Conscience may develop, without losing entirely its instinctive or impulsive character, to practical reason. This takes place through the development of the conceptions which determine the conscience as impulse, to greater clearness and distinctness. When conscience acts as instinct, the individual does not know what he does. If it acts as impulse, he has a dawning consciousness of his acts. And when it becomes practical reason, there arises a clear consciousness of ethical laws and ethical ideals. In different individuals, conscience may appear in very different forms and degrees, as instinct, impulse, practical reason, sense of duty, sense of justice. Sometimes it appears as mainly negative and restraining, sometimes again as chiefly positive, partly harmonizing and partly increasing. Here it appears as enthusiastic devotion, there as quiet and continuous tendency. It would be impossible to name even the principal forms in which it may manifest itself, but it is of great importance to call attention to the fact of these individual differences, since we suffer at present from a dogmatism that has but one measure for all these different manifestations.
We must go a step farther still. There may be men who possess no strictly ethical feeling and who do not need it. Such men do what they can with their whole heart without applying any reflective standard to their own or others' acts. They entirely absorb themselves with unflagging zeal in a work that perfectly corresponds to their capabilities and impulses, without any doubt of its rightfulness and import. They may devote themselves to art and science, to the service of society, or to their family. Or they belong to the class of happy natures who spread light and joy by their mere existence. They act in accordance with the law, without being in possession of the law, and what objection can Ethics have to offer to this? Ethics is for the sake of life, not life for the sake of Ethics.
Since all ethical judgments have conscience for their psychological basis, conscience is highest authority, highest law-giver, in comparison with which every other authority is subordinate and derived. To wish to go beyond one's conscience is to wish to go beyond oneself. When I yield to another human being whose judgment I trust more than my own, this can be justified only as it takes place through my conscience. Conscience is infallible, if one understands by infallibility that it is, at every instant, the highest judge; this infallibility does not mean, however, that it does not err. Every earnest conviction takes the form of conscience; the truth is not, however, secured by the mere form. Was it not from conviction that Aristotle asserted the right of slavery, and Calvin, with Melancthon's approval, sent Servetus to the stake?
Not less dogmatic than Fichte's assertion that conscience never deceives us, is the view which regards a system of Ethics as merely the science of the forms of society and of outward acts, and thus declares conscience to be without authority in comparison with outer circumstances and their demands. The law which we obey must always express itself in the form of conscience. The light which illumines for us all other things must be within ourselves.
Here we perceive the possibility of a conflict between Subjective Ethics and Objective Ethics, between the two principles upon which Ethics is founded. There can be no other solution to the problem than that we shall follow the command of conscience, provided it speaks clearly and after sufficient deliberation. It may be added that conscience can correct and control itself, the later and more experienced conscience criticising the earlier. As long as the individual acts according to his best conviction, he is morally healthy; hence, from an ethical point of view, a pernicious action carried out under the conviction that it is good is to be preferred to a good action performed with the conviction that it is bad. In the former case, the spring is pure; in the latter it is corrupt. Only he who has courage to make mistakes can accomplish anything great. It is not the cold and narrow, but those who are zealous for the true and good, who thus err.
The power of self-correction can be developed only when some definite principle or criterion may be found. Such a principle is that of welfare. The problem of the application of this principle to action is, however, like that of the application of the principle of causality to actual phenomena, an endless one.
In close relation to the concept of Authority stands that of Sanction. The Authority commands or forbids, the Sanction enables the command or prohibition to remain in force. The sanction consists in the pain or pleasure connected with the observation or transgression of the command, in the reward or punishment which one brings on oneself through one's action, in the heaven or hell which one approaches by the action. It is only, however, when the authority itself is an outward one that the sanction holds this outward relation to the action. In this outward form it has no immediate ethical significance. The ethical character of an action is dependent, in subjective regard, on its origin in the intention of the performer, in objective regard, on its harmony with the principle of welfare. What ethical significance could it have that here a feeling of pain or pleasure not arising from the action itself, is added to it? The outer sanction of reward and punishment is thus but an educating sanction. The inner sanction consists in a feeling of harmony and unity with one's own highest convictions, of consistency between one's ideas and one's actual willing. Thus arises an inner peace that may be stronger than all contradiction and opposition from without.
Such an inner sanction is not only an effect of the action, but a feeling already present before the action. It was the preservation and full development of this feeling that led to the decision and made it possible. Blessedness, says Spinoza, is not the reward of virtue, but virtue itself.
The manner in which the ethical is so often made dependent upon certain fixed religious or speculative assumptions must be, from an ethical point of view, matter for great solicitude. In the first place, it is easy to suppose that the man who no longer respects these dogmas may have emancipated himself also from the ethical maxims dependent upon them, and would be most consistent if he acted in accordance with the principle: "Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die." In the second place, action is reft of its ethical character when the attention is directed to things outside its essence and origin, and considerations of reward and punishment are declared to be a necessary motive. Not even a belief in progress within the world of experience can have any absolute worth for Ethics. It may be theoretically difficult to maintain such a belief; and even if the victorious direction of evolution were shown to be unfavorable to Ethics, ethical principles would not be destroyed. Simply the problems would be different; pity and resignation would acquire greater importance. Wherever the ethical disposition were present, it would take the side of the conquered and remain upon that side though the gods themselves were with the conquerors. Ethical worth does not depend upon mere might.