some men take pleasure in the pain of others; and La Rochefoucauld even ventured on the now well-known saying, 'that there is something in the misfortunes of our best friends not unpleasant to us.' But our feeling that the sufferings of others are pleasant or unpleasant has nothing to do with the question, which refers to the judgment whether the indulging of such feelings is 'right' or 'wrong.'

If the 'social instinct' were the real basis of the moral sense, the fact that society approved of anything would be recognised as the supreme sanction of it. Not only, however, is this not so, not only do we judge as to whether society in certain cases is right or wrong, but we demand a reason why we should obey society at all; we demand a rational basis and justification for social claims, if we happen to have a somewhat inquiring turn of mind. We shall be sure avowedly or secretly to despise and neglect the performance of acts which we do not happen to desire, and which have not an intellectual sanction.

The only passage in which our author seems as if about to meet the real question at issue is very disappointing, as the difficulty is merely evaded. He remarks, 'I am aware that some persons maintain that actions performed impulsively do not come under the dominion of the moral sense, and cannot be called moral' (vol. i. p. 87). This is not a correct statement of the intuitive view, and the difficulty is evaded thus: But it appears scarcely possible to draw any clear line of distinction of this kind, though the distinction may be real!' It seems to us, however, that there is no difficulty at all in drawing a line between a judgment as to an action being right or wrong and every other kind of mental act. Mr. Darwin goes on to say:

'Moreover, an action repeatedly performed by us will at last be done without deliberation or hesitation, and can then hardly be distinguished from an instinct; yet surely no one will pretend that an

action thus done ceases to be moral. On the contrary, we all feel that an act cannot be considered as perfect, or as performed in the most noble manner, unless it is done impulsively, without deliberation or effort, in the same manner as by a man in whom the requisite qualities are innate.'-Vol. i. p. 88.

To this must be replied, in one sense, 'Yes'; in another, 'No.' An action which has ceased to be directly or indirectly deliberate, has ceased to be moral as a distinct act, but it is moral as the continuation of those preceding deliberate acts 1 through which the good habit was originally formed, and the rapidity with which the will is directed in the case supposed may indicate the number and constancy of antecedent meritorious volitions. Mr. Darwin seems to see this more or less, as he adds: 'He who is forced to overcome his fear or want of sympathy before he acts, deserves, however, in one way higher credit than the man whose innate disposition leads him to do a good act without effort.'

case

As an illustration of the genesis of remorse, we have the

' of a temporary though for the time strongly persistent instinct conquering another instinct which is usually dominant over all others.' Swallows 'at the proper season seem all day long to be impressed with the desire to migrate; their habits change; they become restless, are noisy, and congregate in flocks. Whilst the mother-bird is feeding or brooding over her nestlings, the maternal instinct is probably stronger than the migratory; but the instinct which is more persistent gains the victory, and at last, at a moment when her young ones are not in sight, she takes flight and deserts them. When arrived at the end of her long journey, and the migratory instinct ceases to act, what an agony of remorse each bird would feel, if, from being endowed with great mental activity, she could not prevent the image continually passing before her mind of her young ones perishing in the bleak north from cold and hunger.'-Vol. i. p. 90.

Let us suppose she does suffer agony,' that feeling would be nothing to the purpose. What is requisite is that she 1 See ante, vol. i. p. 329.

VOL. II.

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should judge that she ought not to have left them. To make clear our point, let us imagine a man formerly entangled in ties of affection which in justice to another his conscience has induced him to sever. The image of the distress his act of severance has caused may occasion him keen emotional suffering for years, accompanied by a clear perception that his act has been right. Again, let us suppose another case: The struggling father of a family becomes aware that the property on which he lives really belongs to another, and he relinquishes it. He may continue to judge that he has done a proper action, whilst tortured by the trials in which his act of justice has involved him. To assert that these acts are merely instinctive would be absurdly false. In the cases supposed, obedience is paid to a clear intellectual perception. against the very strongest instincts.

That we have not misrepresented Mr. Darwin's exposition of 'conscience' is manifest. He says that if a man has gratified a passing instinct, to the neglect of an enduring instinct, he' will then feel dissatisfied with himself, and will resolve with more or less force to act differently for the future. This is conscience; for conscience looks backwards and judges past actions, inducing that kind of dissatisfaction, which if weak we call regret, and if severe remorse' (vol. i. p. 91). Conscience,' certainly, 'looks back and judges,' but not all that 'looks back and judges' is 'conscience.' A judgment of conscience is one of a particular kind, namely, a judgment according to the standard of moral worth. But for this, a gourmand, looking back and judging that a particular sauce had occasioned him dyspepsia, would, in the dissatisfaction arising from his having eaten the wrong dish at dinner, exercise his conscience!

Indeed, elsewhere (vol. i. p. 103), Mr. Darwin speaks of the standard of morality rising higher and higher,' though he nowhere explains what he means either by the 'standard'

or by the 'higher'; and, indeed, it is very difficult to understand what can possibly be meant by this 'rising of the standard,' if the 'standard' is from first to last pleasure and profit.

We find, again, the singular remark:-'If any desire or instinct leading to an action opposed to the good of others still appears to a man, when recalled to mind, as strong as or stronger than his social instinct, he will feel no keen regret at having followed it' (vol. i. p. 92).

Mr. Darwin is continually mistaking a merely beneficial action for a moral one; but, as before said, it is one thing to act well and quite another to be a moral agent. A dog, or even a fruit-tree, may act well, but neither is a moral agent. Of course, all the instances he brings forward with regard to animals are not in point, on account of this misconception of the problem to be solved. He gives, however, some examples which tell strongly against his own view. Thus, he remarks of the Law of Honour-The breach of this law, even when the breach is known to be strictly accordant with true morality, has caused many a man more agony than a real crime. We recognise the same influence in the sense of burning shame which most of us have felt, even after the interval of years, when calling to mind some accidental breach of a trifling, though fixed, rule of etiquette' (vol. i. p. 92). This is most true; some trifling breach of good manners may, indeed, occasion us pain; but this may be unaccompanied by a judgment that we are morally blameworthy. It is judgment, and not feeling, which has to do with right and wrong. But a yet better example might be given. What quality can have been more universally useful to social communities than courage? It has always been, and is still, greatly admired and highly appreciated, and is especially adapted, both directly and indirectly, to enable its possessors to become the fathers of succeeding generations. If the

social instinct were the basis of the moral sense, it is infallibly certain that courage must have come to be regarded as supremely good,' and cowardice to be deserving of the deepest moral condemnation. And yet what is the fact? A coward feels probably self-contempt, and that he has incurred the contempt of his associates, but he does not feel wicked.' He is painfully conscious of his defective organisation, but he knows that an organisation, however defective, cannot, in itself, constitute moral demerit. Similarly, we, the observers, despise, avoid, or hate a coward; but we can clearly understand that a coward may be a more virtuous man than another who abounds in animal courage.

The better still to show how completely distinct are the conceptions enduring or strong instincts' and 'virtuous desires' on the one hand, and 'transient or weak impulses' and vicious inclinations' on the other, let us substitute in the following passage for the words which Mr. Darwin, on his own principles, illegitimately introduces others which accord with those principles, and we shall see how such substitution eliminates every element of morality from the passage:

'Looking to future generations, there is no cause to fear that the social instincts will grow weaker, and we may expect that enduring [virtuous] habits will grow stronger, becoming perhaps fixed by inheritance. In this case the struggle between our stronger [higher] and weaker [lower] impulses will be less severe, and the strong [virtue] will be triumphant' (vol. i. p. 104).

As to past generations, Mr. Darwin tells us (vol. i. p. 166) that at all times throughout the world, tribes have supplanted other tribes; and as social acts are an element in their success, sociality must have been intensified, and this because 'an increase in the number of well-endowed men will cer

1 As before observed. See ante, vol. i. p. 464.