The Moral Economy | Page 6

bring to their senses those who have mistaken the hardness
of their hearts for loyalty, and their easy default for success. But
practical wisdom belongs only to those who proceed unwaveringly out
of the past and into the future, correcting mistakes when they may,
conserving the good already won, and making new conquests.
It may be remarked, and should be readily granted, that patient
plodding is less piquant than the by-play of inertia and revolt. The
spirit of Nietsche is doubtless even now yawning mightily at such
tedious moralizing; fresh proof of the "dull, gloomy seriousness," the
hopeless {6} stupidity of our sublunary virtue. I believe that Nietsche
has frankly confessed the real grievance of his class of mischief makers.
They are impatient and easily bored; while the business of establishing
a healthful and vigorous society is complicated, tortuous, and slow.
Their talent for letters, their love of vivid pictures, sharp contrasts, and
concise dramatic situations, cannot adapt itself to the real bulk and
complexity of life. Civilization is too promiscuous, too prolonged and
monotonous, for these rare spirits. And they have their sure reward; for
they ease the tension of effort, supplying a recreative release from its
pangs under the flattering guise of higher truth. All the impatience and
playfulness in the world conspires with them. But as one of the demos
of moral dullards, I get no little comfort from applying to Nietsche and
Ibsen, and to certain prophet litterateurs of England, Burke's reproof of
Lord Bolingbroke.
When men find that something can be said in favor of what, on the very
proposal, they have thought utterly indefensible, they grow doubtful of
their own reason; they are thrown into a sort of pleasing surprise; they
run along with the speaker, charmed and captivated to find such a
plentiful harvest of reasoning, where all seemed barren and
unpromising. . . . There is a sort of gloss upon ingenious falsehoods
that dazzles the imagination, but which neither belongs to, nor becomes

the sober aspect of truth. . . . In such cases, the writer has a certain fire
and {7} alacrity inspired into him by a consciousness, that let it fare
how it will with the subject, his ingenuity will be sure of applause.[3]
It is safe to accept morality as one accepts agriculture, navigation,
constitutional government, or any other tried solution of an unavoidable
problem. There is false opinion here as elsewhere, and hollow
convention is not infrequently paraded as duty and wisdom; but the
nucleus of morality is verified truth, the precipitate of mankind's
prolonged experiment in living.
I do not propose, however, to be satisfied with so modest a claim. It
might still be contended that morality is doubtless true so far as it goes,
or well enough for those who care for it; but that it will scarcely
concern other than the more coarse-grained and less adventurous minds.
It is customary to associate high wisdom with the pursuit of some
special interest, for its own sake, and under no wider law than a sort of
professional etiquette or code of honor. Business is business, art is art,
truth is truth, and for one who cares to "go in for it," virtue is for
virtue's sake. Those who ride hobbies do not object to the moralist,
provided he does not intrude. But if he applies his rules to other than
his own personal or domestic affairs, he is berated as an impertinent
busybody who is talking of things he does not understand. Now I
venture to assert that the {8} moralist in the nature of the case can
never be impertinent, though he may be impolite or even insulting. He
can never be impertinent because, contrary to the formula of the day,
there is no such thing as virtue for virtue's sake. Morality is the one
interest that virtually represents all interests. It is the interest of every
man in the general tests of success and failure, and in the maintenance
of the field or medium of all interests. There is no enterprise which, if
conducted efficiently, is not a verification of moral rules; there is no
enterprise which does not receive and transmit the now of life that
circulates through the moral system at large. To be righteously
indignant is to protest passionately in behalf of the whole good, and
against the clumsy and inadvertent evil. To this morality owes its
universal support, its invincible finality. It need never be apologetic,
because it holds no brief; it advocates no measure except the carrying

through to the end of what is virtually undertaken by all parties to the
adventure of life.
It follows that no man can exempt himself from moral liability. He is
irrevocably committed to life, and can neglect the laws of life only at
his