proceeds to inquire what may have taken him to that place; the former will undoubtedly give a false answer in order to avoid the danger of robbery. Again: if a man be found in the house of another, whose daughter he is wooing; and he is asked the cause of his unexpected presence; unless he has entirely lost his head, he will not give the true reason, but unhesitatingly invent a pretext. And the cases are numberless in which every reasonable being tells an untruth, without the least scruple of conscience. It is this view of the matter alone that removes the crying contradiction between the morality which is taught, and that which is daily practised, even by the best and most upright of men. At the same time, the restriction of a falsehood to the single purpose of self-defence must be rigidly observed; for otherwise this doctrine would admit of terrible abuse, a lie being in itself a very dangerous instrument. But just as, even in time of public peace, the law allows every one to carry weapons and to use them, when required for self-defence, so Ethics permits lies to be employed for the same purpose, and--be it observed--for this one purpose only. Every mendacious word is a wrong, excepting only when the occasion arises of defending oneself against violence or cunning. Hence justice requires truthfulness towards all men. But the entirely unconditional and unreserved condemnation of lies, as properly involved in their nature, is sufficiently refuted by well known facts. Thus, there are cases where a falsehood is a =duty=, especially for doctors; and there are =magnanimous= lies, as, for instance, that of the Marquis Posa in _Don Carlos_[11] or that in the _Gerusalemme Liberata_, II., 22;[12] they occur, indeed, whenever a man wills to take on himself the guilt of another; and lastly, Jesus Christ himself is reported (_John_ vii. 8; cf. ver. 10) on one occasion to have intentionally told an untruth. The reader will remember that Campanella, in his _Poesie Filosofiche_ (Delia Bellezza: Madr. 9), does not hesitate to say: "_Bello è il mentir, se a fare gran ben' si trova_."[13] On the other hand, the current teaching as regards necessary falsehoods is a wretched patch on the dress of a poverty-stricken morality. Kant is responsible for the theory found in many text-books, which derives the unjustifiableness of lies from man's faculty of speech; but the arguments are so tame, childish and absurd that one might well be tempted, if only to pour contempt on them, to join sides with the devil, and say with Talleyrand: _l'homme a reçu la parole pour pouvoir cacher sa pensée_[14]. The unqualified and boundless horror shown by Kant for falsehoods, whenever he has the opportunity, is due either to affectation, or to prejudice. In the chapter of his "_Tugendlehre_," dealing with lies, he loads them with every kind of defamatory epithet, but does not adduce a single adequate reason for their condemnation; which would have been more to the point. Declamation is easier than demonstration, and to moralise less difficult than to be sincere. Kant would have done better to open the vials of his wrath on that vice which takes pleasure in seeing others suffer; it is the latter, and not a falsehood, which is truly fiendish. For malignant joy is the exact opposite of Compassion, and nothing else but powerless cruelty, which, unable itself to bring about the misery it so gladly beholds others enduring, is thankful to _Τύχη_ for having done so instead. According to the code of knightly honour, the reproach of being a liar is of extreme gravity, and only to be washed out with the accuser's blood.
Now this obtains, not because the lie is wrong in itself, since, were such the reason, to accuse a man of an injury done by violence would certainly be regarded as equally outrageous,--which is not the case, as every one knows; but it is due to that principle of chivalry, which in reality bases right on might; so that whoever, when trying to work mischief, has recourse to falsehood, proves that he lacks either power, or the requisite courage. Every untruth bears witness of his fear; and this is why a fatal verdict is passed on him.
[1] Thus, when the first gleam of _Mitleid_ stole into her heart, Brünhilde could no longer remain a Walküre; and Wotan's end comes, when by the same solvent he is at length set free from the delusion of the [2] There is here an allusion to the _πάνδημος Ἓρως_ and _Oὐρανία_ in Plato's _Symposium. V_. Chap. 8, sq. Edit. Schmelzer: Weidmann, Berlin, [4] Justice here denotes nothing else than that which is just, and this, rather in a negative than in a positive sense; so that what is not unjust is to be regarded as justice.
[5] There is no more efficient instrument in ruling the masses than superstition. Without this they have no self-control; they are brutish; they are changeable; but once they are caught by some vain form of religion, they lend a more willing ear to its soothsayers than to their own leaders.
[6] The Doctrine of Eight in detail may be found in _Die Welt als Wille [8] The word here translated "equity" (_Billigkeit_: Lat. _aequitas_) means the sense of fairness, or of natural justice which determines what is fitting and due in all human relations, as opposed to justice (_Gerechtigkeit_) taken as positive written law.--(_Translator._) [9] Motivation is defined in Part II., Chapter VIII., as "the law of Causality acting through the medium of the intellect." It is thus the law of the determination of conduct by motives.--(_Translator._) [10] However much we're won't to blame a lie, As index of a mind estranged from right, Yet times unnumber'd it hath shap'd results Of good most evident; disgrace and loss, It chang'd; e'en death it cheated. For with friends, Alas! not always in this mortal life, Where envy fills all hearts, and gloom prevails Much more than light, are we in converse join'd.
--(_Translator._) [12] "_Magnanima menzogna, or quando è il vero_ _Si hello che si possa a te preporre?"_ Cf. also the Horatian _splendid mendax. Carm._ III., 11, 35.--(_Translator._) [13] 'Tis well to lie, an there result much good therefrom. _Vide, Opere_ di Tommaso Campanella, da Alessandro d'Ancona, Torino, [14] Man has received the gift of language, so as to be able to conceal his thoughts.
CHAPTER VII.
THE VIRTUE OF LOVING-KINDNESS.
Thus justice is the primary and essentially cardinal virtue. Ancient philosophers recognised it as such, but made it co-ordinate with three others unsuitably chosen.[1] Loving-kindness (_caritas, ἀγάπη_) was not as yet ranked as a virtue. Plato himself, who rises highest in moral science, reaches only so far as voluntary, disinterested justice. It is true that loving-kindness has existed at all times in practice and in fact; but it was reserved for Christianity,--whose greatest service is seen in this--to theoretically formulate, and expressly advance it not only as a virtue, but as the queen of all; and to extend it even to enemies. We are thinking of course only of Europe. For in Asia, a thousand years before, the boundless love of one's neighbour had been prescribed and taught, as well as practised: the Vedas[2] are full of it; while in the Dharma-Śāstra,[3] Itihāsa,[4] and Purāna[5] it constantly recurs, to say nothing of the preaching of Śakya-muni, the Buddha. And to be quite accurate we must admit that there are traces to be found among the Greeks and Romans of a recommendation to follow loving-kindness; for instance, in Cicero, _De Finibus_, V., 23;[6] and also in Pythagoras, according to Iamblichus, _De vita Pythagorae_, chap. 33.[7] My task is now to give a philosophical derivation of this virtue from the principle I have laid down.
It has been demonstrated in Chapter V. of this Part, that the sense of Compassion, however much its origin is shrouded in mystery, is the one and sole cause whereby the suffering I see in another, of itself, and as such, becomes directly my motive; and we have seen that the first stage of this process is =negative=. The second degree is sharply distinguished from the first, through the =positive= character of the actions resulting therefrom; for at this point Compassion does more than keep me back from injuring my neighbour; it impels me to help him. And according as, on the one hand, my sense of direct participation is keen and deep, and, on the other hand, the distress is great and urgent, so shall I be constrained by this motive, which (be it noted) is purely and wholly moral, to make a greater or less sacrifice in order to meet the need or the calamity which I observe; and this sacrifice may involve the expenditure of my bodily or mental powers, the loss of my property, freedom, or even life. So that in this direct =suffering with= another, which rests on no arguments and requires none, is found the one simple origin of loving-kindness, _caritas, aγάπη_ in other words, that virtue whose rule is: _Omnes, quantum potes, juva_ (help all people, as far as lies in your power); and from which all those actions proceed which are prescribed by Ethics under the name of duties of virtue, otherwise called duties of love, or imperfect duties. It is solely by direct and, as it were, instinctive participation in the sufferings which we see, in other words, by Compassion, that conduct so defined is occasioned; at least when it can be said to have moral worth, that is, be declared free from all egoistic motives, and when on that account it awakens in us that inward contentment which is called a good, satisfied, approving conscience, and elicits from the spectator (not without making him cast a humiliating glance at himself), that remarkable commendation, respect, and admiration which are too well-known to be denied.
But if a beneficent action have any other motive whatever, then it must be egoistic, if not actually malicious. For as the fundamental springs of all human conduct (_v_. Chapter V. of this Part), are three, namely, Egoism, Malice, Compassion; so the various motives which are capable of affecting men may be grouped under three general heads: (1) one's own weal; (2) others' woe; (3) others' weal. Now if the motive of a kind act does not belong to the third class, it must of course be found in the first or second. To the second it is occasionally to be ascribed; for instance, if I do good to some one, in order to vex another, to whom I am hostile; or to make the latter's sufferings more acute; or, it may be, to put to shame a third person, who refrained from helping; or lastly, to inflict a mortification on the man whom I benefit. But it much more usually springs from the first class. And this is the case whenever, in doing some good, I have in view my own weal, no matter how remote or indirect it may be; that is, whenever I am influenced by the thought of reward whether in this, or in another, world, or by the hope of winning high esteem, and of gaining a reputation for nobleness of character; or again, when I reflect that the person, whom I now aid, may one day be able to assist me in return, or otherwise be of some service and benefit; or when, lastly, I am guided by the consideration that I must keep the rules of magnanimity and beneficence, because I too may on some occasion profit thereby. In a word, my motive is egoistic as soon as it is anything other than the purely objective desire of simply knowing, without any ulterior purpose, that my neighbour is helped, delivered from his distress and need, or freed from his suffering. If such an aim--shorn, as it is, of all subjectivity--be really mine, then, and then only, have I given proof of that loving-kindness, _caritas, ἀγάπη_, which it is the great and distinguishing merit of Christianity to have preached. It should be observed, in this connection, that the injunctions which the Gospel adds to its commandment of love, _e.g., μὴ γνώτω ἡ ἀρίστερα σου, τί ποιεῑ ἡ δεξιά σου_ (let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth), and the like, are, in point of fact, based on a consciousness of the conclusion I have here reached,--namely, that another's distress, of itself alone, without any further consideration, must be my motive, if what I do is to be of moral value. And in the same place (_Matth_. vi. 2) we find it stated with perfect truth that ostentations almsgivers _ἀπέχουσιν τὸν μισθὸν αὐτῶν_. (Get in full--exhaust their reward.) Although, in this respect too, the Vedas shed on us the light of a higher teaching. They repeatedly declare that he, who desires any sort of recompense for his work, is still wandering in the path of darkness, and not yet ripe for deliverance. If any one should ask me what he gets from a charitable act, my answer in all sincerity would be: "This, that the lot of the poor man you relieve is just so much the lighter; otherwise absolutely nothing. If you are not satisfied, and feel that such is not a sufficient end, then your wish was not to give alms, but to make a purchase; and you have effected a bad bargain.
But if the one thing you are concerned with is that he should feel the pressure of poverty less; then you have gained your object; you have diminished his suffering, and you see exactly how far your gift is requited."
Now, how is it possible that trouble which is not mine, and by which I am untouched, should become as direct a motive to me as if it were my own, and incite me to action? As already explained, only through the fact that, although it comes before me merely as something outside myself, by means of the external medium of sight or hearing; I am, nevertheless, sensible of it with the sufferer; I feel it as my own, not indeed in myself, but in him And so what Calderon said comes to pass: _que entre el ver_ (_No Siempre lo Peor es Cierto_. Jorn. II., Esc. 9.)[8] This, however, presupposes that to a certain extent I have become identified with the other, and consequently that the barrier between the ego and the non-ego is, for the moment, broken down. It is then, and then only, that I make his interests, his need, his distress, his suffering directly my own; it is then that the empirical picture I have of him vanishes, and I no longer see the stranger, who is entirely unlike myself, and to whom I am indifferent; but I share his pain in him, despite the certainty that his skin does not enclose my nerves.
Only in this way is it possible for =his= woe, =his= distress to become a motive =for me=; otherwise I should be influenced solely by my own. This process is, I repeat, =mysterious=. For it is one which Reason can give no direct account of, and its causes lie outside the field of experience. And yet it is of daily occurrence.
Every one has often felt its working within himself; even to the most hard-hearted and selfish it is not unknown. Each day that passes brings it before our eyes, in single acts, on a small scale; whenever a man, by direct impulse, without much reflection, helps a fellow-creature and comes to his aid, sometimes even exposing himself to the most imminent peril for the sake of one he has never seen before, and this, without once thinking of anything but the fact that he witnesses another's great distress and danger. It was manifested on a large scale, when after long consideration, and many a stormy debate, the noble-hearted British nation gave twenty millions of pounds to ransom the negroes in its colonies, with the approbation and joy of a whole world. If any one refuses to recognise in Compassion the cause of this deed, magnificent as it is in its grand proportions, and prefers to ascribe it to Christianity; let him remember that in the whole of the New Testament not one word is said against slavery, though at that time it was practically universal; and further, that as late as A.D. 1860, in North America, when the question was being discussed, a man was found who thought to strengthen his case by appealing to the fact that Abraham and Jacob kept slaves!
What will be in each separate case the practical effect of this mysterious inner process may be left to Ethics to analyse, in chapters and paragraphs entitled "Duties of Virtue," "Duties of Love," "Imperfect Duties," or whatever other name be used. The root, the basis of all these is the one here indicated; for out of it arises the primary precept: _Omnes, quantum potes, juva_; from which in turn everything else required can very easily be deduced; just as out of the _Neminem laede_--the first half of my principle--all duties of justice are derivable. Ethics is in truth the easiest of all sciences. And this is only to be expected, since it is incumbent on each person to construct it for himself, and himself form the rule for every case, as it occurs, out of the fundamental law which lies deep in his heart; for few have leisure and patience enough to learn a ready-made system of Morals. From justice and loving-kindness spring all the other virtues; for which reason these two may properly be called cardinal, and the disclosure of their origin lays the corner-stone of Moral Science. The entire ethical content of the Old Testament is justice; loving-kindness being that of the New. The latter is the _καινὴ ἐντολὴ_ (the new commandment [_John_ xiii. 34]), which according to Paul (_Romans_ xiii.
8-10) includes all Christian virtues.
[1] Plato taught that Justice (_δικαιοσύνη_) includes in itself the three other virtues of Wisdom (σοϕία), Fortitude (_ἀνδρεία,_) and Temperance (_σωϕρούυν_). With Aristotle, too, Justice is the chief of virtues; while the Stoic doctrine is that Virtue is manifested in four leading co-ordinate forms: Wisdom, Justice, Fortitude, and [2] There are four Vedas: the _Big-Veda, Yajur-Veda, Sāma-Veda,_ and [3] _Dharma-Śāstra_ ("a law book"): the body or code of Hindu [4] _Itihāsa_ (iti-ha-āsa, "so indeed it is"): talk, legend, traditional accounts of former events, heroic history; _e.g._, the [5] _Purāna_ (ancient, legendary): the name given to certain well-known sacred works, eighteen in number, comprising the whole body of modern Hindu mythology. _V_. Monier Williams' _Sanskrit [6] _Ipsa_ CARITAS _generis humani, quae nata a primo satu, quod a procreatoribus nati diliguntur, et tota domus conjugio et stirpe conjungitur, serpit sensim foras, cognationibus primum, tum affinitatibus, deinde amicitiis, post vicinitatibus tum civibus et iis, qui publice socii atque amici sunt, deinde_ TOTIUS COMPLEXU GENTIS HUMANAE.
[7] This chapter describes the Pythagorean ϕίλια πάντων πρὸς ἃπαντας, which comes very near to loving-kindness. It contains also certain _καλὰ τῆς ϕίλιας τεκήρια_.--(_Translator_.)
[8] For between the view Of pain, and pain itself, I never knew A distance lie.
It is not Always the Worst that is Certain: Act II., Sc.
9.--(_Translator._) CHAPTER VIII.
THE PROOF NOW GIVEN CONFIRMED BY EXPERIENCE.
The truth I have here laid down, that Compassion is the sole non-egoistic stimulus, and therefore the only really moral one, is a strange, indeed almost incomprehensible paradox. I shall hope, therefore, to render it less extraordinary to the reader, if I show that it is confirmed by experience, and by the universal testimony of human sentiment.
(1) For this purpose I shall, in the first place, state an imaginary case, which in the present investigation may serve as an _experimentum crucis_[1] (a crucial test). But not to make the matter too easy, I shall take no instance of loving-kindness, but rather a breach of lawful right, and that of the worse kind. Let us suppose two young people, Caius and Titus, to be passionately in love, each with a different girl, and that both are completely thwarted by two other men who are preferred because of certain external circumstances. They have both resolved to put their rivals out of the way, and are perfectly secure from every chance of detection, even from all suspicion. But when they come to actually prepare for the murder, each of them, after an inward struggle, draws back. They are now to give us a truthful and clear account of the reasons why they abandoned their project. As for Caius, I leave it entirely to the reader to choose what motive he likes. It may be that religions grounds checked him; for instance, the thought of the Divine Will, of future retribution, of the judgment to come, etc. Or perhaps he may say: "I reflected that the principle I was going to apply in this case would not be adapted to provide a rule universally valid for all possible rational beings; because I should have treated my rival only as a means, and not at the same time as an end." Or, following Fichte, he may deliver himself as follows: "Every human life is a means towards realising the moral law; consequently, I cannot, without being indifferent to this realisation, destroy a being ordained to do his part in effecting it."--(_Sittenlehre_, p.
373.) (This scruple, be it observed in passing, he might well overcome by the hope of soon producing a new instrument of the moral law, when once in possession of his beloved.) Or, again, he may speak after the fashion of Wollaston: "I considered that such an action would be the expression of a false tenet." Or like Hutcheson: "The Moral Sense, whose perceptions, equally with those of every other sense, admit of no final explanation, forbade me to commit such a deed." Or like Adam Smith: "I foresaw that my act would awaken no sympathy with me in the minds of the spectators." Or his language may be borrowed from Christian Wolff: "I recognised that I should thereby advance neither the work of making myself perfect, nor the same process in any one else." Or from Spinoza: "_Homini nihil utilius homine: ergo hominem interimere nolui_." (To man nothing is more useful than man: therefore I was unwilling to destroy a man.) In short, he may say what one pleases. But Titus, whose explanation is supplied by myself, will speak as follows: "When I came to make arrangements for the work, and so, for the moment, had to occupy myself not with my own passion, but with my rival; then for the first time I saw clearly what was going to happen to him. But simultaneously I was seized with compassion and pity; sorrow for him laid hold upon me, and overmastered me: I could not strike the blow." Now I ask every honest and unprejudiced reader: Which of these two is the better man? To which would he prefer to entrust his own destiny? Which is restrained by the purer motive? Consequently, where does the basis of morality lie?
(2) There is nothing that revolts our moral sense so much as cruelty.
Every other offence we can pardon, but not cruelty. The reason is found in the fact that cruelty is the exact opposite of Compassion. When we hear of intensely cruel conduct, as, for instance, the act, which has just been recorded in the papers, of a mother, who murdered her little son of five years, by pouring boiling oil into his throat, and her younger child, by burying it alive; or what was recently reported from Algiers: how a casual dispute between a Spaniard and an Algerine ended in a fight; and how the latter, having vanquished the other, tore out the whole of his lower jaw bone, and carried it off as a trophy, leaving his adversary still alive;--when we hear of cruelty like this, we are seized with horror, and exclaim: "How is it possible to do such a thing?" Now, let me ask what this question signifies. Does it mean: "How is it possible to fear so little the punishments of the future life?" It is difficult to admit this interpretation. Then perhaps it intends to say: "How is it possible to act according to a principle which is so absolutely unfitted to become a general law for all rational beings?" Certainly not. Or, once more: "How is it possible to neglect so utterly one's own perfection as well as that of another?"'
This is equally unimaginable. The sense of the question is assuredly nothing but this: "How is it possible to be so utterly bereft of compassion?" The conclusion is that when an action is characterised by an extraordinary absence of compassion, it bears the certain stamp of the deepest depravity and loathsomeness. Hence Compassion is the true moral incentive.
(3) The ethical basis, or the original moral stimulus, which I have disclosed, is the only one that can be justly said to have a real and extended sphere of effective influence. No one will surely venture to maintain as much of all the other moral principles that philosophers have set up; for these are composed of abstract, sometimes even of hair-splitting propositions, with no foundation other than an artificial combination of ideas; such that their application to actual conduct would often incline to the comic. A good action, inspired solely by Kant's Moral Principle, would be at bottom the work of philosophic pedantry; or else would lead the doer into self-deception, through his reason interpreting conduct, which had other, perhaps nobler, incentives, as the product of the Categorical Imperative, and of the conception of Duty, which, as we have seen, rests on nothing. But not only is it true that the =philosophic= moral principles, purely theoretical as they are, have seldom any operative power; of those established by =religion=, and expressly framed for practical purposes, it is equally difficult to predicate any marked efficiency. The chief evidence of this lies in the fact that in spite of the great religious differences in the world, the amount of morality, or rather of immorality, shows no corresponding variation, but in essentials is pretty much the same everywhere. Only it is important not to confound rudeness and refinement with morality and immorality. The religion of Hellas had an exceedingly small moral tendency,--it hardly went further than respect for oaths. No dogma was taught, and no system of Ethics publicly preached; nevertheless, all things considered, it does not appear that the Greeks were morally inferior to the men of the Christian era. The morality of Christianity is of a much higher kind than that of any other religion which previously appeared in Europe. But if any one should believe for this reason that European morals have improved proportionally, and that now at any rate they surpass what obtains elsewhere, it would not be difficult to demonstrate that among the Mohammedans, Gnebres, Hindus, and Buddhists, there is at least as much honesty, fidelity, toleration, gentleness, beneficence, nobleness, and self-denial as among Christian peoples. Indeed, the scale will be found rather to turn unfavourably for Christendom, when we put into the balance the long list of inhuman cruelties which have constantly been perpetrated within its limits and often in its name. We need only recall for a moment the numerous religious wars; the crusades that nothing can justify; the extirpation of a large part of the American aborigines, and the peopling of that continent by negroes, brought over from Africa, without the shadow of a right, torn from their families, their country, their hemisphere, and, as slaves, condemned for life to forced labour;[2] the tireless persecution of heretics; the unspeakable atrocities of the Inquisition, that cried aloud to heaven; the Massacre of St. Bartholomew; the execution of 18,000 persons in the Netherlands by the Duke of Alva; and these are but a few facts among many. Speaking generally, however, if we compare with the performances of its followers the excellent morality which Christianity, and, more or less, every creed preaches, and then try to imagine how far theory would become practice, if crime were not impeded by the secular arm of the state; nay more, what would probably happen, if, for only one day all laws should be suspended; we shall be obliged to confess that the effect of the various religions on Morals is in fact very small. This is of course due to weakness of faith. Theoretically, and so long as it is only a question of piety in the abstract, every one supposes his belief to be firm enough. Only the searching touch-stone of all our convictions is--what we do. When the moment for acting arrives, and our faith has to be tested by great self-denial and heavy sacrifices, then its feebleness becomes evident.
If a man is seriously planning some evil, he has already broken the bounds of true and pure morality. Thenceforward the chief restraint that checks him is invariably the dread of justice and the police.
Should he be so hopeful of escaping detection as to cast such fears aside, the next barrier that meets him is regard for his honour. If this second rampart be crossed, there is very little likelihood, after both these powerful hindrances are withdrawn, that any religious dogma will appeal to him strongly enough to keep him back from the deed. For if he be not frightened by near and immediate dangers, he will hardly be curbed by terrors which are distant, and rest merely on belief.
Moreover, there is a positive objection that may be brought against all good conduct proceeding solely from religions conviction; it is not purged of self-interest, but done out of regard for reward and punishment, and hence can have no purely moral value. This view we find very clearly expressed in a letter of the celebrated Grand-Duke of Weimar, Karl August. He writes: "Baron Weyhers was himself of opinion that he, who is good through religion, and not by natural inclination, must be a bad fellow at heart. _In vino veritas."[3]--(Letters to J. H. Merck_; No. 229.) But now let us turn to the moral incentive which I have disclosed. Who ventures for a moment to deny that it displays a marked and truly wonderful influence at all times, among all peoples, in all circumstances of life; even when constitutional law is suspended, and the horrors of revolutions and wars fill the air; in small things and in great, every day and every hour? Who will refuse to admit that it is constantly preventing much wrong, and calling into existence many a good action, often quite unexpectedly, and where there is no hope of reward? Is there any one who will gainsay the fact that, where it and it alone has been operative, we all with deep respect and emotion unreservedly recognise the presence of genuine moral worth?
(4) Boundless compassion for all living beings is the surest and most certain guarantee of pure moral conduct, and needs no casuistry.
Whoever is filled with it will assuredly injure no one, do harm to no one, encroach on no man's rights; he will rather have regard for every one, forgive every one, help every one as far as he can, and all his actions will bear the stamp of justice and loving-kindness.
On the other hand, if we try to say: "This man is virtuous, but he is a stranger to Compassion"; or: "he is an unjust and malicious man, yet very compassionate;" the contradiction at once leaps to light. In former times the English plays used to finish with a petition for the King. The old Indian dramas close with these words: "May all living beings be delivered from pain." Tastes differ; but in my opinion there is no more beautiful prayer than this.
(5) Also from separate matters of detail it may be inferred that the original stimulus of true morality is Compassion. For instance, to make a man lose a hundred thalers, by legal tricks involving no danger, is equally unjust, whether he be rich or poor; but in the latter case the rapping of conscience is much louder, the censure of disinterested witnesses more emphatic. Aristotle was well aware of this, and said: _δεινότερον δέ εστι τὸν ἀτυχοῡντα, ἢ τον ετὐχοῡντα, ἀδικεῑν_. (It is worse to injure a man in adversity than one who is prosperous.)--(_Probl._ xxix. 2.) If the man have wealth, self-reproach is proportionally faint, and grows still fainter, if it be the treasury that has been overreached; for state coffers can form no object of Compassion. It thus appears that the grounds for self-accusation as well as for the spectators' blame are not furnished directly by the infringement of the law, but chiefly by the suffering thereby brought upon others. The violation of right, by itself and as such, which is involved in cheating the exchequer, (to take the above instance,) will be disapproved by the conscience alike of actor and witness; but only because, and in so far as, the rule of respecting =every= right, which forms the _sine qua non_ of all honourable conduct, is in consequence broken. The stricture passed will, in fact, be indirect and limited. If, however, it be a confidential _employé_ in the service that commits the fraud, the case assumes quite another aspect; it then has all the specific attributes of, and belongs to, that class of actions described above, whose characteristic is a =double injustice=. The analysis here given explains why the worst charge which can ever be brought against rapacious extortioners and legal sharpers is, that they appropriate for themselves the goods of widows and orphans. The reason appears in the fact that the latter, more than others, owing to their helplessness, might be expected to excite Compassion in the most callous heart. Hence we conclude that the entire absence of this sense is sufficient to lower a man to the last degree of villainy.
(6) Compassion is the root no less of justice than of loving-kindness; but it is more clearly evidenced in the latter than in the former.
We never receive proofs of genuine loving-kindness on the part of others, so long as we are in all respects prosperous. The happy man may, no doubt, often hear the words of good-will on his relations' and friends' lips; but the expression of that pure, disinterested, objective participation in the condition and lot of others, which loving-kindness begets, is reserved for him who is stricken with some sorrow or suffering, whatever it be. For the fortunate =as such= we do not feel sympathy; unless they have some other claim on us, they remain alien to our hearts: _habeant sibi sua._ (They may keep their own affairs, pleasures, etc., to themselves.) Nay, if a man has many advantages over others, he will easily become an object of envy, which is ready, should he once fall from his height of prosperity, to turn into malignant joy. Nevertheless this menace is, for the most part, not fulfilled; the Sophoclean _γελῶσι δ' ἐχθροί _ (his enemies laugh) does not generally become an actual fact. As soon as the day of ruin comes to one of fortune's spoiled children, there usually takes place a great transformation in the minds of his acquaintances, which for us in this connection is very instructive. In the first place this change