as it appears in the good citizen.

情

I

Most of the points in the definition have already come up in the course of our exposition; and it may be well now to have it before us in its entirety. "Virtue," says Aristotle, "is the habit of choosing the relative mean, as it is determined by reason, and as the man of practical wisdom would determine it." This is apt to strike us at first as defining in a circle; but if we remember what is meant by the man of practical wisdom-viz. the man who has fully entered into the spirit of his moral environment; and if we remember further that the spirit of his moral environment is the product of the human ideal-i. e. of reason-as it has so far expressed itself; we may be able to see that it is not really defining in a circle, but the expression of a profound truth. It furnishes us, however, only with an account of the virtue of the good citizen; and though this is an important element in the life of the good man, it is not quite the whole of it. Accordingly, Aristotle proceeds from the consideration of the virtue of the póvuos to the consideration of that of the copos (the man of speculative wisdom), which he declares to be higher. It is the sense in which this is true that we have now to consider.

1 Nicomachean Ethics, II., vi., 15. Εστιν ἄρα ἡ ἀρετὴ ἕξις προαιρετική, ἐν μεσότητι οὖσα τῇ πρὸς ἡμᾶς, ὡρισμένῃ λόγῳ καὶ ὡς ἂν ὁ φρόνιμος ὁρίσειεν.

Eth.

23

CHAPTER V.

THE INDIVIDUAL LIFE.

§1. THE HIGHER Individualism. -While it is true that the life of the individual is relative throughout to the social unity to which he belongs, it is none the less true that it is in the personality of individuals that the social unity is realized. Consequently, though it is an error to think of an individual as having a life of his own independent of society, it is not an error to think of the individual life (realized within a social unity) as an absolute and supreme end in itself. Hence the efforts of such a man as Goethe after the highest culture of his individual nature are not to be classed (as shallow critics have sometimes classed them) with the strivings of egoism. The development of such a personality is at once a good in itself and a benefit to the whole of humanity. Nor is this less true, though the benefit is smaller, in the case of less comprehensive and significant personalities. What Mr. Ruskin calls "the manufacture of souls" is the greatest of all industries. This is a kind of work, however, in which men are apt to be unsuccessful in proportion as they consciously set themselves to it. Crescit occulto velut arbor œvo, is in some measure true of most great characters. Even Goethe seems to have been somewhat injured by his

1 Cf. Walt Whitman's question, "Do they turn out men down your way?" quoted by Dr. Adler in his Moral Instruction of Children, p. 270.

"The unconscious," says

too deliberate self-culture. Carlyle, "is alone complete"; the reason being that a perfect character is one that is objective, that loses itself in the world with which it deals, one that knows much and loves much, not one that is much occupied in the contemplation of itself. Still, this objective point of view is capable of being cultivated, and the cultivation. of it involves a certain amount of self-study. Some points in connection with this may now be noted.

§ 2. CONVERSION.—The religious experience known as conversion seems to be a normal fact in our moral development. Recurring to the mode of expression which we have so frequently made use of, we may say that this phenomenon occurs when a man is made aware of a higher universe than that within which he is living, and at the same time becomes conscious that that higher universe is one within which he ought to live. Such an experience occurs in its intensest form only when the higher universe that is presented to us is recognized as the highest of all—i. e. it occurs mainly in the religious life. But even apart from this, there is frequently a crisis in the moral life, in which we pass from some lower universe to a higher. The moment, for instance, at which a man decides to devote himself to poetry, or art, or science, or philosophy, or the time

1 There is, in fact, what we may call a Paradox of Duty, analogous to the Paradox of Pleasure referred to above (Book I., chap. ii., § 7). Just as, in order to get pleasure, a man must interest himself rather in particular objects than in his own personal feelings; so, in order to act rightly, a man must interest himself in some object that is to be accomplished rather than in his own attitude in accomplishing it. Even the wealth of our inner life depends rather on the width of our objective interests than on the intensity of our self-contempla

at which he hears of the death of a friend, or loses or gains a fortune, or goes to college, or falls in love, will often be such a period. Life takes on a new aspect; and the mind turns in criticism upon the life that is past. In the case of the religious life, there is often a violent reaction against the past, a condemnation of its acts and even of its ideals, repentance and remorse. In less extreme cases there is only a certain shame for the low level of our former existence, accompanied frequently by contempt for those who remain at it, together with a fixed determination to follow higher things in the future. At such times a man is intensely conscious of himself. He perhaps keeps a diary to record his inner feelings. He withdraws probably in some degree from general intercourse with the world, and becomes somewhat cynical in his estimate of it. He thinks he has discovered a new world which no one has ever explored before him. It is at such times. especially that the inner life becomes prominent.

§3. CONSCIENTIOUSNESS.-Apart, however, from any such special periods as this, one who is careful about his moral conduct frequently finds himself called upon to reflect upon his inner life, in the way of inquiry whether his conduct conforms to his highest ideals. Carlyle has commended 2 times of action in contrast with times of reflection; but in the practical moral life it is impossible to keep the two long asunder. After action we must reflect upon our activities and criticise them, with a view to improving upon them in the future. Now in so far as we merely consider our overt acts, this involves no entrance into the inner

1 See Carlyle's Sartor Resartus, for instance.
2 Especially in his Essay on "Characteristics."

life. But a man who is careful about his conduct will generally reflect not merely upon his actual conduct, but upon the motives by which he was led to it.1 The habit of reflecting upon them has been called by Green conscientiousness. It is doubtful whether this is a quite correct use of that term.3 Conscientiousness seems properly to mean simply extreme care with regard to our external conduct. But, for lack of a better word, we may employ the term here in Green's sense. "A man may ask himself," Green says, "Was I, in doing so and so, acting as a good man should, with a pure heart, with a will set on the objects on which it should be set?—or again, Shall I, in doing so and so, be acting as a good man should, goodness being understood in the same sense?" This question is somewhat different from the question whether one's action has in itself been right. It is rather the question whether I, in doing an action in itself right, was occupying a right attitude, or whether I did it from a wrong motive. If a man is much occupied with such a

4

1 As a rule, we do not do this. Although, as already remarked (above, p. 135), the moral judgment is passed on a person doing, not on a thing done, yet the interest of the agent is normally centred in a thing to be done, not in himself as doing it. Cf. also p. 355, note. 2 Prolegomena to Ethics, pp. 269–271, and 323-327.

8 See Dewey's Outlines of Ethics, p. 202.

4 I. e. right as an overt act. A man, in acting, is primarily interested in the question, whether he is bringing about a desirable result. In judging his action, as we have already remarked (above, p. 135), we take account of the motive by which he is led to bring about this result. But the man himself, in acting, does not normally think of this. He simply sees the thing to be done and does it.

5 I suspect that when men inquire into their motives in this way, they are frequently using the term "motive" in the more inaccurate sense formerly referred to (above, p. 62). They are thinking of the feelings that accompany their actions rather than of the ends that