preclude a realization of the awfulness of obligation,
the sacredness of duty, any more than a geologist
must cease to thrill at the grandeur and beauty of
the Grand Canyon because he has studied the composition
of the rocks and understands the causes that have
slowly, through the ages, wrought this miracle.
So we need feel no sense of duty is not something
imposed upon human nature from without; it is of its
very substance, it has developed step by step with
our other faculties, slowly crystallizing through
millenniums of human and pre-human experience.
In the abstract, then, we may say that conscience
is a name for any secondary impulses
or inhibitions which check and
redirect man’s primary impulses,
for A greater good; any later developed
aversions or inclinations, judgments of value or feelings
of constraint, which guide a man in the teeth of his
animal nature toward a better way of life provided
that these superimposed impulses
are not explicit enough to
be classified under some other
head. For example, we may be pulled up sharply
from a course of self-indulgence by a conscious realization
of the harm we are doing to others thereby; this bridling
state of mind, whether chiefly emotional or more intellectual,
we may call sympathy, or an altruistic instinct, or
love. But when we feel the pressure from these
same mental states incipiently aroused, when our motor-mechanism
half automatically steers us away from the selfish
act, without our consciously formulating a specific
name for the new impulse or recognizing any articulate
motive, we are apt to give this mental push the more
general name of conscience. So if we consciously
reckon up, balance advantages, and decide on the less
inviting act in recognition of its really greater
worth to us, we say we act from prudence or insight,
we are reasonable about it; while if the grumbling
of the prudential motives remain subterranean, subconscious,
they play the role of conscience. Conscience is,
on such occasions, but inarticulate common sense.
Usually, however, prudential and altruistic motives
would both be discovered if the dumb driving of conscience
were to be made articulate. The reverberation
of parental teachings, of sermons heard and books
read, of the opinions and emotions of our fellows,
might be found, all bent and fused into a combined
“suggestion,” a mental push, a “must”
or “ought,” from whose influence we find
it difficult to escape.
The detailed psychological analysis of cases of conscience and the study of its genesis are of no essential ethical interest, except as they show us that the sense of duty is not an ultimate, irreducible element in our consciousness, or make clearer to us its function and value. Conscience is the general name for coercion upon conduct from within the mind. The important thing to note is the useful purpose, which, in its so widely varying forms, it serves. Whatever its sources or its exact nature in contemporary man, it is one of the most valuable of our assets. To a more explicit statement of its value we must now turn. What is the value of conscience?