, the Doctrines, and the Life of Sokrates. are these:—
The direction he gave to philosophical enquiry, was expressed in the saying that he brought 'Philosophy down from Heaven to Earth.' His subjects were Man and Society. He entered a protest against the enquiries of the early philosophers as to the constitution of the Kosmos, the nature of the Heavenly Bodies, the theory of Winds and Storms. He called these Divine things; and in a great degree useless, if understood. The Human relations of life, the varieties of conduct of men towards each other in all capacities, were alone within the compass of knowledge, and capable of yielding fruit. In short, his turn of mind was thoroughlypractical, we might sayutilitarian.
I.—He gave a foundation and a shape to Ethical Science, by insisting on its practical character, and by showing that, like the other arts of life, it had an End, and a Theory from which flows the precepts or means. The End, which would be the STANDARD, was not stated by him, and hardly even by Plato, otherwise than in general language; the Summum Bonum had not as yet become a matter of close debate. 'The art of dealing with human beings,' 'the art of behaving in society,' 'the science of human happiness,' were various modes of expressing the final end of conduct.[5] Sokrates clearly indicated the difference between an unscientific and a scientific art; the one is an incommunicable knack or dexterity, the other is founded on theoretical principles.
II.—Notwithstanding his professing ignorance of what virtue is, Sokrates had a definite doctrine with reference to Ethics, which we may call his PSYCHOLOGY of the subject. This was the doctrine that resolves Virtue into Knowledge, Vice into Ignorance or Folly. 'To do right was the only way to impart happiness, or the least degree of unhappiness compatible with any given situation: now, this was precisely what every one wished for and aimed at—only that many persons, from ignorance, took the wrong road; and no man was wise enough always to take the right. But as no man was willingly his own enemy, so no man ever did wrong willingly; it was because he was not fully or correctly informed of the consequences of his own actions; so that the proper remedy to apply, was enlarged teaching of consequences and improved judgment. To make him willing to be taught, the only condition required was to make him conscious of his own ignorance; the want of which consciousness was the real cause both of indocility and of vice' (Grote). This doctrine grew out of his favourite analogy between social duty and a profession or trade. When the artizan goes wrong, it is usually from pure ignorance or incapacity; he is willing to do good work if he is able.
III.—The SUMMUM BONUM with Sokrates was Well-doing. He had no ideal of pursuit for man apart from virtue, or what he esteemed virtue—the noble and the praiseworthy. This was the elevated point of view maintained alike by him and by Plato, and common to them with the ideal of modern ages.
Well-doing consisted in doing well whatever a man undertook. 'The best man,' he said, 'and the most beloved by the gods, is he that, as a husbandman, performs well the duties of husbandry; as a surgeon, the duties of the medical art; in political life, his duty towards the commonwealth. The man that does nothing well is neither useful nor agreeable to the gods.' And as knowledge is essential to all undertakings, knowledge is the one thing needful. This exclusive regard to knowledge was his one-sidedness as a moral theorist; but he did not consistently exclude all reference to the voluntary control of appetite and passion.
IV.—He inculcated Practical Precepts of a self-denying kind, intended to curb the excesses of human desire and ambition. He urged the pleasures of self-improvement and of duty against indulgences, honours, and worldly advancement. In the 'Apology,' he states it as the second aim of his life (after imparting the shock of conscious ignorance) to reproach men for pursuing wealth and glory more than wisdom and virtue. In 'Kriton,' he lays it down that we are never to act wrongly or unjustly, although others are unjust to us. And, in his own life, he furnished an illustrious example of his teaching. The same lofty strain was taken up by Plato, and repeated in most of the subsequent Ethical schools.
V.—His Ethical Theory extended itself to Government, where he applied his analogy of the special arts. The legitimate King was he that knew how to govern well.
VI.—The connexion in the mind of Sokrates between Ethics and Theology was very slender.
In the first place, his distinction of Divine and Human things, was an exclusion of the arbitrary will of the gods from human affairs, or from those things that constituted the ethical end.
But in the next place, he always preserved a pious and reverential tone of mind; and considered that, after patient study, men should still consult the oracles, by which the gods, in cases of difficulty, graciously signified their intentions, and their beneficent care of the race. Then, the practice of well-doing was prompted by reference to the satisfaction of the gods. In so far as the gods administered the world in a right spirit, they would show favour to the virtuous.
The Ethical Doctrines of Plato are scattered through his various Dialogues; and incorporated with his philosophical method, with his theory of Ideas, and with his theories of man and of society.
From Sokrates, Plato derived Dialectics, or the method of Debate; he embodied all his views in imaginary conversations, or Dialogues, suggested by, and resembling the real conversations of Sokrates. And farther, in imitation of his master, he carried on his search after truth under the guise of ascertaining the exact meaning or definition of leading terms; as Virtue, Courage, Holiness, Temperance, Justice, Law, Beauty, Knowledge, Rhetoric, &c.
We shall first pass in review the chief Dialogues containing Ethical doctrines.
The APOLOGY, KRITON, and EUTHYPHRON (we follow Mr. Grote's order) may be passed by as belonging more to his master than to himself; moreover, everything contained in them will be found recurring in other dialogues.
The ALKIBIADES I. is a good specimen of the Sokratic manner. It brings out the loose discordant notions ofJustandUnjustprevailing in the community; sets forth that the Just is also honourable, good, and expedient—the cause of happiness to the just man; urges the importance of Self-knowledge; and maintains that the conditions of happiness are not wealth and power, but Justice and Temperance.
ALKIBIADES II. brings out a Platonic position as to theGood. There are a number of things that are good, as health, money, family, but there is farther required the skill to apply these in proper measure to the supreme end of life. All knowledge is not valuable; there may be cases where ignorance is better. What we are principally interested in knowing is the Good, the Best, the Profitable. The man of much learning, without this, is like a vessel tossed on the sea without a pilot.[6]
In HIPPIAS MINOR, appears an extreme statement of the doctrine, common to Sokrates and Plato, identifying virtue with knowledge, or giving exclusive attention to the intellectual element of conduct. It is urged that a mendacious person, able to tell the truth if he chooses, is better than one unable to tell it, although wishing to do so; the knowledge is of greater worth than the good disposition.
In MINOS (or the Definition ofLaw) he refuses to accept the decree of the state as a law, but postulates the decision of some Ideal wise man. This is a following out of the Sokratic analogy of the professions, to a purely ideal demand; the wise man is never producible. In many dialogues (Kriton, Laches, &c.) the decision of some Expert is sought, as a physician is consulted in disease; but the Moral expert is unknown to any actual community.
In LACHES, the question 'what is Virtue?' is put; it is argued under the special virtue ofCourage. In a truly Sokratic dialogue, Sokrates is in search of a definition of Courage; as happens in the search dialogues, there is no definite result, but the drift of the discussion is to make courage a mode of intelligence, and to resolve it into the grand desideratum of the knowledge of good and evil—belonging to the One Wise Man.
CHARMIDES discussesTemperance. As usual with Plato in discussing the virtues, with a view to their Logical definition, he presupposes that this is something beneficial and good. Various definitions are given of Temperance; and all are rejected; but the dialogue falls into the same track as the Laches, in putting forward the supreme science of good and evil. It is a happy example of the Sokratic manner and purpose, of exposing the conceit of knowledge, the fancy that people understand the meaning of the general terms habitually employed.
LYSIS onFriendship, or Love, might be expected to furnish some ethical openings, but it is rather a piece of dialectic, without result, farther than to impart the consciousness of ignorance. If it suggests anything positive, it is the Idea of Good, as the ultimate end of affection. The subject is one of special interest in ancient Ethics, as being one of the aspects of Benevolent sentiment in the Pagan world. In Aristotle we first find a definite handling of it.
MENON may be considered as pre-eminently ethical in its design. It is expressly devoted to the question—Is Virtueteachable? Sokrates as usual confesses that he does not know what virtue is. He will not accept a catalogue of the admitted virtues as a definition of virtue, and presses for some common, or defining attribute. He advances on his own side his usual doctrine that virtue is Knowledge, or a mode of Knowledge, and that it is good and profitable; which is merely an iteration of the Science of good and evil. He distinguishes virtue from Right Opinion, a sort of quasi-knowledge, the knowledge of esteemed and useful citizens, which cannot be the highest knowledge, since these citizens fail to impart it even to their own sons.
In this dialogue, we have Plato's view of Immortality, which comprises both pre-existence and post-existence. The pre-existence is used to explain the derivation of general notions, or Ideas, which are antecedent to the perceptions of sense.
In PROTAGORAS, we find one of the most important of the ethical discussions of Plato. It proceeds from the same question—Is virtue teachable?—Sokrates as usual expressing his doubts on the point. Protagoras then delivers a splendid harangue, showing how virtue is taught—namely, by the practice of society in approving, condemning, rewarding, punishing the actions of individuals. From childhood upward, every human being in society is a witness to the moral procedure of society, and by degrees both knows, and conforms to, the maxims of virtue of the society. Protagoras himself as a professed teacher, or sophist, can improve but little upon, this habitual inculcation. Sokrates, at the end of the harangue, puts in his usual questions tending to bring out the essence or definition of virtue, and soon drives Protagoras into a corner, bringing him to admit a view nowhere else developed in Plato, that Pleasure is the only good, Pain the only evil, and that the science of Good and Evil consists in Measuring, and in choosing between conflicting pleasures and pains—preferring the greater pleasure to the less, the less pain to the greater. For example, courage is a wise estimate of things terrible and things not terrible. In consistency with the doctrine that Knowledge is virtue, it is maintained here as elsewhere, that a man knowing good and evil must act upon that knowledge. Plato often repeats his theory of Measurement, but never again specifically intimates that the things to be measured are pleasures and pains. And neither here nor elsewhere, does he suppose the virtuous man taking directly into his calculation the pleasures and pains of other persons.
GORGIAS, one of the most renowned of the dialogues in point of composition, is also ethical, but at variance with the Protagoras, and more in accordance with Plato's predominating views. The professed subject is Rhetoric, which, as an art, Sokrates professes to hold in contempt. The dialogue begins with the position that men are prompted by the desire of good, but proceeds to the great Platonic paradox, that it is a greater evil to do wrong than to suffer wrong. The criminal labours under a mental distemper, and the best thing that can happen to him, is to be punished that so he may be cured. The unpunished wrong-doer is more miserable than if he were punished. Sokrates in this dialogue maintains, in opposition to the thesis of Protagoras, that pleasure is not the same as good, that there are bad pleasures and good pains; and a skilful adviser, one versed in the science of good and evil, must discriminate between them. He does not mean that those pleasures only are bad that bring an overplus of future pains, which would be in accordance with the previous dialogue. The sentiment of the dialogue is ascetic and self-denying.[7] Order or Discipline is inculcated, not as a means to an end, but as an end in itself.
The POLITIKUS is on the Art of Government, and gives the Platonicbeau idéalof the One competent person, governing absolutely, by virtue of his scientific knowledge, and aiming at the good and improvement of the governed. This is merely another illustration of the Sokratic ideal—a despotism, anointed by supreme good intentions, and by an ideal skill. The Republic is an enlargement of the lessons of the Politikus without the dialectic discussion.
The postulate of the One Wise man is repeated in KRATYLUS, on the unpromising subject of Language or the invention of Names.
The PHILEBUS has a decidedly ethical character. It propounds for enquiry theGood, the Summum Bonum. This is denied to be mere pleasure, and the denial is enforced by Sokrates challenging his opponent to choose the lot of an ecstatic oyster. As usual, good must be related to Intelligence; and the Dialogue gives a long disquisition upon the One and the Many, the Theory of Ideas, the Determinate and the Indeterminate. Good is a compound of Pleasure and Intelligence, the last predominating. Pleasure is the Indeterminate, requiring the Determinate (Knowledge) to regulate it. This is merely another expression for the doctrine of Measure, and for the common saying, that the Passions must be controlled by Reason. There is, also, in the dialogue, a good deal on the Psychology of Pleasure and Pain. Pleasure is the fundamental harmony of the system; Pain its disturbance. Bodily Pleasure pre-supposes pain [true only of some pleasures]. Mental pleasures may be without previous pain, and are therefore pure pleasures. A life of Intelligence is conceivable without either pain or pleasure; this is the choice of the Wise man, and is the nature of the gods. Desire is a mixed state, and comprehends body and mind. Much stress is laid on the moderate and tranquil pleasures; the intense pleasures, coveted by mankind, belong to a distempered rather than a healthy state; they are false and delusive. Pleasure is, by its nature, a change or transition, and cannot be a supreme end. The mixture of Pleasure and Intelligence is to be adjusted by the all-important principle of Measure or Proportion, which connects the Good with the Beautiful.
A decided asceticism is the ethical tendency of this dialogue. It is markedly opposed to the view of the Protagoras. Still greater is the opposition between it and the two Erotic dialogues, Phaedrus and Symposium, whereBonumandPulchrumare attained in the pursuit of an ecstatic and overwhelming personal affection.
The REPUBLIC starts with the question—what is JUSTICE? and, in answering it, provides the scheme of a model Republic. Book I. is a Sokratic colloquy, where one speaker, on being interrogated, defines Justice as 'rendering to every man his due,' and afterwards amends it to 'doing good to friends, evil to enemies.' Another gives 'the right of the strongest.' A third maintains that Injustice by itself is profitable to the doer; but, as it is an evil to society in general, men make laws against it and punish it; in consequence of which, Justice is the more profitable. Sokrates, in opposition, undertakes to prove that Justice is good in itself, ensuring the happiness of the doer by its intrinsic effect on his mind; and irrespective of exemption from the penalties of injustice. He reaches this result by assimilating an individual to a state. Justice is shown to be good in the entire city, and by analogy it is also good in the individual. He accordingly proceeds to construct his ideal commonwealth. In the course of this construction many ethical views crop out.
The state must prescribe the religious belief, and allow no compositions at variance with it. The gods must always be set forth as the causes of good; they must never be represented as the authors of evil, nor as practising deceit. Neither is it to be allowed to represent men as unjust, yet happy; or just, and yet miserable. The poetic representation of bad characters is also forbidden. The musical training is to be adapted for disposing the mind to the perception of Beauty, whence it becomes qualified to recognize the other virtues. Useful fictions are to be diffused, without regard to truth. This pious fraud is openly recommended by Plato.
The division of the human mind into (1) REASON or Intelligence; (2) ENERGY, Courage, Spirit, or the Military Virtue; and (3) Many-headed APPETITE, all in mutual counter-play—is transferred to the State, each of the three parts being represented by one of the political orders or divisions of the community. The happiness of the man and the happiness of the commonwealth are attained in the same way, namely, by realizing the four virtues—Wisdom, Courage, Temperance, Justice; with this condition, that Wisdom, or Reason, is sought only in the Ruling caste, the Elders; Courage, or Energy, only in the second caste, the Soldiers or Guardians; while Temperance and Justice (meaning almost the same thing) must inhere alike in all the three classes, and be the only thing expected in the third, the Working Multitude.
If it be now asked, what and where is Justice? the answer is—'every man to attend to his own business.' Injustice occurs when any one abandons his post, or meddles with what does not belong to him; and more especially when any one of a lower division aspires to the function of a higher. Such is Justice for the city, and such is it in the individual; the higher faculty—Reason, must control the two lower—Courage and Appetite. Justice is thus a sort of harmony or balance of the mental powers; it is to the mind what health is to the body. Health is the greatest good, sickness the greatest evil, of the body; so is Justice of the mind.
It is an essential of the Platonic Republic that, among the guardians at least, the sexual arrangements should be under public regulation, and the monopoly of one woman by one man forbidden: a regard to the breed of the higher caste of citizens requires the magistrate to see that the best couples are brought together, and to refuse to rear the inferior offspring of ill-assorted connexions. The number of births is also to be regulated.
In carrying on war, special maxims of clemency are to be observed towards Hellenic enemies.
The education of the Guardians must be philosophical; it is for them to rise to the Idea of the good, to master the science of Good and Evil; they must be emancipated from the notion that Pleasure is the good. To indicate the route to this attainment Plato gives his theory of cognition generally—the theory of Ideas;—and indicates (darkly) how these sublime generalities are to be reached.
The Ideal Commonwealth supposed established, is doomed to degradation and decay; passing through Timocracy, Oligarchy, Democracy, to Despotism, with a corresponding declension of happiness. The same varieties may be traced in the Individual; the 'despotized' mind is the acme of Injustice and consequent misery.
The comparative value of Pleasures is discussed. The pleasures of philosophy, or wisdom (those of Reason), are alone true and pure; the pleasures corresponding to the two other parts of the mind are inferior; Love of Honour (from Courage or Energy), and Love of Money (Appetite). The well-ordered mind—Justice—is above all things the source of happiness. Apart from all consequences of Justice, this is true; the addition of the natural results only enhances the strength of the position.
In TIMAEUS, Plato repeats the doctrine that wickedness is to the mind what disease is to the body. The soul suffers from two distempers, madness and ignorance; the man under passionate heat is not wicked voluntarily. No man is bad willingly; but only from some evil habit of body, the effect of bad bringing-up [very much the view of Robert Owen].
The long treatise called the LAWS, being a modified scheme of a Republic, goes over the same ground with more detail. We give the chief ethical points. It is the purpose of the lawgiver to bring about happiness, and to provide all good things divine and human. The divine things are the cardinal virtues—Wisdom, Justice, Temperance, Courage; the human are the leading personal advantages—Health, Beauty, Strength, Activity, Wealth. He requires the inculcation of self-command, and a training in endurance. The moral and religious feelings are to be guided in early youth, by the influence of Poetry and the other Fine Arts, in which, as before, a stringent censorship is to be exercised; the songs and dances are all to be publicly authorized. The ethical doctrine that the just man is happy and the unjust miserable, is to be preached; and every one prohibited from contradicting it. Of all the titles to command in society, Wisdom is the highest, although policy may require it to be conjoined with some of the others (Birth, Age, Strength, Accident, &c.). It is to be a part of the constitution to provide public exhortations, or sermons, for inculcating virtue; Plato having now passed into an opposite phase as to the value of Rhetoric, or continuous address. The family is to be allowed in its usual form, but with restraints on the age of marriage, on the choice of the parties, and on the increase of the number of the population. Sexual intercourse is to be as far as possible confined to persons legally married; those departing from this rule are, at all events, to observe secresy. The slaves are not to be of the same race as the masters. As regards punishment, there is a great complication, owing to the author's theory that wickedness is not properly voluntary. Much of the harm done by persons to others is unintentional or involuntary, and is to be made good by reparation. For the loss of balance or self-control, making the essence of injustice, there must be a penal and educational discipline, suited to cure the moral distemper; not for the sake of the past, which cannot be recalled, but of the future. Under cover of this theory, the punishments are abundantly severe; and the crimes include Heresy, for which there is a gradation of penalties terminating in death.
We may now summarize the Ethics of Plato, under the general scheme as follows:—
I.—The Ethical Standard, or criterion of moral Right and Wrong. This we have seen is, ultimately, the Science of Good and Evil, as determined by a Scientific or Wise man; the Idea of the Good, which only a philosopher can ascend to. Plato gave no credit to the maxims of the existing society; these were wholly unscientific.
It is obvious that this vague and indeterminate standard would settle nothing practically; no one can tell what it is. It is only of value as belonging to a very exalted and poetic conception of virtue, something that raises the imagination above common life into a sphere of transcendental existence.
II.—The Psychology of Ethics.
1. As to the Faculty of discerning Right. This is implied in the foregoing statement of the criterion. It is the Cognitive or Intellectual power. In the definite position taken up in Protagoras, it is the faculty of Measuring pleasures against one another and against pains. In other dialogues, measure is still the important aspect of the process, although the things to be measured are not given.
2. As regards the Will. The theory that vice, if not the result of ignorance, is a form of madness, an uncontrollable fury, a mental distemper, gives a peculiar rendering of the nature of man's Will. It is a kind of Necessity, not exactly corresponding, however, with the modern doctrine of that name.
3. Disinterested Sentiment is not directly and plainly recognized by Plato. His highest virtue is self-regarding; a concern for the Health of the Soul.
III.—On the Bonum, or Summum Bonum, Plato is ascetic and self-denying. 1. We have seen that in Philebus, Pleasure is not good, unless united with Knowledge or Intelligence; and the greater the Intelligence, the higher the pleasure. That the highest happiness of man is the pursuit of truth or Philosophy, was common to Plato and to Aristotle.
2. Happiness is attainable only through Justice or Virtue. Justice is declared to be happiness, first, in itself, and secondly, in its consequences. Such is the importance attached to this maxim as a safeguard of Society, that, whether true or not, it is to be maintained by state authority.
3. The Psychology of Pleasure and Pain is given at length in the Philebus.
IV.—With regard to the scheme of Duty. In Plato, we find the first statement of the four Cardinal Virtues.
As to the Substance of the Moral Code, the references above made to the Republic and the Laws will show in what points his views differed from modern Ethics.
Benevolence was not one of the Cardinal Virtues.
His notions even of Reciprocity were rendered hazy and indistinct by his theory of Justice as an end in itself.
The inducements, means, and stimulants to virtue, in addition to penal discipline, are training, persuasion, or hortatory discourse, dialectic cognition of the Ideas, and, above all, that ideal aspiration towards the Just, the Good, around which he gathered all that was fascinating in poetry, and all the associations of religion and divinity. Plato employed his powerful genius in working up a lofty spiritual reward, an ideal intoxication, for inciting men to the self-denying virtues. He was the first and one of the greatest of preachers. His theory of Justice is suited to preaching, and not to a scientific analysis of society.
V.—The relation of Ethics to Politics is intimate, and even inseparable. The Civil Magistrate, as in Hobbes, supplies the Ethical sanction. All virtue is an affair of the state, a political institution. This, however, is qualified by the demand for an ideal state, and an ideal governor, by whom alone anything like perfect virtue can be ascertained.
VI.—The relationship with Theology is also close. That is to say, Plato was not satisfied to construct a science of good and evil, without conjoining the sentiments towards the Gods. His Theology, however, was of his own invention, and adapted to his ethical theory. It was necessary to suppose that the gods were the authors of good, in order to give countenance to virtue.
Plato was the ally of the Stoics, as against the Epicureans, and of such modern theorists as Butler, who make virtue, and not happiness, the highest end of man. With him, discipline was an end in itself, and not a means; and he endeavoured to soften its rigour by his poetical and elevated Idealism.
Although he did not preach the good of mankind, or direct beneficence, he undoubtedly prepared the way for it, by urging self-denial, which has no issue or relevance, except either by realizing greater happiness to Self (mere exalted Prudence, approved of by all sects), or by promoting the welfare of others.
These opposing sects sprang from Sokrates, and passed, with little modification, the one into the Stoics, the other into the Epicureans. Both ANTISTHENES, the founder of the Cynics, and ARISTIPPUS, the founder of the Cyrenaics, were disciples of Sokrates.
Their doctrines chiefly referred to the Summum Bonum—the Art ofLiving, or of Happiness.
The CYNICS were most closely allied to Sokrates; they, in fact, carried out to the full his chosen mode of life. His favourite maxim—that the gods had no wants, and that the most godlike man was he that approached to the same state—was the Cynic Ideal. To subsist upon the narrowest means; to acquire indifference to pain, by a discipline of endurance; to despise all the ordinary pursuits of wealth and pleasure,—were Sokratic peculiarities, and were thebeau idéalof Cynicism.
The Cynic succession of philosophers were, (1) ANTISTHENES, one of the most constant friends and companions of Sokrates; (2) DIOGENES of Sinope, the pupil of Antisthenes, and the best known type of the sect. (His disciple Krates, a Theban, was the master of Zeno, the first Stoic.) (3) STILPON of Megara, (4) MENEDEMUS of Eretria, (5) MONIMUS of Syracuse, (6) KRATES.
The two first heads of the Ethical scheme, so meagrely filled up by the ancient systems generally, are almost a total blank as regards both Cynics and Cyrenaics.
I.—As regards a Standard of right and wrong, moral good or evil, they recognized nothing but obedience to the laws and customs of society.
II.—They had no Psychology of a moral faculty, of the will, or of benevolent sentiment. The Cyrenaic Aristippus had a Psychology of Pleasure and Pain.
The Cynics, instead of discussing Will, exercised it, in one of its most prominent forms,—self-control and endurance.
Disinterested conduct was no part of their scheme, although the ascetic discipline necessarily promotes abstinence from sins against property, and from all the vices of public ambition.
III.—The proper description of both systems comes under the SummumBonum, or the Art of Living.
The Cynic Ideal was the minimum of wants, the habituation to pain, together with indifference to the common enjoyments. The compensating reward was exemption from fear, anxiety, and disappointment; also, the pride of superiority to fellow-beings and of approximation to the gods. Looking at the great predominance of misery in human life, they believed the problem of living to consist in a mastery over all the forms of pain; until this was first secured, there was to be a total sacrifice of pleasure.
The Cynics were mostly, like Sokrates, men of robust health, and if they put their physical constitution to a severe test by poor living and exposure to wind and weather, they also saved it from the wear and tear of steady industry and toil. Exercise of body and of mind, with a view to strength and endurance, was enjoined; but it was the drill of the soldier rather than the drudgery of the artisan.
In the eyes of the public, the prominent feature of the Cynic was his contemptuous jeering, and sarcastic abuse of everybody around. The name (Cynic, dog-like) denotes this peculiarity. The anecdotes relating to Diogenes illustrate his coarse denunciation of men in general and their luxurious ways. He set at defiance all the conventions of courtesy and of decency; spoke his mind on everything without fear or remorse; and delighted in his antagonism to public opinion. He followed the public and obtrusive life of Sokrates, but instead of dialectic skill, his force lay in vituperation, sarcasm, and repartee. 'To Sokrates,' says Epiktetus, 'Zeus assigned the cross-examining function; to Diogenes, the magisterial and chastising function; to Zeno (the Stoic), the didactic and dogmatical.'
The Cynics had thus in full measure one of the rewards of asceticism, the pride of superiority and power. They did not profess an end apart from their own happiness; they believed and maintained that theirs was the only safe road to happiness. They agreed with the Cyrenaics as to the end; they differed as to the means.
The founders of the sect, being men of culture, set great store by education, from which, however, they excluded (as it would appear) both the Artistic and the Intellectual elements of the superior instruction of the time, namely, Music, and the Sciences of Geometry, Astronomy, &c. Plato's writings and teachings were held in low esteem. Physical training, self-denial and endurance, and literary or Rhetorical cultivation, comprise the items taught by Diogenes when he became a slave, and was made tutor to the sons of his master.
IV.—As to the Moral Code, the Cynics were dissenters from the received usages of society. They disapproved of marriage laws, and maintained the liberty of individual tastes in the intercourse of the sexes. Being free-thinkers in religion they had no respect for any of the customs founded on religion.
V. The collateral relations of Cynical Ethics to Politics and toTheology afford no scope for additional observations. The Cynic andCyrenaic both stood aloof from the affairs of the state, and werealike disbelievers in the gods.
The Cynics appear to have been inclined to communism among themselves, which was doubtless easy with their views as to the wants of life. It is thought not unlikely that Sokrates himself held views of communism both as to property and to wives; being in this respect also the prompter of Plato (Grant's Ethics of Aristotle, Essay ii.).
The CYRENAIC system originated with ARISTIPPUS of Cyrene, another hearer and companion of Sokrates. The temperament of Aristippus was naturally inactive, easy, and luxurious; nevertheless he set great value on mental cultivation and accomplishments. His conversations with Sokrates form one of the most interesting chapters of Xenophon's Memorabilia, and are the key to the plan of life ultimately elaborated by him. Sokrates finding out his disposition, repeats all the arguments in favour of the severe and ascetic system. He urges the necessity of strength, courage, energy, self-denial, in order to attain the post of ruler over others; which, however, Aristippus fences by saying that he has no ambition to rule; he prefers the middle course of a free man, neither ruling nor ruled over. Next, Sokrates recalls the dangers and evil contingencies of subjection, of being oppressed, unjustly treated, sold into slavery, and the consequent wretchedness to one unhardened by an adequate discipline. It is in this argument that he recites the well-known apologue called the choice of Herakles; in which, Virtue on the one hand, and Pleasure with attendant vice on the other, with their respective consequences, are set before a youth in his opening career. The whole argument with Aristippus was purely prudential; but Aristippus was not convinced nor brought over to the Sokratic ideal. He nevertheless adopted a no less prudential and self-denying plan of his own.
Aristippus did not write an account of his system; and the particulars of his life, which would show how he acted it, are but imperfectly preserved. He was the first theorist to avow and maintain that Pleasure, and the absence of Pain, are the proper, the direct, the immediate, the sole end of living; not of course mere present pleasures and present relief from pain, but present and future taken in one great total. He would surrender present pleasure, and incur present pain, with a view to greater future good; but he did not believe in the necessity of that extreme surrender and renunciation enjoined by the Cynics. He gratified all his appetites and cravings within the limits of safety. He could sail close upon the island of Calypso without surrendering himself to the sorceress. Instead of deadening the sexual appetite he gave it scope, and yet resisted the dangerous consequences of associating with Hetaerae. In his enjoyments he was free from jealousies; thinking it no derogation to his pleasure that others had the same pleasure. Having thus a fair share of natural indulgences, he dispenses with the Cynic pride of superiority and the luxury of contemning other men. Strength of will was required for this course no less than for the Cynic life.
Aristippus put forward strongly the impossibility of realizing all the Happiness that might seem within one's reach; such were the attendant and deterring evils, that many pleasures had to be foregone by the wise man. Sometimes even the foolish person attained more pleasure than the wise; such is the lottery of life; but, as a general rule, the fact would be otherwise. The wisest could not escape the natural evils, pain and death; but envy, passionate love, and superstition, being the consequences of vain and mistaken opinion, might be conquered by a knowledge of the real nature of Good and Evil.
As a proper appendage to such a system, Aristippus sketched a Psychology of Pleasure and Pain, which was important as a beginning, and is believed to have brought the subject into prominence. The soul comes under three conditions,—a gentle, smooth, equable motion, corresponding to Pleasure; a rough, violent motion, which is Pain; and a calm, quiescent state, indifference or Unconsciousness. More remarkable is the farther assertion that Pleasure is onlypresentorrealizedconsciousness; the memory of pleasures past, and the idea of pleasures to come, are not to be counted; the painful accompaniments of desire, hope, and fear, are sufficient to neutralize any enjoyment that may arise from ideal bliss, Consequently, the happiness of a life means the sum total of these moments of realized or present pleasure. He recognized pleasures of the mind, as well as of the body; sympathy with the good fortunes of friends or country gives a thrill of genuine and lively joy. Still, the pleasures and the pains of the body, and of one's own self, are more intense; witness the bodily inflictions used in punishing offenders.
The Cyrenaics denied that there is anything just, or honourable, or base, by nature; all depended on the laws and customs. These laws and customs the wise man obeys, to avoid punishment and discredit from the society where he lives; doubtless, also, from higher motives, if the political constitution, and his fellow citizens generally, can inspire him with respect.
Neither the Cynics nor the Cyrenaics made any profession of generous or disinterested impulses.
Three treatises on Ethics have come down associated with the name of Aristotle; one large work, the Nicomachean Ethics, referred to by general consent as the chief and important source of Aristotle's views; and two smaller works, the Eudemian Ethics, and the Magna Moralia, attributed by later critics to his disciples. Even of the large work, which consists of ten books, three books (V. VI. VII.), recurring in the Eudemian Ethics, are considered by Sir A. Grant, though not by other critics, to have been composed by Eudemus, the supposed author of this second treatise, and a leading disciple of Aristotle.
Like many other Aristotelian treatises, the Nicomachean Ethics is deficient in method and consistency on any view of its composition. But the profound and sagacious remarks scattered throughout give it a permanent interest, as the work of a great mind. There may be extracted from it certain leading doctrines, whose point of departure was Platonic, although greatly modified and improved by the genius and personality of Aristotle.
Our purpose will be best served by a copious abstract of theNicomachean Ethics.
As regards themethodof the science, the highest exactness is not attainable; the political art studies what is just, honourable, and good; and these are matters about which the utmost discrepancy of opinion prevails. From such premises, the conclusions which we draw can only be probabilities. The man of experience and cultivation will expect nothing more. Youths, who are inexperienced in the concerns of life, and given to follow their impulses, can hardly appreciate our reasoning, and will derive no benefit from it: but reasonable men will find the knowledge highly profitable (III.).
Resuming the main question—What is the highest practical good—the aim of the all-comprehending political science?—we find an agreement among men as to the namehappiness[Greek: eudaimonia]; but great differences as to the nature of the thing. The many regard it as made up of the tangible elements—pleasures, wealth, or honour; while individuals vary in their estimate according to each man's state for the time being; the sick placing it in health, the poor in wealth, the consciously ignorant in knowledge. On the other hand, certain philosophers [in allusion to Plato] set up an absolute good,—an Idea of the Good, apart from all the particulars, yet imparting to each its property of being good (IV.).
Referring to men's lives (as a clue to their notions of the good), we find three prominent varieties; the life of pleasure or sensuality,—the political life, aspiring to honour,—and the contemplative life. The first is the life of the brutes, although countenanced by men high in power. The second is too precarious, as depending on others, and is besides only a means to an end—namely, our consciousness of our own merits; for the ambitious man seeks to be honoured for his virtue and by good judges—thus showing that he too regards virtue as the superior good. Yet neither will virtue satisfy all the conditions. The virtuous man may slumber or pass his life in inactivity, or may experience the maximum of calamity; and such a man cannot be regarded as happy. The money-lender is still less entitled, for he is an unnatural character; and money is obviously good as a means. So that there remains only the life of contemplation; respecting which more presently (V.).
To a review of the Platonic doctrine, Aristotle devotes a whole chapter. He urges against it various objections, very much of a piece with those brought against the theory of Ideas generally. If there be but one good, there should be but one science; the alleged Idea is merely a repetition of the phenomena; the recognized goods (i.e., varieties of good) cannot be brought under one Idea; moreover, even granting the reality of such an Idea, it is useless for all practical purposes. What our science seeks is Good, human and attainable (VI.).