HOW THIS APPENDIX MUST BE UNDERSTOOD.
In the foregoing pages the moral incentive (Compassion) has been established as a fact, and I have shown that from it alone can proceed unselfish justice and genuine loving-kindness, and that on these two cardinal virtues all the rest depend. Now, for the purpose of supplying Ethics with a foundation, this is sufficient, in a certain sense; that is, in so far as Moral Science necessarily requires to be supported by some actual and demonstrable basis, whether existing in the external world, or in the consciousness. The only alternative is to tread in the footsteps that so many of my predecessors have left, in other words, to choose arbitrarily some proposition or other,—some bare and abstract formula—and make it the source of all that morality prescribes; or, like Kant, to sublimate a mere idea, that of law, into the key-stone of the ethical arch. But, dismissing this method for the reasons discussed above, in the Second Part, the investigation proposed by the Royal Society appears to me now completed. For their question, as it stands, deals only with the foundation of Ethics; as to a possible metaphysical explanation of this foundation nothing whatever is asked. Nevertheless, at the point we have reached, I am very sensible that the human spirit can find no abiding satisfaction, no real repose. As in all branches of practical research, so also in Ethical Science, when all is said, man is inevitably confronted with an ultimate phaenomenon, which while it renders an account of everything that it includes, and everything deducible from it, remains itself an unexplained riddle. So that here, as elsewhere, the want is felt of a final interpretation (which, obviously, cannot but be metaphysical) of the ultimate data, as such, and through these,—if they be taken in their entirety—of the world. And here, too, this want finds utterance in the question: How is it that, what is present to our senses, and grasped by our intellect, is as it is, and not otherwise? And how does the character of the phaenomenon, as manifest to us, shape itself out of the essential nature of things? Indeed, in Moral Science the need of a metaphysical basis is more urgent than in any other, because all systems, philosophical no less than religious, are at one in persistently attaching to conduct not only an ethical, but also a metaphysical significance, which, passing beyond the mere appearance of things, transcends every possibility of experience, and therefore stands in the closest connection with human destiny and with the whole cosmic process. For if life (it is averred) have a meaning, then the supreme goal to which it points is undoubtedly ethical. Nor is this view a bare unsupported theory; it is sufficiently established by the undeniable fact that, as death draws nigh, the thoughts of each individual assume a moral trend, equally whether he be credulous of religious dogmas, or not; he is manifestly anxious to wind up the affairs of his life, now verging to its end, entirely from the moral standpoint. In this particular the testimony of the ancients is of special value, standing, as they do, outside the pale of Christian influence. I shall therefore here quote a remarkable passage preserved by Stobaeus, in his Florilegium (chap. 44, §. 20). It has been attributed to the earliest Hellenic lawgiver, Zaleucus, though, according to Bentley and Heyne, its source is Pythagorean. The language is graphic and unmistakable. Δεῑ τίθεσθαι πρὸ ὀμμάτων τὸν καιρὸν τοῡτον, ἐν ᾧ γίγνεται τὸ τέλος ἑκάστῳ τῆς ἀπαλλαγς τοῡ ξῆν. Πᾱσι γὰρ ἐμπίπτει μεταμέλεια τοῑς μέλλουσι τελευτᾱν, μεμνημένοις ὧν ἠδικήκασι, καὶ ὁρμὴ τοῡ βούλεσθαι πάντα πεπράχθαι δικαίως αὐτοῑς.[1]
Furthermore, to come to an historical personage, we find Pericles, on his death-bed, unwilling to hear anything about his great achievements, and only anxious to know that he had never brought trouble on a citizen. (Plutarch, Life of Pericles.) Turning to modern times, if a very different case may be placed beside the preceding, I remember having noticed in a report of depositions made before an English jury the following occurrence. A rough negro lad, fifteen years old, had been mortally injured in some brawl on board a ship. As he was dying, he eagerly begged that all his companions might be fetched in haste: he wanted to ask if he had ever vexed or insulted any one of them, and after hearing that he had not, his mind appeared greatly relieved. It is indeed the uniform teaching of experience that those near death wish to be reconciled with every one before they pass away.
But there is evidence of another kind that Ethics can only be finally explained by Metaphysics. It is well known that, while the author of an intellectual performance,—even should it be a supreme masterpiece—is quite willing to take whatever remuneration he can get, those, on the other hand, who have done something morally excellent, almost without exception, refuse compensation for it. The latter fact is specially observable where conduct rises to the heroic. For instance, when a man at the risk of his life has saved another, or perhaps many, from destruction, as a rule, he simply declines all reward, poor though he may be; because he instinctively feels that the metaphysical value of his act would be thereby impaired. At the end of Bürger's song, "The Brave Man," we find a poetical presentment of this psychological process. Nor does the reality, for the most part, differ at all from the ideal, as I have frequently noticed in English papers. Conduct of this kind occurs in every part of the world, and independently of all religious differences. In human beings there is an undeniable ethical tendency, rooted (however unconsciously) in Metaphysics, and without an explanation of life on these lines, no religion could gain standing-ground; for it is by virtue of their ethical side that they all alike keep their hold on the mind. Every religion makes its body of dogmas the basis of the moral incentive which each man feels, but which he does not, on that account, understand; and it unites the two so closely, that they appear to be inseparable. Indeed the priests take special pains to proclaim unbelief and immorality as one and the same thing. The reason is thus apparent, why believers regard unbelievers as identical with the vicious, and why expressions such as "godless," "atheistic," "unchristian," "heretic," etc., are used as synonymes for moral depravity. The religions have, in fact, a sufficiently easy task. Faith is the principle they start from. Hence they are in a position to simply insist on its application to their dogmas, and this, even to the point of employing threats. But philosophy has no such convenient instrument ready to hand. If the different systems be examined, it will be found that the situation is beset with difficulties, both as regards the foundation to be provided for Ethics, and in relation to the point of connection discoverable in any such foundation with the given metaphysical theory. And yet,—as I have emphasised in the introduction, with an appeal to the authority of Wolff and Kant—we are under the stringent necessity of obtaining from Metaphysics a support for Moral Science.
Now, of all the problems that the human intellect has to grapple with, that of Metaphysics is by far the hardest; so much so that it is regarded by many thinkers as absolutely insoluble. Apart from this, in the present case, I labour under the special disadvantage which the form of a detached monograph involves. In other words, I am not at liberty to start from some definite metaphysical system, of which I may be an adherent; because, if I did, either it would have to be expounded in detail, which would take too much space; or else there would be the necessity of supposing it granted and unquestioned,—an exceedingly precarious proceeding. The consequence is that I am as little able to use the synthetic method here as in the foregoing Part. Analysis alone is possible: that is, I must work backwards from the effects to their cause, and not vice versâ. This stern obligation, however, of having at the outset no previous hypothesis, no standpoint other than the commonly accepted one, made the discovery of the ethical basis so laborious that, as I look back upon the task, I seem to have accomplished some wondrous feat of dexterity, not unlike that of a man who executes with subtlest skill in mid air what otherwise is only done on a solid support. But now that we have come to the question whether there can be given a metaphysical explanation of the foundation obtained, the difficulty of proceeding without any assumption becomes so enormous, that but one course appears to me open, namely, to attempt nothing beyond a general sketch of the subject. I shall, therefore, indicate rather than elaborate the line of thought: I shall point out the way leading to the goal, but not follow it thither; in short, I shall present but a very small part of what, under other circumstances, could be adduced. In adopting this attitude for the reasons stated, I wish, before beginning, to emphatically remark, that in any case the actual problem put forward has now been solved; consequently, that what I here add is an opus supererogationis, an appendix to be given and taken entirely at will.
[1] We ought to realise as if before our eyes that moment of time when the end comes to each one for deliverance from living. Because all who are about to die are seized with repentance, remembering, as they do, their unjust deeds, and being filled with the wish that they had always acted justly.—Ἀπαλλαγή = Erlösung. V. Joannes Stobeaus, Florilegium, edit. Meineke; publ. Lipsiae: Teubner, 1855. Vol. ii., p. 164, l. 7 sqq.—(Translator.)