Nor much their wisdom teaches,
But chief of solid worth is what
Our own experience preaches.
Professor Westermarck, among many other remarks in which I fully concur, has aptly stated (Sociological Papers, published for the Sociological Society. Macmillan, 1906, vol. ii., p. 24), with reference to one obstacle which prevents individuals from perceiving the importance of Eugenics, ‘the prevalent opinion that almost anybody is good enough to marry is chiefly due to the fact that in this case, cause and effect, marriage and the feebleness of the offspring, are so distant from each other that the near-sighted eye does not distinctly perceive the connexion between them.’ (The Italics are mine.)
The enlightenment of individuals is a necessary preamble to practical Eugenics, but social opinion is the tyrant by whose praise or blame the principles of Eugenics may be expected hereafter to influence individual conduct. Public opinion may, however, be easily directed into different channels by opportune pressure. A common conviction that change in the established order of some particular codes of conduct would be impossible, because of the shock that the idea of doing so gives to our present ideas, bears some resemblance to the conviction of lovers that their present sentiments will endure for ever. Conviction, which is that very Assurance of which mention has just been made, is proved by reiterated experience to be a highly fallacious guide. Love is notoriously fickle in despite of the fervent and genuine protestations of lovers, and so is public opinion. I gave a list of extraordinary variations of the latter in respect to restrictions it enforced on the freedom of marriage, at various times and places (Sociological Papers, quoted above). Much could be added to that list, but I will not now discuss the effects of public opinion on such a serious question. I will take a much smaller instance which occurred before the time to which the recollections of most persons can now reach, but which I myself recall vividly. It is the simple matter of hair on the face of male adults. When I was young, it was an unpardonable offence for any English person other than a cavalry officer, or perhaps someone of high social rank, to wear a moustache. Foreigners did so and were tolerated, otherwise the assumption of a moustache was in popular opinion worse than wicked, for it was atrociously bad style. Then came the Crimean War and the winter of Balaclava, during which it was cruel to compel the infantry to shave themselves every morning. So their beards began to grow, and this broke a long established custom. On the return of the army to England the fashion of beards spread among the laity, but stopped short of the clergy. These, however, soon began to show dissatisfaction; they said the beard was a sign of manliness that ought not to be suppressed, and so forth, and at length the moment arrived. A distinguished clergyman, happily still living, ‘bearded’ his Bishop on a critical occasion. The Bishop yielded without protest, and forthwith hair began to sprout in a thousand pulpits where it had never appeared before within the memory of man.
It would be no small shock to public sentiment if our athletes in running public races were to strip themselves stark naked, yet that custom was rather suddenly introduced into Greece. Plato says (Republic V, par. 452, Jowett’s translation):
Not long ago the Greeks were of the opinion, which is still generally received among the barbarians, that the sight of a naked man was ridiculous and improper, and when first the Cretans and the Lacedaemonians introduced naked exercises, the wits of that day might have ridiculed them....
Thucydides (I. 6) also refers to the same change as occurring ‘quite lately’.
Public opinion is commonly far in advance of private morality, because society as a whole keenly appreciates acts that tend to its advantage, and condemns those that do not. It applauds acts of heroism that perhaps not one of the applauders would be disposed to emulate. It is instructive to observe cases in which the benevolence of public opinion has out-stripped that of the Law—which, for example, takes no notice of such acts as are enshrined in the parable of the good Samaritan. A man on his journey was robbed, wounded and left by the wayside. A priest and a Levite successively pass by and take no heed of him. A Samaritan follows, takes pity, binds his wounds, and bears him to a place of safety. Public opinion keenly condemns the priest and the Levite, and praises the Samaritan, but our criminal law is indifferent to such acts. It is most severe on misadventure due to the neglect of a definite duty, but careless about those due to the absence of common philanthropy. Its callousness in this respect is painfully shown in the following quotations (Kenny, Outlines of Criminal Law, 1902, p. 121, per Hawkins in Reg. v. Paine, Times, February 25, 1880):
If I saw a man who was not under my charge, taking up a tumbler of poison, I should not be guilty of any crime by not stopping him. I am under no legal obligation to protect a stranger.