the moral consciousness, when sufficiently influenced by thought, regards the will as the only proper object of moral disapproval or moral praise. That moral qualities are internal, is not an invention of any particular moralist or any particular religion; it has been recognised by thoughtful men in many different countries and different ages. “He that is pure in heart is the truest priest,” said Buddha.177 In the Taouist work, ‘Kan ying peen,’ it is written:—“If you form in your heart a good intention, although you may not have done any good, the good spirits follow you. If you form in your heart a bad intention, although you may not have done any harm, the evil spirits follow you.”178 According to the Thâi-Shang, mere wishes are sufficient to constitute badness.179 One of the Pahlavi texts puts the following words into the mouth of the Spirit of Wisdom:—“To be grateful in the world, and to wish happiness for every one; this is greater and better than every good work.”180 God, says the Koran, “will not catch you up for a casual word in your oaths, but He will catch you up for what your hearts have earned.”181 According to the Rabbis, the thought of sin is worse than sin, and an unchaste thought is a “wicked thing.”182 It was an ancient Mexican maxim that “he who looks too curiously on a woman commits adultery with his eyes”183—a striking parallel to the passage in St. Matthew v. 28. “Voluntas remuneratur, non opus,” says the Canonist. “Licet gladio non occidat, voluntate tamen interficit.” “Non ideo minus delinquit, cui sola deest facultas.”184
177 Hopkins, Religions of India, p. 319.
178 Douglas, Confucianism and Taouism, p. 270.
179 Thâi-Shang, 4.
180 Dînâ-î-Maînôgî Khirad, lxiii. 3 sqq. Cf. ibid. i. 10, where it is said that the good work which a man does unwittingly is little of a good work, though the sin which a man commits unwittingly amounts to a sin in its origin.
181 Koran, ii. 225. Cf. Ameer Ali, Ethics of Islâm, p. 26.
182 Schechter, in Montefiore, op. cit. p. 558. Cf. Deutsch, Literary Remains, p. 52.
183 Sahagun, Historia general de las cosas de Nueva España, vi. 22, vol. ii. 147: “Dice el refran que el que curiosamente mira á la muger adultéra con la vista.”
184 Gratian, Decretum, ii. 33. 3. 25, 30, 29.
CHAPTER X
AGENTS UNDER INTELLECTUAL DISABILITY
WE hold an agent responsible not only for his intention, but for any known concomitant of his act, as also for any such unknown concomitant of it as we attribute to want of due attention. But for anything which he could not be aware of he is not responsible. Hence certain classes of agents—animals, children, idiots, madmen—are totally or partially exempted from moral blame and legal punishment.
Though animals are undoubtedly capable of acting, we do not regard them as proper objects of moral indignation. The reason for this is not merely the very limited scope of their volitions and their inability to foresee consequences of their acts, since these considerations could only restrict their responsibility within correspondingly narrow limits. Their total irresponsibility rests on the presumption that they are incapable of recognising any act of theirs as right or wrong. If the concomitant of an act is imputable to the agent only in so far as he could know it, it is obvious that no act is wrong which the agent could not know to be wrong.
It is a familiar fact that, by discipline, we may teach domesticated animals to live up to a certain standard of behaviour, but this by no means implies that we awake in them moral feelings. When some writers credit dogs and apes with a conscience,1 we must remember that an observer’s inference is not the same as an observed fact.2 It seems that the so-called conscience in animals is nothing more than an association in the animal’s mind between the performance of a given act and the occurrence of certain consequences, together with a fear of those consequences.3
1 Romanes, Mental Evolution in Animals, p. 352. Perty, Seelenleben der Thiere, p. 67. Brehm, From North Pole to Equator, p. 298.
2 Cf. Lloyd Morgan, Animal Life and Intelligence, p. 399.
3 Cf. ibid. p. 405.
The following is one of the most striking instances of what Professor Romanes regards as “conscience” in animals; it refers to a terrier which had never, even in its puppyhood, been known to steal, but on the contrary used to make an excellent guard to protect property from other animals, servants, and so forth, even though these were his best friends. “Nevertheless,” says Professor Romanes, “on one occasion he was very hungry, and in the room where I was reading and he was sitting, there was, within easy reach, a savoury mutton chop. I was greatly surprised to see him stealthily remove this chop and take it under a sofa. However, I pretended not to observe what had occurred, and waited to see what would happen next. For fully a quarter of an hour this terrier remained under the sofa without making a sound, but doubtless enduring an agony of contending feelings. Eventually, however, conscience came off victorious, for emerging from his place of concealment and carrying in his mouth the stolen chop, he came across the room and laid the tempting morsel at my feet. The moment he dropped the stolen property he bolted again under the sofa, and from this retreat no coaxing could charm him for several hours afterwards. Moreover, when during that time he was spoken to or patted, he always turned away his head in a ludicrously conscience-stricken manner. Altogether I do not think it would be possible to imagine a more satisfactory exhibition of conscience by an animal than this; for … the particular animal in question was never beaten in its life.” The author then adds in a note that “mere dread of punishment cannot even be suspected to have been the motive principle of action.”4 It may be so, if by punishment be understood the infliction of physical pain. But it can hardly be doubted that the terrier suspected his master to be displeased with his behaviour, and the dread of displeasure or reproof may certainly