division of the virtues, or modes of right conduct, into the self-regarding and the social. It is true there are no virtues the benefits of which are strictly confined to the individual. For that no man liveth to himself" is a great truth which grows into clearer light with time. Nevertheless, there are certain lines of conduct which have a more direct and obvious bearing upon private welfare, and which we are therefore entitled to call the self-regarding virtues. What these are will be best determined by considering the sort of conduct which would be beneficial to the individual in a state of isolation. Let us picture to ourselves Robinson Crusoe in his lonely exile. What sort of conduct will befit him and merit our admiration? To begin with, he will need courage to face the dangers and brave the uncertainties of his position. This virtue, which is little insisted on now, being less to the interest of society than it was when states were smaller, was the first to come into prominence in early times. The incorruptible testimony of language declares it to have so overshadowed the rest as to have given its name to all. This we see in the parallel history of the words virtus and apérn, the latter being from ávno, a man, as virtus from vir, and denoting, primarily, courage, or, as we ourselves call it, manliness. Temperance, again, our hermit will need, if he is to keep his body in health, his nerves braced, and have his intellect, like a keen blade, ever ready for use; purity, for the like reasons; prudence, to lay plans for his future welfare; industry, to execute them, and render him happy by occupation; and patience, to endure hardships and persevere in needful toil. In a word, we would praise Robinson Crusoe if, in his solitary exile, he showed himself temperate, pure, prudent, industrious, courageous, and patient. This is the type of character which we find celebrated, in the world's morning, in Ulysses. This hero was conspicuous for the performance of his duty towards himself, unlike his short-sighted companions, who were

perpetually singeing their wings in the flame of appetite till they met their death at last. For the practice of these virtues we have the obvious sanction of personal interest. They were enforced long ago in the Garden of Epicurus from the point of view of pure self-regard, and nowadays their utility does not need so much to be theoretically demonstrated as to be practically encouraged by a plain exhibition of the consequence of their neglect. The evils of intemperance, the wretchedness of cowardice, the terrible effects, moral and physical, of impurity, the disasters that attend idleness and imprudence-all these are themes for the preacher more than the philosopher. They need stating, not because they are little known, but because they are much disregarded. For man's duty, then, to himself, he need not look beyond his own happiness for sanction.

We will now turn for a moment to the social virtues; and, for convenience, will first consider society as reduced to its lowest terms. Let us imagine Robinson Crusoe arrived at that period of his career when his solitude is cheered by the presence of Friday. We have now two human beings dwelling together, and the sphere of morality is in consequence widened. An entirely new ground of action is introduced. Our shipwrecked mariner has now another being to care for besides himself. He loves his man Friday, and his man Friday loves him. This gives room for new modes of conduct, fidelity, selfsacrifice, devotion, and all that comes under the head of benevolence. Nor is this the whole extension of the field of virtue effected by society under its simplest conditions, since all those virtues which were before looked upon as purely self-regarding may now be practised for another's sake, and are thus elevated into the divine sphere of love. Robinson Crusoe knows that his own welfare is essential to Friday's, and that the latter needs the stimulus of example to incite him to the practice of self-control. Under the happy circumstances here

pictured, the duty to one's neighbour is a simple matter, the sole motive that prompts to it being affection. But men in general do not so love one another; and the royal road to the Law's fulfilment is left a grass-grown by

way.

Let us now pass on and suppose our adventurer restored to his country, or rather, let us leave him out of sight altogether, and consider society as it exists around us.

As a matter of fact we do not love our neighbours as we love ourselves. Some few of the more happily constituted natures have one or two objects of affection whose welfare is no less dear to them than their own. But even the best of us can feel no more than a passive goodwill towards the bulk of mankind. But if we do not seek each other's good, we do, as a rule, respect each other's rights. It is justice that keeps the world as straight as it is, not benevolence. In using the word

"rights" here, I mean not merely legal, but moral rights; and justice is to be understood in that broad ancient sense in which it covers the whole field of social obligation, and regulates all our conduct, so far as it affects our fellows, but without appealing to the sentiment of love.

We obtained at first starting two incentives to welldoing; in the case of the self-regarding virtues a very powerful one in love for ourselves; and in the case of the social virtues a very weak one in love for others. But it seems that these are not sufficient. For is it either of these motives that really operates upon us when we act, as we call it, conscientiously? When we decide, for instance, to deal fairly by a person whom we have never seen, in a matter where it is our interest to defraud him, and we could do so without risk of detection, it is not affection for the stranger that prompts our conduct; still less can it be selfishness, when we do not think of our own good but of another's rights, and do ourselves perhaps a serious injury. What is it then that takes place in such

cases? We appeal to the notions of right and wrong current among our fellows, as reflected in our own breasts in the form of moral feelings, and allow ourselves to be guided thereby. We do right because we believe it to be right, and are content with the sufficiency of the reason. It is well that we are so constituted as to be thus content; for, search our consciousness how we will, we shall never obtain a clearer answer to the question " Why must we do what is right?" than the circuitous one, "Because it is right to do so." The heart answers with a woman's logic, but its pleadings are none the less persuasive. Here then we discover a third incentive to virtuous conduct in obedience to our own indwelling feelings of right and wrong, which are summed up under the term science."

"Con

Starting with a two-fold division of the virtues into the self-regarding and the social, a subdivision of the latter class has since suggested itself into virtues of benevolence and virtues of justice. Before going further it will be well to make out this latter distinction more clearly. What is the exact difference between justice and benevolence? To this question John Stuart Mill replies, "It seems to me that this feature in the casea right in some person correlative to the moral obligation -constitutes the specific difference between justice and generosity or beneficence. Justice implies something which it is not only right to do and wrong not to do, but which some individual person can claim from us as his moral right. No one has a moral right to our generosity or beneficence, because we are not morally bound to practise those virtues towards any given individual.” Now that the nature of justice is defined by "a right correlative to the moral obligation" is undoubtedly true; but that this right is necessarily vested "in some individual person" would hardly have been said by the author just quoted, had he been drawing precisely the same distinction as we are. I am committing an injustice if I

defraud the public treasury-no one will dispute that and yet no individual rights are thereby violated; it is against society that I do the wrong. Let us, therefore,

adopt Mill's definition, omitting the reference to some individual person. The distinction between Justice and Benevolence is broadly one between works of duty and works of supererogation. I speak according to current conceptions, not in the terms of an ideal morality. There are certain social as well as certain individual rights which law vindicates. If I violate these I meet with punishment. There are other rights, both social and individual, embracing a certain amount of beneficence, which law does not vindicate. If I violate these I incur moral reprehension. But there is a whole range of virtue lying beyond this, beneficent actions which no one expects, and the performance of which excites gratitude; this is the sphere of Benevolence.

Let us now consider how far we have advanced on our way to a solution of the question, "Why must I do what is right?" Corresponding to our triple division of the virtues we have had three motives presented to us—love of ourselves, love of others, and love of right for right's sake. The self-regarding virtues readily suggested to us the motive of self-love. The virtues which come under the head of Benevolence at once called up the love of others. But by far the larger part of the field of right action falls under the third head of Justice. But because these three motives have been suggested in turn by one or another member of our tripartite division of the virtues, it does not follow that the operation of each is limited to a separate class of right actions. As a matter of fact each of these motives has in its turn been exalted by some school of thinkers, at the expense of the rest, and made to support the whole moral edifice.

These three explanations then have been offered of the ground of moral action-that it is love of ourselves, love of others, and simple obedience to the Moral Sense.