Conscience as an unreliable moral judge
The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, GentlemanConscience as an unreliable moral judge is the central subject of a sermon read aloud by Corporal Trim and discussed by Walter Shandy, Uncle Toby, and Dr. Slop. Its crucial distinction is asymmetrical: self-accusation ordinarily gives good grounds to believe a person guilty, but a conscience that does not accuse cannot by itself establish innocence. Conscience must report to moral law; it cannot make that law, and its quiet is not proof that it has judged well.
The claim and its apparent certainty
The sermon begins by giving conscience a plausible authority. In ordinary inquiries, appearances may deceive and knowledge of earthly matters may be difficult to attain. Conscience seems different because the mind has access to the actions and passions within itself: it knows the inward fabric of its own conduct. On this account, conscience is the mind’s knowledge of that inward record and its unavoidable approval or censure of successive actions. A man who stands self-accused therefore appears guilty; when his heart does not condemn him, the argument seems to make a favorable conscience a certificate of goodness.
That apparently neat symmetry is the trap the sermon sets for its reader. Walter directs Corporal Trim to continue reading after praising how well he reads, while Dr. Slop objects that the sermon puts a Protestant divine against the apostle. Uncle Toby answers that the dispute seems no worse than the liberty of the pulpit: the sermon has not even been printed, nor is it likely to be. Walter asks Trim to go on, and the reading turns from the authority of inward testimony to the ways it can fail.
How conscience becomes unreliable
The sermon does not deny that knowledge of right and wrong is impressed on the human mind. It asks instead what happens when that moral sense is subjected to repeated pressure. Long habits of sin may harden conscience, as continual rough handling dulls a tender part of the body. Self-love can bias judgment; private interests can cloud the higher faculties; affection may intrude into the court that is supposed to weigh a case impartially. Wit can act as an advocate for an unjustifiable pleasure, while passion may take the judgment seat and pronounce in place of reason.
Under those conditions, a person’s view of his own moral standing cannot serve as its own reliable measure. The supposed equivalence between self-approval and innocence would hold only if conscience could never be dulled or bribed, and if private interest and passion never distorted its findings. Since these impediments do arise, a quiet mind may testify not to innocence but to a failure of moral perception. The sermon presents error not as an exceptional puzzle but as a foreseeable consequence of the very habits and attachments through which people judge themselves.
Accusation and silence are not equivalent
The sermon preserves one direction of the original claim while rejecting the other. When conscience accuses, it seldom errs on that side; except in melancholy or hypochondriac cases, the accusation is ordinarily supported by sufficient grounds. Self-condemnation is thus serious testimony, though the sermon allows that a particular state of mind can complicate its meaning.
The converse does not follow. Guilt does not always produce an accusing conscience, and the absence of accusation cannot make a guilty person innocent. The familiar Christian consolation that a person’s mind does not misgive him, and that he therefore possesses a good conscience because he possesses a quiet one, is described as fallacious. Its inference seems compelling until tested against ordinary facts: conscience may miss what it should judge, and the principle meant to support moral confidence can lose its force through false application. The distinction makes conscience a possible witness for the prosecution without making it an infallible judge in its own favor.
The need for an external standard
Because conscience can take imperfect cognizance of conduct, perform its office negligently, or act corruptly, the sermon says that it cannot safely be trusted alone. A second principle must assist it, if not govern its determinations. The stakes are practical as well as devotional: a person seeking to know his standing as an honest man, useful citizen, faithful subject, or servant of God must call in religion and morality. He must ask what the law of God says and consult calm reason and the unchanging obligations of justice and truth.
Only after those reports have been brought before conscience can its silence carry the assurance the earlier argument promised. If, in light of those standards, the heart does not condemn the person, the sermon allows confidence that his self-judgment anticipates the judgment of God. That is not confidence based on inward quiet alone. It rests on a conscience that has been made to answer to moral and religious criteria beyond its own fluctuating passions.
Rules, consequences, and the closing distinction
The sermon turns its argument into practical tests. A disputed notion should be judged by tracing the consequences it produces and comparing them with the spirit of Christianity; the rule is expressed as “By their fruits ye shall know them.” It also warns that loud attacks on religion may reflect passions overcoming a person’s creed rather than reason overcoming belief. The further rule is to trust no person who lacks conscience in every matter. Together, these tests shift attention from a person’s professed certainty to the conduct and consequences by which that certainty can be examined.
Its final distinction prevents the remedy from becoming another form of self-authorized judgment: conscience is not a law. God and reason make the law, while conscience is placed within a person to determine how that already existing law applies. The comparison is to a British judge who faithfully declares a law rather than inventing one according to changing passions. The sermon therefore neither dismisses conscience nor treats it as sovereign. It remains necessary as an inward judge, but its verdict is trustworthy only when disciplined by standards it did not create.