A Manual of Moral Philosophy Part 5

*We can conceive of no right feeling, purpose, or action, which does not come under one of these heads.* It is obvious, too, that these are all _cardinal_ virtues, not one of which could be wanting or grossly deficient in a virtuous man. For, in the first place, he who omits were it only the duties of self-culture, and thus leaves himself ignorant of what he ought to know, takes upon himself the full burden, blame, and penalty of whatever wrong he may commit in consequence of needless ignorance; secondly, he who is willingly unfaithful in any of his relations to G.o.d or man, cannot by any possibility be worthy of approbation; nor, thirdly, can he be so, who is the slave, not the master, of his surroundings; while, fourthly, fitnesses of time, place, and measure are so essential to right-doing that the violation of them renders what else were right, wrong.

Moreover, *each of these four virtues*, if genuine and highly developed, *implies the presence of all the others*. 1. There is a world of wisdom in the question asked in the Hebrew Scriptures: "Have all the workers of iniquity no knowledge?" There is in all wrong-doing either ignorance, or temporary hallucination or blindness, and imprudence is but ignorance or delusion carried into action. Did we see clearly the certain bearings and consequences of actions, we should need no stronger dissuasive from all evil, no more cogent motive to every form of virtue. 2. There is no conceivable duty which may not be brought under the head of justice, either to G.o.d or to man; for our duties to ourselves are due to G.o.d who has ordained them, and to man whom we are the more able to benefit, the more diligent we are in self-government and self-improvement. 3. Our wrong-doing of every kind comes from our yielding to outward things instead of rising above them; and he who truly lives above the world, can hardly fail to do all that is right and good in it. 4. Perfect order-the doing of everything in the right time, place, and measure-would imply the presence of all the virtues, and would include all their work.

With this explanation we shall use the terms *Prudence*, *Justice*, *Fort.i.tude*, and *Order* in the t.i.tles of the four following chapters, at the same time claiming the liberty of employing these words, as we shall find it convenient, in the more restricted sense which they commonly bear.

Chapter IX.

PRUDENCE; OR DUTIES TO ONE'S SELF.

Can there be *duties to one's self*, which are of absolute obligation?

Duties are dues, and they imply two parties,-one who owes them, and one to whom they are due,-the debtor and the creditor. But the creditor may, at his will, cancel the debt, and release the debtor. In selfward duties, then, why may I not, as creditor, release myself as debtor? Why may I not-so long as I violate no obligation to others-be, at my own pleasure, idle or industrious, self-indulgent or abstinent, frivolous or serious?

Why, if life seem burdensome to me, may I not relieve myself of the trouble of living? The answer is, that to every object in the universe with which I am brought into relation I owe its fit use, and that no being in the universe, not even the Omnipotent, can absolve me from this obligation. Now my several powers and faculties, with reference to my will, are objects on which my volitions take effect, and I am bound to will their fit uses, and to abstain from thwarting or violating those uses, on the same ground on which I am bound to observe and reverence the fitnesses of objects that form no part of my personality. Moreover, this earthly life is, with reference to my will, an object on which my volitions may take effect; I learn-if not by unaided reason, from the Christian revelation-that my life has its fit uses, both in this world and in preparation for a higher state of being, and that these uses are often best served by the most painful events and experiences; and I thus find myself bound to take the utmost care of my life, even when it seems the least worth caring for.

The *duties due to one's self* are self-preservation, the attainment of knowledge, self-control, and moral self-culture.

Section I.

Self-Preservation.

The *uses of life*, both to ourselves, and to others through us, suffice, as we have said, to render its preservation a duty, enjoined upon us by the law of fitness. This duty is violated not only by suicide-against which it is useless to reason, for its victims in modern Christendom are seldom of sound mind-but equally by needless and wanton exposure to peril.

Such exposure is frequently incurred in reckless feats of strength or daring, sometimes consummated in immediate death, and still oftener in slower self-destruction by disease. There are, no doubt, occasions when self-preservation must yield to a higher duty, and humanity has made no important stage of progress without the free sacrifice of many n.o.ble lives; but because it may be a duty to give life in the cause of truth or liberty, it by no means follows that one has a right to throw it away for the gratification of vanity, for a paltry wager, or to win the fame of an accomplished athlete.

The duty of self-preservation includes, of course, *a reasonable care for health*, without which the uses of life are essentially restricted and impaired. Here a just mean must be sought and adhered to. There is, on the one hand, an excessive care of the body, which, if it does not enfeeble the mind, distracts it from its true work, and makes the spiritual nature a mere slave of the material organism. This solicitude is sometimes so excessive as to defeat its own purpose, by creating imaginary diseases, and then making them real; and the number is by no means small of those who have become chronic invalids solely by the pains they have taken not to be so. On the other hand, there is a carelessness as to dress and diet, to which the strongest const.i.tution must at length yield; and the intense consciousness of strength and vigor, which tempts one to deem himself invulnerable, not infrequently is the cause of life-long infirmity and disability. Of the cases of prolonged and enfeebling disease, probably more are the result of avoidable than of unavoidable causes, and if we add to these the numerous instances in which the failure of health is to be ascribed to hereditary causes which might have been avoided, or to defective sanitary arrangements that may be laid to the charge of the public, we have an enormous amount of serviceable life needlessly wasted for all purposes of active usefulness; while for the precious examples of patience, resignation, and cheerful endurance, the infirmities and sufferings incident to the most favorable sanitary conditions might have been amply sufficient.

There are, no doubt, such wide diversities of const.i.tution and temperament that *no specific rules of self-preservation can be laid down*; and as regards diet, sleep, and exercise, habit may render the most unlike methods and times equally safe and beneficial. But wholesome food in moderate quant.i.ty, sleep long enough for rest and refreshment, exercise sufficient to neutralize the torpifying influence of sedentary pursuits, and these, though not with slavish uniformity, yet with a good degree of regularity, may be regarded as essential to a sound working condition of body and mind. The same may be said of the unstinted use of water, which has happily become a necessity of high civilization, of pure air, the worth of which as a sanitary agent is practically ignored by the major part of our community, and of the direct light of heaven, the exclusion of which from dwellings from motives of economy, while it may spare carpets and curtains, wilts and depresses their owners. These topics are inserted in a treatise on ethics, because whatever has a bearing on health, and thus on the capacity for usefulness selfward and manward which const.i.tutes the whole value of this earthly life, is of grave moral significance. If the preservation of life is a duty, then all hygienic precautions and measures are duties, and as such they should be treated by the individual moral agent, by parents, guardians, and teachers, and by the public at large.

*Self-preservation is endangered by poverty.* In the lack or precariousness of the means of subsistence, the health of the body is liable to suffer; and even where there is not absolute want, but a condition straitened in the present and doubtful as to the future, the mind loses much of its working power, and life is deprived of a large portion of its utility. Hence the duty of industry and economy on the part of those dependent on their own exertions. It is not a man's duty to be rich, though he who in acquiring wealth takes upon himself its due obligations and responsibilities, is a public benefactor; but it is every man's duty to shun poverty, if he can, and he who makes or keeps himself poor by his own indolence, thriftlessness, or prodigality, commits a sin against his own life, which he curtails as to its capacity of good, and against society, which has a beneficial interest in the fully developed life of all its members.

Section II.

The Attainment Of Knowledge.

Inasmuch as knowledge, real or supposed, must needs precede every act of the will, and as the adaptation of our actions to our purposes depends on the accuracy of our knowledge, *it is intrinsically fitting ** that our cognitive powers should be thoroughly developed and trained, and diligently employed.* Especially is this fitting, because-as has been already shown-it is through knowledge alone that we can bring our conduct into conformity with the absolute right, and there is nothing within the range of our possible knowledge, which may not become in some way connected with our agency as moral beings.

It is of prime importance that what we seem to know we know accurately; and as it is through the senses that we acquire our knowledge, not only of the outward objects with which we are daily conversant, but of other minds than our own, *the education of the senses* is an obvious duty. There are few so prolific sources of social evil, injustice, and misery, as the falsehood of persons who mean to tell the truth, but who see or hear only in part, and supply the deficiencies of perception by the imagination. In the acquisition of knowledge of the highest interest and importance this same hindrance is one of the most frequent obstacles. The careless eye and the heedless ear waste for many minds a large portion of the time ostensibly given to serious pursuits, and render their growth pitifully slow and scanty as compared with their means of culture. The senses may, especially in early life, be trained to alertness and precision, so that they shall carry to the mind true and full reports of what they see and hear; and it is only by such training that the perceptive faculties can accomplish the whole work for which they are designed and fitted.

There are, also, interior senses, *apprehensive powers of the mind*, which equally crave culture, and which depend for their precision and force on careful education and diligent use. Mere observation, experience, or study, cannot give knowledge that will be of any avail. One may have a largely and variously stocked memory, and yet be unable to employ its contents to his own advantage or to the benefit of others. Indeed, there are minds that are paralyzed by being overloaded,-by taking in freight faster than they have room for it. It is only materials which the mind has made its own, incorporated into its substance, that it can fully utilize.

Knowledge must be acted upon by the understanding, the reason, the judgment, before it can be trans.m.u.ted into wisdom, and employed either in the acquisition of new truth or in the conduct of life. Mental activity, then, is a duty; for if we are bound to preserve life, by parity of reason, we are bound to improve its quality and increase its quant.i.ty, and this cannot be done unless the intellectual powers are strengthened by diligent exercise, as well as nourished by the facts and truths which are the raw material of wisdom.

The fit *objects of knowledge* vary indefinitely with one's condition in life. Things in themselves trivial or evanescent may, under certain circ.u.mstances, claim our careful attention and thorough cognizance. We ought, on the one hand, to know all we can about matters concerning which we must speak or act, and, on the other hand, to refrain from voluntarily speaking or acting in matters of which we are ignorant. Thus our social relations and our daily intercourse may render it inc.u.mbent on us to obtain for current use a large amount of accurate knowledge which is not worth our remembering. Then a man's profession, stated business, or usual occupation opens a large field of knowledge, with which and with its allied provinces it is his manifest duty to become conversant to his utmost ability; for the genuineness and value of his work must be in a great degree contingent on his intelligence. At the same time, every man is bound to make his profession worthy of respect; in failing to do so, he wrongs and injures the members of his profession collectively; and no calling can obtain respect, if those who pursue it show themselves uncultivated and ignorant. Thus far, then, should knowledge be extended on grounds of practical utility. Beyond and above this range, there is an unlimited realm of truth, the knowledge of which is inestimably precious for the higher culture of the mind and character. In this realm, of which only an infinitesimal portion can be conquered during an earthly lifetime, there is no unfruitful region,-there is no department of nature, of psychology, or of social science, through which the mind may not be expanded, exalted, energized, led into more intimate relations with the Supreme Intelligence, endowed with added power of beneficent agency.

While, therefore, knowledge of things as they are, and of their underlying principles and laws, so far as we are able to acquire it, is not only a privilege beyond all price, but an absolute duty, there are no moral considerations which need direct or limit our choice of the themes of research or study. These may properly be determined by native or acquired proclivity, by opportunity, or by considerations of usefulness. Nor, if the love of truth be formed and cherished, can it of be of any essential importance whether this or that portion of truth be pursued or neglected during the brief period of our life in this world; for, at best, what we leave unattained must immeasurably exceed our attainments, and there is an eternity before us for what we are compelled to omit here. At the same time, the unbounded scope and the vast diversity of things knowable and worthy to be known are adapted to stimulate self-culture, and in that same proportion to invest human life with a higher dignity, a larger intrinsic value, and a more enduring influence.

Section III.

Self-Control.

*A man must be either self-governed, or under a worse government than his own.* G.o.d governs men, only by teaching and helping them to govern themselves. Good men, if also wise, seek not, even for the highest ends, to control their fellow-men, but, so far as they can, enable and encourage them to exercise a due self-control. It is only unwise or bad men who usurp the government of other wills than their own. But the individual will is oftener made inefficient by pa.s.sion, than by direct influence from other minds. Man, in his normal state, wills either what is expedient or what is right. Pa.s.sion suspends, as to its objects, all reference to expediency and right, even when there is the clearest knowledge of the tendencies of the acts to which it prompts. Thus the sensualist often knows that he is committing sure and rapid suicide, yet cannot arrest himself on the declivity of certain ruin. The man in whom avarice has become a pa.s.sion is perfectly aware of the comforts and enjoyments which he is sacrificing, yet is as little capable of procuring them as if he were a pauper. Anger and revenge not infrequently force men to crimes which they know will be no less fatal to themselves than to their victims.

Now if a man will not put and keep himself under the government of conscience, it concerns him at least to remain under the control of reason, which, if it do not compel him to do right, will restrain him within the limits of expediency, and thus will insure for him reputation, a fair position, and a safe course in life, even though it fail of the highest and most enduring good.

*Self-control is easily lost*, and is often lost unconsciously. The first surrender of it is p.r.o.ne to be final and lifelong. Indeed, in many cases, the pa.s.sion destined to be dominant has nearly reached the maturity of its power previously to any outward violation of the expedient or the right.

Where the restraining influences of education and surroundings are strong, where important interests are at stake, or where conscience has not been habitually silenced or tampered with, the perilous appet.i.te, desire, or affection broods long in the thought, and is so largely indulged in reverie and antic.i.p.ation, that it becomes imperious and despotic before it a.s.sumes its wonted forms of outward manifestation. Hence, the sudden infatuation and rapid ruin which we sometimes witness,-the cases in which there seems but a single step between innocence and deep depravity. In truth there are many steps; but until they become precipitous, they are veiled from human sight.

*Self-control*, then, in order to be effective, *must be exercised upon the thoughts and feelings*, especially upon the imagination, which fills so largely with its phantasms and day-dreams our else unoccupied hours.

Let these hours be as few as possible; and let them be filled with thoughts which we would not blush to utter, with plans which we could actualize with the approving suffrage of all good men. The inward life which would dread expression and exposure, already puts the outward life in peril; for pa.s.sion, thus inwardly nourished and fostered, can hardly fail to a.s.sume sooner or later the control of the conduct and the shaping of the character. Let the thoughts be well governed, and the life is emanc.i.p.ated from pa.s.sion, and under the control of reason and principle.

Section IV.

Moral Self-Culture.

It is evident that, *whatever a man's aims may be, the attainment of them depends more upon himself than upon any agency that he can employ*. If his aim be extended influence, his words and acts have simply the force which his character gives them. If his aim be usefulness, his own personality measures in part the value of his gifts, and determines entirely the worth of his services. If his aim be happiness, the more of a man he is, the larger is his capacity of enjoyment; for as a dog gets more enjoyment out of life than a zoophyte, and a man than a dog, so does the fully and symmetrically developed man exceed in receptivity of happiness him whose nature is imperfectly or abnormally developed. Now it is through the thorough training and faithful exercise of his moral faculties and powers that man is most capable of influence, best fitted for usefulness, and endowed with the largest capacity for happiness. History shows this. The men whose lot (if any but our own) we would be willing to a.s.sume, have been, without an exception, good men. If there are in our respective circles those whose position we deem in every respect enviable, they are men of preeminent moral excellence. We would not take-could we have it-the most desirable external position with a damaged character. Probably there are few who do not regard a virtuous character as so much to be desired, that in yielding to temptation and falling under the yoke of vicious habits they still mean to reform and to become what they admire. Old men who have led profligate lives always bear visible tokens of having forfeited all the valuable purposes of life, often confess that their whole past has been a mistake, and not infrequently bear faithful testimony to the transcendent worth of moral goodness. To remain satisfied without this is, therefore, a sin against one's own nature, a sacrifice of well-being and happiness which no one has a right to make, and which no prudent man will make.

Self-culture in virtue implies and demands reflection on duty and on the motives to duty, on one's own nature, capacities and liabilities, and on those great themes of thought, which by their amplitude and loftiness enlarge and exalt the minds that become familiar with them. The mere tongue-work or hand-*work, of virtue slackens and becomes deteriorated, when not sustained by profound thought and feeling. Moreover, it is the mind that acts, and it puts into its action all that it has-and no more-of moral and spiritual energy, so that the same outward act means more or less, is of greater or less worth, in proportion to the depth and vigor of feeling and purpose from which it proceeds. It is thus that religious devotion nourishes virtue, and that none are so well fitted for the duties of the earthly life as those who, in their habitual meditation, are the most intimately conversant with the heavenly life.

In moral self-culture great benefit is derived from example, whether of the living or the dead. Perhaps the dead are, in this respect, more useful than the living. In witnessing the worthy deeds and beneficent agency of a person of superior excellence, the tendency is to an over-exact imitation of specific acts and methods, which, precisely because they are spontaneous and fitting in his case, will not be so in the case of his copyist; while the biography of an eminently good man enlists our sympathy with his spirit rather than with the details of his life, and stimulates us to embody the same spirit in widely different forms of duty and usefulness. Thus the school-master who in Dr. Arnold's lifetime heard of his unprecedented success as an educator, would have been tempted to go to Rugby, to study the system on the ground, and then to adopt, so far as possible, the very plans which he there saw in successful operation,-plans which might have been fitted neither to his genius, the traditions of his school, nor the demands of its patrons. At the same time, the interior of Rugby School was very little known, the principles of its administration still less, to persons other than teachers. But Arnold's biography, revealing the foundation-principles of his character and his work, raised up for him a host of imitators of all cla.s.ses and conditions. Price, who converted his immense candle-factory near London into a veritable Christian seminary for mutual improvement in knowledge, virtue, and piety, professed to owe his impulse to this enterprise solely to the "Life of Arnold," and like instances were multiplied in very various professions throughout the English-speaking world. In fine, example is of service to us, not in pointing out the precise things to be done, but in exhibiting the beauty, loveliness, and majesty of moral goodness, the possibility of exalted moral attainments, and the varied scope for their exercise in human life. Even he whose example we, as Christians, hold in a reverence which none other shares, is to be imitated, not by slavishly copying his specific acts, which, because they were suitable in Judaea in the first century, are for the most part unfitting in America in the nineteenth century, but by imbibing his spirit, and then incarnating it in the forms of active duty and service appropriate to our time and land.

Finally, and obviously, *the practice of virtue* is the most efficient means of moral self-culture. As the thought uttered or written becomes indelibly fixed in the mind, so does the principle or sentiment embodied in action become more intimately and persistently an element of the moral self-consciousness.

Chapter X.