should prosper, it would be wrong. But it would be wrong simply because of the damage to others' welfare, not for any transcendental reason. The opponent of the eudæmonistic account of morality nearly always identifies it with a selfish pursuit, by each individual, of his own personal happiness. But that is, of course, a very narrow and unjustifiable interpretation of it.

(5) Another practical value of the motto lies in the implied contrast of virtue with expediency. Questions of expediency are questions of the best means to a given end; questions of virtue ask which ends are to be sought. Expediency asks, "How shall I do this?" Virtue asks, “Shall I do this or that?" The counsels of expediency are thus always relative to the value of the end, in itself unquestioned; "this is the thing to do if such and such an end is right to seek." The counsels of virtue are absolute "This is the best thing to do." It is rightly felt that in matters of right and wrong there is no "if" about it; you act not with relation to an end which may be chosen or rejected, on ulterior grounds. The only end to which virtue is the means is the living of the best life. Virtue is the ultimate expediency. But it is well contrasted with all those secondary matters of debate for which we reserve the name "expediency."

(6) Finally, the motto is practically useful in advising us not to rely upon calculation in the concrete emergency, but to fall back upon an already adopted code, to love virtue as one does the flag, and follow it unquestioningly, as the soldier does his general. We must be willing to accept guidance and leadership. But every one knows that the flag is but a symbol; that the general's word is authoritative because it serves the best interests of the country. And our impulsive allegiance to virtue, and love of it, would be a mere silly day-dream and empty sacrifice were it not for its loyal safeguarding of human interests.

Should we live "according to nature," and adjust ourselves to the evolutionary process?

According to the Stoic philosophy, the criterion for conduct was to live "according to nature." "What is meant by 'rationally'?" asks Epictetus, and answers, "Conformably to nature." "Convince me that you acted naturally, and I will convince you that everything which takes place according to nature takes place rightly." And Marcus Aurelius writes, "Do not think any word or action beneath you which is in accordance with nature; and never be misled by the apprehension of censure or reproach. . . . I will march on in the path of nature till my legs sink under me. Philosophy will put you upon nothing but what your nature wishes and calls for."2 Of this preaching Bishop Butler says that it is "a manner of speaking, not loose and indeterminate, but clear and distinct, strictly just and true.”

In modern times this doctrine has taken the form of exhortation to take our place in the evolutionary process. It is thought by some that to grasp the trend of existing natural forces is to know the direction of duty. We have only to keep in the current, to espouse heartily the “struggle for existence" and rejoice in the "survival of the fittest,' because it is nature's way. In a recent book by a Harvard professor we read, "Whatever the order of the universe is, that is the moral order. ... The laws of natural selection are merely God's regular methods of expressing his choice and approval. The naturally selected are the chosen of God.... The whole life of [moral] people will consist in an intelligent effort to adjust themselves to the will thus expressed." 4

(1) It is easy enough to point out, however, that nature is 1 Bk. III, chap. 1; bk. 1, chap. XI. 2 Bk. v. 3 Preface to Sermons 4 T. N. Carver, The Religion Worth Having, pp. 84-89.

anything but a safe model for man to follow. "In sober truth, nearly all the things which men are hanged or imprisoned for doing to one another, are nature's everyday performances. Nature impales men, breaks them as if on the wheel, casts them to be devoured by wild beasts, crushes them with stones like the first Christian martyr, starves them with hunger, freezes them with cold, poisons them by the quick or slow venom of her exhalations."1 The evolutionary process is cruel and merciless; multitudes perish for every one that survives, and the survivor is not the most deserving, but the strongest or swiftest or cleverest. Why should we imitate such ruthless ways? Nature is to be not followed but improved upon. Not only morality, but most of man's activity, consists in making nature over to suit his needs. "If nature and man are both the works of a Being of perfect goodness, that Being intended nature as a scheme to be amended, not imitated, by man." 2

(2) Not only is there no reason why we should "follow nature," but the result of so doing would be anything but what we agree is moral. Hardly a sin is committed but was "natural" to the sinner. It is "natural" to lose our tempers; to be vain, selfish, greedy, lustful. Nothing could be practically more pernicious than the idea that an impulse is right because it is natural; that is, because it is common to most men. "Following nature" naturally means following our inclinations; nothing is more disastrous. Virtue necessitates self-denial, effort, living by ideals, which are late and artificial products. It is actually true, in its metaphorical way, that we need to be born again, to be turned about, converted, saved from ourselves. The "natural" man is the "carnal" man; the "spiritual" man, while potential in us all, needs to be fostered and stimulated by every 1 J. S. Mill, Three Essays on Religion: "Nature," p. 28. 2 Ibid., p. 41.

possible means if life is to be serene and full and beautiful. The difference between the "natural" man and the moral man is the difference between the untrained child, capricious, the victim of a thousand whims and longings, and the man of formed character whom we respect and trust. Morality is, of course, in a sense, natural too— everything that exists is natural; but in the sense in which the word has a specific meaning, it is flatly opposed to that making-over, that readjustment of our impulses, which is the very differentia of morality. There is, indeed, a eulogistic sense of the word "natural"; to Rousseau the "return to nature" meant the abandonment of needless artificiality and silly convention. But except in this sense, what is "natural" has no particular merit. The great achievements of man have consisted not in following natural, primitive instincts, but in controlling and disciplining those instincts.

If we were to imitate nature in making the survival of the fittest our aim, we should return to the barbaric ruthlessness of ancient Sparta or Rome, exposing infants, killing the feeble and insane, and becoming just such cold-blooded pursuers of efficiency as Nietzsche admires. That such pitiless competition is moral, or desirable, no one but a few cranks would on examination maintain. "Let us understand once for all," says Huxley, "that the ethical progress of society depends not on imitating the cosmic process, still less in running away from it, but in combating it." 1

(3) This cosmic defiance of Huxley's commands our approval; if morality interferes with the evolutionary process, let it interfere; the sooner an immoral process is stopped the better. But, after all, Huxley unnecessarily limits the meaning of the phrase "the cosmic process," applying it only to that stage which antedates the development of morality. That development, however, is itself a 1 Evolution and Ethics, title essay.

part of the cosmic process; natural selection, which in its earlier stages selects merely the strong and swift and clever, in its later stages selects also the moral races and individuals. So that to follow out the evolutionary process is, for man, after all, to follow morality as well as to cultivate speed and strength and wit.

There is, indeed, a danger to the race from the development of the tenderer side of morality, in the care for the feeble and degenerate which permits them to live and produce offspring, instead of being ruthlessly exterminated, as in ruder days. But this danger can, and will, be met by measures which, while permitting life and, so far as possible, happiness, to these unfortunates, will prevent them from having children. Except for this removable danger, the development of sympathy and tenderness by no means involves a lessening of virility, but is rather its necessary complement and check.

Is self-development or self-realization the ultimate end?

It is no justification of morality to say that it is "in harmony with nature." Is it an adequate justification to say that morality is what makes for self-development or selfrealization? A number of classic and contemporary moralists, fighting shy of the acknowledgment of happiness as the ultimate end, have rested content with such expressions. Darwin wrote, "The term 'general good' may be defined as the rearing of the greatest number of individuals in full vigor and health, with all their faculties perfect, under the conditions to which they are subjected."1 Paulsen writes, "The value of virtue consists in its favorable effects upon the development of life. . . . The value of life consists in the normal performance of all functions, or in the exercise of capacities and virtues. . . . A perfect human life is an 1 Descent of Man, chap. IV.