A judge who administers justice without partiality, a merchant who sells his merchandise for no more than it is worth, a debtor who regularly pays his creditor, a soldier punctual at drill, obedient to discipline, and faithful at his post in times of peace or war, a schoolboy doing regularly the task a.s.signed to him, all these persons perform actions good and laudable, but they cannot be called extraordinary. They are approved of, but not admired. To manage one's fortune economically, not to yield too much to the pleasure of the senses, to tell no lies, to neither strike nor wound others, are so many good, right, proper, and estimable actions; but they cannot be called admirable actions.

Actions are beautiful in proportion to the difficulty of their performance; when they are extremely difficult and perilous, then we call them heroic and sublime; that is, provided they are good actions, for heroism is unfortunately sometimes allied with wrong. He who, like President de Harlay, can say to a very powerful usurper: "It is a sad thing when the servant is allowed to dismiss the master;" he who can say, like Viscount d'Orthez, who made opposition to Charles IX. after St.

Bartholomew, saying: "My soldiers are no executioners;" he who, like Boissy d'Anglas, can firmly and resolutely uphold the rights of an a.s.sembly in the face of a sanguinary, violent, and rebellious populace; he who, like Morus or Dubourg, would rather die than sacrifice his trust; he who, like Columbus, can venture upon an unknown ocean, and brave the revolt of a rude and superst.i.tious crew, to obey a generous conviction; he who, like Alexander, confides in friendship enough to receive from the hands of his physician a drink reputed poisoned; any man, in short, who devotes himself for his fellow beings, who, in fire, in water, in the depths of the earth, braves death to save life; who, in order to spread the truth, to remain true and honest, to work in the interests of religion, science, or humanity, will suffer hunger and thirst, poverty, slavery, torture, or death, is a _hero_.

Epictetus was a slave. His master, for some negligence or other, caused him to be beaten. "You will break my leg," said the sufferer; and the leg broke, indeed, under the blows. "I told you you would break it," he remarked quietly. This is a hero.

Joan of Arc, defeated by the English and made a prisoner, threatened with the stake, said to her executioners: "I knew quite well that the English would put me to death; but were there a hundred thousand of them, they should not have this kingdom." This is a heroine.

Bad actions have their degrees likewise. But here we should call attention to the fact that the worst are those that stand in opposition to the simply good actions; on the contrary, an action which is not heroic is not necessarily bad; and when it is bad it is not to be cla.s.sed among the most criminal. Some examples will again be necessary to understand these various shades of meaning, which every one feels and recognizes in practice, but which are very difficult to a.n.a.lyze theoretically.

To be respectful towards one's parents is a good and proper action, but not a _heroic_ one. On the contrary, to strike them, insult them, kill them, are abominable actions, and to be cla.s.sed among the basest and most hideous that can be committed. To love one's friends, to be as serviceable to them as possible, shows a straightforward and well-endowed soul; but there is nothing sublime in it. On the other hand, to betray friendship; to slander those that love us; to lie in order to win their favor; to inquire into their secrets for the purpose of using them against them, are black, base, and shameful actions. There is scarcely any merit in not taking what does not belong to us; theft, on the contrary, is the most contemptible of things. Now, not to be able to bear with adversity, to fear death, to shrink from braving the ice of the North Pole, to stay at home when fire or flood threatens our neighbor, may be mean or weak, but not criminal. Let us add, however, that there are cases where heroism becomes obligatory, and where it is criminal not to be heroic. A sea-captain, who has endangered his ship, and who, instead of saving it, leaves his post; a general who, when the moment calls for it, refuses to die at the head of his army, lack courage; the chief of a State who, in times of revolt, or when the country is in peril, fears death; the president of a convention who takes to flight before a rebellion; the physician who runs away before an epidemic; the magistrate who is afraid to be just; all these are truly culpable. Every condition of life has its peculiar heroism, which at certain moments becomes a duty. Yet will it always be true that the more easy an action is, the less excusable is its neglect, and consequently the more odious is it to try to escape from it.

Besides the good or bad actions, there are others which appear to partake of neither the one nor the other of these two characters, which are neither good nor bad, and which for this reason are called indifferent.

For instance, to go and take a walk is an action which, considered by itself, is neither good nor bad, although it may become the one or the other according to circ.u.mstances. To be asleep, to be awake, to eat, to take exercise, to talk with one's friends, to read an agreeable book, to play on some instrument, are actions which certainly have nothing bad in themselves, but which, nevertheless, could not be cited as examples of good actions. One would not say, for instance, such a one is an honest man because he plays the violin well; such a one is a scholar because he has a good appet.i.te; still less when actions absolutely necessary come into question, as the act of breathing and sleeping. Actions, then, which are inseparable from the necessities of our existence, have no moral character; they are the same with us as with the animals and plants; they are purely natural actions. There are others, again, that are not necessary, but simply agreeable, which we perform because they suit our tastes and fancies.

It is sufficient that they are not contrary to the right, that one cannot call them bad; but it does not follow from this that they are good, and such are what are called indifferent actions.

Such, at least, is the appearance of things; for, in a more elevated sense, the moralists were right in saying that there is no action absolutely indifferent, and that all actions are in some respect good or bad, according to motive.

=14. Moral responsibility.=--Man being free, is for this reason _responsible_ for his actions: they can be imputed to him. These two expressions have about the same meaning, only the term responsibility applies to the agent, and imputability to the actions.

The two fundamental conditions of moral responsibility are: 1, the knowledge of good and evil; 2, the liberty of action. In proportion as these two conditions vary, the responsibility will vary.

It follows from this, that idiocy, insanity, delirium in cases of illness--destroying nearly always both conditions of responsibility--namely, discernment and free agency, deprive thereby of all moral character the actions committed in these different states. They are not of a nature to be imputed to a moral agent. Yet are there certain lunatics not wholly insane who may preserve in their lucid state a certain portion of responsibility.

2. Drunkenness. May that be considered a cause of irresponsibility? No, certainly not; for, on the one hand, one is responsible for the very act of drunkenness; and, on the other, one knows that in putting himself in such a condition he exposes himself to all its consequences, and accepts them implicitly. For example, he who puts himself in a state of drunkenness, consents beforehand to all the low, vulgar actions inseparable from that state. As to the violent and dangerous actions which may accidentally result from it, as blows and murders springing from quarrels, one cannot, of course, impute them to the drunken man with the same severity as to the sober man, for he certainly did not explicitly chose them when he put himself into a state of drunkenness; but neither is he wholly innocent of them, for he knew that they were some of the possible consequences of that condition. As to him who puts himself voluntarily into a state of drunkenness, with the express intention of committing a crime and giving himself courage for the act, it is evident that, so far from diminishing thereby his share of responsibility in the action, he, on the contrary, increases it, since he makes violent efforts to keep off all the scruples or hesitations which might keep him from committing it.

3. "No one is held to do impossible things." According to this theory, it is evident that one is not responsible for an action he has been absolutely unable to accomplish; thus we cannot blame a paralytic, or a child, or an invalid, for not taking up arms in defence of his country.

Yet we must not have voluntarily created the impossibility of acting, as it often happened in Rome, where some, in order not to go to war, cut off their thumbs. The same with a debtor who, by circ.u.mstances independent of his will (fire, shipwreck, epidemics), is unable to acquit himself: he is excusable; but if he placed himself in circ.u.mstances which he knew would disable him, his inability is no longer an excuse.

4. Natural qualities or defects of mind and body cannot be imputed to any one, either for good or for bad. Who would reproach a man for being born blind, or because he became so in consequence of sickness or a blow? The same with the defects of the mind: no one is responsible for having no memory, or for not being bright. Yet as these defects may be corrected by exercise, we are more or less responsible for making no efforts to remedy them. As to the defects or deformities which result from our own fault, as, for example, the consequences of our pa.s.sions, it is evident that they can justly be imputed to us. Natural qualities cannot be credited to any one. Thus we should not honor people for their physical strength, health, beauty, or even wit; and no one should boast of such advantages, or pride himself on them. However, he who by a wise and laborious life has succeeded in preserving or developing his physical strength, or who, by the effort of his will, has cultivated and perfected his mind, deserves praise; and it is thus that physical and moral advantages may become indirectly legitimate matter for moral approbation.

5. The effects of extraneous causes and events, whatever they may be, whether good or bad, can only be imputed to a man, as he could or should have produced, prevented, or directed them, and has been careful or negligent in doing so. Thus a farmer, according as he works the land entrusted to him well or badly, is made responsible for a good or bad harvest.

6. A final question is that of the responsibility of a man for other people's actions. Theoretically, no man certainly is responsible for any but his own actions. But human actions are so interlinked with each other that it is very rare that we have not some share, direct or indirect, in the conduct of others. For instance, one is responsible in a certain measure for the conduct of those under him; a father for his children, a master for his servants, and, up to a certain point, an employer for his workmen; 2, one is responsible in a measure for actions which he might have prevented, when, either through negligence or laziness, he did not do so; if you see a man about to kill himself, and make no effort to prevent it, you are not innocent of his death, unless, of course, you did not suspect what he was going to do; 3, you are responsible for other people's actions when, either by your instigations, or even by a simple approbation, you have co-operated towards them.

=15. Moral sanction.=--We call the _sanction_ of a law the body of recompenses and punishments attached to the execution or violation of the law. Civil laws, in general, make more use of punishments than rewards; for punishments may appear means sufficient to have the law executed. In education, on the contrary, the commands or laws laid down by a superior, have as much need of rewards as punishments.

But what is to be understood by the terms _recompense_ and _punishment_?

The recompense of a good and virtuous action is the pleasure we derive from it, and for the very reason that it is good and virtuous.

There are to be distinguished, however, two other kinds of rewards, which, though they resemble recompense, are nevertheless very different from it namely, _favor_ and _remuneration_.

Favor is a pleasure or an advantage bestowed on us, without our having deserved or earned it; a pure expression of the good-will of others towards us. It is thus that a king grants favors to his courtiers, that those in power distribute favors. It is thus we speak of the favors of fortune. Although theoretically there is no reason why we should understand the word favor in a bad sense, yet has it by usage come to signify not only an advantage undeserved, but unworthy; not only a legitimate preference which has its reason in sympathy, but an arbitrary choice more or less contrary to justice. However, although no such ugly signification need be attached to it, a favor, as a gratuitous gift, must always be distinguished from reward, which, on the contrary, implies a _remuneration_; that is to say, a gift in return for something.

Yet not all remuneration is necessarily a reward; and here we must establish another distinction between reward and remuneration. By remuneration we mean the price we pay for a service rendered us, no matter what motive may determine a person to render us this service; it is for its utility we pay, and for nothing else. The reward, on the contrary, implies the idea of a certain effort to do good. He who renders us a service from affection and devotion, would refuse being _paid_ for it, and, _vice versa_, he who sells us his work does not ask us for a recompense, but for an equivalent of what he would have earned for himself if he had applied his work to his own wants.

On the contrary, we call every pain or suffering inflicted on an agent for committing a bad action, for no other reason than that it is bad, chastis.e.m.e.nt or punishment.

Punishment stands against _damage_ or _wrong_; that is to say, against undeserved harm. The _blows_ of fortune or of men are not always punishments. One may be _struck_ without being punished.

Although we say in a general way that the ills that befall men are often the chastis.e.m.e.nts of their faults, yet this should not be taken too strictly, otherwise we should too easily transform the merely unfortunate into criminals.

Although recompenses and punishments may be only secondary means by which men may be led to do good and avoid evil, this should not be their essential office nor their real idea.

It is not that the law _should be_ fulfilled that there are rewards and punishments in morality; it is _because_ it has been fulfilled or violated. Such is the true principle of reward. It comes from justice, not utility.

For the same reason, chastis.e.m.e.nt, in its true sense, should not only be a _menace_ insuring the execution of the law, but a _reparation_ or _expiation_ for its violation. The order of things disturbed by a rebellious will is again re-established by the suffering which is the consequence of the fault committed. In one sense it may be said that punishment is the _remedy_ for the fault. In fact, injustice and vice being, as it were, the diseases of the soul, it is certain that suffering is their remedy; but only on condition that this suffering be accepted by way of chastis.e.m.e.nt. It is thus that grief has a purifying virtue, and that instead of being considered an evil, it may be called a good.

Another confusion of ideas which should be equally avoided, and which is very common among men, is that which consists in taking the reward itself for a good, and the punishment for an evil.

It is thus that men are often more proud of the t.i.tles and honors they have obtained, than of the real merit through which they have won them. It is thus also that they fear the prison more than the crime, and shame more than vice.

It is for this reason that the greatest courage is needed to bear undeserved punishment.

We distinguish generally _four species_ of sanction:

1. _Natural_ sanction; 2, _legal_ sanction; 3, the sanction of _public opinion_; 4, _inward_ sanction.

1. Natural sanction is that which rests on the natural consequences of our actions. It is natural for sobriety to keep up and establish health, for intemperance to be a cause of disease. It is natural for work to bring with it ease of circ.u.mstances, for idleness to be a source of misery and poverty. It is natural that probity should insure security, confidence, and credit; that courage should put off the chances of death; that patience should render life more bearable; that good-will should call forth good-will; that wickedness should drive men from us; that perjury should cause them to distrust us, etc. These facts have ever been verified by experience. The honest is not always the useful; but it is often what is most useful.

2. _Legal_ sanction is above all a _penal_ sanction. It is composed of the chastis.e.m.e.nts which the law has established for the guilty. There are, in general, few rewards established by the law, and they may be cla.s.sed among what is called the esteem of men.

3. Another kind of sanction consists in the _opinion_ other men entertain in regard to our actions and character. We have seen that it is in the nature of good actions to inspire esteem, in the nature of the bad to inspire blame and contempt. The honest man generally enjoys public honor and consideration. The dishonest man, even though the law does not reach him, is branded with discredit, aversion, contempt, etc.

4. Finally, a more exact and certain sanction is that which results from the very conscience and moral sentiment mentioned above.

=16. The superior sanction: the future life.=--These various sanctions being insufficient to satisfy our want of justice, there is required still another, namely, the _superior religious_ sanction.

It is a well-known fact that virtue is not a sufficient shield to protect us against the blows of adversity, and that immorality does not necessarily condemn one to misery and grief. It is evident that a man corrupt and wicked may be born with all the advantages of genius, fortune, health; and that an honest man may have inherited none of these.

There is in this neither injustice nor blind chance; but it proves that the harmony between moral good and happiness is not of this world.

In regard to the pleasures and pains of conscience, it is also evident that they are not sufficient. In fact, the pleasures of the senses may divert and deaden the pangs of remorse; and it must also be said, though it be still more sad, that it sometimes happens that a merciless continuance of misfortune deadens in an honest soul the delight in virtue; and the painful efforts which virtue costs may finally obliterate in a man, tired of life, the calm and sweet enjoyment which it naturally brings with it.

If such is the disproportion and disagreement between the inner pleasures and pains, and the moral merit of him who experiences them, what shall we say of that wholly outward sanction which consists in the rewards and punishments distributed by the unequal justice of man? I do not speak of legal pains alone; it is well known that they often fall upon the innocent, and are spared to the guilty; that they are almost always disproportioned: the law punishing the crime, without taking note of the exact moral value of the action; but I speak also of the pains and rewards of public opinion, esteem, and contempt. Are these always in an exact proportion to merit?

From all these observations it results that the law of harmony between good and happiness is not of this world; that there is always disagreement, or at least disproportion, between moral merit and the pleasures of the senses. Hence the necessity of a superior sanction, the means and time of which are in the hand of G.o.d.

"The more I go within myself," says a philosopher,[5] "the more I consult myself, the more I read these words written in my soul: _be just and thou shalt be happy_. And yet it is not so, looking at the actual state of things: the wicked prosper, and the just are oppressed. See, also, what indignation arises in us when this expectation is frustrated! The conscience murmurs and rebels against its author; it cries to him, groaning: Thou hast deceived me! I have deceived thee, oh thou rash one?

Who has told thee so? Is thy soul annihilated? Hast thou ceased to exist?

Oh, Brutus! oh, my son, do not stain thy n.o.ble life by putting an end to it; do not leave thy hopes and glory with thy body on the fields of Philippi. Why sayest thou: Virtue is nothing when thou art now about entering into the enjoyment of thine? Thou shalt die, thinkest thou; no, thou shalt live, and it is then I shall keep what I have promised! One would say, hearing the murmurings of impatient mortals, that G.o.d owes them a reward before they have shown any merit, and that he is obliged to pay their virtue in advance. Oh! let us first be good; we shall be happy afterwards. Do not let us claim the prize before the victory, nor the salary before the work. 'It is not in the lists,' says Plutarch, 'that the victors in our sacred games are crowned; it is after they have run the course.'"

CHAPTER II.