The Buried Temple | Page 3

it
deals with modifications of the mind and character infinitely more
complex and more elusive, its manifestations are less striking, and its
results less certain. Pathology is the only region which admits of its
definite observation and study; and there we observe it to be merely the
spiritual form of physical heredity, which is its essential principle:
moral heredity being only a sequel, and revealing in its elementary
stage the same indifference to real justice, and the same blindness.
Whatever the moral cause of the ancestor's drunkenness or debauch, the
same punishment may be meted out in mind and body to the
descendants of the drunkard or the debauchee. Intellectual blemish will
almost always accompany material blemish. The soul will be attacked

simultaneously with the body; and it matters but little whether the
victim be imbecile, mad, epileptic, possessed of criminal instincts, or
only vaguely threatened with slight mental derangement: the most
frightful moral penalty that a supreme justice could invent has followed
actions which, as a rule, cause less harm and are less perverse than
hundreds of other offences that Nature never dreams of punishing. And
this penalty, moreover, is inflicted blindly, not the slightest heed being
paid to the motives underlying the actions, motives that may have been
excusable perhaps, or indifferent, or possibly even admirable.
It would be absurd, however, to imagine that drunkenness and
debauchery are the only agents in moral heredity. There are a thousand
others, all more or less unknown. Certain moral qualities appear to be
transmitted as readily as though they were physical. In one race, for
instance, we will almost constantly discover certain virtues which have
probably been acquired. But who shall say how much is due to heredity,
and how much to environment and example? The problem becomes so
complicated, the facts so contradictory, that it is impossible, amidst the
mass of innumerable causes, to follow the track of one particular cause
to the end. Let it suffice to say that in the only clear, striking, definitive
cases where an intentional justice could have revealed itself in physical
or moral heredity, no trace of justice is found. And if we do not find it
in these, we are surely far less likely to find it in others.
6
We may affirm therefore that not above us, or around us, or beneath us,
neither in this life nor in our other life which is that of our children, is
the least trace to be found of an intentional justice. But, in the course of
adapting ourselves to the laws of life, we have naturally been led to
credit with our own moral ideas those principles of causality that we
encounter most frequently; and we have in this fashion created a very
plausible semblance of effective justice, which rewards or punishes
most of our actions in the degree that they approach, or deviate from,
certain laws that are essential for the preservation of the race. It is
evident that if I sow my field, I shall have an infinitely better prospect
of reaping a harvest the following summer than my neighbour, who has

neglected to sow his, preferring a life of dissipation and idleness. In this
case, therefore, work obtains its admirable and certain reward; and as
work is essential for the preservation of our existence, we have
declared it to be the moral act of all acts, the first of all our duties. Such
instances might be indefinitely multiplied. If I bring up my children
well, if I am good and just to those round about me, if I am honest,
active, prudent, wise, and sincere in all my dealings, I shall have a
better chance of meeting with filial piety, with respect and affection, a
better chance of knowing moments of happiness, than the man whose
actions and conduct have been the very reverse of mine. Let us not,
however, lose sight of the fact that my neighbour, who is, let us say, a
most diligent and thrifty man, might be prevented by the most
admirable of reasons--such as an illness caught while nursing his wife
or his friend--from sowing his ground at the proper time, and that he
also would reap no harvest. Mutatis mutandis, similar results would
follow in the other instances I have mentioned. The cases, however, are
exceptional where a worthy or respectable reason will hinder the
accomplishment of a duty; and we shall find, as a rule, that sufficient
harmony exists between cause and effect, between the exaction of the
necessary law and the result of the complying effort, to enable our
casuistry to keep alive within us the idea of the justice of things.
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This idea, however, deeply ingrained though it be in the hearts and
minds of the least credulous and least mystic of men,