This file combines the two volumes of Westermarck’s book into one file.

You may go to Volume 1 (chapters 1 to 27),
[Initial matter]
[Table of Contents]

Volume 2 (chapters 28 to 53, etc.),
[Initial matter]
[Table of Contents]

THE ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT
OF THE MORAL IDEAS

MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED

LONDON . BOMBAY . CALCUTTA

MELBOURNE

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY

NEW YORK . BOSTON . CHICAGO

DALLAS . SAN FRANCISCO

THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.

TORONTO

THE ORIGIN

AND DEVELOPMENT

OF THE

MORAL IDEAS

BY

EDWARD WESTERMARCK, PH.D., LL.D.

MARTIN WHITE PROFESSOR OF SOCIOLOGY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF LONDON

PROFESSOR OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY AT THE UNIVERSITY OF FINLAND, HELSlNGFORS

AUTHOR OF “THE HISTORY OF HUMAN MARRIAGE”

IN TWO VOLUMES

VOL. I

SECOND EDITION

MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED

ST. MARTIN’S STREET, LONDON

1924.

COPYRIGHT

First Edition 1906

Second Edition 1912

Reprinted 1924

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN

[PREFACE]

THE frequent references made in the present work, on my own authority, to customs and ideas prevalent among the natives of Morocco, require a word of explanation. Seeing the close connection between moral opinions and magic and religious beliefs, I thought it might be useful for me to acquire first-hand knowledge of the folk-lore of some non-European people, and for various reasons I chose Morocco as my field of research. During the four years I spent there, largely among its country population, I have not only collected anthropological data, but tried to make myself familiar with the native way of thinking; and I venture to believe that this has helped me to understand various customs occurring at a stage of civilisation different from our own. I purpose before long to publish the detailed results of my studies in a special monograph on the popular religion and magics of the Moors.

For these researches I have derived much material support from the University of Helsingfors. I am also indebted to the Russian Minister at Tangier, M. B. de Bacheracht, for his kindness in helping me on several occasions when I was dependent on the Sultan’s Government. All the time I have had the valuable assistance of my Moorish friend Shereef ‘Abd-es-Salâm el-Baḳḳâli, to whom credit is due for the kind reception I invariably received from peasants and mountaineers, not generally noted for friendliness towards Europeans.

I beg to express my best thanks to Mr. Stephen Gwynn for revising the first thirteen chapters, and to Mr. H. C. Minchin for revising the remaining portion of the book. To their suggestions I am indebted for the improvement of many phrases and expressions. I have likewise to thank my friend Mr. Alex. F. Shand for kindly reading the proofs of the earlier chapters and giving me the benefit of his opinion.

Throughout the work the reader will easily find how much I owe to British science and thought—a debt which is greater than I can ever express.

E. W.

LONDON,
January, 1906.

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION

THE present edition is only a reprint of the first, with a few inaccurate expressions corrected.

E. W.

LONDON,
July, 1912.

[CONTENTS]

[INTRODUCTORY]

The origin of the present investigation, p. [1].—Its subject-matter, p. [1] sq.—Its practical usefulness, p. [2] sq.

[CHAPTER I]

THE EMOTIONAL ORIGIN OF MORAL JUDGMENTS

The moral concepts essentially generalisations of tendencies in certain phenomena to call forth moral emotions, pp. [4]–6.—The assumed universality or “objectivity” of moral judgments, p. [6] sq.—Theories according to which the moral predicates derive all their import from reason, “theoretical” or “practical,” p. [7] sq.—Our tendency to objectivise moral judgments, no sufficient ground for referring them to the province of reason, p. [8] sq.—This tendency partly due to the comparatively uniform nature of the moral consciousness, p. [9].—Differences of moral estimates resulting from circumstances of a purely intellectual character, pp. [9]–11.—Differences of an emotional origin, pp. [11]–13.—Quantitative, as well as qualitative, differences, p. [13].—The tendency to objectivise moral judgments partly due to the authority ascribed to moral rules, p. [14].—The origin and nature of this authority, pp. [14]–17.—General moral truths non-existent, p. [17] sq.—The object of scientific ethics not to fix rules for human conduct, but to study the moral consciousness as a fact, p. [18].—The supposed dangers of ethical subjectivism, pp. [18]–20.

[CHAPTER II]

THE NATURE OF THE MORAL EMOTIONS

The moral emotions of two kinds: disapproval, or indignation, and approval, p. [21].—The moral emotions retributive emotions, disapproval forming a sub-species of resentment, and approval a sub-species of retributive kindly emotion, [ibid.]—Resentment an aggressive attitude of mind toward a cause of pain, p. [22] sq.—Dr. Steinmetz’s suggestion that revenge is essentially rooted in the feeling of power and superiority, and originally “undirected,” pp. [23]–27.—The true import of the facts adduced as evidence for this hypothesis, pp. [27]–30.—The collective responsibility usually involved in the institution of the blood-feud, pp. [30]–32.—Explanation of it, pp. [32]–35.—The strong tendency to discrimination which characterises resentment not wholly lost even behind the veil of common responsibility, p. [35] sq.—Revenge among the lower animals, p. [37] sq.—Violation of the “self-feeling” a common incentive to resentment, p. [38] sq.—But the reaction of the wounded “self-feeling” not necessarily, in the first place, concerned with the infliction of pain, p. [39] sq.—Revenge only a link in a chain of emotional phenomena for which “non-moral resentment” may be used as a common name, p. [40].—The origin of these phenomena, pp. [40]–42.—Moral indignation closely connected with anger, p. [42] sq.—Moral indignation, like non-moral resentment, a reactionary attitude of mind directed towards the cause of inflicted pain, though the reaction sometimes turns against innocent persons, pp. [43]–48.—In their administration of justice gods still more indiscriminate than men, pp. [48]–51.—Reasons for this, p. [51] sq.—Sin looked upon in the light of a contagious matter, charged with injurious energy, pp. [52]–57.—The curse looked upon as a baneful substance injuring or destroying anybody to whom it cleaves, p. [57] sq.—The tendency of curses to spread, pp. [58]–60.—Their tendency to contaminate those who derive their origin from the infected individual, p. [60] sq.—The vicarious suffering involved in sin-transference not to be confounded with vicarious expiatory sacrifice, p. [61].—Why scapegoats are sometimes killed, pp. [61]–64.—Why sacrificial victims are sometimes used as scapegoats, p. [64] sq.—Vicarious expiatory sacrifices, pp. [65]–67.—The victim accepted as a substitute on the principle of social solidarity, p. [67] sq.—Expiatory sacrifices offered as ransoms, p. [68] sq.—Protests of the moral consciousness against the infliction of penal suffering upon the guiltless, pp. [70]–72.

[CHAPTER III]

THE NATURE OF THE MORAL EMOTIONS (continued)

Whilst, in the course of mental evolution, the true direction of the hostile reaction involved in moral disapproval has become more apparent, its aggressive character has become more disguised, p. [73].—Kindness to enemies not a rule in early ethics, p. [73] sq.—At the higher stages of moral development retaliation condemned and forgiveness of enemies laid down as a duty, pp. [74]–77.—The rule of retaliation and the rule of forgiveness not radically opposed to each other, p. [77] sq.—Why enlightened and sympathetic minds disapprove of resentment and retaliation springing from personal motives, p. [78] sq.—The aggressive character of moral disapproval has also become more disguised by the different way in which the aggressiveness displays itself, p. [79].—Retributive punishment condemned, and the end of punishment considered to be either to deter from crime, or to reform the criminal, or to repress crime by eliminating or secluding him, pp. [79]–81.—Objections to these theories, p. [82] sq.—Facts which, to some extent, fill up the gap between the theory of retribution and the utilitarian theories of punishment, pp. [84]–91.—The aggressive element in moral disapproval has undergone a change which tends to conceal its true nature by narrowing the channel in which it discharges itself, deliberate and discriminating resentment being apt to turn against the will rather than against the willer, p. [91] sq.—Yet it is the instinctive desire to inflict counter-pain that gives to moral indignation its most important characteristic, p. [92] sq.—Retributive kindly emotion a friendly attitude of mind towards a cause of pleasure, p. [93] sq.—Retributive kindly emotion among the lower animals, p. [94].—Its intrinsic object, p. [94] sq.—The want of discrimination which is sometimes found in retributive kindness, p. [95].—Moral approval a kind of retributive kindly emotion, [ibid.]—Moral approval sometimes bestows its favours upon undeserving individuals for the merits of others, pp. [95]–97.—Explanation of this, p. [97] sq.—Protests against the notion of vicarious merit, p. [98] sq.

[CHAPTER IV]

THE NATURE OF THE MORAL EMOTIONS (concluded)

Refutation of the opinion that moral emotions only arise in consequence of moral judgments, p. [100] sq.—However, moral judgments, being definite expressions of moral emotions, help us to discover the true nature of these emotions, p. [101].—Disinterestedness and apparent impartiality characteristics by which moral indignation and approval are distinguished from other, non-moral, kinds of resentment or retributive kindly emotion, pp. [101]–104.—Besides, a moral emotion has a certain flavour of generality, p. [104] sq.—The analysis of the moral emotions which has been attempted in this and the two preceding chapters holds true not only of such emotions as we feel on account of the conduct of others, but of such emotions as we feel on account of our own conduct as well, pp. [105]–107.

[CHAPTER V]

THE ORIGIN OF THE MORAL EMOTIONS

We may feel disinterested resentment, or disinterested retributive kindly emotion, on account of an injury inflicted, or a benefit conferred, upon another person with whose pain, or pleasure, we sympathise, and in whose welfare we take a kindly interest, p. [108].—Sympathetic feelings based on association, p. [109] sq.—Only when aided by the altruistic sentiment sympathy induces us to take a kindly interest in the feelings of our neighbours, and tends to produce disinterested retributive emotions, p. [110] sq.—Sympathetic resentment to be found in all animal species which possess altruistic sentiments, p. [111] sq.—Sympathetic resentment among savages, p. [113] sq.—Sympathetic resentment may not only be a reaction against sympathetic pain, but may be directly produced by the cognition of the signs of anger (punishment, language, &c.), pp. [114]–116.—Disinterested antipathies, p. [116] sq.—Sympathy springing from an altruistic sentiment may also produce disinterested kindly emotion, p. [117].—Disinterested likings, [ibid.]—Why disinterestedness, apparent impartiality, and the flavour of generality have become characteristics by which so-called moral emotions are distinguished from other retributive emotions, p. [117] sq.—Custom not only a public habit, but a rule of conduct, p. [118].—Custom conceived of as a moral rule, p. [118] sq.—In early society customs the only moral rules ever thought of, p. [119].—The characteristics of moral indignation to be sought for in its connection with custom, p. [120].—Custom characterised by generality, disinterestedness, and apparent impartiality, p. [120] sq.—Public indignation lies at the bottom of custom as a moral rule, p. [121] sq.—As public indignation is the prototype of moral disapproval, so public approval is the prototype of moral approval, p. [122].—Moral disapproval and approval have not always remained inseparably connected with the feelings of any special society, p. [122] sq.—Yet they remain to the last public emotions if not in reality, then as an ideal, p. [123].—Refutation of the opinion that the original form of the moral consciousness has been the individual’s own conscience, p. [123] sq.—The antiquity of moral resentment, p. [124].—The supposition that remorse is unknown among the lower races contradicted by facts, p. [124] sq.—Criticism of Lord Avebury’s statement that modern savages seem to be almost entirely wanting in moral feeling, pp. [125]–129.—The antiquity of moral approval, p. [129] sq.

[CHAPTER VI]

ANALYSIS OF THE PRINCIPAL MORAL CONCEPTS

Our analysis to be concerned with moral concepts formed by the civilised mind, p. [131].—Moral concepts among the lower races, pp. [131]–133.—Language a rough generaliser, p. [133].—Analysis of the concepts bad, vice, and wrong, p. [134].—Of ought and duty, pp. [134]–137.—Of right, as an adjective, pp. [137]–139.—Of right, as a substantive, p. [139] sq.—Of the relations between rights and duties, p. [140] sq.—Of injustice and justice, pp. [141]–145.—Of good, pp. [145]–147.—Of virtue, pp. [147]–149.—Of the relation between virtue and duty, p. [149] sq.—Of merit, p. [150] sq.—Of the relation between merit and duty, p. [151] sq.—The question of the super-obligatory, pp. [152]–154.—The question of the morally indifferent, pp. [154]–157.

[CHAPTER VII]

CUSTOMS AND LAWS AS EXPRESSIONS OF MORAL IDEAS

How we can get an insight into the moral ideas of mankind at large, p. [158].—The close connection between the habitualness and the obligatoriness of custom, p. [159].—Though every public habit is not a custom, involving an obligation, men’s standard of morality is not independent of their practice, p. [159] sq.—The study of moral ideas to a large extent a study of customs, p. [160].—But custom never covers the whole field of morality, and the uncovered space grows larger in proportion as the moral consciousness develops, p. [160] sq.—At the lower stages of civilisation custom the sole rule for conduct, p. [161].—Even kings described as autocrats tied by custom, p. [162].—In competition with law custom frequently carries the day, p. [163] sq.—Custom stronger than law and religion combined, p. [164].—The laws themselves command obedience more as customs than as laws, [ibid.]—Many laws were customs before they became laws, p. [165].—The transformation of customs into laws, p. [165] sq.—Laws as expressions of moral ideas, pp. [166]–168.—Punishment and indemnification, p. [168] sq.—Definition of punishment, p. [169] sq.—Savage punishments inflicted upon the culprit by the community at large, pp. [170]–173.—By some person or persons invested with judicial authority, pp. [173]–175.—The development of judicial organisation out of a previous system of lynch-law, p. [175].—Out of a previous system of private revenge, p. [176].—Public indignation displays itself not only in punishment, but to a certain extent in the custom of revenge, p. [176] sq.—The social origin of the lex talionis, pp. [177]–180.—The transition from revenge to punishment, and the establishment of a central judicial and executive authority, pp. [180]–183.—The jurisdiction of chiefs, p. [183] sq.—The injured party or the accuser acting as executioner, but not as judge, p. [184] sq.—The existence of punishment and judicial organisation among a certain people no exact index to its general state of culture, p. [185].—The supposition that punishment has been intended to act as a deterrent, p. [185] sq.—Among various semi-civilised and civilised peoples the criminal law has assumed a severity which far surpasses the rigour of the lex talionis, pp. [186]–183.—Wanton cruelty not a general characteristic of the public justice of savages, pp. [188]–190. Legislators referring to the deterrent effects of punishment, p. [190] sq.—The practice of punishing criminals in public, p. [191] sq.—The punishment actually inflicted on the criminal in many cases much less severe than the punishment with which the law threatens him, p. [192] sq.—The detection of criminals was in earlier times much rarer and more uncertain than it is now, p. [193].—The chief explanation of the great severity of certain criminal codes lies in their connection with despotism or religion or both, pp. [193]–198.—Punishment may also be applied as a means of deterring from crime, p. [198] sq.—But the scope which justice leaves for determent pure and simple is not wide, p. [199].—The criminal law of a community on the whole a faithful exponent of moral sentiments prevalent in that community at large, pp. [199]–201.

[CHAPTER VIII]

THE GENERAL NATURE OF THE SUBJECTS OF ENLIGHTENED MORAL JUDGMENTS

Definitions of the term “conduct,” p. [202] sq.—The meaning of the word “act,” p. [203] sq.—The meaning of the word “intention,” p. [204].—There can be only one intention in one act, p. [204] sq. The moral judgments which we pass on acts do not really relate to the event, but to the intention, p. [205] sq.—A person morally accountable also for his deliberate wishes, p. [206].—A deliberate wish is a volition, p. [206] sq.—The meaning of the word “motive,” p. [207].—Motives which are volitions fall within the sphere of moral valuation, [ibid.]—The motive of an act may be an intention, but an intention belonging to another act, [ibid.]—Even motives which consist of non-volitional conations may indirectly exercise much influence on moral judgments, p. [207] sq.—Refutation of Mill’s statement that “the motive has nothing to do with the morality of the action,” p. [208] sq.—Moral judgments really passed upon men as acting or willing, not upon acts or volitions in the abstract, p. [209].—Forbearances morally equivalent to acts, p. [209] sq.—Distinction between forbearances and omissions, p. [210].—Moral judgments refer not only to willing, but to not-willing as well, not only to acts and forbearances, but to omissions, p. [210] sq.—Negligence, heedlessness, and rashness, p. [211].—Moral judgments of blame concerned with not-willing only in so far as this not-willing is attributed to a defect of the “will,” p. [211] sq.—Distinction between conscious omissions and forbearances, and between not-willing to refrain from doing and willing to do, p. [212].—The “known concomitants of acts,” p. [213].—Absence of volitions also gives rise to moral praise, p. [213] sq.—The meaning of the term “conduct,” p. [214].—The subject of a moral judgment is, strictly speaking, a person’s will, or character, conceived as the cause either of volitions or of the absence of volitions, p. [214] sq.—Moral judgments that are passed on emotions or opinions really refer to the will, p. [215] sq.

[CHAPTER IX]

THE WILL AS THE SUBJECT OF MORAL JUDGMENT AND THE INFLUENCE OF EXTERNAL EVENTS

Cases in which no distinction is made between intentional and accidental injuries, pp. [217]–219.—Yet even in the system of self-redress intentional or foreseen injuries often distinguished from unintentional and unforeseen injuries, pp. [219]–221.—A similar distinction made in the punishments inflicted by many savages, p. [221] sq.—Uncivilised peoples who entirely excuse, or do not punish, persons for injuries which they have inflicted by mere accident, p. [222] sq.—Peoples of a higher culture who punish persons for bringing about events without any fault of theirs, pp. [223]–226.—At the earlier stages of civilisation gods, in particular, attach undue importance to the outward aspect of conduct, pp. [226]–231.—Explanation of all these facts, pp. [231]–237.—The great influence which the outward event exercises upon moral estimates even among ourselves, pp. [238]–240.—Carelessness generally not punished if no injurious result follows, p. [241].—An unsuccessful attempt to commit a criminal act, if punished at all, as a rule punished much less severely than the accomplished act, p. [241] sq.—Exceptions to this rule, p. [242].—The question, which attempts should be punished, p. [243].—The stage at which an attempt begins to be criminal, and the distinction between attempts and acts of preparation, p. [243] sq.—The rule that an outward event is requisite for the infliction of punishment, p. [244] sq.—Exceptions to this rule, p. [245].—Explanation of laws referring to unsuccessful attempts, pp. [245]–247.—Moral approval influenced by external events, p. [247].—Owing to its very nature, the moral consciousness, when sufficiently influenced by thought, regards the will as the only proper object of moral disapproval or praise, p. [247] sq.

[CHAPTER X]

AGENTS UNDER INTELLECTUAL DISABILITY

An agent not responsible for anything which he could not be aware of, p. [249].—The irresponsibility of animals, pp. [249]–251.—Resentment towards an animal which has caused some injury, p. [251].—At the lower stages of civilisation animals deliberately treated as responsible beings, [ibid.]—The custom of blood-revenge extended to the animal world, pp. [251]–253.—Animals exposed to regular punishment, pp. [253]–255.—The origin of the mediæval practice of punishing animals, p. [255] sq.—Explanation of the practice of retaliating upon animals, pp. [256]–260.—At the earlier stages of civilisation even inanimate things treated as if they were responsible agents, pp. [260]–262.—Explanation of this, pp. [262]–264.—The total or partial irresponsibility of childhood and early youth, pp. [264]–267.—According to early custom, children sometimes subject to the rule of retaliation, p. [267].—Parents responsible for the deeds of their children, p. [267] sq.—In Europe there has been a tendency to raise the age at which full legal responsibility commences, p. [268] sq.—The irresponsibility of idiots and madmen, p. [269] sq.—Idiots and insane persons objects of religious reverence, p. [270] sq.—Lunatics treated with great severity or punished for their deeds, pp. [271]–274.—Explanation of this, p. [274] sq.—The ignorance of which lunatics have been victims in the hands of lawyers, pp. [275]–277.—The total or partial irresponsibility of intoxicated persons, p. [277] sq.—Drunkenness recognised as a ground of extenuation, pp. [278]–280.—Not recognised as a ground of extenuation, p. [280] sq.—Explanation of these facts, p. [281] sq.

[CHAPTER XI]

MOTIVES

Motives considered only in proportion as the moral judgment is influenced by reflection, p. [283].—Little consideration for the sense of duty as a motive, [ibid.]—Somewhat greater discrimination shown in regard to motives consisting of powerful non-volitional conations, p. [283] sq.—Compulsion as a ground of extenuation, p. [284] sq.—“Compulsion by necessity,” pp. [285]–287.—Self-defence, pp. [288]–290.—Self-redress in the case of adultery, and other survivals of the old system of self-redress, pp. [290]–294.—The moral distinction made between an injury which a person inflicts deliberately, in cold blood, and one which he inflicts in the heat of the moment, on provocation, pp. [294]–297.—Explanation of this distinction, p. [297] sq.—The pressure of a non-volitional motive on the will as a ground of extenuation, p. [298] sq.—That moral judgments are generally passed, in the first instance, with reference to acts immediately intended, and consider motives only in proportion as the judgment is influenced by reflection, holds good not only of moral blame, but of moral praise, pp. [299]–302.

[CHAPTER XII]

FORBEARANCES AND CARELESSNESS— CHARACTER

Why in early moral codes the so-called negative commandments are much more prominent than the positive commandments, p. [303].—The little cognisance which the criminal laws of civilised nations take of forbearances and omissions, p. [303] sq.—The more scrutinising the moral consciousness, the greater the importance which it attaches to positive commandments, p. [304] sq.—Yet the customs of all nations contain not only prohibitions, but positive injunctions as well, p. [305].—The unreflecting mind apt to exaggerate the guilt of a person who out of heedlessness or rashness causes harm by a positive act, [ibid.]—Early custom and law may be anxious enough to trace an event to its source, pp. [305]–307.—But they easily fail to discover where there is guilt or not, and, in case of carelessness, to determine the magnitude of the offender’s guilt, p. [307] sq.—The opinion that a person is answerable for all the damage which directly ensues from an act of his, even though no foresight could have reasonably been expected to look out for it, p. [308] sq.—On the other hand, little or no censure passed on him whose want of foresight or want of self-restraint is productive of suffering, if only the effect is sufficiently remote, p. [309] sq.—The moral emotions may as naturally give rise to judgments on human character as to judgments on human conduct, p. [310].—Even when a moral judgment immediately refers to a distinct act, it takes notice of the agent’s will as a whole, p. [310] sq.—The practice of punishing a second or third offence more severely than the first, p. [311] sq.—The more a moral judgment is influenced by reflection, the more it scrutinises the character which manifests itself in that individual piece of conduct by which the judgment is occasioned, p. [312] sq.—But however superficial it be, it always refers to a will conceived of as a continuous entity, p. [313].

[CHAPTER XIII]

WHY MORAL JUDGMENTS ARE PASSED ON CONDUCT AND CHARACTER—MORAL VALUATION AND FREE-WILL

Explanation of the fact that moral judgments are passed on conduct and character, p. [314].—The correctness of this explanation proved by the circumstance that not only moral emotions, but non-moral retributive emotions as well, are felt with reference to phenomena exactly similar in nature to those on which moral judgments are passed, pp. [314]–319.—Whether moral or non-moral, a retributive emotion is essentially directed towards a sensitive and volitional entity, or self, conceived of as the cause of pleasure or the cause of pain, p. [319].—The futility of other attempts to solve the problem, p. [319] sq.—The nature of the moral emotions also gives us the key to the problem of the co-existence of moral responsibility with the general law of cause and effect, p. [320].—The theory according to which responsibility, in the ordinary sense of the term, and moral judgments generally, are inconsistent with the notion that the human will is determined by causes, p. [320] sq.—Yet, as a matter of fact, moral indignation and moral approval are felt by determinists and libertarians alike, p. [321] sq.—Explanation of the fallacy which lies at the bottom of the conception that moral valuation is inconsistent with determinism, p. [322].—Causation confounded with compulsion, pp. [322]–324.—The difference between fatalism and determinism, pp. [324]–326.—The moral emotions not concerned with the origin of the innate character, p. [326].

[CHAPTER XIV]

PRELIMINARY REMARKS—HOMICIDE IN GENERAL

Necessity of restricting the investigation to the more important modes of conduct with which the moral consciousness is concerned, p. [327] sq.—The six groups into which these modes of conduct may be divided, p. [328].—The most sacred duty which we owe to our fellow-creatures generally considered to be regard for their lives, [ibid.]—Among various uncivilised peoples human life said to be held very cheap, p. [328] sq.—Among others homicide or murder said to be hardly known, p. [329] sq.—In other instances homicide expressly said to be regarded as wrong, p. [330] sq.—In every society custom prohibits homicide within a certain circle of men, p. [331].—Savages distinguish between an act of homicide committed within their own community and one where the victim is a stranger, pp. [331]–333.—In various instances, however, the rule, “Thou shalt not kill,” applies even to foreigners, p. [333] sq.—Some uncivilised peoples said to have no wars, p. [334].—Savages’ recognition of intertribal rights in times of peace obvious from certain customs connected with their wars, p. [334] sq.—Savage custom does not always allow indiscriminate slaughter even in warfare, p. [335] sq.—The readiness with which savages engage in war, p. [337].—The old distinction between injuries committed against compatriots and harm done to foreigners remains among peoples more advanced in culture, p. [337] sq.—The readiness with which such peoples wage war on foreign nations, and the estimation in which the successful warrior is held, pp. [338]–340.—The life of a guest sacred, p. [340].—The commencement of international hostilities preceded by special ceremonies, [ibid.]—Warfare in some cases condemned, or a distinction made between just and unjust war, pp. [340]–342.—Even in war the killing of an enemy under certain circumstances prohibited, either by custom or by enlightened moral opinion, pp. [342]–344.

[CHAPTER XV]

HOMICIDE IN GENERAL (continued)

Homicide of any kind condemned by the early Christians, p. [345].—Their total condemnation of warfare, p. [345] sq.—This attitude towards war was soon given up, pp. [346]–348.—The feeling that a soldier scarcely could make a good Christian, p. [348].—Penance prescribed for those who had shed blood in war, p. [348] sq.—Wars forbidden by popes, p. [349].—The military Christianity of the Crusades, pp. [348]–352.—Chivalry, pp. [352]–354.—The intimate connection between chivalry and religion displayed in tournaments, p. [354] sq.—The practice of private war, p. [355] sq.—The attitude of the Church towards private war, p. [356].—The Truce of God, p. [357].—The main cause of the abolition of private war was the increase of the authority of emperors or kings, p. [357] sq.—War looked upon as a judgment of God, p. [358].—The attitude adopted by the great Christian congregations towards war one of sympathetic approval, pp. [359]–362.—Religious protests against war, pp. [362]–365.—Freethinkers’ opposition to war, pp. [365]–367.—The idea of a perpetual peace, p. [367].—The awakening spirit of nationalism, and the glorification of war, p. [367] sq.—Arguments against arbitration, p. [368].—The opposition against war rapidly increasing, p. [368] sq.—The prohibition of needless destruction in war, p. [369] sq.—The survival, in modern civilisation, of the old feeling that the life of a foreigner is not equally sacred with that of a countryman, p. [370].—The behaviour of European colonists towards coloured races, p. [370] sq.

[CHAPTER XVI]

HOMICIDE IN GENERAL (concluded)

Sympathetic resentment felt on account of the injury suffered by the victim a potent cause of the condemnation of homicide, p. [372] sq.—No such resentment felt if the victim is a member of another group, p. [373].—Why extra-tribal homicide is approved of, [ibid.]—Superstition an encouragement to extra-tribal homicide, [ibid.]—The expansion of the altruistic sentiment largely explains why the prohibition of homicide has come to embrace more and more comprehensive circles of men, [ibid.]—Homicide viewed as an injury inflicted upon the survivors, p. [373] sq.—Conceived as a breach of the “King’s peace,” p. [374].—Stigmatised as a disturbance of public tranquillity and an outrage on public safety, [ibid.]—Homicide disapproved of because the manslayer gives trouble to his own people, p. [374] sq.—The idea that a manslayer is unclean, pp. [375]–377.—The influence which this idea has exercised on the moral judgment of homicide, p. [377].—The disapproval of the deed easily enhanced by the spiritual danger attending on it, as also by the inconvenient restrictions laid on the tabooed manslayer and the ceremonies of purification to which he is subject, p. [377] sq.—The notion of a persecuting ghost may be replaced by the notion of an avenging god, pp. [378]–380.—The defilement resulting from homicide particularly shunned by gods, p. [380] sq.—Priests forbidden to shed human blood, p. [381] sq.—Reasons for Christianity’s high regard for human life, p. [382].

[CHAPTER XVII]

THE KILLING OF PARENTS, SICK PERSONS, CHILDREN—FETICIDE

Parricide the most aggravated form of murder, pp. [383]–386.—The custom of abandoning or killing parents who are worn out with age or disease, p. [386] sq.—Its causes, pp. [387]–390.—The custom of abandoning or killing persons suffering from some illness, p. [391] sq.—Its causes, p. [392] sq.—The father’s power of life and death over his children, p. [393] sq.—Infanticide among many savage races permitted or even enjoined by custom, pp. [394]–398.—The causes of infanticide, and how it has grown into a regular custom, pp. [398]–402.—Among many savages infanticide said to be unheard of or almost so, p. [402] sq.—The custom of infanticide not a survival of earliest savagery, but seems to have grown up under specific conditions in later stages of development, p. [403].—Savages who disapprove of infanticide, p. [403] sq.—The custom of infanticide in most cases requires that the child should be killed immediately or soon after its birth, p. [404] sq.—Infanticide among semi-civilised or civilised races, pp. [405]–411.—The practice of exposing new-born infants vehemently denounced by the early Fathers of the Church, p. [411].—Christian horror of infanticide, p. [411] sq.—The punishment of infanticide in Christian countries, p. [412] sq.—Feticide among savages, p. [413] sq.—Among more civilised nations, p. [414] sq.—According to Christian views, a form of murder, p. [415] sq.—Distinctions between an embryo informatus and an embryo formatus, p. [416] sq.—Modern legislation and opinion concerning feticide, p. [417].

[CHAPTER XVIII]

THE KILLING OF WOMEN, AND OF SLAVES—THE CRIMINALITY OF HOMICIDE INFLUENCED BY DISTINCTIONS OF CLASS

The husband’s power of life and death over his wife among many of the lower races, p. [418] sq.—The right of punishing his wife capitally not universally granted to the husband in uncivilised communities, p. [419].—The husband’s power of life and death among peoples of a higher type, [ibid.]—Uxoricide punished less severely than matricide, p. [419] sq.—The estimate of a woman’s life sometimes lower than that of a man’s, sometimes equal to it, sometimes higher, p. [420] sq.—The master’s power of life and death over his slave, p. [421] sq.—The right, among many savages, of killing his slave at his own discretion expressly denied to the master, p. [422] sq.—The murder of another person’s slave largely regarded as an offence against the property of the owner, but not exclusively looked upon in this light, p. [423].—When the system of blood-money prevails, the price paid for the life of a slave less than that paid for the life of a freeman, [ibid.]—Among the nations of archaic culture, also, the life of a slave held in less estimation than that of a freeman, but not even the master in all circumstances allowed to put his slave to death, pp. [423]–426.—Efforts of the Christian Church to secure the life of the slave against the violence of the master, p. [426].—But neither the ecclesiastical nor the secular legislation gave him the same protection as was bestowed upon the free member of the Church and State, pp. [426]–428.—In modern times, in Christian countries, the life of the negro slave was only inadequately protected by law, p. [428] sq.—Why the life of a slave is held in so little regard, p. [429].—The killing of a freeman by a slave, especially if the victim be his owner, commonly punished more severely than if the same act were done by a free person, p. [429] sq.—In the estimate of life a distinction also made between different classes of freemen, p. [430] sq.—The magnitude of the crime may depend not only on the rank of the victim, but on the rank of the manslayer as well, pp. [431]–433.—Explanation of this influence of class, p. [433].—In progressive societies each member of the society at last admitted to be born with an equal claim to the right to live, [ibid.]

[CHAPTER XIX]

HUMAN SACRIFICE

The prevalence of human sacrifice, pp. [434]–436.—This practice much more frequently found among barbarians and semi-civilised peoples than among genuine savages, p. [436] sq.—Among some peoples it has been noticed to become increasingly prevalent in the course of time, p. [437].—Human sacrifice partly due to the idea that gods have an appetite for human flesh or blood, p. [437] sq.—Sometimes connected with the idea that gods require attendants, p. [438].—Moreover, an angry god may be appeased simply by the death of him or those who aroused his anger, or of some representative of the offending community, or of somebody belonging to the kin of the offender, pp. [438]–440.—Human sacrifice chiefly a method of life-insurance, based on the idea of substitution, p. [440].—Human victims offered in war, before a battle, or during a siege, p. [440] sq.—For the purpose of stopping or preventing epidemics, p. [441] sq.—For the purpose of putting an end to a devastating famine, p. [442] sq.—For the purpose of preventing famine, p. [443] sq.—Criticism of Dr. Frazer’s hypothesis that the human victim who is killed for the purpose of ensuring good crops is regarded as a representative of the corn-spirit and is slain as such, pp. [444]–451.—Human victims offered with a view to getting water, p. [451] sq.—With a view to averting perils arising from the sea or from rivers, pp. [452]–454.—For the purpose of preventing the death of some particular individual, especially a chief or a king, from sickness, old age, or other circumstances, pp. [454]–457.—For the purpose of helping other men into existence, p. [457] sq.—The killing of the first-born child, or the first-born son, p. [458] sq.—Explanation of this practice, pp. [459]–461.—Human sacrifices offered in connection with the foundation of buildings, p. [461] sq.—The building-sacrifice, like other kinds of human sacrifice, probably based on the idea of substitution, pp. [462]–464.—The belief that the soul of the victim is converted into a protecting demon, p. [464] sq.—The human victim regarded as a messenger, p. [465] sq.—Human sacrifice not an act of wanton cruelty, p. [466].—The king or chief sometimes sacrificed, [ibid.]—The victims frequently prisoners of war or other aliens, or slaves, or criminals, pp. [466]–468.—The disappearance of human sacrifice, p. [468].—Human sacrifice condemned, p. [465] sq.—Practices intended to replace it, p. [469].—Human effigies or animals offered instead of men, p. [469] sq.—Human sacrifices succeeded by practices involving the effusion of human blood without loss of life, p. [470].—Bleeding or mutilation practised for the same purpose as human sacrifice, p. [470] sq.—Why the penal sacrifice of offenders has outlived all other forms of human sacrifice, p. [471].—Human beings sacrificed to the dead in order to serve them as slaves, wives, or companions, pp. [472]–474.—This custom dwindling into a survival, p. [475].—The funeral sacrifice of men and animals also seems to involve an intention to vivify the spirits of the deceased with blood, p. [475] sq.—Manslayers killed in order to satisfy their victims’ craving for revenge, p. [476].

[CHAPTER XX]

BLOOD-REVENGE AND COMPENSATION—THE PUNISHMENT OF DEATH

The prevalence of the custom of blood-revenge, pp. [477]–479.—Blood-revenge regarded not only as a right, but as a duty, p. [479] sq.—This duty in the first place regarded as a duty to the dead, whose spirit is believed to find no rest after death until the injury has been avenged, p. [481] sq.—Blood-revenge a form of human sacrifice, p. [482].—Blood-revenge also practised on account of the injury inflicted on the survivors, p. [482] sq.—Murder committed within the family or kin left unavenged, p. [483].—The injury inflicted on the relatives of the murdered man suggests not only revenge, but reparation, [ibid.]—The taking of life for life may itself, in a way, serve as compensation, p. [483] sq.—Various methods of compensation, p. [484].—The advantages of the practice of composition, p. [484] sq.—Its disadvantages, p. [485].—The importance of these disadvantages depends on the circumstances in each special case, p. [486] sq.—Among many peoples the rule of revenge strictly followed, and to accept compensation considered disgraceful, p. [487].—The acceptance of compensation does not always mean that the family of the slain altogether renounce their right of revenge, p. [487] sq.—The acceptance of compensation allowed as a justifiable alternative for blood-revenge, or even regarded as the proper method of settling the case, p. [488] sq.—The system of compensation partly due to the pressure of some intervening authority, p. [489] sq.—The adoption of this method for the settling of disputes a sign of weakness, p. [491].—When the central power of jurisdiction is firmly established, the rule of life for life regains its sway, [ibid.]—A person may forfeit his right to live by other crimes besides homicide, p. [491] sq.—Opposition to and arguments against capital punishment, pp. [492]–495.—Modern legislation has undergone a radical change with reference to capital punishment, p. [495].—Arguments against its abolition, p. [495] sq.—The chief motive for retaining it in modern legislation, p. [496].

[CHAPTER XXI]

THE DUEL

Duelling resorted to as a means of bringing to an end hostilities between different groups of people, p. [497] sq.—Duels fought for the purpose of settling disputes between individuals, either by conferring on the victor the right of possessing the object of the strife, or by gratifying a craving for revenge and wiping off the affront, pp. [498]–502.—The circumstances to which these customs are due, p. [503] sq.—The duel as an ordeal or “judgment of God,” p. [504] sq.—The judicial duel fundamentally derived its efficacy as a means of ascertaining the truth from its connection with an oath, p. [505] sq. How it came to be regarded as an appeal to the justice of God, p. [506] sq.—The decline and disappearance of the judicial duel, p. [507].—The modern duel of honour, pp. [507]–509.—Its causes, p. [509].—Arguments adduced in support of it, p. [509] sq.

[CHAPTER XXII]

BODILY INJURIES

In the case of bodily injuries the magnitude of the offence, other things being equal, proportionate to the harm inflicted, pp. [511]–513.—The degree of the offence also depends on the station of the parties concerned, and in some cases the infliction of pain held allowable or even a duty, p. [513].—Children using violence against their parents, [ibid.]—Parents’ right to inflict corporal punishment on their children, p. [513] sq.—The husband’s right to chastise his wife, pp. [514]–516.—The master’s right to inflict corporal punishment on his slave, p. [516] sq.—The maltreatment of another person’s slave regarded as an injury done to the master, rather than to the slave, p. [517].—Slaves severely punished for inflicting bodily injuries on freemen, p. [510].—The penalties or fines for bodily injuries influenced by the class or rank of the parties when both of them are freemen, p. [518] sq.—Distinction between compatriots and aliens with reference to bodily injuries, p. [519].—The infliction of sufferings on vanquished enemies, p. [519] sq.—The right to bodily integrity influenced by religious differences, p. [520]—Forfeited by the commission of a crime, p. [520] sq.—Amputation or mutilation of the offending member has particularly been in vogue among peoples of culture, p. [521] sq.—The disappearance of corporal punishment in Europe, p. [522].—Corporal punishment has been by preference a punishment for poor and common people or slaves, p. [522] sq.—The status of a person influencing his right to bodily integrity with reference to judicial torture, p. [523] sq.—Explanation of the moral notions regarding the infliction of bodily injuries, p. [524].—The notions that an act of bodily violence involves a gross insult, and that corporal punishment disgraces the criminal more than any other form of penalty, p. [524] sq.

[CHAPTER XXIII]

CHARITY AND GENEROSITY

The mother’s duty to rear her children, p. [526].—The husband’s and father’s duty to protect and support his family, pp. [526]–529.—The parents’ duty of taking care of their offspring in the first place based on the sentiment of parental affection, p. [529].—The universality not only of the maternal, but of the paternal, sentiment in mankind, pp. [529]–532.—Marital affection among savages, p. [532].—Explanation of the simplest paternal and marital duties, p. [533]—Children’s duty of supporting their aged parents, pp. [533]–538. The duty of assisting brothers and sisters, p. [538].—Of assisting more distant relatives, pp. [538]–540.—Uncivilised peoples as a rule described as kind towards members of their own community or tribe, enjoin charity between themselves as a duty, and praise generosity as a virtue, pp. [540]–546.—Among many savages the old people, in particular, have a claim to support and assistance, p. [546].—The sick often carefully attended to, pp. [546]–548.—Accounts of uncharitable savages, p. [548] sq.—Among semi-civilised and civilised nations charity universally regarded as a duty, and often strenuously enjoined by their religions, pp. [549]–556.—In the course of progressing civilisation the obligation of assisting the needy has been extended to wider and wider circles of men, pp. [556]–558.—The duty of tending wounded enemies in war, p. [558].—Explanation of the gradual expansion of the duty of charity, p. [559].—This duty in the first place based on the altruistic sentiment, p. [559] sq.—Egoistic motives for the doing of good to fellow-creatures, p. [560].—By niggardliness a person may expose himself to supernatural dangers, pp. [560]–562.—Liberality may entail supernatural reward, p. [562] sq.—The curses and blessings of the poor partly account for the fact that charity has come to be regarded as a religious duty, pp. [563]–565.—The chief cause of the extraordinary stress which the higher religions put on the duty of charity seems to lie in the connection between almsgiving and sacrifice, the poor becoming the natural heirs of the god, p. [565].—Instances of sacrificial food being left for, or distributed among, the poor, p. [565] sq.—Almsgiving itself regarded as a form of sacrifice, or taking the place of it, pp. [566]–569.

[CHAPTER XXIV]

HOSPITALITY

Instances of great kindness displayed by savages towards persons of a foreign race, pp. [570]–572.—Hospitality a universal custom among the lower races and among the peoples of culture at the earlier stages of their civilisation, pp. [572]–574.—The stranger treated with special marks of honour, and enjoying extraordinary privileges as a guest, pp. [574]–576.—Custom may require that hospitality should be shown even to an enemy, p. [576] sq.—To protect a guest looked upon as a most stringent duty, p. [577] sq.—Hospitality in a remarkable degree associated with religion, pp. [578]–580.—The rules of hospitality in the main based on egoistic considerations, p. [581].—The stranger, supposed to bring with him good luck or blessings, pp. [581]–583.—The blessings of a stranger considered exceptionally powerful, p. [583] sq.—The visiting stranger regarded as a potential source of evil, p. [584].—His evil wishes and curses greatly feared, owing partly to his quasi-supernatural character, partly to the close contact in which he comes with the host and his belongings, pp. [584]–590.—Precautions taken against the visiting stranger, pp. [590]–593.—Why no payment is received from a guest, p. [593] sq.—The duty of hospitality limited by time, p. [594] sq.—The cause of this, p. [595] sq.—The decline of hospitality in progressive communities, p. [596].

[CHAPTER XXV]

THE SUBJECTION OF CHILDREN

The right of personal freedom never absolute, p. [597].—Among some savages a man’s children are in the power of the head of their mother’s family or of their maternal uncle, p. [597] sq.—Among the great bulk of existing savages children are in the power of their father, though he may to some extent have to share his authority with the mother, p. [598] sq.—The extent of the father’s power subject to great variations, p. [599].—Among some savages the father’s authority practically very slight, p. [599] sq.—Other savages by no means deficient in filial piety, p. [600] sq.—The period during which the paternal authority lasts, p. [601] sq.—Old age commands respect and gives authority, pp. [603]–605.—Superiority of age also gives a certain amount of power, p. [605] sq.—The reverence for old age may cease when the grey-head becomes an incumbrance to those around him, and imbecility may put an end to the father’s authority over his family, p. [606] sq.—Paternal, or parental, authority and filial reverence at their height among peoples of archaic culture, pp. [607]–613.—Among these peoples we also meet with reverence for the elder brother, for persons of a superior age generally, and especially for the aged, p. [614] sq.—Decline of the paternal authority in Europe, p. [615] sq.—Christianity not unfavourable to the emancipation of children, though obedience to parents was enjoined as a Christian duty, p. [616] sq.—The Roman notions of paternal rights and filial duties have to some extent survived in Latin countries, p. [617] sq.—Sources of the parental authority, p. [618] sq.—Among savages, in particular, filial regard is largely regard for one’s elders or the aged, p. [619].—Causes of the regard for old age, pp. [619]–621.—The chief cause of the connection between filial submissiveness and religious beliefs the extreme importance attached to parental curses and blessings, pp. [621]–626.—Why the blessings and curses of parents are supposed to possess an unusual power, p. [626] sq.—Explanation of the extraordinary development of the paternal authority in the archaic State, p. [627] sq.—Causes of the downfall of the paternal power, p. [628].

[CHAPTER XXVI]

THE SUBJECTION OF WIVES

Among the lower races the wife frequently said to be the property or slave of her husband, p. [629] sq.—Yet even in such cases custom has not left her entirely destitute of rights, p. [630] sq.—The so-called absolute authority of husbands over their wives not to be taken too literally, p. [631] sq.—The bride-price does not eo ipso confer on the husband absolute rights over her, p. [632] sq.—The hardest drudgeries of life often said to be imposed on the women, p. [633] sq.—In early society each sex has its own pursuits, p. [634].—The rules according to which the various occupations of life are divided between the sexes are on the whole in conformity with the indications given by nature, p. [635] sq.—This division of labour emphasised by custom and superstition, p. [636] sq.—It is apt to mislead the travelling stranger, p. [637].—It gives the wife authority within the circle which is exclusively her own, [ibid.]—Rejection of the broad statement that the lower races in general hold their women in a state of almost complete subjection, pp. [638]–646.—The opinion that a people’s civilisation may be measured by the position held by the women not correct, at least so far as the earlier stages of culture are concerned, p. [646] sq.—The position of woman among the peoples of archaic civilisation, pp. [647]–653.—Christianity tended to narrow the remarkable liberty granted to married women under the Roman Empire, p. [653] sq.—Christian orthodoxy opposed to the doctrine that marriage should be a contract on the footing of perfect equality between husband and wife, p. [654] sq.—Criticism of the hypothesis that the social status of women is connected with the system of tracing descent, p. [655] sq.—The authority of a husband who lives with his wife in the house or community of her father, p. [656] sq.—Wives’ subjection to their husbands in the first place due to the men’s instinctive desire to exert power, and to the natural inferiority of women in such qualities of body and mind as are essential for personal independence, p. [657].—Elements in the sexual impulse which lead to domination on the part of the man and to submission on the part of the woman, p. [657] sq.—But if the man’s domination is carried beyond the limits of female love, the woman feels it as a burden, p. [658] sq.—In extreme cases of oppression, at any rate, the community at large would sympathise with her, and the public resentment against the oppressor would result in customs or laws limiting the husband’s rights, p. [659].—The offended woman may count upon the support of her fellow-sisters, [ibid.]—The children’s affection and regard for their mother gives her power, [ibid.]—The influence which economic conditions exercise on the position of woman, pp. [659]–661.—The status of wives connected with the ideas held about the female sex in general, p. [661].—Woman regarded as intellectually and morally vastly inferior to man, especially among nations more advanced in culture, pp. [661]–663.—Progress in civilisation has exercised an unfavourable influence on the position of woman by widening the gulf between the sexes, p. [663].—Religion has contributed to her degradation by regarding her as unclean, p. [663] sq.—Women excluded from religious worship and sacred functions, pp. [664]–666.—The notion that woman is unclean, however, gives her a secret power over her husband, as women are supposed to be better versed in magic than men, pp. [666]–668.—The curses of women greatly feared, p. [668].—Woman as an asylum, p. [668] sq.—In archaic civilisation the status of married women was affected by the fact that the house-father was invested with some part of the power which formerly belonged to the clan, p. [669].—Causes of the decrease of the husband’s authority over his wife in modern civilisation, [ibid.]

[CHAPTER XXVII]

SLAVERY

Definition of slavery, p. [670] sq.—The distribution of slavery and its causes among savages, pp. [671]–674.—The earliest source of slavery was probably war or conquest, p. [674] sq.—Intra-tribal slavery among savages, p. [675] sq.—The master’s power over his slave among slave-holding savages, pp. [676]–678.—Among the lower races slaves are generally treated kindly, pp. [678]–680.—Intra-tribal slaves, especially such as are born in the house, generally treated better than extra-tribal or purchased slaves, p. [680] sq.—Slavery among the nations of archaic culture, pp. [681]–693.—The attitude of Christianity towards slavery, pp. [693]–700.—The supposed causes of the extinction of slavery in Europe, pp. [697]–701.—The chief cause the transformation of slavery into serfdom, p. [701].—Serfdom only a transitory condition leading up to a state of entire liberty, pp. [701]–703.—The attitude of the Church towards serfdom, p. [703] sq.—The negro slavery in the colonies of European countries and the Southern States of America, and the legislation relating to it, pp. [704]–711.—The support given to it by the clergy, pp. [711]–713.—The want of sympathy for, or positive antipathy to, the coloured race, p. [713] sq.—The opinions regarding slavery and the condition of slaves influenced by altruistic considerations, p. [714] sq.—The condition of slaves influenced by the selfish considerations of their masters, p. [715] sq.

THE ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT

OF THE MORAL IDEAS

[THE ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT]

OF THE MORAL IDEAS

INTRODUCTORY

THE main object of this book will perhaps be best explained by a few words concerning its origin.

Its author was once discussing with some friends the point how far a bad man ought to be treated with kindness. The opinions were divided, and, in spite of much deliberation, unanimity could not be attained. It seemed strange that the disagreement should be so radical, and the question arose, Whence this diversity of opinion? Is it due to defective knowledge, or has it a merely sentimental origin? And the problem gradually expanded. Why do the moral ideas in general differ so greatly? And, on the other hand, why is there in many cases such a wide agreement? Nay, why are there any moral ideas at all?

Since then many years have passed, spent by the author in trying to find an answer to these questions. The present work is the result of his researches and thoughts.

The first part of it will comprise a study of the moral concepts: right, wrong, duty, justice, virtue, merit, &c. Such a study will be found to require an examination into the moral emotions, their nature and origin, as also into the relations between these emotions and the various moral concepts. There will then be a discussion of the phenomena to which such concepts are applied—the subjects of moral judgments. The general character of these phenomena will be scrutinised, and an answer sought to the question why facts of a certain type are matters of moral concern, while other facts are not. Finally, the most important of these phenomena will be classified, and the moral ideas relating to each class will be stated, and, so far as possible, explained.

An investigation of this kind cannot be confined to feelings and ideas prevalent in any particular society or at any particular stage of civilisation. Its subject-matter is the moral consciousness of mankind at large. It consequently involves the survey of an unusually rich and varied field of research—psychological, ethnographical, historical, juridical, theological. In the present state of our knowledge, when monographs on most of the subjects involved are wanting, I presume that such an undertaking is, strictly speaking, too big for any man; at any rate it is so for the writer of this book. Nothing like completeness can be aimed at. Hypotheses of varying degrees of probability must only too often be resorted to. Even the certainty of the statements on which conclusions are based is not always beyond a doubt. But though fully conscious of the many defects of his attempt, the author nevertheless ventures to think himself justified in placing it before the public. It seems to him that one of the most important objects of human speculation cannot be left in its present state of obscurity; that at least a glimpse of light must be thrown upon it by researches which have extended over some fifteen years; and that the main principles underlying the various customs of mankind may be arrived at even without subjecting these customs to such a full and minute treatment as would be required of an anthropological monograph.

Possibly this essay, in spite of its theoretical character, may even be of some practical use. Though rooted in the emotional side of our nature, our moral opinions are in a large measure amenable to reason. Now in every society the traditional notions as to what is good or bad, obligatory or indifferent, are commonly accepted by the majority of people without further reflection. By tracing them to their source it will be found that not a few of these notions have their origin in sentimental likings and antipathies, to which a scrutinising and enlightened judge can attach little importance; whilst, on the other hand, he must account blamable many an act and omission which public opinion, out of thoughtlessness, treats with indifference. It will, moreover, appear that a moral estimate often survives the cause from which it sprang. And no unprejudiced person can help changing his views if he be persuaded that they have no foundation in existing facts.

[CHAPTER I]

[THE EMOTIONAL ORIGIN OF MORAL JUDGMENTS]

THAT the moral concepts are ultimately based on emotions either of indignation or approval, is a fact which a certain school of thinkers have in vain attempted to deny. The terms which embody these concepts must originally have been used—indeed they still constantly are so used—as direct expressions of such emotions with reference to the phenomena which evoked them. Men pronounced certain acts to be good or bad on account of the emotions those acts aroused in their minds, just as they called sunshine warm and ice cold on account of certain sensations which they experienced, and as they named a thing pleasant or painful because they felt pleasure or pain. But to attribute a quality to a thing is never the same as merely to state the existence of a particular sensation or feeling in the mind which perceives it. Such an attribution must mean that the thing, under certain circumstances, makes a certain impression on the mind. By calling an object warm or pleasant, a person asserts that it is apt to produce in him a sensation of heat or a feeling of pleasure. Similarly, to name an act good or bad, ultimately implies that it is apt to give rise to an emotion of approval or disapproval in him who pronounces the judgment. Whilst not affirming the actual existence of any specific emotion in the mind of the person judging or of anybody else, the predicate of a moral judgment attributes to the subject a tendency to arouse an emotion. The moral concepts, then, are essentially generalisations of tendencies in certain phenomena to call forth moral emotions.

However, as is frequently the case with general terms, these concepts are mentioned without any distinct idea of their contents. The relation in which many of them stand to the moral emotions is complicated; the use of them is often vague; and ethical theorisers, instead of subjecting them to a careful analysis, have done their best to increase the confusion by adapting the meaning of the terms to fit their theories. Very commonly, in the definition of the goodness or badness of acts, reference is made, not to their tendencies to evoke emotions of approval or indignation, but to the causes of these tendencies, that is, to those qualities in the acts which call forth moral emotions. Thus, because good acts generally produce pleasure and bad acts pain, goodness and badness have been identified with the tendencies of acts to produce pleasure or pain. The following statement of Sir James Stephen is a clearly expressed instance of this confusion, so common among utilitarians:—“Speaking generally, the acts which are called right do promote, or are supposed to promote general happiness, and the acts which are called wrong do diminish, or are supposed to diminish it. I say, therefore, that this is what the words ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ mean, just as the words ‘up’ and ‘down’ mean that which points from or towards the earth’s centre of gravity, though they are used by millions who have not the least notion of the fact that such is their meaning, and though they were used for centuries and millenniums before any one was or even could be aware of it.”[1] So, too, Bentham maintained that words like “ought,” “right,” and “wrong,” have no meaning unless interpreted in accordance with the principle of utility;[2] and James Mill was of opinion that “the very morality” of the act lies, not in the sentiments raised in the breast of him who perceives or contemplates it, but in “the consequences of the act, good or evil, and their being within the intention of the agent.”[3] He adds that a rational assertor of the principle of utility approves of an action “because it is good,” and calls it good “because it conduces to happiness.”[4] This, however, is to invert the sequence of the facts, since, properly speaking, an act is called good because it is approved of, and is approved of by an utilitarian in so far as it conduces to happiness.

[1] Stephen, Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, p. 338.

[2] Bentham, Principles of Morals and Legislation, p. 4.

[3] James Mill, Fragment on Mackintosh, pp. 5, 376.

[4] Ibid. p. 368.

Such confusion of terms cannot affect the real meaning of the moral concepts. It is true that he who holds that “actions are right in proportion as they tend to promote happiness, wrong as they tend to produce the reverse of happiness,”[5] may, by a merely intellectual process, pass judgment on the moral character of particular acts; but, if he is an utilitarian from conviction, his first principle, at least, has an emotional origin. The case is similar with many of the moral judgments ordinarily passed by men. They are applications of some accepted general rule: conformity or non-conformity to the rule decides the rightness or wrongness of the act judged of. But whether the rule be the result of a person’s independent deductions, or be based upon authority, human or divine, the fact that his moral consciousness recognises it as valid implies that it has an emotional sanction in his own mind.

[5] Stuart Mill, Utilitarianism, p. 9 sq.

Whilst the import of the predicate of a moral judgment may thus in every case be traced back to an emotion in him who pronounces the judgment, it is generally assumed to possess the character of universality or “objectivity” as well. The statement that an act is good or bad does not merely refer to an individual emotion; as will be shown subsequently, it always has reference to an emotion of a more public character. Very often it even implies some vague assumption that the act must be recognised as good or bad by everybody who possesses a sufficient knowledge of the case and of all attendant circumstances, and who has a “sufficiently developed” moral consciousness. We are not willing to admit that our moral convictions are a mere matter of taste, and we are inclined to regard convictions differing from our own as errors. This characteristic of our moral judgments has been adduced as an argument against the emotionalist theory of moral origins, and has led to the belief that the moral concepts represent qualities which are discerned by reason.

Cudworth, Clarke, Price, and Reid are names which recall to our mind a theory according to which the morality of actions is perceived by the intellect, just as are number, diversity, causation, proportion. “Morality is eternal and immutable,” says Richard Price. “Right and wrong, it appears, denote what actions are. Now whatever any thing is, that it is, not by will, or degree, or power, but by nature and necessity. Whatever a triangle or circle is, that it is unchangeably and eternally…. The same is to be said of right and wrong, of moral good and evil, as far as they express real characters of actions. They must immutably and necessarily belong to those actions of which they are truly affirmed.”[6] And as having a real existence outside the mind, they can only be discerned by the understanding. It is true that this discernment is accompanied with an emotion: “Some impressions of pleasure or pain, satisfaction or disgust, generally attend our perceptions of virtue and vice. But these are merely their effects and concomitants, and not the perceptions themselves, which ought no more to be confounded with them, than a particular truth (like that for which Pythagoras offered a hecatomb) ought to be confounded with the pleasure that may attend the discovery of it.”[7]

[6] Price, Review of the Principal Questions in Morals, pp. 63, 74 sq.

[7] Ibid. p. 63.

According to another doctrine, the moral predicates, though not regarded as expressions of “theoretical” truth, nevertheless derive all their import from reason from “practical” or “moral” reason, as it is variously called. Thus Professor Sidgwick holds that the fundamental notions represented by the word “ought” or “right,” which moral judgments contain expressly or by implication, are essentially different from all notions representing facts of physical or psychical experience, and he refers such judgments to the “reason,” understood as a faculty of cognition. By this he implies “that what ought to be is a possible object of knowledge, i.e., that what I judge ought to be, must, unless I am in error, be similarly judged by all rational beings who judge truly of the matter.” The moral judgments contain moral truths, and “cannot legitimately be interpreted as judgments respecting the present or future existence of human feelings or any facts of the sensible world.”[8]

[8] Sidgwick, Methods of Ethics, pp. 25, 33 sq.

Yet our tendency to objectivise the moral judgments is no sufficient ground for referring them to the province of reason. If, in this respect, there is a difference between these judgments and others that are rooted in the subjective sphere of experience, it is, largely, a difference in degree rather than in kind. The aesthetic judgments, which indisputably have an emotional origin, also lay claim to a certain amount of “objectivity.” By saying of a piece of music that it is beautiful, we do not merely mean that it gives ourselves aesthetic enjoyment, but we make a latent assumption that it must have a similar effect upon everybody who is sufficiently musical to appreciate it. This objectivity ascribed to judgments which have a merely subjective origin springs in the first place from the similarity of the mental constitution of men, and, generally speaking, the tendency to regard them as objective is greater in proportion as the impressions vary less in each particular case. If “there is no disputing of tastes,” that is because taste is so extremely variable; and yet even in this instance we recognise a certain “objective” standard by speaking of a “bad” and a “good” taste. On the other hand, if the appearance of objectivity in the moral judgments is so illusive as to make it seem necessary to refer them to reason, that is partly on account of the comparatively uniform nature of the moral consciousness.

Society is the school in which men learn to distinguish between right and wrong. The headmaster is Custom, and the lessons are the same for all. The first moral judgments were pronounced by public opinion; public indignation and public approval are the prototypes of the moral emotions. As regards questions of morality, there was, in early society, practically no difference of opinion; hence a character of universality, or objectivity, was from the very beginning attached to all moral judgments. And when, with advancing civilisation, this unanimity was to some extent disturbed by individuals venturing to dissent from the opinions of the majority, the disagreement was largely due to facts which in no way affected the moral principle, but had reference only to its application.

Most people follow a very simple method in judging of an act. Particular modes of conduct have their traditional labels, many of which are learnt with language itself; and the moral judgment commonly consists simply in labelling the act according to certain obvious characteristics which it presents in common with others belonging to the same group. But a conscientious and intelligent judge proceeds in a different manner. He carefully examines all the details connected with the act, the external and internal conditions under which it was performed, its consequences, its motive; and, since the moral estimate in a large measure depends upon the regard paid to these circumstances, his judgment may differ greatly from that of the man in the street, even though the moral standard which they apply be exactly the same. But to acquire a full insight into all the details which are apt to influence the moral value of an act is in many cases anything but easy, and this naturally increases the disagreement. There is thus in every advanced society a diversity of opinion regarding the moral value of certain modes of conduct which results from circumstances of a purely intellectual character—from the knowledge or ignorance of positive facts,—and involves no discord in principle.

Now it has been assumed by the advocates of various ethical theories that all the differences of moral ideas originate in this way, and that there is some ultimate standard which must be recognised as authoritative by everybody who understands it rightly. According to Bentham, the rectitude of utilitarianism has been contested only by those who have not known their own meaning:—“When a man attempts to combat the principle of utility … his arguments, if they prove anything, prove not that the principle is wrong, but that, according to the applications he supposes to be made of it, it is misapplied.”[9] Mr. Spencer, to whom good conduct is that “which conduces to life in each and all,” believes that he has the support of “the true moral consciousness,” or “moral consciousness proper,” which, whether in harmony or in conflict with the “pro-ethical” sentiment, is vaguely or distinctly recognised as the rightful ruler.[10] Samuel Clarke, the intuitionist, again, is of opinion that if a man endowed with reason denies the eternal and necessary moral differences of things, it is the very same “as if a man that has the use of his sight, should at the same time that he beholds the sun, deny that there is any such thing as light in the world; or as if a man that understands Geometry or Arithmetick, should deny the most obvious and known proportions of lines or numbers.”[11] In short, all disagreement as to questions of morals is attributed to ignorance or misunderstanding.

[9] Bentham, Principles of Morals and Legislation, p. 4 sq.

[10] Spencer, Principles of Ethics, i. 45, 337 sq.

[11] Clarke, Discourse concerning the Unchangeable Obligations of Natural Religion, p. 179.

The influence of intellectual considerations upon moral judgments is certainly immense. We shall find that the evolution of the moral consciousness to a large extent consists in its development from the unreflecting to the reflecting, from the unenlightened to the enlightened. All higher emotions are determined by cognitions, they arise from “the presentation of determinate objective conditions”;[12] and moral enlightenment implies a true and comprehensive presentation of those objective conditions by which the moral emotions, according to their very nature, are determined. Morality may thus in a much higher degree than, for instance, beauty be a subject of instruction and of profitable discussion, in which persuasion is carried by the representation of existing data. But although in this way many differences may be accorded, there are points in which unanimity cannot be reached even by the most accurate presentation of facts or the subtlest process of reasoning.

[12] Marshall, Pain, Pleasure, and Aesthetics, p. 83.

Whilst certain phenomena will almost of necessity arouse similar moral emotions in every mind which perceives them clearly, there are others with which the case is different. The emotional constitution of man does not present the same uniformity as the human intellect. Certain cognitions inspire fear in nearly every breast; but there are brave men and cowards in the world, independently of the accuracy with which they realise impending danger. Some cases of suffering can hardly fail to awaken compassion in the most pitiless heart; but the sympathetic dispositions of men vary greatly, both in regard to the beings with whose sufferings they are ready to sympathise, and with reference to the intensity of the emotion. The same holds good for the moral emotions. The existing diversity of opinion as to the rights of different classes of men and of the lower animals, which springs from emotional differences, may no doubt be modified by a clearer insight into certain facts, but no perfect agreement can be expected as long as the conditions under which the emotional dispositions are formed remain unchanged. Whilst an enlightened mind must recognise the complete or relative irresponsibility of an animal, a child, or a madman, and must be influenced in its moral judgment by the motives of an act—no intellectual enlightenment, no scrutiny of facts, can decide how far the interests of the lower animals should be regarded when conflicting with those of men, or how far a person is bound, or allowed, to promote the welfare of his nation, or his own welfare, at the cost of that of other nations or other individuals. Professor Sidgwick’s well-known moral axiom, “I ought not to prefer my own lesser good to the greater good of another,”[13] would, if explained to a Fuegian or a Hottentot, be regarded by him, not as self-evident, but as simply absurd; nor can it claim general acceptance even among ourselves. Who is that “Another” to whose greater good I ought not to prefer my own lesser good? A fellow-countryman, a savage, a criminal, a bird, a fish—all without distinction? It will, perhaps, be argued that on this, and on all other points of morals, there would be general agreement, if only the moral consciousness of men were sufficiently developed.[14] But then, when speaking of a “sufficiently developed” moral consciousness (beyond insistence upon a full insight into the governing facts of each case), we practically mean nothing else than agreement with our own moral convictions. The expression is faulty and deceptive, because, if intended to mean anything more, it presupposes an objectivity of the moral judgments which they do not possess, and at the same time seems to be proving what it presupposes. We may speak of an intellect as sufficiently developed to grasp a certain truth, because truth is objective; but it is not proved to be objective by the fact that it is recognised as true by a “sufficiently developed” intellect. The objectivity of truth lies in the recognition of facts as true by all who understand them fully, whilst the appeal to a sufficient knowledge assumes their objectivity. To the verdict of a perfect intellect, that is, an intellect which knows everything existing, all would submit; but we can form no idea of a moral consciousness which could lay claim to a similar authority. If the believers in an all-good God, who has revealed his will to mankind, maintain that they in this revelation possess a perfect moral standard, and that, consequently, what is in accordance with such a standard must be objectively right, it may be asked what they mean by an “all-good” God. And in their attempt to answer this question, they would inevitably have to assume the objectivity they wanted to prove.

[13] Sidgwick, op. cit. p. 383.

[14] This, in fact, was the explanation given by Professor Sidgwick himself in a conversation which I had with him regarding his moral axioms.

The error we commit by attributing objectivity to moral estimates becomes particularly conspicuous when we consider that these estimates have not only a certain quality, but a certain quantity. There are different degrees of badness and goodness, a duty may be more or less stringent, a merit may be smaller or greater.[15] These quantitative differences are due to the emotional origin of all moral concepts. Emotions vary in intensity almost indefinitely, and the moral emotions form no exception to this rule. Indeed, it may be fairly doubted whether the same mode of conduct ever arouses exactly the same degree of indignation or approval in any two individuals. Many of these differences are of course too subtle to be manifested in the moral judgment; but very frequently the intensity of the emotion is indicated by special words, or by the way in which the judgment is pronounced. It should be noticed, however, that the quantity of the estimate expressed in a moral predicate is not identical with the intensity of the moral emotion which a certain mode of conduct arouses on a special occasion. We are liable to feel more indignant if an injury is committed before our eyes than if we read of it in a newspaper, and yet we admit that the degree of wrongness is in both cases the same. The quantity of moral estimates is determined by the intensity of the emotions which their objects tend to evoke under exactly similar external circumstances.

[15] It will be shown in a following chapter why there are no degrees of rightness. This concept implies accordance with the moral law. The adjective “right” means that duty is fulfilled.

Besides the relative uniformity of moral opinions, there is another circumstance which tempts us to objectivise moral judgments, namely, the authority which, rightly or wrongly, is ascribed to moral rules. From our earliest childhood we are taught that certain acts are right and that others are wrong. Owing to their exceptional importance for human welfare, the facts of the moral consciousness are emphasised in a much higher degree than any other subjective facts. We are allowed to have our private opinions about the beauty of things, but we are not so readily allowed to have our private opinions about right and wrong. The moral rules which are prevalent in the society to which we belong are supported by appeals not only to human, but to divine, authority, and to call in question their validity is to rebel against religion as well as against public opinion. Thus the belief in a moral order of the world has taken hardly less firm hold of the human mind than the belief in a natural order of things. And the moral law has retained its authoritativeness even when the appeal to an external authority has been regarded as inadequate. It filled Kant with the same awe as the star-spangled firmament. According to Butler, conscience is “a faculty in kind and in nature supreme over all others, and which bears its own authority of being so.”[16] Its supremacy is said to be “felt and tacitly acknowledged by the worst no less than by the best of men.”[17] Adam Smith calls the moral faculties the “vicegerents of God within us,” who “never fail to punish the violation of them by the torments of inward shame and self-condemnation; and, on the contrary, always reward obedience with tranquillity of mind, with contentment, and self-satisfaction.”[18] Even Hutcheson, who raises the question why the moral sense should not vary in different men as the palate does, considers it “to be naturally destined to command all the other powers.”[19]

[16] Butler, ‘Sermon II.—Upon Human Nature,’ in Analogy of Religion, &c. p. 403.

[17] Dugald Stewart, Philosophy of the Active and Moral Powers of Man, i. 302.

[18] Adam Smith, Theory of Moral Sentiments, p. 235.

[19] Hutcheson, System of Moral Philosophy, i. 61.

Authority is an ambiguous word. It may indicate knowledge of truth, and it may indicate a rightful power to command obedience. The authoritativeness attributed to the moral law has often reference to both kinds of authority. The moral lawgiver lays down his rules in order that they should be obeyed, and they are authoritative in so far as they have to be obeyed. But he is also believed to know what is right and wrong, and his commands are regarded as expressions of moral truths. As we have seen, however, this latter kind of authority involves a false assumption as to the nature of the moral predicates, and it cannot be justly inferred from the power to command. Again, if the notion of an external lawgiver be put aside, the moral law does not generally seem to possess supreme authority in either sense of the word. It does not command obedience in any exceptional degree; few laws are broken more frequently. Nor can the regard for it be called the mainspring of action; it is only one spring out of many, and variable like all others. In some instances it is the ruling power in a man’s life, in others it is a voice calling in the desert; and the majority of people seem to be more afraid of the blame or ridicule of their fellowmen, or of the penalties with which the law threatens them, than of “the vicegerents of God” in their own hearts. That mankind prefer the possession of virtue to all other enjoyments, and look upon vice as worse than any other misery,[20] is unfortunately an imagination of some moralists who confound men as they are with men as they ought to be.

[20] Idem, Inquiry into the Original of our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue, p. 248.

It is said that the authority of the moral law asserts itself every time the law is broken, that virtue bears in itself its own reward, and vice its own punishment. But, to be sure, conscience is a very unjust retributer. The more a person habituates himself to virtue the more he sharpens its sting, the deeper he sinks in vice the more he blunts it. Whilst the best men have the most sensitive consciences, the worst have hardly any conscience at all. It is argued that the habitual sinner has rid himself of remorse at a great cost;[21] but it may be fairly doubted whether the loss is an adequate penalty for his wickedness. We are reminded that men are rewarded for good and punished for bad acts by the moral feelings of their neighbours. But public opinion and law judge of detected acts only. Their judgment is seldom based upon an exhaustive examination of the case. They often apply a standard which is itself open to criticism. And the feelings with which men regard their fellow-creatures, and which are some of the main sources of human happiness and suffering, have often very little to do with morality. A person is respected or praised, blamed or despised, on other grounds than his character. Nay, the admiration which men feel for genius, courage, pluck, strength, or accidental success, is often superior in intensity to the admiration they feel for virtue.

[21] Ziegler, Social Ethics, p. 103.

In spite of all this, however, the supreme authority assigned to the moral law is not altogether an illusion. It really exists in the minds of the best, and is nominally acknowledged by the many. By this I do not refer to the universal admission that the moral law, whether obeyed or not, ought under all circumstances to be obeyed; for this is the same as to say that what ought to be ought to be. But it is recognised, in theory at least, that morality, either alone or in connection with religion, possesses a higher value than anything else; that rightness and goodness are preferable to all other kinds of mental superiority, as well as of physical excellence. If this theory is not more commonly acted upon, that is due to its being, in most people, much less the outcome of their own feelings than of instruction from the outside. It is ultimately traceable to some great teacher whose own mind was ruled by the ideal of moral perfection, and whose words became sacred on account of his supreme wisdom, like Confucius or Buddha,[22] or on religious grounds, like Jesus. The authority of the moral law is thus only an expression of a strongly developed, overruling moral consciousness. It can hardly, as Mr. Sidgwick maintains, be said to “depend upon” the conception of the objectivity of duty.[23] On the contrary, it must be regarded as a cause of this conception—not only, as has already been pointed out, where it is traceable to some external authority, but where it results from the strength of the individual’s own moral emotions. As clearness and distinctness of the conception of an object easily produces the belief in its truth, so the intensity of a moral emotion makes him who feels it disposed to objectivise the moral estimate to which it gives rise, in other words, to assign to it universal validity. The enthusiast is more likely than anybody else to regard his judgments as true, and so is the moral enthusiast with reference to his moral judgments. The intensity of his emotions makes him the victim of an illusion.

[22] “Besides the ideal king, the personification of Power and Justice, another ideal has played an important part in the formation of early Buddhist ideas regarding their Master…. It was the ideal of a perfectly Wise Man, the personification of Wisdom, the Buddha” (Rhys Davids, Hibbert Lectures on Some Points in the History of Buddhism, p. 141).

[23] Sidgwick, op. cit. p. 104.

The presumed objectivity of moral judgments thus being a chimera, there can be no moral truth in the sense in which this term is generally understood. The ultimate reason for this is, that the moral concepts are based upon emotions, and that the contents of an emotion fall entirely outside the category of truth. But it may be true or not that we have a certain emotion, it may be true or not that a given mode of conduct has a tendency to evoke in us moral indignation or moral approval. Hence a moral judgment is true or false according as its subject has or has not that tendency which the predicate attributes to it. If I say that it is wrong to resist evil, and yet resistance to evil has no tendency whatever to call forth in me an emotion of moral disapproval, then my judgment is false.

If there are no general moral truths, the object of scientific ethics cannot be to fix rules for human conduct, the aim of all science being the discovery of some truth. It has been said by Bentham and others that moral principles cannot be proved because they are first principles which are used to prove everything else.[24] But the real reason for their being inaccessible to demonstration is that, owing to their very nature, they can never be true. If the word “Ethics,” then, is to be used as the name for a science, the object of that science can only be to study the moral consciousness as a fact.[25]

[24] Bentham, Principles of Morals and Legislation, p. 4. Cf. Höffding, Etik, p. 43.

[25] Cf. Simmel, Einleitung in die Moralwissenschaft, i. p. iii. sq.; Westermarck, ‘Normative und psychologische Ethik,’ in Dritter Internationaler Congress für Psychologie in München, p. 428 sq.

Ethical subjectivism is commonly held to be a dangerous doctrine, destructive to morality, opening the door to all sorts of libertinism. If that which appears to each man as right or good, stands for that which is right or good; if he is allowed to make his own law, or to make no law at all; then, it is said, everybody has the natural right to follow his caprice and inclinations, and to hinder him from doing so is an infringement on his rights, a constraint with which no one is bound to comply provided that he has the power to evade it. This inference was long ago drawn from the teaching of the Sophists,[26] and it will no doubt be still repeated as an argument against any theorist who dares to assert that nothing can be said to be truly right or wrong.

[26] Zeller, History of Greek Philosophy, ii. 475.

To this argument may, first, be objected that a scientific theory is not invalidated by the mere fact that it is likely to cause mischief. The unfortunate circumstance that there do exist dangerous things in the world, proves that something may be dangerous and yet true. Another question is whether any scientific truth really is mischievous on the whole, although it may cause much discomfort to certain people. I venture to believe that this, at any rate, is not the case with that form of ethical subjectivism which I am here advocating. The charge brought against the Sophists does not at all apply to it. I do not even subscribe to that beautiful modern sophism which admits every man’s conscience to be an infallible guide. If we had to recognise, or rather if we did recognise, as right everything which is held to be right by anybody, savage or Christian, criminal or saint, morality would really suffer a serious loss. But we do not, and we cannot, do so. My moral judgments are my own judgments; they spring from my own moral consciousness; they judge of the conduct of other men not from their point of view but from mine, not with primary reference to their opinions about right and wrong, but with reference to my own. Most of us indeed admit that, when judging of an act, we also ought to take into consideration the moral conviction of the agent, and the agreement or disagreement between his doing and his idea of what he ought to do. But although we hold it to be wrong of a person to act against his conscience, we may at the same time blame him for having such a conscience as he has. Ethical subjectivism covers all such cases. It certainly does not allow everybody to follow his own inclinations; nor does it lend sanction to arbitrariness and caprice. Our moral consciousness belongs to our mental constitution, which we cannot change as we please. We approve and we disapprove because we cannot do otherwise. Can we help feeling pain when the fire burns us? Can we help sympathising with our friends? Are these phenomena less necessary or less powerful in their consequences, because they fall within the subjective sphere of experience? So, too, why should the moral law command less obedience because it forms part of our own nature?

Far from being a danger, ethical subjectivism seems to me more likely to be an acquisition for moral practice. Could it be brought home to people that there is no absolute standard in morality, they would perhaps be somewhat more tolerant in their judgments, and more apt to listen to the voice of reason. If the right has an objective existence, the moral consciousness has certainly been playing at blindman’s buff ever since it was born, and will continue to do so until the extinction of the human race. But who does admit this? The popular mind is always inclined to believe that it possesses the knowledge of what is right and wrong, and to regard public opinion as the reliable guide of conduct. We have, indeed, no reason to regret that there are men who rebel against the established rules of morality; it is more deplorable that the rebels are so few, and that, consequently, the old rules change so slowly. Far above the vulgar idea that the right is a settled something to which everybody has to adjust his opinions, rises the conviction that it has its existence in each individual mind, capable of any expansion, proclaiming its own right to exist, and, if need be, venturing to make a stand against the whole world. Such a conviction makes for progress.

CHAPTER II

THE NATURE OF THE MORAL EMOTIONS

IN the preceding chapter it was asserted, in general terms, that the moral concepts are based on emotions, and the leading arguments to the contrary were met. We shall now proceed to examine the nature of the moral emotions.

These emotions are of two kinds: disapproval, or indignation, and approval. They have in common characteristics which make them moral emotions, in distinction from others of a non-moral character, but at the same time both of them belong to a wider class of emotions, which I call retributive emotions. Again, they differ from each other in points which make each of them allied to certain non-moral retributive emotions, disapproval to anger and revenge, and approval to that kind of retributive kindly emotion which in its most developed form is gratitude. They may thus, on the one hand, be regarded as two distinct divisions of the moral emotions, whilst, on the other hand, disapproval, like anger and revenge, forms a sub-species of resentment, and approval, like gratitude, forms a sub-species of retributive kindly emotion. The following diagram will help to elucidate the matter:—

That moral disapproval is a kind of resentment and akin to anger and revenge, and that moral approval is a kind of retributive kindly emotion and akin to gratitude, are, of course, statements which call for proof. An analysis of all these emotions, and a detailed study of the causes which evoke them, will, I hope, bear out the correctness of my classification. In this connection only the analysis can be attempted. The study of causes will be involved in the treatment of the subjects of moral judgments.

Resentment may be described as an aggressive attitude of mind towards a cause of pain. Anger is sudden resentment, in which the hostile reaction against the cause of pain is unrestrained by deliberation. Revenge, on the other hand, is a more deliberate form of non-moral resentment, in which the hostile reaction is more or less restrained by reason and calculation.[1] It is impossible, however, to draw any distinct limit between these two types of resentment, as also to discern where an actual desire to inflict pain comes in. In its primitive form, anger, even when directed against a living being, contains a vehement impulse to remove the cause of pain without any real desire to produce suffering.[2] Anger is strikingly shown by many fish, and notoriously by sticklebacks when their territory is invaded by other sticklebacks. In such circumstances of provocation the whole animal changes colour, and, darting at the trespasser, shows rage and fury in every movement;[3] but we can hardly believe that any idea of inflicting pain is present to its mind. As we proceed still lower down the scale of animal life we find the conative element itself gradually dwindle away until nothing is left but mere reflex action.

[1] Cf. Ribot, Psychology of the Emotions, p. 220 sqq.

[2] There are some good remarks on this in Mr. Hiram Stanley’s Studies in the Evolutionary Psychology of Feeling, p. 138 sq.

[3] Romanes, Animal Intelligence, p. 246 sqq.

That the fury of an injured animal turns against the real or assumed cause of its injury is a matter of notoriety, and everybody knows that the same is the case with the anger of a child. No doubt, as Professor Sully observes, “hitting out right and left, throwing things down on the floor and breaking them, howling, wild agitated movements of the arms and whole body, these are the outward vents which the gust of childish fury is apt to take.”[4] But, on the other hand, we know well enough that Darwin’s little boy, who became a great adept at throwing books and sticks at any one who offended him,[5] was in this respect no exceptional child. Towards the age of one year, according to M. Perez, children “will beat people, animals, and inanimate objects if they are angry with them; they will throw their toys, their food, their plate, anything, in short, that is at hand, at the people who have displeased them.”[6] That a similar discrimination characterises the resentment of a savage is a fact upon which it is necessary to dwell at some length for the reason that it has been disputed, and because there are some seeming anomalies which require an explanation.

[4] Sully, Studies in Childhood, p. 232 sq.

[5] Darwin, ‘Biographical Sketch of an Infant,’ in Mind, ii. 288.

[6] Perez, First Three Years of Childhood, p. 66 sq.

In a comprehensive work,[7] Dr. Steinmetz has made the feeling of revenge the object of a detailed investigation, which cannot be left unnoticed. The ultimate conclusions at which he has arrived are these: Revenge is essentially rooted in the feeling of power and superiority. It arises consequently upon the experience of injury, and its aim is to enhance the “self-feeling” which has been lowered or degraded by the injury suffered. It answers this purpose best if it is directed against the aggressor himself, but it is not essential to it that it should take any determinate direction, for, per se, and originally, it is “undirected.”[8]

[7] Ethnologische Studien zur ersten Entwicklung der Strafe.

[8] Strictly speaking, this theory is not new. Dr. Paul Rée, in his book Die Entstehung des Gewissens, has pronounced revenge to be a reaction against the feeling of inferiority which the aggressor impresses upon his victim. The injured man, he says (ibid. p. 40) is naturally reluctant to feel himself inferior to another man, and consequently strives, by avenging the aggression, to show himself equal or even superior to the aggressor. A similar view was previously expressed by Schopenhauer (Parerga und Paralipomena, ii. 475 sq.). But Dr. Steinmetz has elaborated his theory with an independence and fulness which make any question of priority quite insignificant.

We are told, in fact, that the first stage through which revenge passed within the human race was characterised by a total, or almost total, want of discrimination. The aim of the offended man was merely to raise his injured “self-feeling” by inflicting pain upon somebody else, and his savage desire was satisfied whether the man on whom he wreaked his wrath was guilty or innocent.[9] No doubt, there were from the outset instances in which the offender himself was purposely made the victim, especially if he was a fellow-tribesman; but it was not really due to the feeling of revenge if the suffering was inflicted upon him, in preference to others. Even primitive man must have found out that vengeance directed against the actual culprit, besides being a strong deterrent to others, was a capital means of making a dangerous person harmless. However, Dr. Steinmetz adds, these advantages should not be overestimated, as even indiscriminate revenge has a deterring influence on the malefactor.[10] In early times, then, vengeance, according to Dr. Steinmetz, was in the main “undirected.”

[9] Steinmetz, op. cit. i. 355, 356, 359, 561.

[10] Ibid. i. 362.

At the next stage it becomes, he says, somewhat less indiscriminate. A proper victim is sought for even in cases of what we should call natural death, which the savage generally attributes to the ill-will of some foe skilled in sorcery;[11] though indeed Dr. Steinmetz doubts whether in such cases the unfortunate sufferer is really supposed to have committed the deed imputed to him.[12] At all events, a need is felt of choosing somebody for a victim, and “undirected” vengeance gradually gives way to “directed” vengeance. A rude specimen of this is the blood-feud, in which the individual culprit is left out of consideration, but war is carried on against the group of which he is a member, either his family or his tribe. And from this system of joint responsibility we finally come, by slow degrees, says Dr. Steinmetz, to the modern conception, according to which punishment should be inflicted upon the criminal and nobody else.[13] Dr. Steinmetz believes that the vis agens in this long process of evolution lies in the intellectual development of the human race: man found out more and more distinctly that the best means of restraining wrongs was to punish a certain person, namely, the wrong-doer.[14] On this utilitarian calculation our author lays much stress in the latter part of his investigation; whereas in another place he observes that a revenge which is directed against the offender is particularly apt to remove the feeling of inferiority, by effectually humiliating the hitherto triumphant foe.[15]

[11] Ibid. i. 356 sq.

[12] Ibid. i. 359 sq.

[13] Steinmetz, op. cit. i. 361.

[14] Ibid. i. 358, 359, 361 sq.

[15] Ibid. i. 111.

In this historical account the main points of interest are the initial stage of “undirected” vengeance, and the way in which such vengeance gradually became discriminate. If, in primitive times, a man did not care in the least on whom he retaliated an injury, then of course the direction of his vengeance could not be essential to the revenge itself, but would be merely a later appendix to it. The question is, what evidence can Dr. Steinmetz adduce to support his theory? Of primitive man we have no direct experience; no savage people now existing is a faithful representative of him, either physically or mentally. Yet however greatly the human race has changed, primitive man is not altogether dead. Traits of his character still linger in his descendants; and of primitive revenge, we are told, there are sufficient survivals left.[16]

[16] Ibid. i. 364.

Under the heading “Perfectly Undirected Revenge,” Dr. Steinmetz sets out several alleged cases of such so-called survivals[17] 1. An Indian of the Omaha tribe, who was kicked out of a trading establishment which he had been forbidden to enter, declared in a rage that he would revenge himself for an injury so gross, and, “seeking some object to destroy, he encountered a sow and pigs, and appeased his rage by putting them all to death.” 2. The people of that same tribe believe that if a man who has been struck by lightning is not buried in the proper way, and in the place where he has been killed, his spirit will not rest in peace, but will walk about till another person is slain by lightning and laid beside him. 3. At the burial of a Loucheux Indian, the relatives sometimes will cut and lacerate their bodies, or, as sometimes happens, will, “in a fit of revenge against fate,” stab some poor, friendless person who may be sojourning among them. 4. The Navahoes, when jealous of their wives, are apt to wreak their spleen and ill-will upon the first person whom they chance to meet. 5. The Great Eskimo, as it is reported, once after a severe epidemic swore to kill all white people who might venture into their country. 6. The Australian father, whose little child happens to hurt itself, attacks his innocent neighbours, believing that he thus distributes the pain among them and consequently lessens the suffering of the child. 7. The Brazilian Tupis ate the vermin which molested them, for the sake of revenge; and if one of them struck his foot against a stone, he raged over it and bit it, whilst, if he were wounded with an arrow, he plucked it out and gnawed the shaft. 8. The Dacotahs avenge theft by stealing the property of the thief or of somebody else. 9. Among the Tshatrali (Pamir), if a man is robbed of his meat by a neighbour’s dog, he will, in a fit of rage, not only kill the offending dog, but will, in addition, kick his own. 10. In New Guinea the bearers of evil tidings sometimes get knocked on the head during the first outburst of indignation evoked by their news. 11. Some natives of Motu, who had rescued two shipwrecked crews and safely brought them to their home in Port Moresby, were attacked there by the very friends of those they had saved, the reason for this being that the Port Moresby people were angry at the loss of the canoes, and could not bear that the Motuans were happy while they themselves were in trouble. 12. Another story from New Guinea tells us of a man who killed some innocent persons, because he had been disappointed in his plans and deprived of valuable property. 13. Among the Maoris it sometimes happened that the friends of a murdered man killed the first man who came in their way, whether enemy or friend. 14. Among the same people, chiefs who had suffered some loss often used to rob their subjects of property in order to make good the damage. 15. If the son of a Maori is hurt, his maternal relatives, to whose tribe he is considered to belong, come to pillage his father’s house or village. 16. If a tree falls on a Kuki his fellows chop it up, and if one of that tribe kills himself by falling from a tree the tree from which he fell is promptly cut down. 17. In some parts of Daghestan, when the cause of a death is unknown, the relatives of the deceased declare some person chosen at random to have murdered him, and retaliate his death upon that person.

[17] Ibid. i. 318 sqq.

I have been obliged to enumerate all these cases for the reason that a theory cannot be satisfactorily refuted unless on its own ground. I may confess at once that I scarcely ever saw an hypothesis vindicated by the aid of more futile evidence. The cases 7 and 16 illustrate just the reverse of “undirected” revenge, and, when we take into consideration the animistic beliefs of savages, present little to astonish us. In case 17 the guilt is certainly imputed to somebody at random, but only when the culprit is unknown. Cases 1, 4, 10 and 12 and perhaps also 11, imply that revenge is taken upon an innocent party in a fit of passion; in cases 1 and 12 the offender himself cannot be got at, in case 10 the man who is knocked on the head appears for the moment as the immediate cause of the grief or indignation evoked, while case 11 exhibits envy combined with extreme ingratitude. In case 9 the anger is chiefly directed against the “guilty” dog, and against the “innocent” one evidently by an association of ideas. Cases 8 and 14 illustrate indemnification for loss of property, and in case 8 the thief himself is specifically mentioned first. In case 15 the revenging attack is made upon the property of those people among whom the child lives, and who may be considered responsible for the loss its maternal clan sustains by the injury. Case 6 merely shows the attempt of a superstitious father to lessen the suffering of his child. As regards case 5, Petitot, who has recorded it, says expressly that the white people were supposed to have caused the epidemic by displeasing the god Tornrark.[18] Case 2 points to a superstitious belief which is interesting enough in itself, but which, so far as I can see, is without any bearing whatever on the point we are discussing. Case 3 looks like a death-offering. The stabbing of an innocent person is mentioned in connection with, or rather as an alternative to, the self-laceration of the mourners, which last has probably a sacrificial character. Moreover, there is in this case no question of a culprit. In case 13, finally, the idea of sacrifice is very conspicuous. Dr. Steinmetz has borrowed his statement from Waitz, whose account is incomplete. Dieffenbach, the original authority, says that the custom in question was called by the Maori taua tapu, i.e., sacred fight, or taua toto, i.e., fight for blood. He describes it as follows:—“If blood has been shed, a party sally forth and kill the first person they fall in with, whether an enemy or belonging to their own tribe; even a brother is sacrificed. If they do not fall in with anybody, the tohunga (that is, the priest) pulls up some grass, throws it into a river, and repeats some incantation. After this ceremony, the killing of a bird, or any living thing that comes in their way, is regarded as sufficient, provided that blood is actually shed. All who participate in such an excursion are tapu, and are not allowed either to smoke or to eat anything but indigenous food.”[19] It seems probable that this ceremony was undertaken in order to appease the enraged spirit of the dead,[20] and at the same time it may have been intended to refresh the spirit with blood.[21] The question, however, is, Why was not his death avenged upon the actual culprit? To this Dr. Steinmetz would answer that the deceased was thought to be indiscriminate in his craving for vengeance.[22] But so far as the resentment of the dead is concerned, the “sacred fight” of the Maoris only seems to illustrate the impulsive character of anger. From Dieffenbach’s description of it, it is obvious that the friends of the slain man considered it to be a matter of paramount importance that blood should be shed immediately. If no human being came in their way, an animal was killed, but then an incantation was uttered beforehand. I presume that the reason for this was the terror which the supposed wrath of the dead man’s spirit struck into the living, combined perhaps with the idea that it was in immediate need of fresh blood. The Maoris considered all spirits of the dead to be maliciously inclined towards them,[23] and the ghost of a person who had died a violent death was certainly looked upon as especially dangerous. The craving for instantaneous shedding of blood is even more conspicuous in another case which may be appropriately mentioned in this connection. The Aetas of the Philippine Islands, we are told, “do not always wait for the death of the afflicted before they bury him. Immediately after the body has been deposited in the grave, it becomes necessary, according to their usages, that his death should be avenged. The hunters of the tribe go out with their lances and arrows to kill the first living creature they meet with, whether a man, a stag, a wild hog, or a buffalo.”[24] Dr. Steinmetz himself quotes some other instances from the same group of islands, in which, when a man dies, his nearest kinsmen go out to requite his death by the death of the first man who comes in their way.[25] It is worth noticing that the Philippine Islanders have the very worst opinion of their ghosts, and believe that these are particularly bloodthirsty soon after death.[26]

[18] Petitot, Les Grands Esqimaux, p. 207 sq.

[19] Dieffenbach, Travels in New Zealand, ii. 127.

[20] Cf. ibid. ii. 129.

[21] The latter object is suggested by some funeral ceremonies which will be noticed in a following chapter. Among the Dyaks, “a father who lost his child would go out and kill the first man he met, as a funeral ceremony,” believing that he thus provided the deceased with a slave to accompany him to the habitation of souls (Tylor, Primitive Culture, i. 459). Among the Garos, it was formerly the practice, “whenever the death of a great man amongst them occurred, to send out a party of assassins to murder and bring back the head of the first Bengali they met. The victims so immolated would, it was supposed, be acceptable to their gods” (Dalton, Descriptive Ethnology of Bengal, p. 68).

[22] Cf. Steinmetz, op. cit. i. 343.

[23] Taylor, Te Ika a Maui, p. 221.

[24] Earl, Papuans, p. 132.

[25] Steinmetz, op. cit. i. 335 sq.

[26] Blumentritt, ‘Der Ahnencultus der Malaien des Philippinen-Archipels’ in Mittheilungen der Geogr. Gesellsch. in Wien, xxv. 166 sqq. De Mas, Informe sobre el estado de las Islas filipinas en 1842, Orijen, &c. p. 15.

Dr. Steinmetz also refers to some statements according to which, among certain Australian tribes, the relatives of a person who dies avenge his death by killing an innocent man.[27] But in these cases the avenged death, though “natural” according to our terminology, is, in the belief of the savages, caused by sorcery, and the revenge is not so indiscriminate as Dr. Steinmetz seems to assume. Among the Wellington tribe, as appears from a statement which he quotes himself, it is the sorcerer’s life that must be taken for satisfaction.[28] In New South Wales, after the dead man has been interrogated as to the cause of his death, his kinsmen are resolute in taking vengeance, if they “imagine that they have got sure indications of the perpetrator of the wrong.”[29] Among the Central Australian natives, “not infrequently the dying man will whisper in the ear of a Railtchawa, or medicine man, the name of the man whose magic is killing him,” and if this be not done, “there is no difficulty, by some other method, of fixing sooner or later on the guilty party”; but only after the culprit has been revealed by the medicine man is it decided by a council of the old men whether an avenging party is to be arranged or not.[30] Among the aborigines of West Australia, the survivors are “pretty busy in seeking out” the sorcerer who is supposed to have caused the death of their friend.[31]

[27] Steinmetz, op. cit. i. 337 sq.

[28] Hale, U.S. Exploring Expedition Vol. VI.—Ethnography and Philology, p. 115; quoted by Steinmetz, op. cit. i. 337.

[29] Fraser, Aborigines of New South Wales, p. 86.

[30] Spencer and Gillen, Native Tribes of Central Australia, p. 476 sq.

[31] Calvert, Aborigines of Western Australia, p. 20 sq.

To sum up: all the facts which Dr. Steinmetz has adduced as evidence for his hypothesis of an original stage of “undirected” revenge only show that, under certain circumstances, either in a fit of passion, or when the actual offender is unknown or out of reach, revenge may be taken on an innocent being, wholly unconnected with the inflicter of the injury which it is sought to revenge. There is such an intimate connection between the experience of injury and the hostile reaction by which the injured individual gives vent to his passion, that the reaction does not fail to appear even when it misses its aim. Anger, as Seneca said, “does not rage merely against its object, but against every obstacle which it encounters on its way.”[32] Many infants, when angry and powerless to hurt others, “strike their heads against doors, posts, walls of houses, and sometimes on the floor.”[33] Well known are the “amucks” of the Malays, in which “the desperado assails indiscriminately friend and foe,” and, with dishevelled hair and frantic look, murders or wounds all whom he meets without distinction.[34] But all this is not revenge; it is sudden anger or blind rage. Nor is it revenge in the true sense of the word if a person who has been humiliated by his superior retaliates on those under him. It is only the outburst of a wounded “self-feeling,” which, when not directed against its proper object, can afford no adequate consolation to a revengeful man.

[32] Seneca, De ira, iii. 1.

[33] Stanley Hall, ‘A Study of Anger,’ in American Jour. of Psychology, x. 554.

[34] Crawfurd, History of the Indian Archipelago, i. 67. Cf. Ellis, ‘The Amok of the Malays,’ in Jour. of Mental Science, xxxix. 325 sqq. In the Andaman Islands, it is not uncommon for a man “to vent his ill-temper, or show his resentment at any act, by destroying his own property as well as that of his neighbours” (Man, ‘Aboriginal Inhabitants of the Andaman Islands,’ in Jour. Anthr. Inst. xii. 111). Among the Kar Nicobarese, when a quarrel takes place, in serious cases, a man will probably burn his own house down (Kloss, In the Andamans and Nicobars, p. 310). But in these instances it is not certain whether the offended party destroys his own property in blind rage, or with some definite object in view.

In the institution of the blood-feud some sort of collective responsibility is usually involved.[35] If the offender is of another family than his victim, some of his relatives may have to expiate his deed.[36] If he belongs to another clan, the whole clan may be held responsible for it.[37] And if he is a member of another tribe, the vengeance may be wreaked upon his fellow-tribesmen indiscriminately.[38]

[35] Cf. Post, Anfänge des Staats- und Rechtsleben, p. 180; Rée, op. cit. p. 49 sq.; Steinmetz, op. cit. i. ch. vi.

[36] Besides the authorities quoted infra, see Leuschner, in Steinmetz, Rechtsverhältnisse von eingeborenen Völkern in Afrika und Ozeanien, (Bakwiri); ibid. p. 49 (Banaka and Bapuku); Rautanen, ibid. p. 341 (Ondonga); Walter, ibid. p. 390 (natives of Nossi-Bé and Mayotte, near Madagascar); von Langsdorf, Voyages and Travels, i. 132 (Nukahivans); Forbes, A Naturalist’s Wanderings in the Eastern Archipelago, p. 473 (Timorese); Foreman, Philippine Islands, p. 213 (Igorrotes of Luzon); Kovalewsky, in Jour. Anthr. Inst. xxv. 113 (people of Daghestan); Idem, Coutume contemporaine et loi ancienne, p. 248 sq. (Ossetes); Merzbacher, Aus den Hochregionen des Kaukasus, ii. 51 (Khevsurs).

[37] Bridges, in A Voice for South America, xiii. 207 (Fuegians). Dorsey, ‘Omaha Sociology,’ in Ann. Rep. Bur. Ethn. iii. 369. Ridley, in Jour. Anthr. Inst. ii. 268 (Kamilaroi in Australia). Godwin-Austen, ibid. ii. 394 (Garo Hill tribes).

[38] von Martins, Beiträge zur Ethnographie Amerika’s, i. 127 sqq. (Brazilian Indians). Crawfurd, op. cit. iii. 124 (natives of Celebes). Kohler, in Zeitschr. f. vgl. Rechtswiss. vii. 383 (Goajiros of Columbia). Ibid. vii. 376 (Papuans of New Guinea). Curr, The Australian Race, i. 70. Scaramucci and Giglioli, ‘Notizie sui Danakil,’ in Archivio per l’antropologia e la etnologia, xiv. 39. Leuschner, in Steinmetz, Rechtsverhältnisse, p. 23 (Bakwiri). Ibid. p. 49 (Banaka and Bapuku).

“Among the Fuegians,” says Mr. Bridges, “etiquette and custom require that all the relatives of a murdered person should … visit their displeasure upon every connection of the manslayers, each personally.” The avengers of blood would by no means be satisfied with a party of natives if they should actually deliver up into their hands a manslayer, or kill him themselves, “but would yet exact from all the murderer’s friends tribute or infliction of injuries with sticks or stones.”[39] Among the Indians of British Columbia and Vancouver Island, “grudges are handed down from father to son for generations, and friendly relations are never free from the risk of being interrupted.”[40] Among the Greenlanders, the revenge for a murder generally “costs the executioner himself, his children, cousins, or other relatives their lives; or if these are inaccessible, some other acquaintance in the neighbourhood.”[41] Among the Maoris, blood-revenge might be taken on any relative of the homicide, “no matter how distant.”[42] In Tana, revenge “is often sought in the death of the brother, or some other near relative of the culprit.”[43] Among the Kabyles, “la vengeance peut porter sur chacun des membres de la famille du meurtrier, quel qu’il soit.”[44] The Bedouins, according to Burckhardt, “claim the blood not only from the actual homicide, but from all his relations; and it is these claims that constitute the right of thár, or the blood-revenge.”[45] Among the people of Ibrim, in Nubia, on the other hand, the same traveller observes, “it is not considered as sufficient to retaliate upon any person within the fifth degree of consanguinity, as among the Bedouins of Arabia; only the brother, son, or first cousin can supply the place of the murderer.”[46] Traces of collective responsibility in connection with blood-revenge are found among the Hebrews.[47] It has prevailed, or still prevails, among the Japanese[48] and Coreans,[49] the Persians[50] and Hindus,[51] the ancient Greeks[52] and Teutons.[53] It was a rule among the Welsh[54] and the Scotch in former days,[55] and is so still in Corsica,[56] Albania,[57] and among some of the Southern Slavs.[58] In Montenegro, if a homicide who cannot be caught himself has no relatives, revenge is sometimes taken on some inhabitant of the village or district to which he belongs, or even on a person who only is of the same religion and nationality as the murderer.[59] In Albania, under similar circumstances, the victim may be a person who has had nothing else to do with the offender than that he has perhaps once been speaking to him.[60]

[39] Bridges, in South American Missionary Magazine, xiii. 151 sqq.

[40] Macfie, Vancouver Island and British Columbia, p. 470.

[41] Cranz, History of Greenland, i. 178.

[42] Shortland, Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders, p. 213 sq. Cf. ibid. p. 218 sq.

[43] Turner, Samoa, p. 317.

[44] Hanoteau and Letourneux, La Kabylie, iii. 61.

[45] Burckhardt, Notes on the Bedouins and Wahábys, p. 85. See, also, Layard, Discoveries in the Ruins of Nineveh and Babylon, p. 306; Lane, Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians, i. 133.

[46] Burckhardt, Travels in Nubia, p. 128.

[47] 2 Samuel, xiv. 7. Cf. ibid. xxi.

[48] Dautremer, ‘The Vendetta or Legal Revenge in Japan,’ in Trans. Asiatic Soc. Japan, xiii. 84.

[49] Griffis, Corea, p. 227.

[50] Spiegel, Erânische Alterthumskunde, iii. 687. Polak, Persien, ii. 96.

[51] Dubois, Description of the Character, Manners, and Customs of the People of India, p. 195.

[52] Leist, Alt-arisches Jus Gentium, p. 424.

[53] Gotlands-Lagen, 13.

[54] Walter, Das alte Wales, p. 138.

[55] Mackintosh, History of Civilisation in Scotland, ii. 279.

[56] Gregorovius, Wanderings in Corsica, i. 179.

[57] Gopčević, Oberalbanien und seine Liga, p. 324 sqq.

[58] Miklosich, ‘Die Blutrache bei den Slaven,’ in Denkschriften der kaiserl. Akademie d. Wissensch. Philos.-histor. Classe, Vienna, xxxvi. 131, 146 sq. Krauss, Sitte und Brauch der Südslaven, p. 39.

[59] Lago, Memorie sulla Dalmazia, ii. 90.

[60] Gopčević, op. cit. p. 325.

There is no difficulty in explaining these facts. The following statement made by Mr. Romilly with reference to the Solomon Islanders has, undoubtedly, a much wider application:—“In the cases which call for punishment, the difficulties in the way of capturing the actual culprits are greater than any one, who has not been engaged in this disagreeable work, can imagine.”[61] Though it may happen that a manslayer is abandoned by his own people,[62] the system of blood-revenge more often seems to imply, not only that all the members of a group are engaged, more or less effectually, in the act of revenge, but that they mutually protect each other against the avengers. A homicide frequently provokes a war,[63] in which family stands against family, clan against clan, or tribe against tribe. In such cases the whole group take upon themselves the deed of the perpetrator, and any of his fellows, because standing up for him, becomes a proper object of revenge. The guilt extends itself, as it were, in the eyes of the offended party. So, also, any person who lives on friendly terms with the offender, or is supposed to sympathise with him, is liable to arouse a feeling of resentment, and may consequently, in extreme cases, have to expiate his crime. Moreover, because of the close relationship which exists between the members of the same group, the actual culprit will be mortified by any successful attack that the avengers make on his people, and, if he be dead, its painful and humiliating effects may still be supposed to reach his spirit. “When the offender himself is beyond the reach of direct attack,” says Mr. Wilkins, “it is not beneath a Bengali’s view to try to wound him through his children or other members of his family.”[64] Among the South Slavonians, in a similar case, the avengers of blood first attempt to kill the father, brother, or grown-up son of the murderer, “so as to inflict upon him a very heavy and painful loss”; and only when this has been tried in vain, are more distant relatives attacked.[65] The Bedouins of the Euphrates even prefer killing the chief man among the murderer’s relations within the second degree to taking his own life, on the principle, “You have killed my cousin, I will kill yours.”[66] And the Californian Nishinam “consider that the keenest and most bitter revenge which a man can take is, not to slay the murderer himself, but his dearest friend.”[67] In these instances vengeance is exacted with reference rather to the loss suffered by the survivors than to the injury committed against the murdered man, the culprit being subjected to a deprivation similar to that which he has inflicted himself. So, also, among the Marea, if a commoner is slain by a nobleman, his death is not avenged directly on the slayer, but on some commoner who is subservient to him.[68] If, again, among the Quianganes of Luzon, a noble is killed by a plebeian, another nobleman, of the kin of the murderer, must be killed, while the murderer himself is ignored.[69] If, among the Igorrotes, a man slays a woman of another house, her nearest kinsman endeavours to slay a woman belonging to the household of the homicide, but to the guilty man himself he does nothing.[70] In all these cases the culprit is not lost sight of; vengeance is invariably wreaked upon somebody connected with him. But any consideration of guilt or innocence is overshadowed by the blind subordination to that powerful rule which requires strict equivalence between injury and punishment—an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth—and which, when strained to the utmost, cannot allow the life of a man to be sacrificed for that of a woman, or the life of a nobleman to be sacrificed for that of a commoner, or the life of a commoner to expiate the death of a noble. This rule, as we shall see later on, is not suggested by revenge itself, but is due to the influence of other factors which intermingle with this feeling, and help, with it, to determine the action.

[61] Romilly, Western Pacific and New Guinea, p. 81. Cf. Friedrichs, ‘Mensch und Person,’ in Das Ausland, 1891, p. 299.

[62] See, e.g., Scott Robertson, The Káfirs of the Hindu-Kush, p. 440.

[63] Dr. Post’s statement (Die Geschlechtsgenossenschaft der Urzeit, p. 156) that the blood-revenge “characterisirt sich … ganz und gar als ein Privatkrieg zwischen zwei Geschlechtsgenossenschaften,” however, is not quite correct in this unqualified form, as may be seen, e.g., from von Martius’s description of the blood-revenge of the Brazilian Indians, op. cit. i. 127 sqq.

[64] Wilkins, Modern Hinduism, p. 411.

[65] Krauss, op. cit. p. 39.

[66] Blunt, Bedouin Tribes of the Euphrates, ii. 206 sq.

[67] Powers, Tribes of California, p. 320.

[68] Munzinger, Ostafrikanische Studien, p. 243.

[69] Blumentritt, quoted by Spencer, Principles of Ethics, i. 370 sq.

[70] Jagor, Travels in the Philippines, p. 213.

Nevertheless, the strong tendency to discrimination which characterises resentment, is not wholly lost even behind the veil of common responsibility. Mr. Howitt has come to the conclusion that, among the Australian Kurnai, if a homicide has been committed by an alien tribe, the feud “cannot be satisfied but by the death of the offender,” although it is carried on, not against him alone, but against the whole group of which he is a member.[71] It is only “if they fail to secure the guilty person” that the natives of Western Victoria consider it their duty to kill one of his nearest relatives.[72] Concerning the West Australian aborigines, Sir George Grey observes, “The first great principle with regard to punishments is, that all the relations of a culprit, in the event of his not being found, are implicated in his guilt; if, therefore, the principal cannot be caught, his brother or father will answer nearly as well, and failing these, any other male or female relative, who may fall into the hands of the avenging party.”[73] Among the Papuans of the Tami Islands, revenge may be taken on some other member of the murderer’s family only if it is absolutely impossible to catch the guilty person himself.[74] That the blood-revenge is in the first place directed against the malefactor, and against some relative of his only if he cannot be found out, is expressly stated with reference to various peoples in different parts of the world;[75] and it is probable that much more to the same effect might have been discovered, if the observers of savage life had paid more attention to this particular aspect of the matter. Among the Fuegians, the most serious riots take place when a manslayer, whom some one wishes to punish, takes refuge with his relations or friends.[76] Von Martius remarks of the Brazilian Indians in general that, even when an intertribal war ensues from the committing of homicide, the nearest relations of the killed person endeavour, if possible, to destroy the culprit himself and his family.[77] With reference to the Creek Indians, Mr. Hawkins says that though, if a murderer flies and cannot be caught, they will take revenge upon some innocent individual belonging to his family, they are “generally earnest of themselves, in their endeavours to put the guilty to death.”[78] The same is decidedly the case in those parts of Morocco where the blood-feud still prevails.

[71] Fison and Howitt, Kamilaroi and Kurnai, p. 221.

[72] Dawson, Australian Aborigines, p. 71.

[73] Grey, Journals of Expeditions, ii. 239.

[74] Bamler, quoted by Kohler, in Zeitschr. f. vergl. Rechtswiss. xiv. 380.

[75] Riedel, De sluik- en kroesharige rassen tusschen Selebes en Papua, p. 434 (natives of Wetter). Chalmers, Pioneering in New Guinea, p. 179. Kohler, in Zeitschr. f. vergl. Rechtswiss. xiv. 446 (some Marshall Islanders). Merker, quoted by Kohler, ibid. xv. 53 sq. (Wadshagga). Brett, Indian Tribes of Guiana, p. 357. Bernau, Missionary Labours in British Guiana, p. 57. Dall, Alaska, p. 416. Boas, ‘The Central Eskimo,’ in Ann. Rep. Bur. Ethn. vi. 582. Jacob, Leben der vorislâmischen Beduinen, p. 144. Kovalewsky, Coutume contemporaine, p. 248 (Ossetes). Popović, Recht und Gericht in Montenegro, p. 69; Lago, op. cit. ii. 90 (Montenegrines). Miklosich, loc. cit. p. 131 (Slavs). Wilda, Strafrecht der Germanen, p. 173 sq. (ancient Teutons).

[76] Hyades and Deniker, Mission scientifique du Cap Horn, vii. 375.

[77] von Martius, op. cit. i. 128.

[78] Hawkins, in Trans. American Ethn. Soc. iii. 67.

Not only has Dr. Steinmetz failed to prove his hypothesis that revenge was originally “undirected,” but this hypothesis is quite opposed to all the most probable ideas we can form with regard to the revenge of early man. For my own part I am convinced that we may obtain a good deal of knowledge about the primitive condition of the human race, but not by studying modern savages only. I have dealt with this question at some length in another place,[79] and wish now merely to point out that those general physical and psychical qualities which are not only common to all races of mankind, but which are shared by them with the animals most allied to man, may be assumed to have been present also in the earlier stages of human development. Now, concerning revenge among animals, more especially among monkeys, many anecdotes have been told by trustworthy authorities, and in every case the revenge has been clearly directed against the offender.

[79] History of Human Marriage, p. 3 sqq.

On the authority of a zoologist “whose scrupulous accuracy was known to many persons,” Darwin relates the following story:—“At the Cape of Good Hope an officer had often plagued a certain baboon, and the animal, seeing him approaching one Sunday for parade, poured water into a hole and hastily made some thick mud, which he skilfully dashed over the officer as he passed by, to the amusement of many bystanders. For long afterwards the baboon rejoiced and triumphed whenever he saw his victim.”[80] Prof. Romanes considers this to be a good instance of “what may be called brooding resentment deliberately preparing a satisfactory revenge.”[81] This, I think, is to put into the statement somewhat more than it really contains; but at all events it records a case of revenge, in the sense in which Dr. Steinmetz uses the word. The same may be said of other instances mentioned by so accurate observers as Brehm and Rengger in their descriptions of African and American monkeys, and of various examples of resentment in elephants and even in camels.[82] According to Palgrave, the camel possesses the passion of revenge, and in carrying it out “shows an unexpected degree of far-thoughted malice, united meanwhile with all the cold stupidity of his usual character.” The following instance, which occurred in a small Arabian town, deserves to be quoted, since it seems to have escaped the notice of the students of animal psychology. “A lad of about fourteen had conducted a large camel, laden with wood, from that very village to another at half an hour’s distance or so. As the animal loitered or turned out of the way, its conductor struck it repeatedly, and harder than it seems to have thought he had a right to do. But not finding the occasion favourable for taking immediate quits, it ‘bode its time’; nor was that time long in coming. A few days later the same lad had to re-conduct the beast, but unladen, to his own village. When they were about half way on the road, and at some distance from any habitation, the camel suddenly stopped, looked deliberately round in every direction, to assure itself that no one was within sight, and, finding the road far and near clear of passers-by, made a step forward, seized the unlucky boy’s head in its monstrous mouth, and lifting him up in the air flung him down again on the earth with the upper part of his skull completely torn off, and his brains scattered on the ground.”[83] We are also told that elephants, though very sensitive to insults, are never provoked, even under the most painful or distracting circumstances, to hurt those from whom they have received no harm.[84] Sometimes animals show a remarkable degree of discrimination in finding out the proper object for their resentment. It is hardly surprising to read that a baboon, which was molested in its cage with a stick, tried to seize, not the stick, but the hand of its tormentor.[85] More interesting is the “revenge” which an elephant at Versailles inflicted upon a certain artist who had employed his servant to tease the animal by making a feint of throwing apples into its mouth:—“This conduct enraged the elephant; and, as if it knew that the painter was the cause of this teasing impertinence, instead of attacking the servant, it eyed the master, and squirted at him from its trunk such a quantity of water as spoiled the paper on which he was drawing.”[86]

[80] Darwin, Descent of Man, p. 69.

[81] Romanes, Animal Intelligence, p. 478.

[82] Brehm, Thierleben, i. 156. Idem, From North Pole to Equator, p. 305. Rengger (Naturgeschichte der Säugethiere von Paraguay, p. 52) gives the following information about the Cay:—“Fürchtet er … seinen Gegner, so nimmt er seine Zuflucht zur Verstellung, und sucht sich erst dann an ihm zu rächen, wenn er ihn unvermuthet überfallen kann. So hatte ich einen Cay, welcher mehrere Personen die ihn oft auf eine grobe Art geneckt hatten, in einem Augenblicke lass, wo sie im besten Vernehmen mit ihm zu sein glaubten. Nach verübter That kletterte er schnell auf einen hohen Balken, wo man ihm nicht beikommen konnte, und grinste schadenfroh den Gegenstand seiner Rache an.” See, moreover, Watson, The Reasoning Power in Animals, especially pp. 20, 21, 24, 156 sq.; Romanes, op. cit. p. 387 sqq.; but also Morgan, Animal Life and Intelligence, p. 401 sq.

[83] Palgrave, Narrative of a Year’s Journey through Central and Eastern Arabia, i. 40.

[84] Watson, op. cit. p. 26 sq.

[85] Aas, Sjaeleliv og intelligens hos Dyr, i. 72.

[86] Smellie, Philosophy of Natural History, i. 448.

I find it inconceivable that anybody, in the face of such facts, could still believe that the revenge of early man was at first essentially indiscriminating, and became gradually discriminating from considerations of social expediency. But by this I certainly do not mean to deny that violation of the “self-feeling” is an extremely common and powerful incentive to resentment. It is so among savage[87] and civilised men alike; even dogs and monkeys get angry when laughed at. Nothing more easily rouses in us anger and a desire for retaliation, nothing is more difficult to forgive, than an act which indicates contempt, or disregard of our feelings. Long after the bodily pain of a blow has ceased, the mental suffering caused by the insult remains and calls for vengeance. This is an old truth often told. According to Seneca, “the greater part of the things which enrage us are insults, not injuries.”[88] Plutarch observes that, though different persons fall into anger for different reasons, yet in nearly all of them is to be found the idea of their being despised or neglected.[89] “Contempt,” says Bacon, “is that which putteth an edge upon anger, as much, or more, than the hurt itself.”[90] But, indeed, there is no need to resort to different principles in order to explain the resentment excited by different kinds of pain. In all cases revenge implies, primordially and essentially, a desire to cause pain or destruction in return for hurt suffered, whether the hurt be bodily or mental; and, if to this impulse is added a desire to enhance the wounded “self-feeling,” that does not interfere with the true nature of the primary feeling of revenge. There are genuine specimens of resentment without the co-operation of self-regarding pride;[91] and, on the other hand, the reaction of the wounded “self-feeling” is not necessarily, in the first place, concerned with the infliction of pain. If a person has written a bad book which is severely criticised, he may desire to repair his reputation by writing a better book, not by humiliating his critics; and if he attempts the latter rather than the former, he does so, not merely in order to enhance his “self-feeling,” but because he is driven on by revenge. Dr. Boas tells us that the British Columbia Indian, when his feelings are hurt, sits down or lies down sullenly for days without partaking of food, and that, “when he rises his first thought is, not how to take revenge, but to show that he is superior to his adversary.[92]