Butler

Attempts to account for the supremacy of conscience. and Mackintosh, with other writers upon the theory of ethics, have been much exercised in the attempt to find a basis for the supremacy of conscience, or a reason for the despotic authority which it claims over the other principles and motives of our nature. They thought it necessary to justify the overruling and despotic influence, which the moral faculty claims over the whole man, but does not always succeed in enforcing, since the lower propensities often exceed it in strength. I have an impulse, it is true, to be just to my fellow man; but I have also an impulse to gratify my anger, to pamper my appetites, to secure the means of selfish enjoyment, and even to assist the unfortunate with the property which happens to be in my hands, though it really belongs to another. These two impulses often clash, and the latter, which is rightfully the inferior one, frequently gets the upperhand. Why, then, do I believe that it is rightfully inferior, or why do I feel compunction after it has triumphed? If the sentiment of duty comes in conflict with a feeling so powerful as self-love, or so amiable as benevolence, though I have a distinct consciousness that the former ought to prevail, it is well to see if there are any good grounds for this assumed superiority, and thus to fortify the demands of conscience by satisfying the reason.

Sir James Mackintosh thought that he had found a basis for this claim of supreme authority in the fact, that conscience acts directly upon the inner man, having its throne within the soul, while all the other impulses and desires point to outward objects. The sense of duty governs the motives, intentions, and dispositions of men. Hence it is universal, or it regulates the whole conduct and character; while the objects of the other propensities are particular, as well as external. If I yield to anger, for instance, while all my other passions and appetites are restrained by the law of conscience, the act of resentment is perceived to violate the harmony of the system; it is an act of disorder, which will be recognized as such when the temporary excitement subsides. Again, the objects of the passions and desires being external, I must use means for their gratification. I may not

be able to gratify my appetite, because I cannot find the means of doing so. But I can always satisfy my conscience, because here no means are needed; the will, the intention, is enough; duty asks nothing more. The failure of the intention may cause sorrow, but cannot produce remorse. Hence, conscience is independent, or sufficient unto itself; while the gratification of every other impulse depends on outward circumstances. Passion often defeats itself; the desires remain unsatisfied; appetite cannot obtain its appropriate food; self-love not infrequently brings its own punishment. But the sense of duty never fails, and yielding to it is at once success and enjoyment. Futility of these attempts.· These suggestions of an accomplished moralist, though they illustrate the general subject, do not seem to me to throw much light upon the particular inquiry in which we are now engaged. It is true, that conscience is universal and independent, as well as supreme; but it does not appear very clearly how the latter attribute is a consequence of the two former ones. Though I am independent, it does not follow that I am entitled to command; though not subject to control, I may not be permitted to exercise it. Moreover, prudence, or an enlightened self-love, seems to have quite as wide a domain as the moral sense; it also is universal, for it often assumes to regulate the whole conduct and character, with a view only to the individual's own future happiness. Yet no one thinks of saying that it is supreme. I need not dwell upon attempts less ingenious and plausible than that of Mackintosh to solve this problem, since all occasion for them disappears when we come to examine the subject more closely.

The supremacy of conscience an ultimate fact. — A full analysis of our moral perceptions will show, if I mistake not, that the supremacy of conscience is an ultimate fact, and that we cannot go behind it, or give a reason for it, without reasoning in a circle, or virtually denying the very point we attempt to prove. To ask why I ought to obey the law of right, is, in truth, to suppose that there is some obligation of greater moment than the sense of duty, some consideration which needs to be alleged in its support, and thus to take for granted that it is not supreme.

We might as well ask a reason for our belief that every event must have a cause.

Moral taste explained. Certain motives and actions are made known to me, and recognized by conscience, as good and right. I may simply contemplate them with complacency and approbation, just as I am gratified with the view of a beautiful landscape, or struck with awe at the sight of the starry heavens. A kind of moral taste is thus formed, which is productive of as much enjoyment, when properly cultivated, as our sensibility to the other emotions of taste, or our capacity of receiving pleasure through the senses. Though I were incapable of action myself, and therefore should never have occasion to apply the epithets to my own conduct, I should still derive pleasure from awarding them to others, and from reflecting on their deeds which merit to be so distinguished. We see an obvious illustration of this fact in the pleasure that we derive from fictitious representations of life, which call all our moral sentiments into play, though we are perfectly conscious at the time, that the incidents are imaginary. In reading a novel, or seeing a theatrical performance, we are pained and disappointed, if the rules of ❝ poetical justice," as it is termed, are not observed. It is a noble characteristic of the taste and conscience of man, that they require in art a closer adherence to the principles of the beautiful, the just, and the right, than we can reasonably expect to be exemplified in nature and life. The beau-ideal is not found in the world; poetical justice is confessedly unreal; it does not follow merit and demerit in this stage of existence. But the restraint of circumstances is not felt in the province of invention; and where man is the creator, he becomes responsible for the whole work. He is bound to "submit the shows of things to the desires of the mind." If he cannot embody in his work that perfect beauty and absolute right, of which we dream, and to which we are constantly reaching forward, he is under an obligation, at least, not to allow the virtuous to go finally unrewarded, nor the wicked to triumph.

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But we shall have a

Moral taste shown to be insufficient. most imperfect view of the action of the moral faculty, if we

stop here. This merely intellectual view of right and wrong, this cool survey of motives and conduct in their ethical aspect, this feast of the moral sensibilities at the table of fiction, will be almost as profitless in its consequences, as it is meagre and unsatisfactory in point of scientific truth. We must go back to the origin of these distinctions, to the primal revelations of conscience, and see where it is that the ideas of moral good and evil have their birth. What is most peculiar and original in the action of this faculty, and from which, indeed, all the other moral facts of our nature are but inferences and generalizations, is the impulse of duty, or the feeling of moral obligation. bound to act with justice and benevolence; I ought to do right and to follow after truth. This sense of obligation, this recognition of an absolute and rightful command, having reference only to conduct, is what we call conscience, in its simplest and primitive meaning. [The words right and wrong have no significance, except as convenient appellations afterwards given by the intellect to those deeds which I am thus bound to perform or abstain from. Merit and demerit signify only the feelings which arise in my mind according as this command has been obeyed or violated. We cannot analyze this feeling or idea of duty, for, being simple, it does not admit of resolution into parts, or explanation by any more obvious terms. To have it is to recognize its authority, for positive obligation is supreme in its very nature; nothing can come in conflict with it but desire, which is no obligation at all.

There is a confusion of speech, then, in asking why we are bound to comply with the requisitions of conscience; it is requiring one to tell why it is a duty to perform a duty, — thus indicating a doubt whether there is any such thing as original and necessary obligation. Whatever answer is given, it is evident that the question may be continually repeated. If it be said, for instance, that I must obey conscience because it is expedient, or because it is conformable to the fitness of things, or to reason, or because it is the will of God, the question instantly recurs, Why am I obliged to do what is expedient, or to conform to reason or the fitness of things, or to obey the will of

God? The higher reason of man never thus returns in a circle upon itself, for ever seeking without coming to a knowledge of the truth. What we mean by asking in reference to any particular action, Why is it a duty?—why ought I to perform it? is no more than this:- Prove to me that it is a duty; only place it before me in so clear a light that my conscience shall recognize and approve it, and I ask for no higher sanction. The absolute obligation of the deed is then revealed to me.

Right implies obligation. This doctrine is very clearly and forcibly stated by Dr. Adams, a moralist of Oxford. "Right," says he, "implies duty in its idea. To perceive an action to be right, is to see a reason for doing it in the action itself, abstracted from all other considerations whatever; and this perception, this acknowledged rectitude in the action, is the very essence of obligation, that which commands the approbation and choice, and binds the conscience of every rational human being. Nothing can bring us under an obligation to do what appears to our moral judgment wrong. It may be supposed our interest to do this, but it cannot be supposed our duty. For, I ask, if some power, which we are unable to resist, should assume the command over us, and give us laws which are unrighteous and unjust, should we be under an obligation to obey him? Should we not rather be obliged to shake off the yoke, and to resist However, then, we

such usurpation, if it were in our power? might be swayed by hope or fear, it is plain that we are under an obligation to right, which is antecedent, and in order and nature superior, to all other. Power may compel, interest may bribe, pleasure may persuade, but reason [conscience] only can oblige. This is the only authority which rational beings can own, and to which they owe obedience."

All lesser obligations are resolvable into this primal idea of duty, and are, in truth, but the various forms which this idea assumes, when it is applied to the various relations and circumstances of life. Thus, the state, the society, or the family, to which one belongs, is said to have authority over him, and he is bound to render obedience to that authority, and to its expressed will in the form of law.. But so far as this obedience is not the