Enkidoodle

The rule of retaliation and the rule of forgiveness, however, are not so radically opposed to each other as they appear to be. What the latter condemns is, in reality, not every kind of resentment, but non-moral resentment; not impartial indignation, but personal hatred. It prohibits revenge, but not punishment. According to the Laws of Manu, crime was so indispensably to be followed by punishment, that if the king pardoned a thief or a perpetrator of violence, instead of slaying or striking him, the guilt fell on the king;[37] and if Lao-tsze was an enemy to the infliction of any kind of suffering, it was because he held that in a well-governed State the necessity for punishment could not arise, as crime would cease to exist.[38] The Chinese book, _Merits and Errors Scrutinised_, which regards it as a merit to refrain from avenging an injury, adds that, "if a man should omit to avenge the injuries of his parents, it would become an error."[39] Jesus was certainly not free from righteous indignation. It does not appear that he ever forgave the legalists who sinned against the kingdom of God, and he told his disciples that, if a brother who had trespassed against his brother neglected to hear the church, he should be looked upon as a heathen and a publican.[40] Christian writers have laid much stress upon the circumstance that Jesus enjoined men to forgive their own enemies, but not to abstain from resenting injuries done to others. According to Thomas Aquinas, "the good bear with the wicked to this extent, that, so far as it is proper to do so, they patiently endure at their hands the injuries done to themselves; but they do not bear with them to the extent of enduring the injuries done to God and their neighbours. For Chrysostom says, 'For it {78} is praiseworthy to be patient under one's own wrongs, but the height of impiety to dissemble injuries done to God.'"[41] Practically, at least, Christianity has not altered the validity of the Aristotelian rule that anger admits not only of an excess, but of a defect, and that we ought to feel angry at certain things.[42] As Plutarch says, we even think those worthy of hatred who are not vexed at hateful individuals; and we can sympathise with the man who, hearing somebody praise Charillus, king of Sparta, for his gentleness, replied, "How can Charillus be good, who is not harsh even to the bad?"[43] Moreover, the belief in a transcendental retributive justice, in an ultimate punishment of badness, which we meet with in Taouism,[44] Brahmanism, Buddhism,[45] Christianity,[46] side by side with the doctrine of forgiveness, is based upon the demand that wrong should be resented.

[Footnote 37: _Laws of Manu_, viii. 316, 346 _sq._ _Cf._ _Gautama_, xii. 45; _Âpastamba_, i. 9. 25. 5.]

[Footnote 38: Douglas, _Confucianism and Taouism_, p. 204.]

[Footnote 39: 'Merits and Errors scrutinised,' in _Indo-Chinese Gleaner_, iii. 153.]

[Footnote 40: _St. Matthew_, xviii. 15 _sqq._]

[Footnote 41: Thomas Aquinas, _Summa Theologia_, ii.-ii. 108. 1. 2. _Cf._ Lactantius, _De ira Dei_, 17.]

[Footnote 42: Aristotle, _Ethica Nicomachea_, ii. 7. 10; iii. 1. 24; iv. 5. 3 _sqq._]

[Footnote 43: Plutarch, _De invidia et odio_, 5.]

[Footnote 44: Douglas, _op. cit._ p. 257.]

[Footnote 45: _Dhammapada_, i. 15, 17; x. 137 _sqq._]

[Footnote 46: _Cf._ _Romans_, xii. 19: "Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord."]

It is easy to see why enlightened and sympathetic minds disapprove of resentment and retaliation springing from personal motives. Such resentment is apt to be partial. It is too often directed against persons whom impartial reflection finds to be no proper objects of indignation, and still more frequently it is unduly excessive. As Butler ays, "we are in such a peculiar situation, with respect to injuries done to ourselves, that we can scarce any more see them as they really are, than our eye can see itself."[47] "As bodies seem greater in a mist, so do little matters in a rage"; hence the old rule that we ought not to punish whilst angry.[48] The more the moral consciousness is influenced by sympathy, the more severely it condemns any retributive infliction of pain which it regards as undeserved; and it seems to be in the first place with a {79} view to preventing such injustice that teachers of morality have enjoined upon men to love their enemies. It would, indeed, be absurd to blame a person for expressing moral indignation at an act simply because he himself happens to be the offended party; practically we allow him to be even more indignant than the impartial spectator would be, whereas excessive placability often meets with censure. Like Aristotle, we maintain that "to submit to insult, or to overlook an insult offered to our friends, shows a slavish spirit"[49]; and we agree with the Confucian maxims, that injuries should be recompensed, not with kindness, but with justice, and that nobody but he who deserves it should be an object of hatred.[50]

[Footnote 47: Butler, 'Sermon IX.--Upon Forgiveness of Injuries,' in _Analogy of Religion, &c._, p. 469.]

[Footnote 48: Plutarch, _De cohibenda ira_, 11. Montaigne, _Essais_, ii. 31 (_Oeuvres_, p. 396).]

[Footnote 49: Aristotle, _Ethica Nicomachea_, 5. 6.]

[Footnote 50: _Lun Yü_ xiv. 36. 3; xvii. 9. 1, 5; xvii. 24. 1. Douglas, _Confucianism and Taouism_, p. 9. _Cf._ _Chung Yung_, x. 3; xxxi. 1; xxxiii. 4.]

At the same time, the injunctions of moralists that unjust resentment should be suppressed, are far from introducing any absolutely new element into the estimation of conduct. They only represent a higher stage of a process of moral development the early phases of which are found already in primitive societies. Even the savage who enjoins revenge as a duty, regards revenge under certain circumstances as wrong.[51] The restraining rule of like for like, as we shall see, is an instance of this.

[Footnote 51: Concerning the Dacotahs, Prescott observes, "There are cases where the Indians say retaliation is wrong, and they try to prevent it" (Schoolcraft, _Indian Tribes_, ii. 197).]

The aggressive character of moral disapproval has become more disguised, not only by the more scrutinising attitude towards the resentment and retaliation which distinguishes the moral consciousness of a higher type, but by the different way in which the aggressiveness displays itself. The infliction of suffering merely for the sake of retribution is condemned, and the rule is laid down that we should hate, not the sinner, but only the sin.

Punishment, which expresses more or less faithfully the moral indignation of the society which inflicts it, is externally similar to an act of revenge; it causes, or is intended {80} to cause, pain in return for inflicted pain. For ages it was looked upon as a matter of course that if a person had committed an offence he should have to suffer for it. This is still the notion of the multitude, as also of a host of theorisers, who, by calling punishment an expiation, or a reparation, or a restoration of the disturbed equilibrium of justice, only endeavour to give a philosophical sanction to a very simple fact, the true nature of which they too often have failed to grasp. The infliction of pain, however, is not an act which the moral consciousness regards with indifference, even in the case of a criminal; and to many enlightened minds with keen sympathy for human suffering, it has appeared both unreasonable and cruel that the State should wilfully torment him to no purpose. But whilst retributive punishment has been condemned, punishment itself has been defended; it is only looked upon in a different light, not as an end by itself, but as a means of attaining an end. It is to be inflicted, not because wrong has been done, but in order that wrong be not done. Its object is held to be, either to deter from crime, or to reform the criminal, or by means of elimination or seclusion, to make it physically impossible for him to commit fresh crimes.

These views were expressed already in Greek and Roman antiquity.[52] According to Plato, a reasonable man punishes for the sake of deterring from wickedness, or with a view to correcting the offender.[53] Aristotle looks upon punishment as a moral medicine.[54] Seneca maintains that the law, in punishing wrong, aims at three ends: "either that it may correct him whom it punishes, or that his punishment may render other men better, or that, by bad men being put out of the way, the rest may live without fear."[55] In modern times all these theories have had, and still have, their numerous adherents. According to Hugo Grotius, "men are so bound together by their common {81} nature, that they ought not to do each other harm, except for the sake of some good to be attained"; hence "man is not rightly punished by man merely for the sake of punishing"; advantage alone makes punishment right--"either the advantage of the offender, or of him who suffers by the offence, or of persons in general."[56] For a long time the view taken by Hobbes, that "the aym of Punishment is not a revenge, but terrour,"[57] remained the leading doctrine on the subject, among philosophers, as well as legislators. It was shared by Montesquieu,[58] Beccaria,[59] and filangieri,[60] by Anselm von Feuerbach[61] and Schopenhauer,[62] and, in the main, by Bentham.[63] During the nineteenth century the principle of determent was largely superseded by the principle of reformation; whilst certain contemporary criminologists--like some previous ones[64]--are of opinion that punishment should aim to repress crime by an "absolute" or "relative elimination" of the criminal, that is, in extreme cases by killing him, but generally by incarcerating him in a criminal lunatic asylum, or by banishing him for ever or for a certain period, or by interdicting him from a particular neighbourhood.[65]

[Footnote 52: _Cf._ Laistner, _Das Recht in der Strafe_, p. 9 _sqq._; Thonissen, _Le droit pénal de la république Athénienne_, p. 418 _sqq._]

[Footnote 53: Plato, _Protagoras_, p. 324. _Idem_, _Politicus_, p. 293. _Idem_, _Gorgias_, p. 479. _Idem_, _Leges_, ix. 854; xi. 934; xii. 944.]

[Footnote 54: Aristotle, _Ethica Nicomachea_, ii. 3. 4.]

[Footnote 55: Seneca, _De clementia_, i. 22. _Cf._ _Idem_, _De ira_, i. 19.]

[Footnote 56: Grotius, _De iure belli et pacis_, ii. 20. 4 _sqq._]

[Footnote 57: Hobbes, _Leviathan_, ii. 28, p. 243.]

[Footnote 58: Montesquieu, _Lettres Persanes_, 81.]

[Footnote 59: Beccaria, _Dei delitti e delle pene_, _passim_.]

[Footnote 60: filangieri, _La scienza della legislazione_, iii. 2. 27, vol. iv. 13 _sq._]

[Footnote 61: von Feuerbach-Mittermaier, _Lehrbuch des gemeinen in Deutschland gültigen Peinlichen Rechts_, p. 38 _sqq._]

[Footnote 62: Schopenhauer, _Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung_, ii. 683 _sqq._]

[Footnote 63: Bentham, _Principles of Morals and Legislation_, p. 170 _sq._ n. 1: ". . . Example is the most important end of all." _Idem_, _Rationale of Punishment_, p. 19 _sqq._]

[Footnote 64: See von Feuerbach-Mittermaier, _op. cit._ p. 40.]

[Footnote 65: Garofalo, _Criminologie_, p. 251 _sqq._ Ferri, _Criminal Sociology_, p. 204 _sqq._]

The advocates of these various theories are unanimous in condemning retributive punishment as wrong. Without the grounds of social defence, says M. Guyau, "the punishment would be as blameworthy as the crime, and . . . the lawgivers and the judges, by deliberately condemning the guilty to punishment, would become their fellows."[66] For my own part I believe, on the contrary, that those who would venture to carry out all the consequences to which the theories of social defence or of reformation might lead, would be regarded even as more criminal than those they punished, not only by the {82} opponents, but probably by the very supporters of the theories in question. A brief statement of some of those consequences will, I hope, suffice to prove that punishment can hardly be guided exclusively by utilitarian considerations, but requires the sanction of the retributive emotion of moral disapproval.

[Footnote 66: Guyau, _Esquisse d'une morale sans obligation ni sanction_, p. 148.]

The principle of repressing crime by eliminating the criminal may at once be put aside, because it has no reference to the _punishment_ of criminals, although it contains a suggestion--and a most excellent one indeed--as to the proper mode of treating them. Their exclusion from the company of their fellow-men--not to speak of their elimination by death--certainly entails suffering, but, according to the principle with which we are dealing, this suffering is not _intended_. On the other hand, punishment, in the ordinary sense of the word, always involves an express intention to inflict pain, whatever be the object for which pain is inflicted. We do not punish an ill-natured dog when we tie him up so as to prevent him from doing harm, nor do we punish a lunatic by confining him in a madhouse.

According to the principle of determent, the infliction of suffering in consequence of an offence is justified as a means of increasing public safety. The offender is sacrificed for the common weal. But why the offender only? It is quite probable that a more effective way of deterring from crime would be to punish his children as well; and if the notion of justice derived all its import from the result achieved by the punishment, there would be nothing unjust in doing so. The only objection which, from this point of view, might ever be raised against the practice of visiting the wrongs of the fathers upon the children, is that it is needlessly severe; the innocence of the children could count for nothing. Nor do I see why the law should not allow our own judges now and then to follow the example of their Egyptian colleague who in an intricate lawsuit caused a person avowedly innocent to be bastinadoed with the hope that whoever was the real {83} culprit might be induced to confess out of compassion.[67] Moreover, if the object of punishment is merely preventive, the heaviest punishment should be threatened where the strongest motive is needed to restrain. Consequently, an injury committed under great temptation, or in a passion, should be punished with particular severity; whereas a crime like parricide might be treated with more indulgence than other kinds of homicide, owing to the restraining influence of filial affection. Could the moral consciousness approve of this?

[Footnote 67: Burckhardt, _Arabic Proverbs_, p. 103 _sq._]

Again, if punishment were to be regulated by the principle of reforming the criminal, the result would in some cases be very astonishing. There is no more incorrigible set of offenders than habitual vagrants and drunkards, whereas experience has shown that the most easily reformed of all offenders is often some person who has committed a serious crime. According to the reformation theory, the latter should soon be set free, whilst the petty offender might have to be shut up for all his life. Nay more, if the criminal proves absolutely incorrigible, and not the slightest hope of his reformation is left, there would no longer be any reason for punishing him at all.[68] The reformationist may also be asked why he does not try some more humane method of improving people's characters than by the infliction of suffering.

[Footnote 68: _Cf._ Morrison, _Crime and its Causes_, p. 203; Durkheim, _Division du travail social_, p. 94.]

It may seem strange that theories which are open to such objections should have been able to attract so many intelligent partisans. These theories must at least possess a certain plausibility. If punishment on the one hand springs from moral indignation, and on the other hand is frequently interpreted as a means either of deterring from crime or of reforming the criminal, there must obviously be some connection between these ends and the retributive aim of moral resentment. There must be certain facts which, to some extent, fill up the gap between the theory of retribution and the other theories of punishment.

{84} The doctrine of determent regards punishment as a means of preventing crime. A crime always involves the infliction of pain; and the one thing which men try to prevent for its own sake is pain. The one thing which arouses resentment is likewise pain. There must consequently be a general coincidence between the acts which people resent and the acts which the law would punish if it were framed on the principle of determent. But the resemblance between the desire to deter and resentment is greater still. Resentment is not only aroused by pain, but is a hostile attitude towards its cause, and its intrinsic object is to remove this cause, that is, to prevent pain. An act of moral resentment is therefore apt to resemble a punishment inflicted with a view to deterring from crime, provided that the punishment is directed against the cause of crime--the criminal himself--and is not unduly severe.

The doctrine of reformation aims at the removal of a criminal disposition of mind by improving the offender. Moral resentment likewise aims at the removal of a volitional cause of pain, by bringing about repentance in the offender. That repentance ought to be followed by forgiveness, partial or total, is a widely recognised moral claim.

According to the Chinese Penal Code, whoever, having committed an injury which can be repaired by restitution or compensation, surrenders himself voluntarily, and acknowledges his guilt to a magistrate, before it is otherwise discovered, shall be freely pardoned, though all claims upon his property shall be duly liquidated.[69] In Madagascar, according to a law made in 1828, "all the fines shall be reduced one-half, according to the nature of the fines, if the persons guilty accuse themselves."[70] According to Zoroastrianism, one element of atonement consists in repentance, as manifested by avowal of the guilt and by the recital of a formula, the _Patet_.[71] It is said in the Laws of Manu:--"In proportion as a man who has done wrong, himself {85} confesses it, even so far he is freed from guilt, as a snake from its slough. . . . He who has committed a sin and has repented, is freed from that sin, but he is purified only by the resolution of ceasing to sin and thinking 'I will do so no more.'"[72] According to the Rig-Veda, Varuna inflicts terrible punishments on the hardened criminal, but is merciful to him who repents; to Varuna the cry of anguish from remorse ascends, and before him the sinner comes to discharge himself of the burden of his guilt by confession.[73] So, also, Zeus pardons the repentant.[74] The main doctrine of Judaism on the subject of atonement is comprised in the single word Repentance. No teachers, says Mr. Montefiore, "exalted the place and power of repentance more than the Rabbis. There was no sin for which in their eyes a true repentance could not obtain forgiveness from God."[75] According to the Talmud, a space of only two fingers' breadth lies between Hell and Heaven: the sinner has only to repent sincerely, and the gates to everlasting bliss will spring open.[76] Jesus commanded his disciples to forgive injuries if followed by repentance:--"If thy brother trespass against thee, rebuke him; and if he repent, forgive him. And if he trespass against thee seven times in a day, and seven times in a day turn again to thee, saying, I repent; thou shalt forgive him."[77]

[Footnote 69: _Ta Tsing Leu Lee_, sec. xxv. p. 27 _sq._]

[Footnote 70: Ellis, _History of Madagascar_, i. 386.]

[Footnote 71: Darmesteter, in _Sacred Books of the East_, iv. p. lxxxvi.]

[Footnote 72: _Laws of Manu_, xi. 229, 231. _Cf._ _ibid._ xi. 228, 230.]

[Footnote 73: _Rig-Veda_, i. 25. 1 _sq._; ii. 28. 5 _sqq._; v. 85. 7 _sq._; vii. 87. 7, 88. 6 _sq._, 89. 1 _sqq._ Barth, _Religions of India_, p. 17.]

[Footnote 74: _Ilias_, ix. 502 _sqq._]

[Footnote 75: Montefiore, _op. cit._ pp. 524, 335 n.]

[Footnote 76: Deutsch, _Literary Remains_, p. 53. _Cf._ _ibid._ p. 56; Katz, _Der wahre Talmudjude_, p. 87 _sq._; Kohler, 'Atonement,' in _Jewish Encyclopedia_, ii. 279; Moore, 'Sacrifice' in Cheyne and Black, _Encyclopædia Biblica_, iv. 4224 _sq._]

[Footnote 77: _St. Luke_, xvii. 3 _sq._]

But repentance not only blunts the edge of moral indignation and recommends the offender to the mercy of men and gods: it is the sole ground on which pardon can be given by a scrupulous judge. When sufficiently guided by deliberation and left to itself, without being unduly checked by other emotions, the feeling of moral resentment is apt to last as long as its cause remains unaltered, that is until the will of the offender has ceased to be offensive; and it ceases to be offensive only when he acknowledges his guilt and repents. It is true that the mere performance of certain ceremonies is frequently supposed to relieve the performer of his sins,[78] and that the {86} same end is thought to be attained by pleasing God in some way or other, by sacrifice, or alms-giving, or the like. Men even lay claim to divine forgiveness as a right belonging to them in virtue of some meritorious deeds of theirs, according to the doctrine of _opera supererogativa_--a doctrine which, in substance, is not restricted to Roman Catholicism, but is found, in a more or less developed form, in Judaism,[79] Muhammedanism,[80] Brahmanism,[81] and degenerated Buddhism.[82] But all such ideas are objectionable to the moral consciousness of a higher type. They are based on the crude notion that sin is a material substance which may be removed by material means; or on the belief that an offender may compound with the deity for sinning against him, in the same way as he pacifies his injured neighbour, by bribery or flattery; or on the assumptions that by a good or meritorious deed a man has done more than his duty, that a good deed stands in the same relation to a bad deed as a claim to a debt, that the claim is made on the same person to whom the debt is due, namely, God--even though it beinclihedinclihed only by his mercy--and that the debt consequently may be compensated by the claim in the same way as the payment of a certain sum may compensate for a loss inflicted. This doctrine attaches badness and goodness to external acts rather than to mental facts. Reparation implies compensation for a loss. The loss may be compensated by the bestowal of a corresponding advantage; but no reparation can be given for badness. Badness can only be forgiven, and moral forgiveness can be granted only on condition that the agent's mind has undergone a radical alteration for the better, that the badness of the will has given way to repentance.[83] Hence the Reformation {87} proscribed offerings for the redemption of sins, together with the trade in indulgences; and we meet with an analogous movement in other comparatively advanced forms of religion. In reformed Brahmanism, repentance is declared to be the only means of redeeming trespasses.[84] The idea expressed in the Psalms, that God delights not in burnt offerings, but that the sacrifices of God are a broken and a contrite heart,[85] became the prevailing opinion among the Rabbis, most of whom regarded repentance as the _conditio sine quâ non_ of expiation and the forgiveness of sins.[86] Let us also remember that he who commanded his followers to forgive a brother for his sin, at the same time pronounced the qualification: "if he repent."[87]

[Footnote 78: _Supra_, p. 53 _sqq._ Heriot, _Travels through the Canadas_, p. 378 (ancient Mexicans). Adair, _History of the American Indians_, p. 150. Krasheninnikoff, _History of Kamchatka_, p. 178. Williams and Calvert, _Fiji_, p. 24.]

[Footnote 79: Montefiore, _op. cit._ p. 525 _sqq._]

[Footnote 80: _Koran_, xi. 116. Sell, _Faith of Islám_, p. 220 _sq._ According to Muhammadanism, however, it is only "little sins" that are forgiven if some good actions are done, whereas "great sins" can only be forgiven after due repentance (_ibid._ p. 214).]

[Footnote 81: Wheeler, _History of India_, ii. 475.]

[Footnote 82: _Indo-Chinese Gleaner_, iii. 150, 161, 164. Davis, _China_, ii. 48.]

[Footnote 83: This point was certainly not overlooked by the Catholic moralists, but even the most ardent apology cannot explain away the idea of reparation in the Catholic doctrine of the justification of man (_cf._ Manzoni, _Osservazioni sulla Morale Cattolica_, p. 100). Penance consists of contrition, confession, and satisfaction, and contrition itself is chiefly "a willingness to compensate" (_Catechism of the Council of Trent_, ii. 5. 22).]

[Footnote 84: Goblet d'Alviella, _Hibbert Lectures on the Origin and Growth of the Conception of God_, p. 263.]

[Footnote 85: _Psalms_, li. 16 _sq._]

[Footnote 86: Moore, _loc. cit._ col. 4225.]

[Footnote 87: _Cf._ Martineau, _Types of Ethical Theory_, ii. 203.]

That moral indignation is appeased by repentance, and that repentance is the only proper ground for forgiveness, is thus due, not to the specifically moral character of such indignation, but to its being a form of resentment. This is confirmed by the fact that an angry and revengeful man is apt to be in a similar way influenced by the sincere apologies of the offender. As Aristotle said, men are placable in regard to those who acknowledge and repent their guilt: "there is proof of this in the case of chastising servants; for we chastise more violently those who contradict us, and deny their guilt; but towards such as acknowledge themselves to be justly punished, we cease from our wrath."[88] To take an instance from the savage world. The Caroline Islander, according to Mr. Christian, "is inclined to be revengeful, and will bide his time patiently until his opportunity comes. Yet he is not implacable, and counts reconciliation a noble and a princely thing. There is a form of etiquette to be observed on {88} these occasions--a present (_katom_) is made, an apology offered--a piece of sugar-cane accepted by the aggrieved party--honour is satisfied and the matter ends."[89] In the case of revenge, external satisfaction or material compensation is often allowed to take the place of genuine repentance, and the humiliation of the adversary may be sufficient to quiet the angry passion. But the revenge felt by a reflecting mind is not so readily satisfied. It wants to remove the cause which aroused it. The object which resentment is chiefly intent upon, Adam Smith observes, "is not so much to make our enemy feel pain in his turn, as to make him conscious that he feels it upon account of his past conduct, to make him repent of that conduct, and to make him sensible, that the person whom he injured did not deserve to be treated in that manner."[90] The delight of revenge, says Bacon, "seemeth to be not so much in doing the hurt, as in making the party repent."[91]

[Footnote 88: Aristotle, _Rhetorica_, ii. 3. 5.]

[Footnote 89: Christian, _Caroline Islands_, p. 72.]

[Footnote 90: Adam Smith, _Theory of Moral Sentiments_, p. 138 _sq._]

[Footnote 91: Bacon, 'Essay IV. Of Revenge,' in _Essays_, p. 45. _Cf._ Montaigne, _Essais_, ii. 27 (_Oeuvres_, p. 384).]

We can now see the origin of the idea that the true end of punishment is the reformation of the criminal. This idea merely emphasises the most humane element in resentment, the demand that the offender's will shall cease to be offensive. The principle of reformation has thus itself a retributive origin. This explains the fact, otherwise inexplicable, that the amendment which it has in view is to be effected by the infliction of pain. It also accounts for the inconsistent attitude of the reformationist towards incorrigible offenders, already commented upon. Resentment gives way to forgiveness only in the case of repentance, not in the case of incorrigibility. Hence, not even the reformationist regards incorrigibility as a legitimate ground for exempting a person from punishment, although this flatly contradicts his theory about the true aim of all punishment.

Thus the theories both of determent and of reformation are ultimately offspring of the same emotion that first {89} induced men to inflict punishment on their fellow-creatures. It escaped the advocates of these theories that they themselves were under the influence of the very principle they fought against, because they failed to grasp its true import. Rightly understood, resentment is preventive in its nature, and, when sufficiently deliberate, regards the infliction of suffering as a means rather than as an end. It not only gives rise to punishment, but readily suggests, as a proper end of punishment, either determent or amendment or both. But, first of all, moral resentment wants to raise a protest against wrong. And the immediate aim of punishment has always been to give expression to the righteous indignation of the society which inflicts it.

Now it may be thought that men have no right to give vent to their moral resentment in a way which hurts their neighbours unless some benefit may be expected from it. In the case of many other emotions, we hold that the conative element in the emotion ought not to be allowed to develop into a distinct volition or act; and it would seem that a similar view might be taken with reference to the aggressiveness inherent in moral disapproval. It is a notion of this kind that lies at the bottom of the utilitarian theories of punishment. They are protests against purposeless infliction of pain, against crude ideas of retributive justice, against theories hardly in advance of the low feelings of the popular mind. Therefore, they mark a stage of higher refinement in the evolution of the moral consciousness; and if the principles of determent and reformation are open to objections which will be shared by almost everyone, that is due to other circumstances than their demand that punishment should serve a useful end. As we have seen, they ignore the fact that a punishment, in order to be recognised as just, must not transgress the limits set down by moral disapproval, that it must not be inflicted on innocent persons, that it must be proportioned to the guilt, that offenders who are amenable to discipline must not be treated more severely {90} than incorrigible criminals. These theories also seem to exaggerate the deterring or reforming influence which punishments exercise upon criminals,[92] whilst, in another respect, they take too narrow a view of its social usefulness. Whether its voice inspire fear or not, whether it wake up a sleeping conscience or not, punishment, at all events, tells people in plain terms what, in the opinion of the society, they ought not to do. It gives the multitude a severe lesson in public morality; and it is difficult to see how quite the same effect could be attained by any other method. Retaliation is such a spontaneous expression of indignation, that people would hardly realise the offensiveness of an act which evokes no signs of resentment. Of course, punishment, in the legal sense of the term, is only one form--the most concrete form--of public retaliation; it is, indeed, probable that public opinion exercises a greater influence on men than punishment would do without its aid.[93] But punishment, in combination with public opinion, has no doubt to some extent an educating, and not merely a deterring, influence upon the members of a society. As Sir James Stephen observes, "the sentence of the law is to the moral sentiment of the public in relation to any offence what a seal is to hot wax. It converts into a permanent final judgment what might otherwise be a transient sentiment."[94] finally, it must not be overlooked that the infliction of punishment upon the perpetrator of a grave offence gratifies a strong general desire, and, even though the pain which always accompanies an unsatisfied desire would by itself afford no sufficient justification for subjecting the offence to such intense {91} suffering, other more serious consequences might easily result from leaving him unpunished. The public indignation might find a vent in some less regular and less discriminating mode of retaliation, like lynching; or, on the other hand, by remaining unsatisfied, the desire might dwindle away from want of nourishment, and the moral standard suffer a corresponding loss.

[Footnote 92: On the limited efficiency of punishment as a deterrent, see Ferri, _op. cit._ p. 82 _sq._ On the moral insensibility of the instinctive and habitual criminal, and absence of remorse, see Havelock Ellis, _The Criminal_, p. 124 _sqq._]

[Footnote 93: _Cf._ Locke, _Essay concerning Human Understanding_, ii. 28. 12 (_Philosophical Works_, p. 283); Shaftesbury, 'Inquiry concerning Virtue and Merit,' i. 3. 3, in _Characteristicks_, ii. 64.]

[Footnote 94: Stephen, _History of the Criminal Law of England_, ii. 81. _Cf._ Shaftesbury, _op. cit._ ii. 64: "As to punishments and rewards, their efficacy is not so much from the fear or expectation which they raise, as from a natural esteem of virtue, and detestation of villainy, which is awaken'd and excited by these publick expressions of the approbation and hatred of mankind in each case."]

However, it is not to be believed that, in practice, the infliction of punishment is, or ever will be, regulated merely by considerations of social utility, even within the limits of what is recognised as legitimate by the moral sentiment. The retributive desire is so strong, and appears so natural, that we can neither help obeying it, nor seriously disapprove of its being obeyed. The theory that we have a right to punish an offender only in so far as, by doing so, we promote the general happiness, really serves in the main as a justification for gratifying such a desire, rather than as a foundation for penal practice. Moreover, this theory refers, and pretends to refer, only to outward behaviour--to punishment, not to the emotion from which punishment springs. It condemns the retributive act, not the retributive desire.

But at the same time the aggressive element in the emotion itself has undergone a change, which tends to conceal its true nature by partly leading it into a new channel, or, rather, by narrowing the channel in which it discharges itself. Resentment is directed against the cause of the offence by which it was aroused--broadly speaking, the offender. But when duly reflecting upon the matter, we cannot fail to admit that the real cause was not the offender as a whole, but his will. Deliberate and discriminating resentment is therefore apt to turn against the will rather than against the willer; as we have seen, it is desirous to inflict pain on the offender chiefly as a means of removing the cause of pain suffered, _i.e._, the existence of the bad will. If this is the case with deliberate resentment in general, it must particularly be the case with moral indignation, which is more likely to be {92} influenced by sympathy, and hence more discriminate, than non-moral resentment. This fact gives rise to the moral commandment that we should hate, not the sinner, but the sin. The hostile reaction should be focussed on the will of the offender, and his sensibility should be regarded merely as an instrument through which the will is worked upon. But there is little hope that such a demand can ever be strictly enforced. Professor Sidgwick justly remarks that, though moralists try to distinguish between anger directed "against the act" and anger directed "against the agent," it may be fairly doubted whether it is within the capacity of ordinary human nature to maintain this distinction in practice.[95] The will which offends, and the sensibility which suffers, cannot seriously be looked upon as two different entities the one of which should not be punished for the fault of the other. The person himself is held responsible for the offence. The hostile reaction turns against his will because only by acting upon the will can the cause of pain be removed. But since the remotest ages the aggressive attitude towards this cause has been connected with an instinctive desire to produce counter-pain; and, though we may recognise that such a desire, or rather the volition into which it tends to develop, may be morally justifiable only if it is intended to remove the cause of pain, we can hardly help being indulgent to the gratification of a human instinct which seems to be well nigh ineradicable. It is the instinctive desire to inflict counter-pain that gives to moral indignation its most important characteristic. Without it, moral condemnation and the ideas of right and wrong would never have come into existence. Without it, we should no more condemn a bad man than a poisonous plant. The reason why moral judgments are passed on volitional beings, or their acts, is not merely that they are volitional, but that they are sensitive as well; and however much we try to concentrate our indignation on the act, it derives its peculiar flavour from being directed {93} against a sensitive agent. I have heard persons of a highly sympathetic cast of mind assert that a wrong act awakens in them only sorrow, not indignation; but though sorrow be the predominant element in their state of mind, I believe that, on a close inspection, they would find there another emotion as well, one in which there is immanent an element of hostility, however slight. It is true that the intensity of moral indignation cannot always be measured by the actual desire to cause pain to the offender; but its intensity seems nevertheless to be connected with the amount of suffering which the indignant man is willing to let the offender undergo in consequence of the offence. Which of us could ever, quite apart from any utilitarian considerations, feel the same sympathy with a person who suffers on account of his badness as with one who suffers innocently? It is one of the most interesting facts related to the moral consciousness of a higher type, that it in vain condemns the gratification of the very desire from which it sprang. It is like a man of low extraction, who, in spite of all acquired refinement, bears his origin stamped on his face.

[Footnote 95: Sidgwick, _Methods of Ethics_, p. 364.]

* * * * *

Whilst resentment is a hostile attitude of mind towards a cause of pain, retributive kindly emotion is a friendly attitude of mind towards a cause of pleasure. Just as in the lower forms of anger there is hardly any definite desire to produce suffering, only a vehement desire to remove the cause of pain, so in the lower form of retributive kindly emotion there is hardly any definite desire to produce pleasure, only a friendly endeavour to retain the cause of the pleasure experienced. When the emotion contains a definite desire to give pleasure in return for pleasure received, and at the same time is felt by the favoured party in his capacity of being himself the object of the benefit, it is called gratitude. We often find intermingled with gratitude a feeling of indebtedness; he upon whom a benefit has been conferred feels himself as a debtor, and regards the benefactor as his creditor. This feeling has {94} even been represented as essential to, or as a condition of, gratitude;[96] but it is not implied in what I here understand by gratitude. It is one thing to be grateful, and another thing to feel that it is one's duty to be grateful. A depression of the "self-feeling," a feeling of humiliation, also frequently accompanies gratitude as a motive for requiting the benefit; but it is certainly not an element in gratitude itself.

[Footnote 96: Horwicz, _Psychologische Analysen_, ii. 333: "Ohne dieses Gefühl des Verbundenseins . . . . kann keine Dankbarkeit auskommen." _Cf._ Milton, _Paradise Lost_, iv. 52 _sqq._]

Retributive kindly emotion is a much less frequent phenomenon in the animal kingdom than is the emotion of resentment. In many animal species not even the germ of it is found, and where it occurs it is generally restricted within narrow limits. Anybody may provoke an animal's anger, but only towards certain individuals it is apt to feel retributive kindliness. The limits for this emotion are marked off by the conditions under which altruistic sentiments in general tend to arise--a subject which will be discussed in another connection. Indeed, social affection is itself essentially retributive. Gregarious animals take pleasure in each other's company, and with this pleasure is intimately associated kindly feeling towards its cause, the companion himself. Social affection presupposes reciprocity; it is not only a friendly sentiment towards another individual, but towards an individual who is conceived of as a friend.

The intrinsic object of retributive kindliness being to retain a cause of pleasure, we may assume that the definite desire to produce pleasure in return for pleasure received is due to the fact that such a desire materially promotes the object in question--exactly in the same way as the definite desire to inflict pain in return for pain inflicted has become an element in resentment because such a desire promotes the intrinsic object of resentment, the removal of the cause of pain. And as natural selection accounts for the origin of resentment, so it also accounts for the {95} origin of retributive kindly emotion. Both of these emotions are useful states of mind; by resentment evils are averted, by retributive kindliness benefits are secured. That there is such a wide difference in their prevalence is explicable from the simple facts that gregariousness--which is the root of social affection, and, largely at least, a condition of the rise of retributive kindly emotions--is an advantage only to some species, not to all, and that even gregarious animals have many enemies, but few friends.

In some cases the friendly reaction in retributive kindliness is directed towards individuals who have in no way been the cause of the pleasure which gave rise to the emotion. So intimate is the connection between the stimulus and the reaction, that he who is made happy often feels a general desire to make others happy.[97] But such an indiscriminate reaction is only an offset of the emotion with which we are here concerned. Moreover, retributive kindly emotion often confers benefits upon somebody nearly related to the benefactor, if he himself be out of reach, or in addition to benefits conferred on him. But in such cases the gratitude towards the benefactor is the real motive.

[Footnote 97: That a happy man wants to see glad faces around him, is also due to another cause, which has been pointed out by Dr. Hirn (_Origins of Art_, p. 83): from their expression he wants to derive further nourishment and increase for his own feeling.]

That moral approval--by which I understand that emotion of which moral praise or reward is the outward manifestation--is a kind of retributive kindly emotion and as such allied to gratitude, will probably be admitted without much hesitation.[98] Its friendly character is not, like the hostile character of moral disapproval, disguised by any apparently contradictory facts. To confer a benefit upon a person is not generally regarded as wrong, unless, indeed, it involves an encroachment on somebody's rights or is contrary to the feeling of justice. And that moral approval sometimes bestows its favours upon undeserving {96} individuals for the merits of others, can no more invalidate the fact that it is essentially directed towards the cause of pleasure, than the occasional infliction of punishments upon innocent individuals invalidates the fact that moral disapproval is essentially directed against the cause of pain. Unmerited rewards are explicable on grounds analogous to those to which we have traced unmerited punishments.

[Footnote 98: The relationship between gratitude and moral approval has been recognised by Hartley (_Observations on Man_, i. 520) and Adam Smith (_Theory of Moral Sentiments_, _passim_).]

The doctrine of family solidarity leads, not only to common responsibility for crimes, but to common enjoyment of merits.

In Madagascar, exemption from punishment was claimed by the descendants of persons who had rendered any particular service to the sovereign or the State, as also by other branches of the family, on the same plea.[99] According to Chinese ideas, the virtuous conduct of any individual will result, not only in prosperity to himself, but in a certain quantity of happiness to his posterity, unless indeed the personal wickedness of some of the descendants neutralise the benefits which would otherwise accrue from the virtue of the ancestor;[100] and, conversely, the Chinese Government confers titles of nobility upon the dead parents of a distinguished son.[101] The idea that the dead share in _punya_ or _pâpa_, that is, the merit or demerit of the living, and that the happiness of a man in the next life depends on the good works of his descendants, was early familiar to the civilised natives of India; almost all legal deeds of gift contain the formula that the gift is made "for the increase of the _punya_ of the donor and that of his father and mother."[102]

[Footnote 99: Ellis, _History of Madagascar_, 376.]

[Footnote 100: Giles, _Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio_, i. 426, n. 3; ii. 384, n. 63. Doolittle, _Social Life of the Chinese_, ii. 398.]

[Footnote 101: Giles, _op. cit._ i. 305, n. 6. Wells Williams, _Middle Kingdom_, i. 422.]

[Footnote 102: Barth, _Religions of India_, p. 52, n. 4.]

But the vicarious efficacy of good deeds is not necessarily restricted to the members of the same family.

In a hymn of the Rig-Veda we find the idea that the merits or the pious may benefit their neighbours.[103] According to one of the Pahlavi texts, persons who are wholly unable to perform good works are supposed to be entitled to a share of any supererogatory good works performed by others.[104] The Chinese believe that {97} whole kingdoms are blessed by benevolent spirits for the virtuous conduct of their rulers.[105] Yahveh promised not to destroy Sodom for the sake of ten righteous, provided that so many righteous could be found in the town.[106] The doctrine of vicarious reward or satisfaction through good works is, in fact, more prevalent than the doctrine of vicarious punishment. Jewish theology has a great deal more to say about the acceptance of the merits of the righteous on behalf of the wicked, than about atonement through sacrifice.[107] The Muhammedans, who know nothing of vicarious suffering as a means of expiation, confer merits upon their dead by reciting chapters of the Koran and almsgiving, and some of them allow the pilgrimage to Mecca to be done by proxy.[108] Christian theology itself maintains that salvation depends on the merit of the passion of Christ; and from early times the merits of martyrs and saints were believed to benefit other members of the Church.[109]

[Footnote 103: _Rig-Veda_, vii. 35. 4.]

[Footnote 104: _Dînâ-î-Maînôg-î Khirad_ xv. 3.]

[Footnote 105: de Groot, _Religious System of China_ (vol. iv. book) ii. 435.]

[Footnote 106: _Genesis_, xviii. 32.]

[Footnote 107: Robertson Smith, _Religion of the Semites_, p. 424, n. 1.]

[Footnote 108: Lane, _Modern Egyptians_, pp. 247, 248, 532. Sell, _op. cit._ pp. 242, 278, 287, 288, 298. _Cf._ Wallin, _Fórsta Resa från Cairo till Arabiska öknen_, p. 103.]

[Footnote 109: Harnack, _History of Dogma_, ii. 133, n. 3.]

For the explanation of these and similar facts various circumstances have to be considered. Good deeds may be so pleasing to a god as to induce him to forgive the sins of the wicked in accordance with the rule that anger yields to joy. There is solidarity not only between members of the same family, but between members of the same social unit; hence the virtues of individuals may benefit the whole community to which they belong. The Catholic theologian argues that, since we are all regenerated unto Christ by being washed in the same baptism, made partakers of the same sacraments, and, especially, of the same meat and drink, the body and blood of Christ, we are all members of the same body. "As, then, the foot does not perform its functions solely for itself, but also for the benefit of the eyes; and as the eyes exercise their sight, not for their own, but for the common benefit of all the members; so should works of satisfaction be deemed common to all the members of the {98} Church."[110] Moreover, virtues, like sins, are believed to be in a material way transferable. In Upper Bavaria, when a dead person is laid out, a cake of flour is placed on his breast in order to absorb the virtues of the deceased, whereupon the cake is eaten by the nearest relatives.[111] And we are told that, in a certain district in the north of England, if a child is brought to the font at the same time as a body is committed to the ground, whatever was "good" in the deceased person is supposed to be transferred to the little child, since God does not allow any "goodness" to be buried and lost to the world, and such "goodness" is most likely to enter a little child coming to the sacrament of Baptism.[112] A blessing, also, no less than a curse, is looked upon in the light of material energy; goodness is not required for the acquisition of it, mere contact will do. Blessings are hereditary:--"The just man walketh in his integrity: his children are blessed after him."[113]

[Footnote 110: _Catechism of the Council of Trent_, ii. 5. 72.]

[Footnote 111: _Am Urquell_, ii. 101.]

[Footnote 112: Peacock, 'Executed Criminals and Folk-Medicine,' in _Folk-Lore_, vii. 280.]

[Footnote 113: _Proverbs_, xx. 7.]

It is no doubt more becoming for a god to pardon the sinner on account of the merits of the virtuous, than to punish the innocent for the sins of the wicked. It shows that his compassion overcomes his wrath; and the mercy of the deity is, among all divine attributes, that on which the higher monotheistic religions lay most stress. Allah said, "Whoso doth one good act, for him are ten rewards, and I also give more to whomsoever I will; and whoso doth ill, its retaliation is equal to it, or else I forgive him."[114] Nevertheless, the moral consciousness of a higher type can hardly approve that the wicked should be pardoned for the sake of the virtuous, or that the reward for an act should be bestowed upon anybody else than the agent. The doctrine of vicarious merit or recompense is not just; it involves that badness is unduly ignored; it is based on crude ideas of goodness and merit. The theory of _opera supererogativa_, as we have seen, attaches badness {99} and goodness to external acts rather than to mental facts, and assumes that reparation can be given for badness, whereas the scrutinising moral judge only forgives badness in case it is superseded by repentance. If thus a bad act cannot be compensated by a good one, even though both be performed by one and the same person, it can still less be compensated by the good act of another man. From various quarters we hear protests against the notion of vicarious merit--protests which emphasise the true direction of moral reward. Ezekiel, who reproved the old idea that the children's teeth are set on edge because the fathers have eaten sour grapes, also taught that a wicked son is to reap no benefit from the blessings bestowed upon a righteous father.[115] "Fear the day," says the Koran, "wherein no soul shall pay any recompense for another soul."[116] The Buddhistic Dhammapada contains the following passage, which sums up our whole argument:--"By oneself the evil is done, by oneself one suffers; by oneself evil is left undone, by oneself one is purified. The pure and the impure stand and fall by themselves, no one can purify another."[117]

[Footnote 114: Lane-Poole, _Speeches and Table-Talk of Mohammad_, p. 147.]

[Footnote 115: _Ezekiel_, xviii. 5 _sqq._]

[Footnote 116: _Koran_, ii. 44.]

[Footnote 117: _Dhammapada_, xii. 165.]

CHAPTER IV

THE NATURE OF THE MORAL EMOTIONS (_concluded_)

WE have seen that moral disapproval is a form of resentment, and that moral approval is a form of retributive kindly emotion. It still remains for us to examine in what respects these emotions differ from kindred non-moral emotions--disapproval from anger and revenge, approval from gratitude--in other words, what characterises them as specifically _moral_ emotions.

It is a common opinion, held by all who regard the intellect as the source of moral concepts, that moral emotions only arise in consequence of moral judgments, and that, in each case, the character of the emotion is determined by the predicate of the judgment. We are told that, when the intellectual process is completed, when the act in question is definitely classed under such or such a moral category, then, and only then, there follows instantaneously a feeling of either approbation or disapprobation as the case may be.[1] When we hear of a murder, for instance, we must discern the wrongness of the act before we can feel moral indignation at it.

[Footnote 1: Fleming, _Manual of Moral Philosophy_, p. 97 _sqq._ Fowler, _Principles of Morals_, ii. 198 _sqq._]

It is true that a moral judgment may be followed by a moral emotion, that the finding out the tendency of a certain mode of conduct to evoke indignation or approval is apt to call forth such an emotion, if there was none before, or otherwise to increase the one existing. It is, moreover, true that the predicate of a moral judgment, as {101} well as the generalisation leading up to such a predicate, may give a specific colouring to the approval or disapproval which it produces, quite apart from the general characteristics belonging to that emotion in its capacity of a moral emotion; the concepts of duty and justice, for instance, no doubt have a peculiar flavour of their own. But for all this, moral emotions cannot be described as resentment or retributive kindliness called forth by moral judgments. Such a definition would be a meaningless play with words. Whatever emotions may follow moral judgments, such judgments could never have been pronounced unless there had been moral emotions antecedent to them. Their predicates, as was pointed out above, are essentially based on generalisations of tendencies in certain phenomena to arouse moral emotions; hence the criterion of a moral emotion can in no case depend upon its proceeding from a moral judgment. But at the same time moral judgments, being definite expressions of moral emotions, naturally help us to discover the true nature of these emotions.

The predicate of a moral judgment always involves a notion of disinterestedness. When pronouncing an act to be good or bad, I mean that it is so, quite independently of any reference it might have to my own interests. A moral judgment may certainly have a selfish motive; but then it, nevertheless, pretends to be disinterested, which shows that disinterestedness is a characteristic of moral concepts as such. This is admitted even by the egoistic hedonist, who maintains that we approve and condemn acts from self-love. According to Helvetius, it is the love of consideration that a virtuous man takes to be in him the love of virtue; and yet everybody pretends to love virtue for its own sake, "this phrase is in every one's mouth and in no one's heart."[2]

[Footnote 2: Helvetius, _De l'Homme_, i. 263.]

If the moral concepts are essentially generalisations of tendencies in certain phenomena to call forth moral emotions, and, at the same time, contain the notion of {102} disinterestedness, we must conclude that the emotions from which they spring are felt disinterestedly. Of this fact we find an echo--more or less faithful--in the maxims of various ethical theorisers, as well as practical moralists. We find it in the utilitarian demand that, in regard to his own happiness and that of others, an agent should be "as strictly impartial as a disinterested and benevolent spectator";[3] in the "rule of righteousness" laid down by Samuel Clarke, that "We so deal with every man, as in like circumstances we could reasonably expect he should with us";[4] in Kant's formula, "Act only on that maxim which thou canst at the same time will to become a universal law";[5] in Professor Sidgwick's so-called axiom, "I ought not to prefer my own lesser good to the greater good of another";[6] in the biblical sayings, "Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself,"[7] and, "Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them."[8] The same fact is expressed in the Indian Mahabharata, where it is said:--"Let no man do to another that which would be repugnant to himself; this is the sum of righteousness; the rest is according to inclination. In refusing, in bestowing, in regard to pleasure and to pain, to what is agreeable and disagreeable, a man obtains the proper rule by regarding the case as like his own."[9] Similar words are ascribed to Confucius.[10] When Tsze-kung asked if there is any one word which may serve as a rule of practice for all one's life, the Master answered, "Is not Reciprocity such a word? What you do not want done to yourself, do not do to {103} others." And in another utterance Confucius showed that the rule had for him not only a negative, but a positive form. He said that, in the way of the superior man, there are four things to none of which he himself had as yet attained; to serve his father as he would require his son to serve him, to serve his prince as he would require his minister to serve him, to serve his elder brother as he would require his younger brother to serve him, and to set the example in behaving to a friend as he would require the friend to behave to him.[11]

[Footnote 3: Stuart Mill, _Utilitarianism_, p. 24.]

[Footnote 4: Clarke, _Discourse concerning the Unchangeable Obligations of Natural Religion_, p. 201.]

[Footnote 5: Kant, _Grundlegung zur Metaphysik der Sitten_, sec. 2 (_Sämmtliche Werke_, iv. 269).]

[Footnote 6: Sidgwick, _Methods of Ethics_, p. 383. However, as we have seen above, this so-called "axiom" is not a correct representation of the disinterestedness of moral emotions.]

[Footnote 7: _Leviticus_, xix. 18. _St. Matthew_, xxii. 39.]

[Footnote 8: _St. Matthew_, vii. 12. _Cf._ _St. Luke_, vi. 31.]

[Footnote 9: _Mahabharata_, xiii. 5571 _sq._, in Muir, _Religious and Moral Sentiments, rendered from Sanskrit Writers_, p. 107. _Cf._ _Panchatantra_, iii. (Benfey's translation, ii. 235).]

[Footnote 10: _Lun Yü_, xv. 23. _Cf._ _ibid._ xii. 2; _Chung Yung_, xiii. 3.]

[Footnote 11: _Chung Yung_, xiii. 4.]

This "golden rule" is not, as has been sometimes argued, a rule of retaliation.[12] It does not say, "Do to others what they wish to do to you"; it says, "Do to others what you wish, or require, them to do to you." It brings home to us the fact that moral rules are general rules, which ought to be obeyed irrespectively of any selfish considerations. If formulated as an injunction that we should treat our neighbour in the same manner as we consider that he, under exactly similar circumstances, ought to treat us, it is simply identical with the sentence, "Do your duty," with emphasis laid on the disinterestedness which is involved in the very conception of duty. So far, St. Augustine was right in saying that "Do as thou wouldst be done by" is a sentence which all nations under heaven are agreed upon.[13]

[Footnote 12: Letourneau, _L'évolution religieuse dans les diverses races humaines_, p. 553.]

[Footnote 13: St. Augustine, quoted by Lilly, _Right and Wrong_, p. 106.]

Disinterestedness, however, is not the only characteristic by which moral indignation and approval are distinguished from other, non-moral, kinds of resentment or retributive kindly emotion. It is, indeed, itself a form of a more comprehensive quality which characterises moral emotions--apparent impartiality. If I pronounce an act done to a friend or to an enemy to be either good or bad, that implies that I assume it to be so independently of the fact that the person to whom the act is done is my friend or my enemy. Conversely, if I pronounce an {104} act done by a friend or by an enemy to be good or bad, that implies that I assume the act to be either good or bad independently of my friendly or hostile feelings towards the agent. All this means that resentment and retributive kindly emotion are moral emotions in so far as they are assumed by those who feel them to be uninfluenced by the particular relationship in which they stand, both to those who are immediately affected by the acts in question, and to those who perform those acts. A moral emotion, then, is tested by an imaginary change of the relationship between him who approves or disapproves of the mode of conduct by which the emotion was evoked and the parties immediately concerned, whilst the relationship between the parties themselves is left unaltered. At the same time it is not necessary that the moral emotion should be really impartial. It is sufficient that it is tacitly assumed to be so, nay, even that it is not knowingly partial. In attributing different rights to different individuals, or classes of individuals, we are often, in reality, influenced by the relationship in which we stand to them, by personal sympathies and antipathies; and yet those rights may be moral rights, in the strict sense of the term, not mere preferences, namely, if we assume that any impartial judge would recognise our attribution of rights as just, or even if we are unaware of its partiality. Similarly, when the savage censures a homicide committed upon a member of his own tribe, but praises one committed upon a member of another tribe, his censure and praise are certainly influenced by his relations to the victim, or to the agent, or to both. He does not reason thus: it is blamable to kill a member of one's own tribe, and it is praiseworthy to kill a member of a foreign tribe--whether the tribe be mine or not. Nevertheless, his blame and his praise must be regarded as expressions of moral emotions.

Finally, a moral emotion has a certain flavour of generality. We have previously noticed that a moral judgment very frequently implies some vague assumption {105} that it must be shared by everybody who possesses both a sufficient knowledge of the case and a "sufficiently developed" moral consciousness. We have seen, however, that this assumption is illusory. It cannot, consequently, be regarded as a _conditio sine quâ non_ for a moral judgment, unless, indeed, it be maintained that such a judgment, owing to its very nature, is necessarily a chimera--an opinion which, to my mind, would be simply absurd. But, though moral judgments cannot lay claim to universality or "objectivity," it does not follow that they are merely individual estimates. Even he who fully sees their limitations must admit that, when he pronounces an act to be good or bad, he gives expression to something more than a personal opinion, that his judgment has reference, not only to his own feelings, but to the feelings of others as well. And this is true even though he be aware that his own conviction is not shared by those around him, nor by anybody else. He then feels that it _would be_ shared if other people knew the act and all its attendant circumstances as well as he does himself, and if, at the same time, their emotions were as refined as are his own. This feeling gives to his approval or indignation a touch of generality, which belongs to public approval and public indignation, but which is never found in any merely individual emotion of gratitude or revenge.

* * * * *

The analysis of the moral emotions which has been attempted in this and the two preceding chapters, holds good, not only for such emotions as we feel on account of the conduct of others, but for such emotions as we feel on account of our own conduct as well. Moral self-condemnation is a hostile attitude of mind towards one's self as the cause of pain, moral self-approval is a kindly attitude of mind towards one's self as a cause of pleasure. Genuine remorse, though focussed on the will of the person who feels it, involves, vaguely or distinctly, some desire to suffer. The repentant man wants to think of the wrong he has committed, he wants clearly to realise {106} its wickedness; and he wants to do this, not merely because he desires to become a better man, but because it gives him some relief to feel the sting in his heart. If punished for his deed, he willingly submits to the punishment. The Philippine Islander, says Mr. Foreman, if he recognises a fault by his own conscience, will receive a flogging without resentment or complaint, although, "if he is not so convinced of the misdeed, he will await his chance to give vent to his rancour."[14] We may feel actual hatred towards ourselves, we may desire to inflict bodily suffering upon ourselves as a punishment for what we have done;[15] nay, there are instances of criminals, guilty of capital offences, having given themselves up to the authorities in order to appease their consciences by suffering the penalty of the law.[16] Yet the desire to punish ourselves has a natural antagonist in our general aversion to pain, and this often blunts the sting of the conscience. Suicide prompted by remorse, which sometimes occurs even among savages,[17] is to be regarded rather as a method of putting an end to agonies, than as a kind of self-execution; and behind the self-torments of the sinner frequently lurks the hopeful prospect of heavenly bliss. Self-approval, again, is not merely joy at one's own conduct, but is a kindly emotion, a friendly attitude towards one's self. Such an attitude, for instance, lies at the bottom of the feeling that one's own conduct merits praise or reward.

[Footnote 14: Foreman, _Philippine Islands_, p. 185. _Cf._ Hinde, _The Last of the Masai_, p. 34; Zöller, _Das Togoland_, p. 37.]

[Footnote 15: _Cf._ Jodl, _Lehrbuch der Psychologie_, p. 675.]

[Footnote 16: von Feuerbach, _Aktenmässige Darstellung merkwürdiger Verbrechen_, i. 249; ii. 473, 479 _sq._ von Lasaulx, _Sühnopfer der Griechen und Römer_, p. 6.]

[Footnote 17: See _infra_, on Suicide.]

Not every form of self-reproach or of self-approval is a moral emotion--no more than is every form of resentment or retributive kindly emotion towards other persons. We may be angry with ourselves on account of some act of ours which is injurious to our own interests. He who has lost at play may be as vexed at himself as he who has {107} cheated at play, and the egoist may bitterly reproach himself for having yielded to a momentary impulse of benevolence, or even to conscience itself. In order to be moral emotions, our self-condemnation and self-approval must present the same characteristics as make resentment and retributive kindliness moral emotions when they are felt with reference to the conduct of other people. A person does not feel remorse when he reproaches himself from an egoistic motive, or when he afterwards regrets that he has sacrificed the interests of his children to the impartial claim of justice. Nor does a person feel moral self-approval when he is pleased with himself for having committed an act which he recognises as selfish or unjust. And besides being disinterested and apparently impartial, remorse and moral self-approval have a flavour of generality. As Professor Baldwin remarks, moral approval or disapproval, not only of other people, but of one's self, "is never at its best except when it is accompanied, in the consciousness which has it, with the knowledge or belief that it is also socially shared."[18] Indeed, almost inseparable from the moral judgments which we pass on our own conduct seems to be the image of an impartial outsider who acts as our judge.

[Footnote 18: Baldwin, _Social and Ethical Interpretation in Mental Development_, p. 314.]

CHAPTER V

THE ORIGIN OF THE MORAL EMOTIONS

WE have found that resentment and retributive kindly emotion are easily explicable from their usefulness, both of them having a tendency to promote the interests of the individuals who feel them. This explanation also holds good for the moral emotions, in so far as they are retributive emotions: it accounts for the hostile attitude of moral disapproval towards the cause of pain, and for the friendly attitude of moral approval towards the cause of pleasure. But it still remains for us to discover the origin of those elements in the moral emotions by which they are distinguished from other, non-moral, retributive emotions. First, how shall we explain their disinterestedness?

We have to distinguish between different classes of conditions under which disinterested retributive emotions arise. In the first place, we may feel disinterested resentment, or disinterested retributive kindly emotion, on account of an injury inflicted, or a benefit conferred, upon another person with whose pain, or pleasure, we sympathise, and in whose welfare we take a kindly interest. Our retributive emotions are, of course, always reactions against pain, or pleasure, felt by ourselves; this holds true for the moral emotions as well as for revenge and gratitude. The question to be answered, then, is, Why should we, quite disinterestedly, feel pain calling forth indignation because our neighbour is hurt, and pleasure calling forth approval because he is benefited?

{109} That a certain act causes pleasure or pain to the by-stander is partly due to the close association which exists between these feelings and their outward expressions. The sight of a happy face tends to produce some degree of pleasure in him who sees it; the sight of the bodily signs of suffering tends to produce a feeling of pain. In either case the feeling of the spectator is the result of a process of reproduction, the perception of the physical manifestation of the feeling recalling the feeling itself on account of the established association between them.

Sympathetic pain or pleasure may also be the result of an association between cause and effect, between the cognition of a certain act or situation and the feeling generally produced by this act or situation. A blow may cause pain to the spectator before he has witnessed its effect on the victim. The sympathetic feeling is of course stronger when both kinds of association concur in producing it, than when it is the result of only one. As Adam Smith observes, "general lamentations which express nothing but the anguish of the sufferer, create rather a curiosity to inquire into his situation, along with some disposition to sympathise with him, than any actual sympathy that is very sensible."[1] On the other hand, the sympathy which springs from an association between cause and effect is much enhanced by the perception of outward signs of pleasure or pain in the individual with whom we sympathise.

[Footnote 1: Adam Smith, _Theory of Moral Sentiments_, p. 7.]

But the sympathetic feeling which results from association alone is not what is generally understood by sympathy. Arising merely from the habitual connection of certain cognitions with certain feelings in the experience of the spectator, it is, strictly speaking, not at all concerned with the _feelings_ of the other person. It is not a reflex of what he feels--which, indeed, is a matter of complete indifference--and the activity which it calls forth is thoroughly selfish. If it is a feeling of pain, the spectator naturally, for his own sake, tries to get rid of it; but this {110} may be done by turning the back upon the sufferer, and looking out for some diversion. The sympathetic feeling which springs from association alone, may also produce a benevolent or hostile reaction against its immediate cause: the smiling face often evokes a kindly feeling towards the smiler, and "the sight of suffering often directs irritation against the sufferer."[2] In such cases it is the other person himself, rather than his benefactor or his tormentor, that is regarded as cause by the sympathiser. When based on association alone, the sympathetic feeling thus lacks the most vital characteristic of sympathy, in the popular sense of the term: it lacks kindliness.[3]

[Footnote 2: Leslie Stephen, _Science of Ethics_, p. 243.]

[Footnote 3: The difference between sympathy and kindly ("tender") emotion has been commented upon by Professor Ribot (_Psychology of the Emotions_, p. 233), and by Mr. Shand, in his excellent chapter on the 'Sources of Tender Emotion,' in Stout's _Groundwork of Psychology_, p. 198 _sqq._]

Sympathy, in the ordinary use of the word, requires the co-operation of the altruistic sentiment or affection--a disposition of mind which is particularly apt to display itself as kindly emotion towards other beings. This sentiment,[4] only, induces us to take a kindly interest in the feelings of our neighbours. It involves a tendency, or willingness, and, when strongly developed, gives rise to an eager desire, to sympathise with their pains and pleasures. Under its influence, our sympathetic feeling is no longer a mere matter of association; we take an active part in its production, we direct our attention to any circumstance which we believe may affect the feelings of the person whom we love, to any external manifestation of his emotions. We are anxious to find out his joys and sorrows, so as to be able to rejoice with him and to suffer with him, and, especially, when he stands in need of it, to console or to help him. For the altruistic sentiment is not merely willingness to sympathise; it is above all a conative {111} disposition to do good. The latter aptitude must be regarded rather as the cause than as the result of the former; affection is not, as Adam Smith maintained,[5] merely habitual sympathy, or its necessary consequence. It is true that sympathetic pain, unaided by kindliness, may induce a person to relieve the suffering of his neighbour, instead of shutting his eyes to it; but then he does so, not out of regard to the feelings of the sufferer, but simply to free himself of a painful cognition. Nor must it be supposed that the altruistic sentiment prompts to assistance only by strengthening the sympathetic feeling. The sight of the wounded traveller may have caused no less pain to the Pharisee than to the good Samaritan; yet it would have been impossible for the Samaritan to dismiss his pain by going away, since he felt a desire to assist the wounded, and his desire would have been left ungratified if he had not stopped by the wayside. To the egoist, the relief offered to the sufferer is a means of suppressing the sympathetic pain; to the altruist, the sympathetic pain is, so to say, a means of giving relief. The altruist wants to know, to feel the pain of his neighbour, because he desires to help him. Why are the most kind-hearted people often the most cheerful, if not because they think of alleviating the misery of their fellow-creatures, instead of indulging in the sympathetic pain which it evokes?

[Footnote 4: I use the word "sentiment" in the sense proposed by Mr. Shand, in his article, 'Character and the Emotions,' in _Mind_, N.S. v. 203 _sqq._, and adopted by Professor Stout, _op. cit._ p. 221 _sqq._ Sentiments cannot be actually felt at any one moment; "they are complex mental dispositions, and may, as divers occasions arise, give birth to the whole gamut of the emotions" (_ibid._ p. 223 _sq._).]

[Footnote 5: Adam Smith, _op. cit._ p. 323.]

It is obvious, then, that sympathy aided by the altruistic sentiment--sympathy in the common sense--tends to produce disinterested retributive emotions. When we to some extent identify, as it were, our feelings with those of our neighbour, we naturally look upon any person who causes him pleasure or pain as the cause of our sympathetic pleasure or pain, and are apt to experience towards that person a retributive emotion similar in kind, if not always in degree, to the emotion which we feel when we are ourselves benefited or injured. In all animal species which possess altruistic sentiments in some form or other, we may be sure to find sympathetic resentment as their accompaniment. {112} A mammalian mother is as hostile to the enemy of her young as to her own enemy. Among social animals whose gregarious instinct has developed into social affection,[6] sympathetic resentment is felt towards the enemy of any member of the group; they mutually defend each other, and this undoubtedly involves some degree of sympathetic anger. With reference to animals in confinement and domesticated animals, many striking instances of this emotion might be quoted, even in cases when injuries have been inflicted on members of different species to which they have become attached. Professor Romanes' terrier, "whenever or wherever he saw a man striking a dog, whether in the house, or outside, near at hand or at a distance, . . . . used to rush in to interfere, snarling and snapping in a most threatening way."[7] Darwin makes mention of a little American monkey in the Zoological Gardens of London which, when seeing a great baboon attack his friend, the keeper, rushed to the rescue and by screams and bites so distracted the baboon, that the man was able to escape.[8] The dog who flies at any one who strikes, or even touches, his master, is a very familiar instance of sympathetic resentment. The Rev. Charles Williams mentions a dog at Liverpool who saved a cat from the hands of some young ruffians who were maltreating it: he rushed in among the boys, barked furiously at them, terrified them into flight, and carried the cat off in his mouth, bleeding and almost senseless, to his kennel, where he laid it on the straw, and nursed it.[9] In man, sympathetic resentment begins at an early age. Professor Sully mentions a little boy under four who was indignant at any picture where an animal suffered.[10]

[Footnote 6: The connection between social affection and the gregarious instinct will be discussed in a subsequent chapter.]

[Footnote 7: Romanes, _Animal Intelligence_, p. 440.]

[Footnote 8: Darwin, _Descent of Man_, p. 103. _Cf._ Fisher, in _Revue Scientifique_, xxxiii. 618. A curious instance of a terrier "avenging" the death of another terrier, his inseparable friend, is mentioned by Captain Medwin (_Angler in Wales_, ii. 162-164, 197, 216 _sq._).]

[Footnote 9: Williams, _Dogs and their Ways_, p. 43.]

[Footnote 10: Sully, _Studies of Childhood_, p. 250.]