Chapter VIII

., a pregnant tenet of the Schoolmen. Everything in the world works according to the unchangeable constitution of which its being, its =essentia= is composed. And man is no exception. As the individual is, so will he, so must he, act: and the _liberum arbitrium indifferentiae_ (free and indifferent choice) is an invention of philosophy in her childhood, long since exploded; although there are some old women, in doctor's academicals, who still like to drag it about with them.

The three fundamental springs of human action--Egoism, Malice, Compassion--are inherent in every one in different and strangely unequal proportions. Their combination in any given case determines the weight of the motives that present themselves, and shapes the resulting line of conduct. To an egoistic character egoistic motives alone appeal, and those, which suggest either compassion or malice, have no appreciable effect. Thus, a man of this type will sacrifice his interests as little to take vengeance on his foes, as to help his friends. Another, whose nature is highly susceptible to malicious motives, will not shrink from doing great harm to himself, so only he may injure his neighbour. For there are characters which take such delight in working mischief on others, that they forget their own loss, which is perhaps, equal to what they inflict. One may say of such: _Dum alteri noceat sui negligens_[11] (disregarding himself so long as he injures the other). These are the people that plunge with passionate joy into the battle in which they expect to receive quite as many wounds as they deal; indeed, experience not seldom testifies that they are ready deliberately, first to kill the man who thwarts their purposes, and then themselves, in order to escape the penalty of the law. On the other hand, =goodness of heart= consists of a deeply felt, all-embracing Compassion for everything that has breath, and especially for man; because, in proportion as the intelligence develops, capacity for pain increases; and hence, the countless sufferings of human beings, in mind and body, have a much stronger claim to Compassion than those of animals, which are only physical, and in any case less acute. This goodness of heart, therefore, in the first place restrains a man from doing any sort of harm to others, and, next, it bids him give succour whenever and wherever he sees distress. And the path of Compassion may lead as far in one direction as Malice does in the other. Certain rare characters of fine sensibility take to heart the calamities of others more than their own, so that they make sacrifices, which, it may be, entail on themselves a greater amount of suffering than that removed from those they benefit. Nay, in cases where several, or, perhaps, a large number of persons, at one time, can be helped in this way, such men do not, if need be, flinch from absolute self-effacement. Arnold von Winkelried was one of these. So was Paulinus, Bishop of Nola, in the fifth century, when the Vandals crossed over from Africa and invaded Italy. Of him we read in Johann von Müller's _Weltgeschichte_ (Bk. X., chap. 10) that "in order to ransom some of the prisoners, he had already disposed of all the church plate, his own and his friends' private property. Then, on seeing the anguish of a widow, whose only son was being carried off, he offered himself for servitude in the other's stead. For whoever was of suitable age, and had not fallen by the sword, was taken captive to Carthage."

There is, then, an enormous difference between character and character. Being original and innate, it measures the responsiveness of the individual to this or that motive, and those alone, to which he is specially sensitive, will appeal to him with anything like compelling force. As in chemistry, with unchangeable certainty, one substance reacts only upon acids, another only upon alkalies, so, with equal invariableness, different natures respond to different stimuli. The motives suggesting loving-kindness, which stir so deeply a good disposition, can, of themselves, effect nothing in a heart that listens only to the promptings of Egoism. If it be wished to induce the egoist to act with beneficence and humanity, this can be done but in one way: he must be made to believe that the assuaging of others' suffering will, somehow or other, surely turn out to his =own advantage=. What, indeed, are most moral systems but attempts of different kinds in this direction? But such procedure only misleads, does not better, the will. To make a real improvement, it would be necessary to transform the entire nature of the individual's susceptibility for motives. Thus, from one we should have to remove his indifference to the suffering of others as such; from another, the delight which he feels in causing pain; from a third, the natural tendency which makes him regard the smallest increase of his own well-being as so far outweighing all other motives, that the latter become as dust in the balance. Only it is far easier to change lead into gold than to accomplish such a task. For it means the turning round, so to say, of a man's heart in his body, the remoulding of his very being. In point of fact, all that can be done is to clear the =intellect=, correct the =judgment=, and so bring him to a better comprehension of the objective realities and actual relations of life. This effected, the only result gained is that his will reveals itself more logically, distinctly, and decidedly, with no false ring in its utterance. It should be noted that just as many a good act rests at bottom on false motives, on well-meant, yet illusory representations of an advantage to be obtained thereby in this, or another, world; so not a few misdeeds are due solely to an imperfect understanding of the conditions of human life. It is on this latter truth that the American penitentiary system is based. Here the aim is not, to improve the =heart=, but simply, to educate the =head= of the criminal, so that he may intellectually come to perceive that prosperity is more surely, indeed more easily, reached by work and honesty than by idleness and knavery.

By the proper presentment of motives =legality= may be secured, but not =morality=. It is possible to remodel what one does, but not what one =wills to do=; and it is to the will alone that real moral worth belongs. It is not possible to change the goal which the will strives after, but only the path expected to lead thither. Instruction may alter the selection of means, but not the choice of the ultimate object which the individual keeps before him in all he does; this is determined by his will in accordance with its original nature. It is true that the egoist may be brought to understand that, if he gives up certain small advantages, he will gain greater; and the malicious man may be taught that by injuring others he will injure himself still more. But Egoism itself, and Malice itself, will never be argued out of a person; as little as a cat can be talked out of her inclination for mice. Similarly with goodness of heart. If the judgment be trained, if the relations and conditions of life become understood, in a word, if the intellect be enlightened; the character dominated by loving-kindness will be led to express itself more consistently and completely than it otherwise could. This happens when we perceive the remoter consequences which our conduct has for others: the sufferings, perhaps, that overtake them indirectly, and only after lapse of time, through one act or another of ours, which we had no idea was so harmful. It occurs, too, when we come to discern the evil results of many a well-meant action, as, for instance, the screening of a criminal; and it is especially true when we realise that the _Neminem laede_ (injure no one) has in all cases precedence over the _Omnes juva_ (help all men). In this sense there is undoubtedly such a thing as a moral education, an ethical training capable of making men better. But it goes only as far as I have indicated, and its limits are quickly discovered. The head is filled with the light of knowledge; the heart remains unimproved. The fundamental and determining element, in things moral, no less than in things intellectual, and things physical, is that which is inborn. Art is always subordinate, and can only lend a helping hand. Each man is, what he is, as it were, "by the grace of God," _jure divino, θείᾳ, μοίρᾳ_, (by divine dispensation).

_Du bist am Ende--WAS DU BIST._ _Setz' dir Perrücken auf von Millionen Locken,_ _Setz' deinen Fuss auf ellenhohe Socken:_ _DU BLEIBST DOCH IMMER WAS DU BIST._[12]

But the reader, I am sure, has long been wishing to put the question: Where, then, does blame and merit come in? The answer is fully contained in Part IL,