ETHICS AND ITS HISTORY 245
and before this simple fact the entire fabric of a self-sufficient, "normative," ideal-bartering ethics, with its peculiar history, and its many other conceits about causation, a living creature sui generis, and the rest, goes hopelessly to pieces. Professional ethics has its place, and its important place, in the life of society ; its more or less technical doctrines of duty and pleasure have very naturally aided society ; yet, with all due allowance for pro- fessional etiquette and privilege, for the value of professional jealousy and exclusiveness, it is, after all, like any other pro- fession, in constant need of remembering that its conceits do not justify dogmas, and that, in spite of its name and good inten- tions, even morally it is not with apologies for the phrase the whole thing.
But somebody now reminds me that the argument of this paper is still defective, and defective in a very important point. How science as study of the conditions of action really meets the natural demands of the ethical question by supplying that " some- thing concrete uniting both duty and pleasure," has not yet been made evident. To this special point, then, I must turn in con- clusion. Thus, science, whether personal or professional, meets the demands of ethics, first, through what it reveals; second, through the methods it employs; and, third, through the attitude it inculcates; or let me say through its message, through its institutions, and through its spirit.
As to the message of science, its peculiar ethical worth, its reconciliation of duty and pleasure, lies in the fact that, whatever restraints it imposes, it assumes from beginning to end that the ideal dwells in the real. Is life so simple a thing as a race? Very well; you are racing, with all the zest of the life that is within you, across the hills and fields. Suddenly, as you break through a thicket, a brook confronts you, and you stop abruptly. What are you to do? You only half articulate the question to yourself; you run up and down, partly from mere force of habit, partly to vary your view; with a careful eye you measure this distance and that, the position of a stump or a stone, the depth of the water, perhaps even the force of the current; and then, the looking and trying over, you almost surprise even yourself
