In regard to the whole of this subject, an important distinction is to be made between the fundamental principle, from which actions derive their character of right and wrong,—and the application of reason in judging of their tendencies. Before concluding this part of the subject, therefore, we have to add a very few observations on the influence exerted on our moral decisions by reason,—always however in subserviency to the great principle of conscience. The office of reason appears to be, in the first place, to judge of the expediency, propriety, and consequences of actions, which do not involve any feeling of moral duty. In regard to the affections, again, a process of reason is often necessary, not only respecting the best mode of exercising them, but also, in many cases, in deciding whether we shall exercise them at all. Thus, we may feel compassion in a particular instance, but perceive the individual to be so unworthy, that what we could do would be of no benefit to him. In such a case we may feel it to be a matter not only of prudence, but of duty, to resist the affection, and to reserve the aid we have to bestow for persons more deserving.
In cases in which an impression of moral duty is concerned, an exercise of reason is still in many instances, necessary, for enabling us to adapt our means to the end which we desire to accomplish. We may feel an anxious wish to promote the interest or relieve the distress of another, or to perform some high and important duty,—but call reason to our aid respecting the most effectual and the most judicious means of doing so. Conscience, in such cases, produces the intention,—reason suggests the means;—and it is familiar to every one that these do not always harmonize. Thus a man may be sound in his intentions, who errs in judgment respecting the means for carrying them into effect. In such cases, we attach our feeling of moral approbation to the intention only,—we say the man meant well, but erred in judgment;—and to this error we affix no feeling of moral disapprobation,—unless, perhaps, in some cases, we may blame him for acting precipitately on his own judgment, instead of taking the advice of those qualified to direct him. We expect such a man to acquire wisdom from experience, by observing the deficiency of his judgment in reference to his intentions; and, in future instances, to learn to take advice. There are other circumstances in which an exercise of reason is frequently brought into action in regard to moral decisions;—as in some cases in which one duty appears to interfere with another;—likewise in judging whether, in particular instances, any rule of duty is concerned, or whether we are at liberty to take up the case simply as one of expediency or utility. In making their decisions in doubtful cases of this description, we observe great differences in the habits of judging in different individuals. One shews the most minute and scrupulous anxiety, to discover whether the case involves any principle of duty,—and a similar anxiety in acting suitably when he has discovered it. This is what we call a strictly conscientious man. Another, who shews no want of a proper sense of duty when the line is clearly drawn, has less anxiety in such cases as these, and may sacrifice minute or doubtful points to some other feeling,—as self-interest or even friendship,—where the former individual might have discovered a principle of duty.
Reason is also concerned in judging of a description of cases, in which a modification of moral feeling arises from the complexity of actions,—or, in other words, from the circumstances in which the individual is placed. This may be illustrated by the difference of moral sentiment which we attach to the act of taking away the life of another,—when this is done by an individual under the impulse of revenge,—by the same individual in self-defence,—or by a judge in the discharge of his public duty.
There is still another office frequently assigned to Reason in moral decisions,—as when we speak of a man acting upon Reason as opposed to passion. This however is, correctly speaking, only a different use of the term; and it means that he acts upon a calm consideration of the motives by which he ought to be influenced, instead of being hurried away by a desire or an affection which has been allowed to usurp undue influence.
The important distinction, therefore, which these observations have been intended to illustrate, may be briefly recapitulated in the following manner. Our impression of the aspect of actions, as right or wrong, is conveyed by a principle in the human mind entirely distinct from a simple exercise of reason,—and the standard of moral rectitude derived from this source is, in its own nature, fixed and immutable. But there are many cases in which an exercise of reason may be employed, in referring particular actions to this standard, or trying them, as it were, by means of it. Any such mental process, however, is only to be considered as a kind of test applied to individual instances, and must not be confounded with the standard to which it is the office of this test to refer them. Right or virtuous conduct does, in point of fact, contribute to general utility, as well as to the advantage of the individual, in the true and extended sense of that term, and these tendencies are perceived by Reason. But it is neither of these that constitutes it right. This is founded entirely on a different principle,—the immutable rule of moral rectitude; it is perceived by a different part of our constitution,—the moral principle, or conscience; and, by the operation of this principle, we pronounce it right, without any reference to its consequences either to ourselves or others.
The preceding observations, on Conscience, I leave nearly as they stood in the second edition of this volume. Since the publication of that edition, I have seen various discussions of this important question, but have found nothing to alter the opinion I have expressed, respecting the nature and the authority of conscience as an original principle in our moral constitution; and I see no system by which we can escape from the numerous difficulties surrounding every other view of the subject. In particular, I cannot perceive what is gained by those who refer our moral decisions to a process of reason or judgment alone. For by judgment, in the ordinary and recognised acceptation of the term, I can understand nothing more than a power of comparing two or more facts or impressions together, and tracing their relations. When we apply such a mental process to a question of morals, it can amount to nothing more than a comparison of our conduct with some standard. If those who hold the doctrine referred to, mean any thing more than this,—if they allow the mind a power of moral decision independently of any such standard, then this is precisely what we mean by conscience, and the controversy resolves itself, like not a few that have gone before it, into a dispute about a name. If they do not allow the mind such a power, it then becomes them to say, what is the standard by which its moral judgments are to be formed, and whence it is derived. It appears, I think, distinctly, that it can be derived only from one of two sources. It must either be received through divine revelation; or it must be the result of our speculations respecting utility, in one or other of the forms in which that doctrine is presented to us. There does not appear to be any middle course; and accordingly some late writers, who reject the latter system, while they do not admit the authority of conscience, seem to refer our moral impressions entirely to the will of the Deity as made known to us by revelation. I have formerly stated what seem to me to be insuperable objections to this doctrine. It appears, indeed, to be distinctly opposed by the very words of Scripture, which clearly recognise a power, or a process in the mind by which "those who are without law," that is, without a revelation, "are a law unto themselves, their consciences bearing witness, and their thoughts accusing or else excusing one another."
It does, I confess, appear to me, that some late excellent and respectable writers, in their apprehension of not giving sufficient prominence to the doctrine of human depravity, have greatly under-rated the actual power of conscience, and have thus injured in a most essential manner the important argument which is derived from the moral impressions of the mind. True it is, indeed, that the nature of man is degenerate, and that the effect of this appears in his disregarding and disobeying that monitor within. I am not disposed to differ from the writers referred to, respecting the existence and the extent of this degeneracy, but rather as to the manner in which it operates in the actual moral condition of mankind. I do not say that there is in human nature more good than they assign to it, but that there is more knowledge of what is good; not that men do better than these writers allege, but that they have a greater sense of what they ought to do. Those who maintain the absolute and unusual corruption of conscience may also be reminded of the remarkable differences which are admitted to exist in different men, and the manner in which moral feeling is gradually obscured or overpowered by a course of personal depravity. The facts are universally admitted respecting the contest with moral principle which attends the first stages of vice, and the remorse which follows. But after each departure from virtue, this opposing influence is progressively weakened, and at length destroyed. In this progress, then, we must admit two distinct conditions of the moral feelings,—one in which conscience distinctly points at what is right, however its warnings may be disregarded,—and another in which its warning influence is weakened or lost. In the former condition, I think we may affirm that it asserts its right and its authority, though its strength and its power are departed; and it does not appear to be saying too much, if we say in the striking language of Butler, "had it strength as it had right,—had it power as it had manifest authority, it would absolutely govern the world."