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SUBSTITUTE FOR CONSCIENCE:

T

SELFISH INCLINATION

HE substitutes for intelligent, independent moral judgment already noted belong to the higher order of what Solomon called the "inventions" which men have sought out to ease them from uprightness. Expediency, the Consciences of Others who are willing to assume authority for our conduct, Conventional Morality, Moral Sentiment: these have the sheen of plausibility, though but phosphorescent imitations of real ethical light. We now consider an "invention" of a lower grade.

The tramp is one of the most ingenious of men. The tact he displays in getting an unearned living would win him success in almost any honest business, or decorate him with patents if he should apply his talents to the useful arts. But, alas! his pains-taking ends only in pains. He lives on the decayed ends of nature's bounty; habits himself in the raveled edges of society's common comfort; rests on a "pillow of stone" without the vision of the angels, only experiencing the

noisome presence of winged creatures from a lower, nearer the infinitesimal, world. There are moral tramps equally shrewd within narrow limits, and equally miserable, who pursue a similar method, namely, follow the passing or chronic inclination.

We read in the Chinese Shu-king that the great Emperor Mu, on coming to the throne, thus charged Khi-ung his grand chamberlain, “In providing me counselors do not employ men whose likes and dislikes are ruled by mine, either one-sided men or flatterers." By ignoring this ancient wisdom, and clothing court favorites with responsible office, many kings have ruined themselves and wrecked their dynasties. The same thing is done in a myriad lives by investing one's wish with the office of counselor; the wish too often belonging to the grade of the Court Fool. The conceit of many people seconds their selfishness and makes them especially gullible in this respect, for there is no more taking delusion than that the advice which runs with our own desire is wisest. "The wish is father to the thought" might be placarded upon the walls of nearly every chamber of moral dementia, as describing the peculiar malady of the inmate.

Few have the courage of F. W. Maurice, who in order to enter Oxford University, was required to subscribe to certain religious views, of the truths of which he had not yet been convinced.

Fearing lest his desire to complete his education might unduly bias his judgment, he replied "No, I will not hang a bribe around my neck to lead my conscience." Few consciences have the independence of the Roman Papinian, Counselor to Caracalla. When the Emperor commanded him to write out a legal justification of his murder of his brother Gæta, he indignantly refused, risking his life for his words: "No, Sire. It is easier to commit than to justify the crime."

It oftens happens that where there is so much vitality left in the moral sentiment that it refuses to entirely abdicate authority, inclination will suggest subterfuges to annul its dictates. Sextius Pompeius discovered that his two enemies, Octavius and Antony, were together as guests on his ship. A comrade suggested that this was the opportunity to make way with both of them. He replied with a momentary outburst of righteous feeling, "Such treachery would not befit Pompeius." A little later, however, desire tampered with dignity; for he more than hinted to the sailing master that he and his friends were prepared to save themselves if the vessel should sink on some adjacent rocks. The early tyrants of Rome were manly enough to declare against the cruel and despicable custom of maltreating children; but it is recorded of them that when they needed the property of minors, or when it

was policy to destroy the scion of a certain family noted for its patriotic devotion, the Tyrants first changed the law fixing the legal age, and decreed to the youth the robe of manhood; then executed him as a traitor and confiscated his estate. Some of the vilest dens in New York are owned by men who would not be seen in them; but there is an understanding with the agent that he shall not inform the owner of the character of the tenants. Men who would not gamble in stocks leave their investments in the hands of unscrupulous brokers, promoters, real estate sharpers, asking no questions so long as large dividends are paid, and the reports of advancing values are kept up; and so twisted do such persons become in their judgment that when the inevitable failure comes, they will have only hot words of righteous indignation for the rascality of their betrayers.

The life of Jean Jacques Rousseau abounds in illustrations of the stultification of conscience by desire. He was more outspoken than most men in that he confessed, not only his deeds, but the adulterated motives which led to them. As fast as his children were born to him he put them out of sight in a Foundling Asylum, without so much as giving them his name or taking precautions for their future identification. At the time he wrote, "I did it cheerfully and without the least scruple. It is the usage of the country, and one may as well follow it." It was the usage only

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of the vile set among whom he was then living. He was soon made to feel the contempt of decent people, and, wanting their good opinion, he convinced himself and tried to persuade others that his motive was not so heartless after all. He professed to be too poor to support so many; besides they would bother him. 'How would domestic cares and the confusion of children leave me peace of mind enough to earn a living by writing." He imagines that their care would overtempt his otherwise immaculate nature and lead him to dishonest methods in securing money. "No, it were better for them to be orphans than to have a scoundrel for a father." A few years later, when he had become vain of leadership among the imagined benefactors of society, he reviewed these former motives, and convinced himself that his action had really been taken solely with regard for the children's culture. "I know that foundlings are not delicately mutured; so much the better for them: they become more robust. They would not know how to dance, or ride on horseback, but they would have strong, unwearied legs. I would not practice them in handling the pen, but the plow, the file, the plane-instruments for leading a healthy, laborious, innocent life." Later, as popular applause palled upon even his intense vanity, and when longing for companionship more strictly his own grew within him, we