Part 29 (1/2)

The terms in these pa.s.sages are thus evidently very loosely used, and the charge above made is, I think, substantiated,--that the author himself finally falls into the error following upon a confusion of the various meanings, and comes to a.s.sert what he elsewhere distinctly denies, namely, the normal connection of intellect and morality, of the comprehension of suffering with that form of sympathy which issues in altruistic action. The problem is an interesting one, and it may be well for us to look into it a little further.

During the last few years a number of books have been written in which the attempt has been made to prove the general physical, and especially the cerebral, and so the intellectual inferiority of a large number of criminals. There may be a difference of opinion as to the value of exact weights and measures except in so far as they demonstrate an actual nervous deformity of some sort; and it may be said that the cases examined for distinctly cerebral defect are too few to admit of the formation of any universal, definite, theory or law. But some degree of importance must a.s.suredly be attached, by the unprejudiced reader, to the more purely psychological evidence obtained in many cases, as well as to the evidence of the tendency to brain-disease often found in the direct line of descent. Indeed, in the case of some of the photographs issued with Lombroso's ”L'Homme Criminel,” not more than a glance is needed to convince one that the possessors of such heads and faces cannot be normal men and women. To this testimony from the criminologists may be added that of many eminent specialists in mental diseases, whose evidence goes to show the degeneration of the moral sense in cases of brain-disease. Maudesley says, for instance, of moral feeling: ”Whoever is dest.i.tute of it is, to that extent, a defective being; he marks the beginning of race-degeneracy; and if propitious influence do not chance to check or to neutralize the morbid tendency, his children will exhibit a further degree of degeneracy, and be actual morbid varieties. Whether the particular outcome of the morbid strain shall be vice, or madness, or crime, will depend much on the circ.u.mstances of life.” ”When we make a scientific study of the fundamental meaning of those deviations from the sound type which issue in insanity and crime, by searching inquiry into the laws of their genesis, it appears that these forms of human degeneracy do not lie so far asunder as they are commonly supposed to do. Moreover, theory is here confirmed by observation; for it has been pointed out by those who have made criminals their study, that they oftentimes spring from families in which insanity, epilepsy, or some allied neurosis exists, that many of them are weak-minded, epileptic, or actually insane, and that they are apt to die from diseases of the nervous system and from tubercular diseases.”[175] To the history proper of the Jukes, Dugdale has appended a series of tables giving further information as to the stock, environment, and present condition of some two hundred and thirty-three criminals committed for various crimes, each of which crimes heads a separate list. These lists are decidedly interesting, particularly as affording us some considerable information with regard to psychological characteristics and environment, under the headings: ”Neglected Children,” ”Orphans,” ”Habitual Criminals,” ”First Offenders,” ”Reformable,” ”Hopeless,” etc. From the table of percentages we remark that, in the ”Neurotic Stock,” the highest percentage (4047) is reached in arson and the crimes against persons, or crimes of impulse, as Dugdale terms them, while 2303 is the percentage of neurotic stock in the whole number of criminals examined. ”This close relations.h.i.+p between nervous disorders and crime,” says Dugdale, ”runs parallel with the experience of England, where 'the ratio of insane to sane criminals is thirty-four times as great as the ratio of lunatics to the whole population of England, or, if we take half the population to represent the adults which supply the convict prisons, we shall have the criminal lunatics in excess in the high proportion of seventeen to one.'” Dugdale further quotes from Dr. Bruce Thomson, surgeon to the General Prison of Scotland, the following words: ”On a close acquaintance with criminals, of eighteen years' standing, I consider that nine in ten are of inferior intellect, but that all are excessively cunning.” Dr. Thomson says also: ”In all my experience, I have never seen such an acc.u.mulation of morbid appearances as I witness in the post-mortem examinations of the prisoners who die here. Scarcely one of them can be said to die of one disease, for almost every organ of the body is more or less diseased; and the wonder to me is that life could have been supported in such a diseased frame.”

But with regard to this last quotation, it may be remarked that, although many modern students of crime tend to look upon the general diseased condition of body among criminals as the cause of their criminality, it is generally, as a matter of fact, a c.u.mulative growth, vicious acts appearing now as condition, now as result, in its increase.

Vice is directly connected with disease, and crime against others, even where it does not itself directly involve vice, is still likely to be connected with it, since the man who is immoral in one direction is not likely to be restrained from immorality in what is ordinarily considered a direction of lesser wrong; and the self-gratification of vice always presents a temptation to the man of coa.r.s.er fibre. Dugdale notices that pauperism often appears in the younger members of a family where crime appears in the elder branches, his explanation being that crime is a sign of comparative vigor, pauperism of greater physical weakness.

We have found some connection between intellectual incapacity and moral lack in the shape of crime, but the cases are extreme ones. The question is not: Are the extremes of criminality connected with mental incapacity? but, Is the power of intellectual comprehension, is intelligence, always a.s.sociated with sympathy and altruism? Is the connection of these two general? Or, conversely: Is lack of sympathy and altruism in general a sign of mental incapacity, of the power of comprehension for another's suffering?

The individual may be supposed to be naturally endowed with a certain basis of tendency, which, as coordinate with a nervous organization that, as organization, is of definite nature, is also definite. I do not intend, here or elsewhere, to lay especial stress on the physical, as distinguished from the psychical; merely, it is convenient for reference. The individual character and life must be the continual progressive issue of this basis of tendency or capacity and the developing and modifying factors of environment. Individuals will, therefore, _but in very different degrees and manners_, reflect the moral standard of the society as organization, the cla.s.s, and the family, to which they belong, the importance a.s.sumed by the cla.s.s or family relations being according to the closeness and duration of a.s.sociation, and the natural apt.i.tude of the individual for one or another sort of influence. Aside from altruistic considerations, the individual will find it to his advantage to conform to the standards of these environments, at least in a considerable degree. The standards may, however, conflict, so that there is also a conflict of advantages.

Moreover, circ.u.mstances may arise such that conformity to all or any of these standards presents much greater disadvantage than advantage, involving great sacrifice, which may reach even to personal destruction.

But while a single anti-social act to avert personal destruction may involve greater advantage to the individual, as life represents an advantage over death, and while such an act is more an advantage and less a disadvantage as it involves less conflict with social standards (if it is the theft of food, for instance, rather than murder), any continued course of crime in so-called civilized society must be attended with many risks to the evil-doer, and present gain may mean future loss of a much higher degree. Deeds conflicting with general social standards are punished by penalties which are larger as the conflict is greater in the eye of the state. The individual who lays himself liable to legal punishment or social ostracism is foolish as well as, in very many cases, bad; of course, it is possible that his conduct may rise above the moral standards as well as that it may fall below them. But we are now considering cases where it is, by the a.s.sumption, supposed to fall below them. It is easy to perceive, from this standpoint, that great and persistent criminals are likely to be of inferior intellect, as well as wanting in moral apt.i.tude, although, whatever reasoning capacity they possess being developed in the line of their own interest in their accustomed occupation, they may appear to the more moral, who are not practised in this direction, to possess a high degree of cunning.

The honest man has generally a better chance than the habitual criminal, however small his chance may be. Further, education of any sort, which is also intellectual elevation, gives the individual better chances of earning his own living honestly, and so renders the advantages on this side greater, and also endows with the power of perceiving these advantages. But these are only general truths, applying, again, to extreme cases. There may be cases in which there seems, at least, to be no choice left between crime and a life continually on the verge of starvation; and though the crime means also continual risk, and higher risk as the crime is greater and so, in general, more lucrative, the advantage may still be reckoned by the individual as on its side. In this case, the individual may discover, in the end, that his calculation was mistaken; but the mistake may not be so great, the balance of disadvantage on the side of conformity with social standards so excessive, as to prove him below the average of intellect in his mistaking. The wisest men make many mistakes in calculating the results of their action. Again, the cleverer a man is, the greater is his power to cope with the risk of detection and to avoid it. It may be objected that the single individual cannot hope to compete continually with the organized action of all society, and that the criminal must, at times, submit to some degree of punishment, even if escaping its worst phases.

But if he feels no shame at the disgrace of the punishment, it may not mean to him the greater disadvantage.

But here we come round to the altruistic and moral emotions, for shame is present only where the individual has a desire to please, and is pained at the disapproval of others; that is, shame implies and requires, in the degree in which it exists, social and altruistic capacity. Furthermore, when we come to examine the concept of ”advantage,” we find that it is as relative as that of ”end,” and will be judged according to the individual predilections; to the non-sympathetic, shameless man it is an advantage to ”get on” at whatever cost to others; to the moral man no gain appears an advantage at the expense of principle. And, as there are all degrees of altruism in the bases of character of different individuals, so the advantage, in any particular case, will lie at very different points according to the individual mind reflecting on it. Only the general truths may be a.s.serted, that, even to the man of less than the average moral apt.i.tude, great punishment must appear a disadvantage, while even to the man of considerable moral principle death for the sake of his convictions is a thing to be hesitated at.

We may return to view the question in the light of the general facts of social evolution. We found that only the general a.s.sertion could be made, that the advantages of cooperation, the disadvantages of strife and discord, increase with the closer relations of men, and that the adoption of cooperation follows this line of advantage by individual choice, and by the disadvantage under which the less social as the less fit, labor, the latter tending gradually to disappear leaving the field to the more social. Thus the whole progress is the result of the will of the human being, as well as of the other forces of nature; it is only as the individual chooses, that progress is possible. But lower types survive long beside the more progressive, higher ones. The individual is not so reasonable that he always perceives his own more enduring advantage, or always chooses it even when he perceives it; he may choose momentary gratification at the acknowledged risk, and even with the certainty, of great future loss. Nor can it be averred that the individual always suffers seriously from action at variance with even the average standard; simply, the line of survival gradually changes in favor of altruism, so that escape is less frequent and less probable; and the lines of greatest deviation from the altruism demanded at any period by the line of advance tend to disappear; but the altruism demanded by any line of advance is not, up to the present time, an absolute altruism, nor do all deviations from it result in destruction to the individual even in extreme cases. The fact of the growing disadvantage of selfishness, and its destructive tendency, remains, nevertheless. It may be expressed in another form in the statement that power of all sorts is increased by civilization, and where a coordinate increase of self-restraint does not accompany the increased power, it must lead to destruction, either in the case of the individual, or if not so abruptly, then in the case of his descendants. The closer contact of human beings and increased knowledge and cooperation mean growing opportunity of good or evil, to self and others. The destructive forces lie as well in the workings of social organization, in the will of man, as in nature outside man. Legal justice, public opinion, and the opinion of the smaller circle of personal friends and acquaintances, all have their part. Any degree of social instinct developed in the course of social evolution only a.s.sists in rendering social punishments of all sorts the more felt; and thus each increment of advance a.s.sists in further advance. Men who persist in action antagonistic to social demands, action which they themselves acknowledge to be immoral, may yet feel the condemnation of society so much, that, even while yet persisting, they destroy their vitality by alcoholism or other excesses to drown regret and remorse; habit chains them, in many cases, where the condemnation of others reaches them only late. But the whole process of social evolution is one of very gradual a.s.similation, and neither in the world as a whole, in the nation or race, or in the tribe, clan, family, locality, or cla.s.s, is it one of equal advance on all sides. The cooperation adopted may be, at different points, that of individuals against individuals, of tribes against tribes, of nations against nations, or of cla.s.ses against cla.s.ses.

From still another point of view, we may look upon the evolution of man as an intellectual as well as a moral one. We may count the continual gain of new experience, and the variation of thought, feeling, and will in accordance with knowledge, as adjustment to new elements of the environment, and so, as organic progress. Since, indeed, knowledge and the application of knowledge to more and more distant and more and more complex and general ends is just what we designate as higher reason in man as compared with other animal species, we cannot logically regard the further progress of this same sort in the human species itself as other than an increase of reason. Here, again, it is strange that an exact line of division between the human species and the rest of life should so often be drawn; that, although we acknowledge the necessity of an intellectual evolution having taken place from the lower species up to man, and recognize this intellectual evolution as the concomitant of wider adaptation, and although we recognize also man's continuing adaptation or experience as coordinate with progress in knowledge, we yet should be able to regard the human race as stationary as far as reason, intellect, is concerned. Evolution no more stands still in man than it did before his ”advent” (if we may still use a word denoting a definite beginning, of the evolution of a species). And the reality of an intellectual evolution at the same time with the moral evolution being acknowledged, it follows that the two must to some extent coincide.[176] But we have again to remember that the evolution is not on exactly the same lines in all individuals or parts of society, that not all lines of descent may be called also those of progress. Sympathy is a progressive term; there are numberless degrees of it represented by the different individuals who form society, at their different periods of development and in their different moods. Nor can we distinguish between natural sympathy and ”extrinsic sentiment” which may interfere with it; since feelings are no separate ent.i.ties, all sentiment that bears on a subject is intrinsic, and the final sympathy or non-sympathetic feeling is a fusion and not a mere mixture of the various emotions which go to make it. We cannot a.s.sert that ”genuine altruism” is the normal case, even of the present period of social development, and certainly not when we are considering morality as an evolution. We may hope that the standard of future generations will come to be as much superior to our present standard as that standard is superior to the savage standard; but it is scarcely to be expected that the men of that better time, although they may look back at this age with as much horror as that with which we regard the savage children roasting their dog for sport, will p.r.o.nounce it one of general idiocy or even of ”moral idiocy.” The virtue of Stephen's a.n.a.lysis lies in the especial notice it takes of the different degrees and phases of that which we term ”sympathy”; its fault lies in not sufficiently distinguis.h.i.+ng between these phases, by definition, throughout the argument; and this fault leads, as we have seen, to a final confusion of the different meanings, the subst.i.tution of the one for the other, and so the proving of the higher meaning by the lower. It is scarcely true, even in civilized society, that a comprehension of the feelings of others is naturally a.s.sociated with a ”feeling with” them, even in the lower sense; and it is certainly not true that it is naturally a.s.sociated with genuine altruism.

The a.s.sertion that, in ignoring the sentience of living beings in thought about them, a man is ignoring a thing of importance to himself, is coordinate with the a.s.sertion that, in so doing, he is ignoring ”an essential part of the world as interesting” to him; for that which appears of importance to a man is that which interests him; and it is true that interest and attention are coordinate. But one thing may appear to one man important, another to another. We generally consider a thing in the relations and phases which interest us, but not all its relations or phases always interest us. We do not follow out all the possible lines of thought connected with a thing, we do not regard it in all its aspects every time we think about it; we think more or less by symbols or parts; and Stephen says that we feel by symbols also.[177] It is by no means true of all men, or true of any man at all times, that others are most deeply interesting to him in their relations of thought and feeling; there are many cases where they would be quite as interesting if they were mere automata, provided only that they could be depended on to perform the same actions. And it is perfectly possible to regard them in the light of their actions and the significance of these for us, leaving quite out of account the psychical meaning of the actions, and this also without at all ”losing all the intelligence which distinguishes one from the lower animal.” Nor is sympathy coordinate with interest in the thoughts and emotions of others; revenge is very normal, yet it rejoices in just the fact that the living being can be made to suffer.

The irritation noticed by Stephen, as sometimes directed against others whose suffering is a source of pain, is of especial interest as bearing on the habit of some animals--wild cattle, for instance--of setting with fury on a wounded comrade, and putting him to a violent death. A recent writer has attempted to explain this habit as a frantic and unintelligent endeavor to render some a.s.sistance to a suffering friend; but the explanation seems improbable, especially as we find a corresponding impulse to cruelty even in human society of a higher type.

In the action of the animal, there is the possibility and even the probability of still another impulse--that excitement and exhilaration which seems to possess many species at the sight and smell of blood, and which finds its counterpart in the peculiar pleasure that many men of coa.r.s.er sensibilities derive from bull-fights, prize-fights, c.o.c.k-fights, etc., and that doubtless comes down to us from a time when the struggle for existence was continually a b.l.o.o.d.y one. Just how the two instincts may be related in the animal, it is difficult, from a human standpoint, to say.

Our a.n.a.lysis has. .h.i.therto omitted all definition of morality and conscience. The words should properly, for some reasons, have been defined before this. But any definition must have a.s.sumed that which could logically be a.s.serted only at the end of the preceding considerations. The definitions are involved in these considerations. It is evident that morality, as we ordinarily define it, has a very intimate connection with the relations of individuals to each other; and though we may conceive of a morality of the individual pa.s.sing an entire existence in solitude on a desert island devoid of animal-life, we become aware, when we reflect on the condition of such an imaginary personage, that many of the ordinary grounds of moral action, and moral judgment of action, are wanting in his case. Such a person cannot, by our a.s.sumption, beget others who may inherit his psychical and physical qualities, and cannot injure man or beast directly or indirectly. He has only his own welfare to consider, and if he chooses rather an animal indulgence in such pleasures as may be within his reach, we may possibly disapprove of his conduct, but we cannot find especial grounds for a.s.serting that he has not a right to his choice. It may be said that this case is only imaginary, and that, in all actual cases of such isolation there is no certainty that the individual may not, at some future time, come in contact with other living animals or with human beings. But this being admitted, we immediately come back again to the conception of morality as dependent upon our relations to others. In spite of all that has been said in favor of egoistic morality, of duties to self as the source and reason of morality, it becomes evident that altruism is a most important element of even that which we term egoistic or personal morality. In fact, we find difficulty in distinguis.h.i.+ng, on a higher plane, between the duties of egoism and those of altruism; in both we have to consider others as well as ourselves. And we begin to suspect that we are making a mistake in separating, in a definition, things which must be indissolubly united in actual practice; and we surmise that such a mistake may lie at the root of the many disagreements as to whether the preference is to be given to egoism or to altruism in Ethics. In all evolution, the results of former adaptation are not lost in new; merely the old a.s.sumes a higher form. So egoism is not lost in altruism, but a.s.sumes a higher form; the care for self becomes identical, according to the degree of altruism, with the care for others. This fact has been utilized for the a.s.sertion that all altruism is merely egoism. The argument commits the fallacy of using the word ”egoism” in two senses, the one of which, the higher sense, is used to prove the other. We need to remember that the fact of development implies degrees, and that neither egoism nor altruism is an absolute term. A certain care of self, physically and mentally, is necessary to cheerfulness, health, sympathy, and the due performance of labor and kindnesses; just as, conversely, in society, the health and happiness of the individual are dependent upon the aid of others. The antagonistic character of the two principles is gradually modified in evolution and disappears altogether in some cases of action; in the contemplation of the ideal, it vanishes completely. Care for self gains a new significance in the light of love or affection for any other being, and in the action and reaction of character in human society, this newer significance gradually spreads, leavening the whole of mankind. Our a.n.a.lysis is unable to trace its workings and significance in all the complicated relations of men. In like manner it is difficult to decide, in any particular case, what the exact course is, which, in view of the far-reaching results of an act through the action and reaction of these relations, is the right one. The moral decision must be reached through a consideration which should be nearer the ideal, the nearer it comes to a consideration of all results, a due allowance being made for the uncertainty of distant results. This uncertainty must, other things being equal, diminish the influence of considerations of the far future on the decision, and should properly do so; although relative importance may, again, render the mere possibility of some one result a sufficient reason for choosing or abstaining from an act in the face of all other certainties and probabilities. Again, the power of calculating distant results is increased with the growth of knowledge, and man comes, thus, to obtain greater and greater power to shape the world about him and mould his own life to the attainment of his ends. With this power responsibility is also increased; the adult thief who rears children to theft bears the chief responsibility in the beginning of their career, and a very large share of it later on; the experienced man of the world, who understands whither he is tending, is much more responsible than the ignorant girl whom he seduces.

The highest morality demands, therefore, careful judgment. The factors to be considered are the complicated relations of men in the society of which the judge and actor himself is a member; morality may thus be identified with justice in the highest sense of the word. The decision is always a difficult one on account of the great complexity of the factors concerned; this every man perceives who endeavors, with unbia.s.sed mind, to discover exactly what the most moral course is in any particular case. Some one course may be evidently immoral; but that does not necessarily decide what the moral course is, for there may be very many courses open to choice, or there may be at least more than one other as alternative to the manifestly immoral one. Moreover, the necessity for action forbids that we spend all our time in reflection and choice. Moral responsibility demands, however, that we never cease from the endeavor to discover where justice lies.

A certain constancy in the const.i.tution of society, and the necessity for constancy or consistency in the action of the individual, give rise to certain general rules of conduct that develop and change somewhat as society changes; special rules of conduct which supplement these general rules change constantly. In the societies of a primitive sort, held together by only the loosest of bonds, personal retaliation is in vogue and is considered moral. Revenge is a duty. In societies of a higher sort retaliation is taken from the hands of the individual in all matters of importance, at least as far as the revenge consists in definite action, the motive of which can be demonstrated. The Englishman may still knock down the man who insults him, but he may not avenge a murder. Not only the negative morality of abstinence from violence is demanded of the citizen of a so-called civilized society, a certain reliability in the relations of cooperation is also necessary for the general welfare, and thus honesty comes to be encouraged and dishonesty to be discouraged by legal punishment and social contempt. Dishonesty in word is not so often punished directly by law as dishonesty of act, but there are many cases where it is impossible to distinguish between the two, and other cases where the lie is directly punishable because of the consequences which it involves. Beyond this, society begins early to discourage lying in some sort, though the love of and respect for truth obviously grows with social development. Coordinately with the development of cooperation and mutual dependence, constancy in all the multifarious directions and complex relations of that cooperation and dependence, becomes more and more desirable.

But constancy is not to be secured as an outward fact except as it becomes a part of the inward character of men, a constant habit. The man who lies occasionally is in at least some danger of developing a habit in the direction of lying, as he is also in danger of destroying the confidence of others if they discover that he sometimes lies; for they have no means of knowing to exactly what extent untruthfulness is, or is becoming, a habit in his case, or in what instances it may manifest itself, in what not. Moreover, the distrust so engendered may lead to antic.i.p.atory deception on their side, and so the circle of distrust and untruthfulness spreads until it is met somewhere by determined truth that demands truth in return. Thus, in spite of all that is said in favor of the occasional lie, we instinctively feel the danger of it, though we may not be able, until after much consideration, to a.s.sign the exact reason for our feeling. We may admit that there are occasions when the lie may be justifiable; but we feel that these occasions must, then, be very exceptional. In general, it is desirable to discipline ourselves to as close an approach to the truth as possible. If I lie in a dozen instances, in what I consider a good cause, I am very likely to lie again when the temptation of some merely personal gain presents itself. The habit of truth or falsehood is, further than this, one of the most subtle and intricate relations in our character: nothing is more difficult than the facing of the exact truth with regard to ourselves; cowardice and self-deception with regard to our own traits and motives are very common, and only the most earnest and constant effort can enable us to gain that moral courage that is the first requisite of self-knowledge and so self-control. Any weakening of the will in the contrary direction is dangerous. Truth is not an easy thing; it is as difficult as justice; in fact, that which is justice in action and the judgment which leads to action, is truth in the premises of which the judgment is the issue. We have most of us known persons who had so accustomed themselves to lying that they seemed no longer able to distinguish between truth and falsehood, facts and mere impressions.

Certainly where matters of high importance which deeply concern the public welfare are at stake, we cannot admit falsehood to be desirable for the sake of any personal gain; and even though we may find excuses for the failure of human courage in the face of mortal danger, there are those of us who will still continue to think a Bruno's defiance of death for the sake of his conviction the n.o.bler and better choice. I have heard it argued that this philosopher might have contributed more to the world through a continuation of his life than he did through his death.

But surely it was one of the highest services that he could do mankind to show a superst.i.tious and dogmatic age that high moral purpose and steadfastness were not necessarily a.s.sociated with this or that religious dogma. His death drew the attention of thoughtful and good men as nothing else could have drawn it. But beyond this consideration, and even leaving out of account the desirability of the habit of truth and the necessity of its action in the single instance, it is doubtful whether there is any other benefit we can confer on our fellow-men so great as just the a.s.surance that they can rely on us. The bitter cry of human nature everywhere repeats the faithlessness of those on whom trust has been staked; and the rescue of many a man from despair and waste of life has been through the discovery of some one soul whose truth and constancy were steadfast and unchangeable. Belief in others is belief in our own possibilities; and distrust of others is distrust of self, at least for the most thoughtful and introspective men. The examples of such men as Socrates and Bruno stand to the world as pledges of the power of faithfulness in humanity. They are the rocks on which pessimism must shatter, and the betrayed and sorrowful may build their faith. This is, I believe, the secret of our veneration for such men as these, who died, not in an ecstasy of religious emotion or under the hope of especial glory as a reward for martyrdom, but faithful to a calm conviction, and sustained only by the love of truth and their fellow-men.

And this brings us to a consideration of the sacrifice of the individual. The cases may be few where the highest standard can demand of a man such entire and final sacrifice as the instances we have just noted, even though it may look upon this sacrifice as the highest. But it is evident that some degree of self-sacrifice is often necessary to the welfare of society, and however important we may consider the welfare of the individual, it cannot be regarded as more important than the welfare of the whole of society as an aggregate of many individuals, or even as more important than the welfare of a large number of other individuals, a considerable portion of society. The legitimate degree of sacrifice, where interests conflict and choice is necessary between the sacrifice of the single individual and the sacrifice of many, is a question that can be decided only according to the particular circ.u.mstances of the case. Everything depends upon the number of individuals on both sides, whose interests conflict, on the nature of the sacrifices necessary, and the results of these sacrifices to the society as a whole, as well as, in some cases, on the character of the individuals concerned. It is often denied that the nature of the individuals whose interests conflict, between whom choice must be made, can ever affect that choice if it is made under principles of justice.

And in general, doubtless, there is danger of injustice in distinctions between individuals; but it is scarcely to be doubted that, if it were necessary to choose between the life of a great philanthropist and that of a persistent and hardened criminal, if, for instance, both were drowning and it were possible to save only one, the choice of most would fall, and fall rightly, on the philanthropist. The fact that moral choice must take different directions under different circ.u.mstances is sometimes construed into an argument against any fixity of moral commandments, an argument for a narrow expediency. It certainly establishes the rule that obedience to any rule of action should never be blind. Nevertheless, if our preceding considerations be correct, the uniformities in social relations admit of the establishment of certain general rules which the moral man will follow under most circ.u.mstances.