UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, SAN DIEGO 3 1822 00852 8697 in-:;V^„^,'^- \ UN I ' - ' > ^P CALIFORNIA ■^ SAN DIEGO »i- —^ /■ / THE METHODS OF ETHICS. I THE METHODS OF ETHICS BY HENEY SIDGWICK, M.A, LECTUKER AND LATE FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. *H oil yeXoiov iirl /xiv &\\ois afiiKpov d^loii irav iroieLv cvvreivofxivov^, 6iro}s 6n diKpifiiaTaTa Kal Kadapdorara 'd^ei, twv bk (/.eyiaTosv (mt) neyiaras d^ioSi> er;'ai Kal ras d/cpi/Seias ; — PLATO. tonticin : MACMILLAN AND CO. 1874. [All Bights rcsercech] CambdUgc : PEIKTED BY C. J. CLAT, M.A. AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS. PREFACE. In offering to the public a new book upon a subject so trite as Ethics, it seems desirable to indicate clearly at the outset its plan and purpose. Its distinctive characteristics may be first given negatively. It is not, in the main, metaphysical or psychological : at the same time it is not dogmatic or directly practical ; it does not deal, except by way of illustration, with the history of ethical thought : in a sense it might be said to be not even critical, since it is only quite incidentally that it offers any criticism of the systems of mdivi- dual moralists. It claims to be an examination, at once expository and critical, of the different methods of obtainino' reasoned convictions as to what ouo-ht to be done which are to be found — either exjDlicit or imphcit — m the moral consciousness of mankind ge- nerally : and which, from time to time, have been developed, either singly or in combination, by mdi- vidual thinkers, and worked up mto the systems now historical. V] PREFACE. I have avoided the inquiry into the Origin of the Moral Faculty — which has perhaps occupied a dis- proportionate amount of the attention of modern moralists — by the simple assumption (which seems to be made impUcitly m all ethical reasoning) that there is something under any given cu-cumstances which it is right or reasonable to do, and that this may be known. If it be admitted that we now have the faculty of knowing this, it aj)pears to me that the investigation of the historical antecedents of this cog- nition, and of its relation to other elements of the mind, no more properly belong to Ethics than the corresponding questions as to the cognition of Space belong to Geometry. I make, however, no further assumption as to the nature of the object of ethical knowledge: and hence my treatise is not dogmatic: all the diHerent methods developed in it are expounded and criticised from a neutral position, and as impar- tially as possible. And thus, though my treatment of the subject is, in a sense, more practical than that of many moralists, since I am occupied from first to last in considering how conclusions are to be rationally reached in the familiar matter of our common daily life and actual practice ; still, my immediate object, — to invert Aristotle's phrase — is not Practice but Know- ledge. I have thought that the predominance in the minds of moralists of a desire to edify has impeded the real j^rogress of ethical science : and that this would be benefited by an application to it of the same dis- interested curiosity to which we chiefly owe the great PREFACE. vii discoveries of physics. It is in this spirit that I have endeavoured to compose the present work : and with this view I have desired to concentrate the reader's attention, from first to last, not on the practical results to which our methods lead, but on the methods them- selves. I have wished to put aside temporarily the urgent need w^hich we all feel of finding and adopting the true method of determining what we ought to do ; and to consider simply what conclusions will be rationally reached if we start with certain ethical premises, and with what degree of certainty and precision. I ought to mention that Chapter iv. of Book i. has been reprinted (with considerable modifications) from the Contemporary Revieiv, in which it originally ap- peared as an article on "Pleasure and Desire." And I cannot conclude mthout a tribute of thanks to my friend Mr Venn, to whose kindness in accepting the somewhat laborious task of reading and criticising my work, both before and during its passage through the press, I am indebted for several improvements in my exposition. ^ CONTENTS. BOOK I. CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTION-. PAGES 1. Ethics is a department of the Science or Study of Practice. 1 — 2 2. It is the study of what ought to be, so far as this depends upon the voluntary action of individuals 2 — 4 3. Its fundamental assumption is, that there is in any given circumstances some one thing wliich ought to be done, and that this can be kno\vn 4 — 7 4. There are two prima facie rational Ends, Perfection and Happiness : of which either may be sought for oneself or universally. It is also commonly thought that certain Rules are prescribed without reference to Ends. Hence there are Five Methods of Ethics to examine ; but chiefly three. Egoism, Intuitionism, Utilitarianism. . . . 7 — 10 5. These methods we are to examine separately, abstracting them from ordinary thought, where we find them in con- fused synthesis, and developing them as rationally as possible 10 — 13 CHAPTER II. MORALITY AND LAW. 1. The relation of Morality to Law can only be vaguely given as it is determined differently by diffei'ent ethical schools. 13 — 17 2. But at any rate the primary object of Ethics is not to deter- mine what ought to be done in an ideal society : it there- fore does not require as a preliminary the construction of the latter, which belongs to Theoretical Politics. . . 17—21 S. E. h X CONTENTS. CHAPTER III. MORAL REASON. When we speak of Moral distinctions as apprehended by the reason, no more is signified than that Moral truth really exists and may be known. By ' Reason ' is merely meant a "faculty of apprehending truth :" and it is not denied that such apprehensions are always attended by a specific emotion (Moral Sentiment) The Moral Reason is a Spring of Action : that is, there actually is found in man a certain impulse to do what is reasonable as such PAGES 22—27 27—29 CHAPTER IV. 4. PLEASURE AND DESIRE. The psychological doctrine, that the object of Desire is always Pleasure, conflicts with the view of Reason just given: and tends naturally to exclude all methods of Ethics, except Egoistic Hedonism. . . .- . . 30 — 33 If by "pleasure" is meant "agreeable feeling," this doctrine is opposed to experience 33—34 For throughout the whole scale of our desii'es, from the highest to the lowest, we can distinguish impulses di- rected towards other ends than our own feelings from the desire of pleasure 34 — 40 As is further shewn by the occasional conflict between the two kinds of impulse. 40 — 42 CHAPTER V. FREE WILL. ' Freedom ' is not necessarily involved in the notion either of Rational or of Disinterested action. .... 43 — 45 The cumulative argument for Determinism is almost over- wlielming : 46 — 51 still it is impossible to mc to conceive my deliberate action as completely determined by character and circum- stances : however, if we scrutinize closely the range of volitional effects, 51 — 55 tlic question of Free Will docs not seem to be necessarily connected with systematic Ethics : except so far as the notion of .Tusticc is concerned 5.') 57 \ CONTENTS. xi CHAPTER VI. THE METHODS OF ETHICS. PAGES 1. The Methods indicated in chap. 1 have a,pnmd facie claim to proceed on reasonable principles. .... 58 — GO 2. Other principles (as that of "living according to Nature") seem, in so far as they can be made precise, to reduce themselves to these 60 — 64 3. The Methods may conveniently be classed under three heads : Intuitionism and the two kinds of Hedonism, Egoistic and Universali.stic. The common confusion be- tween the two latter is easily explained, but must be carefully guarded against. 64 — 71 CHAPTER VII. EGOISM AXD SELF-LOVE. 1. To get a clear idea of what is commonly known as Egoism, we must distinguish and exclude several possible mean- ings of the term : 7"2 — 76 2. and define its end as " the sum of pleasures, valued in pro- portion to their pleasantness " . ' . 76 — 80 CHAPTER VIII. INTUITIONISM. 1. The Intuitive method recognizes Rightness as a quality inherent in some kinds of action independently of their conduciveness to any end ; it admits of different views as to the ultimate reason for doing what is intuitively ascertained to be right : 80 — S3 2. also of differences in logical procedure. Thus we may dis- tinguish Perceptional Intuitionism : according to which it is always the rightness of some particular action that is held to be immediately known : 83 — 85 3. Dogmatic Intuitionism, in which the general rules of Common Sense are accepted as axiomatic : and Philosophical In- tuitionism, which attempts to find a more irrefragable basis foi" these current rules 86 — 89 4. The last of these is historically the earliest in English ethics. 89—91 h-2 xu CONTENTS. CHAriER IX. GOOD. PAGES 1. Another important variety of Intuitionism is constituted by substituting for " right " the wider notion " good." This is ilhistrated by the Ethical Speculation of Greece. . 92 — 95 2. The common judgment that a thing is good does not on reflection appear to be equivalent to a judgment that it is directly or indirectly pleasant 95 — 98 3. The perceiDtion of goodness in conduct coincides substan- tially with the perception of Rightness : except that it is less absolutely authoritative and is not confined to the strictly voluntary 98—100 4. There are many other things commonly judged to be good : but reflection shews that nothing is ultimately good except Conscious Life 100 — 104 BOOK 11. EGOISM. CHAPTER I. THE PKIXCIPLE AXP METHOD OF EGOISM. 1. The Principle of Egoistic Hedonism is the widely accepted proposition that the rational end of conduct for each individual is the Maximum of his own Happiness or Pleasure 107—110 2, TJierc are several methods of seeking this end : but we may take as primary that which proceeds by Empirical- reflective comparison of iileasures 110 — 111 CHAPTER II. EMPIRICAL HEDONISM. 1. In this method it is assumed that all pleasures and pains are commensurable; and can be arranged in a certain scale of preferay>leness : 112 — 114 2. plea.sure l)cing defined as " feeling judged to be preferable or desirable considered merely as feeling." . . . 114 — 117 CONTENTS. XI 11 CHAriER III. EMPIRICAL HEDOXIS.M (COXTIXUED). PAGES 1. To illustrate this method, let us consider objections tending to shew its inherent impracticability US — 120 2. First, we so continually discover error and illusion in our comparison of experienced pleasures, .... 120 — 125 3. that the supx^osed definite commensurability of i>leasurcs turns out to be an unverifiable assumption : and there is a similar liability to error in ai>propriating the exj)erience of others, and in inferring future pleasure from past. . 125 — 130 4. It is further objected that the habit of introspectively com- paring pleasures is unfavourable : but this does not seem necessarily the case. . • 130 — 132 5. Also that the predominance of Self-love is so : of this latter there is no doubt a danger ; but it seems that a rational egoist may recognise this danger, and avert it by cul- tivating extra-regarding impulses 132—135 CHAPTER IV. HEDOXISM AXD COMMON SEXSE. 1. It may seem that the judgments of Common Sense re- specting the Sources of Happiness oflfer a refuge from the uncertainties of Empirical Hedonism : but there are several fundamental defects in this refuge : . . . 136—133 2. and these judgments when closely examined are found to be perplexiiigly inconsistent 133 — 143 3. Still we may derive from them a certain amount of practical guidance 143 — 145 CHAPTER V. HAPPINESS AXD DUTY. 1. It has been thought possible to prove on empirical grounds that one's gi'eatest happiness is always attained by the iwrformance of duty. 1^6 — 1-17 2. But no such complete coincidence seems to residt from a consideration either of the Legal Sanctions of Duty: . 147—151 3. or of the Social Sanctions : 1^1 — 155 4. or of the Internal Sanctions. There is a general and normal coincidence, but to render it perfect would need a considerable change in the nature of man or of society, or of both 15.J— IGl xiv CONTENTS. CHAPTER VI. OTHER FORMS OF THE EGOISTIC METHOD. PAGES 1. No Hedonistic Metliod can be valid that does not xiltiraately rest on facts of empirical observation 162 — 1C3 2. Our impulses do not appear to be so perfectly adjusted to our circumstances that merely giving them free play will secure our greatest possible happiness 163 — 166 3. Nor can the principle of 'aiming at self-development' be so defined as to afford us any practical guidance to this result, without falling back on the empirical comparison of pleasures and pains 168 — 174 BOOK III. INTUITIONISM. CHAPTER I. 1. The fundamental assumption of Intuitionism is that we have the power of seeing clearly what actions are in themselves right and reasonable 177 — 17S 2. Actions (not motives or dispositions) are to be taken as the primary object of the intuitive moral judgment. . . 178 — 180 3. One motive, the desire to do what is right as such, has been thought an essential condition to right conduct : but this is not the general opinion. It is certainly an essential condition that we should believe the act to be right, which involves the belief that it would be right for all persons in similar circumstances : but this belief, though it may sujjply a valuable practical rule, cannot — as Kant held — furnish a complete criterion of right conduct. . 180 — 184 4. The existence of such intuitions — as distinct fi-om their originality or validity— will scarcely be questioned. . . 184 — 189 5. Both particular and universal intuitioris are found in our connnon moral thought: but it is for the latter that ulti- mate validity is ordinarily claimed by moralists. "We nnist try, by reflecting on Common Sense, to state these Moral A.xioms with clearness and precision. . . . 181)- 192 CONTENTS. XV CHAPTER II. VIRTUE AND DUTY, PAGES Duties ave Right acts, for the adequate performance of which a moral motive is at least occasionally necessary. 1. Virtue, as an element of character, is a disposition to do duties or praiseworthy acts that are more than strict duty 193—195 2. Excellences of which the results cannot be attained by im- mediate volition at any moment are not strictly Virtues : there is, however, a general Duty of cultivating them. . 195 — 198 3. It may be said that Moral Excellence, like Beauty, eludes definition : but if Ethical Science is to be constituted, we must obtain definite Moral Axioms 198 — 200 CHAPTER III. THE INTELLECTUAL VIRTUES. 1. The common conception of Wisdom assumes a harmony of the ends of different ethical methods : all of which — and not one rather than another — the wise man is thought to choose and attain as far as possible 200 — 203 2. The Will is to some extent involved in forming wise deci- sions : but more cleai'ly in acting on them. . . . 203 — 205 3. Of minor intellectual excellences, some are not strictly Virtues : others are, such as Caution and Decision, being wholly or in part voluntary 205 — 207 CHAPTER IV. BENEVOLENCE. 1. The Maxim of Benevolence bids us to some extent cultivate affections, and confer hapi)iness on 20S — 211 2. sentient, chiefly human, beings ; especially in certain cir- cumstances and relations. Thus rules for the distribution of kindness 211—216 3. are needed, as claims may conflict ; but are very difficult to obtain in a definite form : 21G — 219 4. as is seen when we examine the duties to Kinsmen, as commonly conceived : 219 — 222 5. and the wider duties of Neighbourhood, Citizenship, Uni- versal Benevolence : 222 — 226 6. and those springing from the Conjugal relation : . . . 226 — 229 7. and those of Friendship : 229—232 8. and those of Gratitude : and those to which we arc prompted by Pity 232—235 XVI CONTENTS. CHAPTER V. JUSTICE. PAGES 1. Justice is especially difScult to define. The Just cannot be identified with the Legal, as laws may be unjust. Again tlie Justice of laws does not consist merely in the absence of arbitrary inequality in framing or administering them. 236 — 240 2. One element of Justice seems to consist in the fulfilment of (1) contracts and definite understandings, and (2) expec- tations arising naturally oiit of the established order of Society. But this order may itself, from another point of view, be condemned as unjust : 2-10 — 246 3. that is as tried by the standard of Ideal Justice. What then is this Standard 1 We seem to find various degrees and forms of it. 246 — 24S 4. One view of Ideal Law states Freedom as its absolute End : but the attempt to constnict a system of law on this principle involves us in insuperable difficulties. . . 248 — 253 5. Nor does it express owy conception of Ideal Justice. The principle of this is rather 'that Desert should be re- quited.' 253—257 G. But the aijplication of this principle is again very pcqilexing : whether we try to determine Good Desert, . . . 257 — 263 7. or 111 Desert, in order to realize Criminal Justice. There remains too the difficulty of reconciling the different kinds or elements of Justice 263 — 267 CHAPTER VI. LAW AXD CONTRACT. 1 . The duty of obeying Laws, though it may to a great extent be included under Justice, still requires a separate treatment. We can, however, obtain no consensus for any precise definition of it 268—270 2. For we can neither agree as to what kind of government is ideally legitimate, . . * 270 — 273 3. nor as to the criterion of a traditionally legitimate govern- ment, or the proper limits of its authority. . . . 273 — 277 4. The duty of fulfilling a promise in tlie sense in which it was nndcrstood by both promisor and jn'omisec . . • 277 — 280 5> (it l)eing admitted that its obligation is relative to the pro- misee, and may be annulled by him, and that it cannot override strict prior obligations) is thought to be pecu- liarly stringent and certain 280 — 281 CONTENTS. XVU PAGES 6. 8. 9. But Common Sense seems to doubt how far a promise is binding when it has been obtained by force or fraud : or when circumstances have materially altered since it was made — especially if it be a promise to the dead or absent, from which no release can be obtained Other doubts arise when a promise has been misappre- hended : and in the peculiar case where a prescribed form of words has been used And finally, the duty does not seem clear when the perform- ance of the promise will be harmful to the promisee, or inflict a disiiroiicrtionate sacrifice on the jiromiser. . 281—282 282—285 285— 2b7 287-288 CHAPTER YII. CLASSIFICATION OF DUTIES. TRUTH. 1. I have not adopted the classification of duties into Social and Self- regarding : as it seems inappropriate to the Intuitional method, of which the characteristic is, that it lays down certain absolute and independent rules : such as the rule of Truth 289—252 2. But Common Sense after all scarcely seems to prescribe truth-speaking mider all cu-cimistances : nor to decide clearly whether the beliefs which we are bound to make true are those directly produced by our words or the immediate inferences from these 292 — 295 3. It is said that the general allowance of Unveracity would be suicidal, as no one would believe the falsehood. But this argument, though forcible, is not decisive ; for (1) this result may be in special circumstances desirable, or (2) we may have reason to expect that it will not occur. . . 295— 29(J CHAPTER VIII. OTHER SOCIAL DUTIES AND VIRTUES. 1. 2. Common opinion sometimes condemns sweepingly Malevo- lent feelings and volitions : but Reflective Common Sense seems to admit some as legitimate, determining the limits of this admission on utilitarian grounds. Other maxims of social duty seem clearly subordinate to those already discussed : as is illustrated by au examina- tion of Liberality and other cognate notions. . 297—300 300—302 XVlll CONTENTS. CHAPTER IX. SELFREGARDING VIRTUES. PAGES 1. The general duty of seeking one's own happiness is com- monly recognized under the notion of Prudence. . . 303 — 304 2. This as specially applied to the control of bodily appetites is called Temperance : but under this notion a more rigid restraint is sometimes thought to be prescribed: though as to the principle of this there seems no agree- ment 304—306 3. Nor is it easy to give a clear definition of the maxim of Purity — but in fact common sense seems averse to at- tempt this 306—308 CHAPTER X. COURAGE, HUMILITY, &C. 1. The Duty of Courage is subordinate to those already dis- cussed : and in drawing the line between the Excellence of Courage and the Fault of Foolhardiness we seem forced to have recourse to utilitarian considerations. . 309 — 311 2. Similarly the maxim of Humility seems either clearly sub- ordinate or not clearly determinate. .... 311 — 314 CHAPTER XI. REVIEW OF THE MORALITY OF COMMON SENSE. 1. We have now to examine the moral maxims that have been defined, to ascertain wliether they possess the character- istics of scientific intuitions 315 — 317 2. We require of an Axiom that it should be (1) stated in clear and precise terms, (2) really self-evident, (3) not conflicting with any otlier truth, (4) supported by a com- plete ' consensu* of exi)crts.' These characteristics are not found in the moral maxims of Common Sense . . 317 — 322 3. The maxims of AVisdom and Selfcontrol arc only self- evident in so far as they are tautological. . . . 322 — 324 4. Nor can we state any clear, absolute, universally-admitted axioms for determining the duties of the Affections. . 324 — 328 CONTENTS. XIX PAGES Alul as for the gi-oup of principles that were extracted from the common notion of Justice, we cannot define each singly in a satisfactory manner, still less reconcile them 328-332 And even the Duty of Good Faith, when wo consider the numerous qualifications of it more or less doubtfully admitted by Common Sense, seems more like a sub- ordinate rule of Utilitarianism than an independent First Principle. Still more is this the case with Ve- racitj'. 332 — 335 And .similarly with other virtues: including even Purity when we force ourselves to examine it rigorously. The common moral maxims are adequate for practical guid- ance, but do not admit of being elevated into scientific 335—340 axioms. CHAPTER XII. MOTIVES OR SPRINGS OF ACTION AS SUBJECTS OF MORAL JUDGMENT. It has been held by several moralists (most definitely by jMr Martiueau), that the " Universal Conscience " judges primarily not of Rightness of acts, but of Rank of Motives 341—345 If, however, we include the Moral Sentiments among these motives, this latter vicAv involves all the difiiciUties and perplexities of the former 345 — 347 But even if we leave these out, we still find very little agreement as to Rank of Motives : and there is a special difliculty arising from complexitiy of motive. Kor, finally, does it seem strictly true that a higher motive is always better than a lower one 347 — 351 CHAPTER XIII. PHILOSOPHICAL INTUITIONISM. The Philosopher, as such, attempts to penetrate beneath the surface of Common Sense to some deeper principles : 352—353 but has too often presented to the world, as the result of his investigation, tautological propositions and vicious circles 353 — 357 But Clarke's 'Rule of Equity' and 'Rule of Benevolence' seem (with some modification of statement) to be real axioms of substantial value. ..... 357 — 360 XX CONTENTS. PAGES 4. The first of these is a special aiiph'cation of Kant's Formal Principle : the second is also exhibited by Kant as fun- damental, though less satisfactorily 360 — 363 5. This latter, if for ' Good ' we substitute the more definite term 'Happiness,' becomes the First Principle of Utilita- rianism 363— 3G6 CHAPTER XIV. THE SDM.MUM BOXUM. 1. Ultimate Good (cf. i. c. 9) was seen to be either Hapi)iness or Perfection of Conscious Life : that is, what is intrin- sically preferable or desirable is either Feeling, or cer- tain objective relations of the Conscious Mind. . . 367—371 2. Wheu these alternatives are fairly presented, Common Sense must surely choose the former : especially as we can now explain its instinctive dishiclinatiou to admit Pleasure as ultimate end : 371 — 375 3. while the other alternative leaves the notion ' Good ' hope- lessly indeterminate. 375 — 378 BOOK IV. UTILITARIANISM. CHAPTER I. THE MEA^^ING OF UTILITARIANISM. 1. The ethical theory called Utilitarianism, or Universalistic Hedonism, is to be carefully distinguished from Egoistic Hedonism ; and also from any psychological theory as to the nature and origin of the Mui'al Sentiments. . . 381 — 384 2. Tlic notion of 'Greatest Happiness' has been determined in ]>. II. c. 1. That of ' Greatest Number ' requires to be further explained. Does it include all Sentient Beings ? and is it Total or Average Hapi)iness that we seek to make a maximum ? We may also require a supplement- ary l*rincii)le of Dislributioii of Happiness . . . 384 — 387 CONTENTS. XXI CHAPTER II. THE PROOF OP UTILITAKIANISM. PAGES Common Sense demands a Proof of the First Principle of this method, more clearly than it does of those of Egoism and Intuitionism 3S8 — 390 Such a proof, addressed to the Egoist, was given in B. iii. c. 13, §§ 3 — 5 : where it appeared as an exhibition of this Principle as the most certain of our Intuitions. But, to convince the Intuitiouist, its relation to other moral Intuitions must also be shewn, 390 — 393 CHAPTER III. THE PROOF OF UTILITARIANISM (CONTINUED). 1. Taking as our basis Hume's exhibition of the Virtues as Felicific qualities of character, we can trace a complex coincidence between Utilitarianism and Common Sense, It is not needful — nor does it even helj) the argument — to shew this coincidence to be perfect and exact. . , 394 — 397 2. We may observe, first, that Dispositions may often be ad- mired (as generally felicific) when the siiccial acts that have resulted from them are infelicific. Again, the maxims of many virtues are found to contain an explicit or implicit reference to Duty conceived as already deter- minate. Passing over these to examine the more definite among common notions of Duty : 397 — 401 3. we observe, first, how the rules that prescribe the distribu- tion of kindness in accordance with normal promptings of Family Affections, Friendship, Gratitude, and Pity, rest on a Utilitarian basis : and how Utilitarianism is naturally referred to for an explanation of the difficulties that arise in attempting to define these rules. . . 401—411 4. A similar result is reached by an examination, singly and together, of the different elements into which I analyzed the common notion of Justice : 411 — 418 5. and in the case of other virtues 418 — 420 6. Purity has been thought an exception : but a carcfid exa- mination of common opinions as to the regulation of sexual relations exhibits a peculiarly complex and delicate correspondence between moral sentiments and social uti- lities 420-424 XXll CONTENTS. PAGES The hyiwthcsis that the Moral Sense is 'unconsciously Utilitarian' also accounts for the actual differences in different codes of Duty and estimates of Virtue, either in the same age and country, or when we comjiare dif- ferent ages and countries. This does not imply that per- ception of rightness has always been consciously derived from jjerception of utility : a view which the evidence of history fails to support 424 — 427 CHAPTER IV. THE METHOD OF UTIHTARIAJyaSM. Ought a utilitarian, then, to accejjt the Morality of Common Sense provisionally as a body of Utilitarian doctrine ? Not quite ; for even accepting the theory that the Moral Sense is derived from Sympathy, we can discern several causes that must have operated to produce a divergence between Common Sense and a perfectly UtiUtarlan code of morality 428—435 At the same time it seems idle to try to construct such a code in any other way than by taking Positive Morality as our basis 435 — 438 CHAPTER V. THE METHOD OF UTILITARIANISM (CONTINUED), 1. It is, then, a Utilitarian's duty at once to support generally, and to rectify in detail, the morality of Common Sense : and the method of pure empirical Hedonism seems to be the only one that he can at present use for this recti- fication 439 — 442 2. His innovations may be either negative and destructive, or positive and supplementary. There are certain important general reasons against an innovation of the former kind, which may, hi any given case, easily outweigh the special arguments in its favour 442 — 448 3. Generally, a Utilitarian in innovating on an established rule of conduct, desires his innovation to be imitated by others. But in some cases he may know that it will not be so imitated ; and may think this on the whole expe- dient. Thus he may recognize the existence of different moralities in the same society as possibly expedient : though it is nut likely that it will be so actually to any great extent 448 — 455 CONTENTS. xxiii PAGES 4. There arc ho similar difficulties in the way of modifying the Ideal of Moral Excellence — as distinguished from the dictates of Moral Duty — in order to render it more per- fectly fclicific 455—459 CHAPTER VI. THE SANCTIONS OF UTILITARNIANISM. 1. Practically — and even theoretically — we require Sanctions as well as Proof, in order to reconcile Egoism and Utili- tarianism 460 — 4G1 2. In so far as Utilitarianism coincides with Common Sense, we have seen in B. ii. c. 5, that no comijlete reconciliation is possible 461 — 462 3. Nor does a fuller consideration of Sympathy, as a specially utilitarian sanction, lead us to modify this conclusion ; in spite of the importance that is undoubtedly to be at- tached to sympathetic pleasures 462 — 46G 4. The Religious Sanction, if we can shew that it is actually attached to the Utilitarian Code, is of course adequate : . 466 — 4C9 5. but its existence cannot be demonstrated by ethical argu- ments alone. We can only shew that, without this or some similar assumption, Ethical Science cannot be con- structed 469—473 THE METHODS OF ETHICS, BOOK L CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTION. § 1. Ethics may be defined as tlie Science of Practice or Conduct: the latter term is preferable, as Practical Science is more conveniently used to include along with Ethics the cognate studies of Jurisprudence^ and Politics. All three alike are distinguished from speculative^ sciences by the characteristic that they attempt to determine not the actual but the ideal : what ought to exist, not what does exist. An objection is sometimes taken to the application of the term " Science " to such studies as these. It is said that a Science must necessarily have some department of actual existence for its subject-matter : and there is no doubt that the term "Moral Sciences " is frequently — perhaps more frequently — used to de- note studies that deal with the actually existent : viz. Psycho- logy, or a portion of it ; what Mr Mill calls Ethology, or the inquiry into the laws of the formation of character ; and Soci- ology, or (as it has been also termed) the Physiology of Society. 1 I use this term iu its older and wider signification, to denote a science or study that deals with the matter as well as the /or?re of Law. 2 There is no term that will exactly express the distinction needed, without some limitation of its usage. We commonly speak of Ethical speculations. But some term is required, and "speculative" seems to me on the whole the best. " Positive" I should have chosen, if it were not too much identified with a special system. S. E. 1 2 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. It is the object of such studies to classify and explain the actual phenomena, exhibited either by individual human beings con- sidered separately, or by the larger organizations of which they are elements. At the same time, comparatively few persons pursue these studies from pure curiosity, in order merely to ascertain what actually exists. Most men wish not only to understand human action, but also to regulate it ; and indeed almost all writers on man and society introduce at least inci- dentally practical suggestions, and criticisms passed from a practical point of view. They apply the ideas "good" and "bad," "right" and "wrong," to the conduct or institutions which they describe ; and thus pass, sometimes half uncon- sciously, from the point of view of Ps3^chology or Sociology to the point of view of Ethics or Politics. It is true that the mutual implication of the two kinds of_^ study is, on any theory, very close and complete. Our view of what ought to be is derived, at least in all details, from our apprehension of what is: and the means of realizing our ideal can only be thoroughly learnt by a careful study of actual phenomena. But the deter- mination of the first principles of practice, of the End or Ideal itself at which we are to aim, seems necessarily to lie outside of all investigation of the actual. It is the systematic determina- tion of such End or Ideal which forms the essentially distinct portion of all branches of Practical Philosophy, and most pro- minently of Ethics proper : and it is merely a verbal question whether we shall apply the name " science " to such systematic studies : though it is, of course, important that we should not confound them with the purely speculative studies to which they bear respectively so close a relation. § 2. There are two essentially distinct forms of putting the fundamental question of Ethics, the difference between which, as we shall presently see, leads to important consequences : and goes deeper (at any rate when the science is considered in its formal aspect) than any differences among the answers given to either question. Ethics may either be regarded as an inquiry into the nature of the Good, the intrinsically preferable and desirable, the true end of action, &c. : or as an investigation of the Right, the true rules of conduct, Duty, the Moral Law, &c. The former view predominated in the Greek schools, at any rate Chap. I.] INTRODUCTION. 3 until tlie later tlevelopments of Stoicism : tlie latter has been more prominent in English Philosophy since Hobbes, in an age of active jural speculation and debate, raised the deepest views of morality in a jural form. Either view can easily be made to comprehend the other : but the second seems to have the widest application. For the good that Ethics is understood to investi- gate is limited to practicable good, as Aristotle says : that is, good that can be obtained by the voluntary action of human beings. Now this end might conceivably be that to which all human action is actually directed : and indeed the school of moralists which regards Pleasure as the Good, main- tains that this is in a certain sense the case ; but not in a prac- tical sense, as no one maintains that the actions of all men are such as a scientific Hedonist would approve. Even in the view of pure Epicureanism, action aimed at the true end, directed towards the attainment of that which is truly good, is an ideal to which actual human conduct only approximates. The science of Ethics, therefore, necessarily treats of action which to a great extent is not : action therefore which (we may say) ought to be. Its affirmations are also precepts : indeed, if it were not so, the distinction just drawn between Ethics and Psychology would vanish. On the other hand, the first view of Ethics is not naturally applicable to those systems which consider rightness of conduct to consist in conformity to absolute rules, or (as Kant calls them) " Categorical Imperatives." It is true that here we may say with Aristotle that the end is the action itself, or a certain quality of it (conformity to a Rule), and not something outside of and consequent on the action : but in common language, when we speak of acting for an end, we mean something different from the action itself, some consequence of it. Again, while most moralists hold that right action is always (whether through natural laws or supernatural appointment) followed by conse- quences in themselve desirable, which may be regarded as in a certain sense the end of the action : still many of the school called Intuitivist or Intuitional hold that our obligation to obey moral rules is not conditional on our knowledge of the end and of its connexion with the actions prescribed. The end, they say, is a Divine end, and not to be scrutinized by men : the rules are 1—2 4 THE METHOD f^ OF ETHICS. [Book I. for us absolute. And this is probably the commonest concep- tion of morality (as expressed in propositions) : that it is a system of absolute rules, prescribed by God through conscience for obeying which no reason is to be asked or given, except that they are so prescribed. Hence it seems best not to assume at the outset that Ethics investigates an end at all, but rather to define it as the study of what ought to be done : or, more precisely, of what ought to be as far as it depends upon the voluntary action of individuals. For it may be said that the marriage-law ought to be altered or a Republic introduced : but it cannot be said that I ought to alter or introduce, as I cannot do so without the cooperation of others. What / ought to do must be something that I can do. It may be objected that we commonly apply the notions of "right" and "wrong" not only to the voluntary actions of indi- viduals, but also to their motives and dispositions. But I conceive it is only in so far as these are thought to be at least indirectly within the control of the will, that they become the objects of strictly ethical judgments. § 3. We must observe, however, that an entirely different view is sometimes taken of the scope of Ethics. It is said, as for example by Dugald Stewart, that the inquiry into the Theory of Morals — which Stewart distinguishes in a manner which seems to me essentially popular and unphilosophical from the inquiry into Practical Doctrines — may be subdivided into two inquiries: (1) into the "nature of the moral faculty" and (2) into the "proper object of moral approbation": and it is in fact upon the former that Stewart and others expend the greater part of their energy. The second corresponds to the province of Ethics as just defined. The "proper object of moral approbation "=what those who think rightly think ought to be done: which is only a roundabout way of describing what ought to be done, as everything obviously is what it is rightly thought to be. Now it is evident that the first inquiry, ' By what faculty we know what ought to be done,' is quite distinct from the second. Every one is interested in the latter: it is of imme- diate practical importance. But if we were only agreed as to what we ought to do, the question, ' How we come to know it,' Chap. I.] INTRODUCTION. 5 would be one of quite subordinate interest, which most persons would be content to leave unstudied. So in the case of geometry, many persons are anxious to understand the necessary or universal relations of things exist- ing in space ; while the question ' How we come to know these relations' interests comparatively few: and is not regarded as belonging to the science of geometry, but to Psychology, Logic or Metaphysics. In the same way the question 'What ought to be done' would naturally seem the fundamental question of Ethics proper: while the question 'How we come to know what ought to be done,' would naturally form a part of the general inquiry into the nature of knowledge and our faculties for knowing. At the same time the parallel between Ethics and Geome- try is not very close. In Geometry there is complete agree- ment as to Method of reasoning: and only slight difference of opinion as to the premises which may be legitimately assumed. If there were several competing methods of geometry, proceed- ing on diverse principles, differing to some extent in their con- clusions and far more in their premises, geometers would inevitably be involved at the outset of their study in methodo- logical discussion. And disagreement as to the right method of reasoning in Ethics naturally leads to an inquiry into the manner in which men actually do reason, and so into the nature and working of the moral faculty. In this way we find- again a new point of contact between Ethics proper and Ethical psychology, and a new distinction requisite. We have not only to distinguish between what men ought to do, and what they actually do : but also between what men, taken indivi- dually, nationally, historically, think to be their duty, and what really is such. The distinction last drawn is sometimes denied. It is said that "what ought to be, .has no objective existence.''' In one sense this is of course true. What ought to be, as such, does not exist at all. It is not, it ought to he. But if science of it be possible it must in another sense have objective existence : it must be an object of knowledge and as such the same for all minds. Even this however is not always admitted. "What ought to be done" (it is said) " is merely what ive should like 6 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. to be done, or, more precisely, what excites in us a specific feeling called approbation, varying in its object from mind to mind. A psychological account of it is therefore the only true one. Ethical science can do no more than describe the different ways of feeling and judging about actions which experience shows us to exist, classify them, and attempt to discover the laws of their growth and development." This is sometimes called the Doctrine of the Eelativity of Morals: but the term "relative," here as in metaphysics, is am- biguous, and its different meanings need to be carefully dis- criminated. One may hold that duty varies with the individual and is so far relative, and yet maintain that it varies on rational grounds, capable of being explained, systematized, and reduced to principles. So much relativity, indeed, is admitted to some extent in all moral systems. But if it be maintained that two men may act in two different ways under circum- stances precisely similar, and yet neither be wrong because each thinks himself right: then the common notion of morality must be rejected as a chimera. That there is in any given cir- cumstances some one thing which ought to be done and that this can be known, is a fundamental assumption, made not by philosophers only, but by all men who perform any processes of moral reasoiiiug : indee'd scientific Ethics can be only the organization and systematic elaboration of principles and me- thods implied in the moral reasoning of common men. I do not say that every man, or tlie same man at all times, adopts the same principles and method in his moral reasoning. On the contrary, I think that moralists have erred importantly in not seeing and admitting that men, in so far as they reason on morals and attempt to make their practice rational, do so, naturally and normally, upon different principles and by differ- ent methods : that there are, in short, several Natural Methods of Ethics. It is true — indeed it follows from what has been just said — that it is a postulate of the science that either these methods must be reconciled and harmonized, or all but one of them rejected. The common sense of men cannot acquiesce in con- flicting principles : so there can be but one rational method of Ethics (in the widest sense of the word method). But in setting Chap. I.] INTRODUCTION. 7 out to inquire what this is, wc ought to recognize the fact that there are many natural methods. § 4. The question, what these methods are, may be conve- niently answered by noticing another sense in which "ought" is said to be a relative term : relative, it is now meant, to some end in view which has to be presupposed. If we take the end as our end, the ultimate effect which we wish to realize by all our action or a part of it: and if we ascertain that certain courses of action are necessary to its realization : our reason makes these courses of action imperative on us : it is evidently irrational to choose the end, and not to choose the indispensable means. But such precepts are merely, what Kant calls them. Hypothetical Imperatives ; they are not addressed to any one who has not first accepted the end. Now there is no doubt that the word "ought" is frequently used in this way: and moreover that it is often so used when the end is tacitly supposed, not expressed. A teacher of any art assumes that his pupil wants to produce the product of the art, or to produce it excellent in quality : he tells him that he ought to hold the awl, the hammer, the brush differently. A physician assumes that his patient wants health : he tells him that he ought to rise early, to live plainly, to take hard exer- cise. If the patient replies that he prefers ease and good living to health, the physician's precepts fall to the ground : they are no longer addressed to him. A man of the world assumes that his hearers wish to get on in society, when he lays down rules of dress, manner, conversation, habits of life. In the same way many rules that are commonly regarded as rules of morality : many, for example, that form part of the proverbial code of precepts handed down in an early stage of civilization: may be plausibly viewed as merely Counsels of Prudence (to use a Kantian term again). They are given on the assumption that a man desires Happiness : if any one should be so exceptional as not to desire it, they are simply not addressed to him : and so the "ought" in such formula3 is still implicitly relative to an optional end. It seems, however, that this account of the matter is not exhaustive. We do not all look with simple indifference on a man who declines to take the right means to attain his own 8 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. happiness, on no other ground than that he does not care about liappiness. Most of us would regard such a refusal as irrational, with a certain disapprobation : would think, in other words, that he ougld to seek his own happiness. The word "ought" thus used is no longer relative: happiness now appears as an end absolutely prescribed by reason. So, again, many Utilitarians hold all the rules of con- duct which men pi'escribe to one another as moral rules, to be partly consciously and partly unconsciously prescribed as means to the end of the happiness of the community. But here ao-ain it is very commonlv held that while the rules are relative, the end is absolutely prescribed. It is held that we ought to seek the happiness of the community. In the case of men's own happiness it may be said with a semblance of truth that as they naturally do seek it, and cannot help seeking it, the idea of "ought" is inapplicable: but in the case of the general happiness, no one has ever urged that it is natural to all men to aim at it: it is obvious that they do not, or do not adequately. We might of course inquire into the means of attaining individual or general happiness, without deciding whether the end to be attained be optional or prescribed by Reason to all mankind : in this case the study might be called (as has been proposed) Eudemonics : but as it would not claim to determine the absolute rightness and Avrongness of actions, it would not be properly an Ethical inquiry (in the sense in which Ethics is here understood). It would however be convertible into Ethics, by the acceptance of the end as absolutely prescribed. We see then that there will be as many different methods of Ethics, as there are different views of the ends which men ought to seek. Now if all the ends which men actually do seek, subordinating everything else to the attainment of them (under the influence of "ruling passions"), laid claim to be absolute ends, the task of the ethical student would be hopelessly complex and extensive. But this is not the case : we do not find that men regard most of the objects which they seek, even with persistency and vehemence, as morally prescribed. Many men sacrifice health, fortune, happiness to Fame : but no one has deliberately maintained that Fame is an object which men Chap. L] INTRODUCTION. 9 ought to seek, except as a means to something else, either as the best stimulus to the attainment of Excellence, or because its pursuit affords, on the whole, the keenest Happiness. Whether there are any ends besides these two, which Reason regards as ultimate : or (to put it otherwise) whether any other objects are properly included under the notion of "intrinsically good" or "desirable": it will hereafter be an important part of our business to investigate. But we may perhaps say that prima facie the only two ends which clearly claim to be, as some would say, rational ends, or ends absolutely prescribed, are the two just mentioned, Perfection or Excellence and Happi- ness. And we must observe that on either of these ends two quite distinct methods may be based, according as either is sought to be realized universally, or by each individual for himself alone. There is, however, another view of Ethics, mentioned above, which dropping into the background the notion of an eiid, takes as First Principles of practice certain rides absolutely prescribed. Such a system would seem to be generally meant when we speak of an Independent or of an Intuitive system of Ethics: and morality in the view of Butler, and of the Common Sense School generally, is conceived in this manner. We have then Five Methods to distinguish, which, however, by no means require equal attention. In the first place, no systematic moralist has seriously taken universal Perfection (as distinct from Happiness) as the ultimate end to which all moral rules should be explicitly referred. Again the method which seeks the individual's perfection as ultimate end is closely akin to that which aims at conformity to certain absolute rules: virtue being the most prominent element in our notion of human perfection. It will therefore be convenient to treat these together as two varieties of what we may call Intuitionism. There remain the two systems which make Happiness an ulti- mate end. Both of these are frequently called Utilitarianism. We may distinguish them as Egoistic and Universalistic He- donism : as it is the latter of these, as taught by Beutham and his successors, that has become famous as Utilitarianism, I shall always restrict that term to this signification. For Egoistic Hedonism it is somewhat hard to find a single perfectly appro- 10 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. priate term. I shall often call this simply Egoism : but it may sometimes be convenient to call it Epicureanism : for though this name more properly denotes a particular historical system it has come to be commonly used in the wider sense in which I wish to employ it. § 5. The last sentence suggests one more explanation, which, for clearness' sake, it seems desirable to make : an explanation, however, rather of the plan and purpose of the present treatise, than of the nature and boundaries of the subject of Ethics, as generally understood. There are several recognised ways of treating this subject, none of which I have thought it desirable to adopt. We may start with existing systems, and either study them historically, tracing the changes in thought through the centuries, or com- pare and classify them according to relations of resemblance, or criticize their internal coherence. Or we may seek to add to the number of these systems : and claim after so many unsuccessful efforts to have at last attained the one true theory of the subject, by which all others may be tested. The present book contains neither the exposition of a system nor a natural or critical history of systems. I have attempted to define and unfold not one Method of Ethics, but several : at the same time these are not here studied historically, as methods that have actually been used or proposed for the regulation of practice : but rather as alternatives between which the human mind seems to me necessarily forced to choose, when it attempts to frame a complete synthesis of practical maxims and to act in a perfectly rational manner. Thus though I have called them natural methods, they might more properly be called natural methods rationalized ; because it is perhaps most natural to men to guide themselves by a mixture of different methods, more or less disguised under ambiguities of language. The impulses from which the different methods take their rise exist to some extent in all men ; and the different claims of different ends to be rational each man finds urged and ad- mitted by his own mind in different states and attitudes. And as along with these claims is felt the need of harmonizing them — since it is, as was said, a postulate of the Practical Reason, that two conflicting rules of action cannot both be reasonable — Chap. I.] INTRODUCTION. 11 the result is ordinarily either a confused blending, or a forced and premature reconciliation, of different principles and me- thods. Nor have the systems framed by professed moralists been free from similar defects. The writers have proceeded to synthesis without adequate analysis ; the practical demand for the former being much more urgently felt than the theoretical need of the latter. For in this and other points the develop- ment of the theory of ethics has been much impeded by the preponderance of practical considerations. Although Aristotle has said that " the end of our study is not knowledge, but con- duct," it is still true that the peculiar excellence of his own system is due to the pure air of scientific curiosity in which it has been developed. And it would seem that a more com- plete detachment of the scientific study of right conduct from its practical application is to be desired for the sake even of the latter itself. A treatment which is a compound between the scientific and the hortatory seems to miss both the results that it would combine : the mixture is bewildering to the brain and not stimulating to the heart. Again, in other sciences, the more distinctly we draw the line between the known and the unknown, the more rapidly the science progresses : for the clear indication of an unsolved j)roblem is an important step to its solution. ' But in ethical treatises there has been a continual tendency to ignore and keep out of sight the difficulties of the subject; either unconsciously, from a latent conviction that the questions which the writer cannot answer satisfactorily must be questions which ought not to be asked ; or consciously, that he may not shake the sway of morality over the minds of his read- ers. This last amiable precaution frequently defeats itself: the difficulties thus concealed in exposition are liable to reappear in controversy; and then they appear not carefully limited, but magnified for polemical purposes. Thus we get on the one hand vague and hazy reconciliation, on the other loose and random exaggeration of discrepancies : and neither process is effective to dispel the original vagueness and ambiguity which lurks in the fundamental notions of our common practical rea- sonings. The mists which the dawn of philosophical reflection in Socrates struggled to dispel still hang about the methods of the most highly reputed moralists. To eliminate this indefiniteness \ 12 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. and confusion is the sole immediate end that I have proposed to m3'self in the present work. In order better to execute this task, I have refrained from making any attempt at such a final solution of the chief ethical difficulties and controversies as would convert this exposition of various methods into the development of a harmonious system. At the same time I am not without hope of affording aid towards the construction of such a system ; because it seems easier to judge of the con- flicting claims of different modes of thought, after an impartial and rigorous investigation of the conclusions to which they logically lead. A humourist once said that he would not admit that two and two made four until he knew what use would be made of the statement; and the paradox is subtle and sug- gestive : since it is not uncommon to find in reflecting on practical principles, that however unhesitatingly they seem to command our assent at first sight, and however familiar and apparently clear the notions of which they are composed, nevertheless when we have carefully examined the consequences of adopting them they wear a changed and somewhat dubious aspect. The truth seems to be that all moral principles that have ever been put forward are more or less satisfactory to the common sense of mankind, so long as they have the field to themselves. They all find a response in our nature : their fundamental assumptions are all such as we are disposed to accept, and such as we find, to govern to a certain extent our habitual conduct. When I am asked, " Are you not continually seeking pleasure and avoiding pain?" "Have you not a moral sense?" "Do you not intui- tively pronounce some actions to be right and others wrong?" " Do you not acknowledge the general happiness to be a para- mount end ?" I answer yes to all questions. My difficulty begins when I have to choose between the different principles. We admit the necessity, when they conflict, of making this choice, and that it is irrational to let sometimes one principle prevail and sometimes anotlier ; but tlie necessity is a painfvil one. We cannot but hope that all methods may ultimately coincide : and at any rate before making our election we may reasonably wish to have the completest possible knowledge of each. And here one may perhaps express a certain dissatisfaction CiiAP. I. j INTROD UCTION. 1 3 with moralists of all schools; not for the conclusions to which they have come, but for the slight trouble that they seem to have taken in coming to these conclusions. The modern Epicurean reasons closely and scientifically when he tries to persuade us that it is useless to aim at anything but pleasure : but when we are per- suaded, at any rate so far as to be strongly interested in learn- ing his theory of pleasure and its conditions, we are disappointed to find his treatment become suddenly loose and popular. The Intuitionist spends unnecessary words in convincing us that we have moral intuitions; but when we ask him, "What then are the rules that we intuitively know?" his answers seem almost wilfully vague. What Descartes writes of the older books which his teachers set before him, may be applied to most orthodox- treatises on Ethics : " lis elevent fort haut la vertu, mais ils n'enseignent pas assez a la connaitre." My object, then, in the present work, is to expound as clearly and as fully as my limits will allow, the different methods of Ethics that I find implicit in our common moral reasoning ; to point out their mutual relations ; and where they seem to conflict, to define the issue as much as possible. I have wished to keep the reader's attention throughout di- rected to the processes rather than the results of ethical thought : and have therefore never stated- as my own any positive practical conclusions unless by way of illustration : and have never ventured to decide dogmatically any contro- verted points, except where the controversy seemed to arise from want of precision or clearness in the definition of prin- ciples, or want of coherence in reasoning. CHAPTER IL MORALITY AND LAW. § 1. In the last chapter I have spoken of Ethics, Jurispru- dence and Politics as branches of Practical Philosophy, including in the scope of their investigation somewhat that lies outside the sphere of positive sciences: viz. the determination of ends to be sought, or absolute rules to be obeyed. Before proceeding further, it would naturally seem desirable to determine in out- line the limits and mutual relations of these different studies. At the same time it is difficult to do this satisfactorily at the outset of our enquiry : because generally according as we adopt one method of ethics or another we shall adopt different views as to these limits and relations. For example, a Utilitarian is likely to think that the legal and political relations of the members of the community ought to be primarily determined, as the most important : and to treat Morality in the second place, as accessory and auxiliary to Law. While one who re- gards the common rules of morality as possessing an absolute and independent validity, is likely to extend their sway over Law and Politics. For if Justice is something that can be ascertained and sought apart from utility, it would naturally be thought that Law ought to realize such justice: and some again hold that Law aims at fostering other virtues in special departments, such as purity in the laws relating to marriage: and some would say that the State ought to aim at making its members good men, and therefore ought to establish and endow one or more religious bodies. There is a similar diffi- culty in determining the relation between Jurisprudence and Politics: or, more precisely, between the principles of Civil Chap. II.] MORALITY AND LAW. . 15 and those of Constitutional and International Law. This is not indeed so difficult when we are dealing with details: we may say, for example, that the precepts of Constitutional Jurisprudence (whether abstract or historical) regulate the conduct of certain members of the society, to whom govern- mental functions are entrusted, and their mutual relations, and their relations to the rest of the communit}'-, (including the mode of their appointment): while Civil Jurisprudence includes all other rules enforced by Law Courts. But when we refer these rules to first principles, the relation of the two sciences becomes matter of much dispute : as a pure utilitarian holds that the two sets of rules are not so much sys- tematically connected as coordinately established by a reference to universal utility in each case: while other political theorists consider that the rights of government are derived from a sur- render of natural rights on the part of the individuals com- posing the community, and so that the principles of Civil Jurisprudence are logically prior to those of Politics. For- merly this surrender or "social compact" was regarded as his- torical, and much antiquarian labour expended in discussing the nature of a historical event fraught with so momentous consequences: but now it is understood to be a merely ideal conception, prescribing how the rights of government ought to be considered and judged, how^ever they may have originated. And this latter view would seem to have been adopted \mY>\i- citly to a greater extent than it has been explicitly: for upon some such conception depends the widely received principle of the intrinsic illegitimacy of despotism, and of all governments where taxes are imposed and laws made without the consent of a Representative body. For it is held that a man has a natural right to his property (some say to the produce of his labour, others to what he has acquired by First occupation and volun- tary transfer) and to freedom of action : and that he cannot be rightly deprived of either except by his consent given through his representatives. This theory, however, is not free from difficulties : for besides that the definition of Natural Rights is much disputed, it is not clear that the consent of the majority of persons whom a man has helped to choose is the same thing as his own consent. IG THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. These questions, however, we cannot now adequately con- sider. But regarding Morality, as we may on any method regard it, as a system of rules for the guidance of conduct, we may at any rate distinguish it from Law by saying that Law consists of such rules as it is right to enforce by a definitely organized infliction of punishments, and Morality of all other rules that oufjht to be observed. And in so far as moral rules are accepted by universal consent, and parts of what I shall call the Morality of common sense, we may pursue the analogy with Law further: for such rules also have a penalty ^ attached to their violation, though not a definite one, viz. the disapprobation of mankind and its consequences in indisposition to render services, &c. However we cannot thus exclude Jurisprudence and Politics from the sphere of Morality. For it is a moral duty to observe laws, always or ordinarily, even when the penalty might be evaded : and the disposition to do this is recognised by some moralists as a principal virtue, and called the virtue of Order. And every one in a free state has duties as a citizen besides mere obedience, which are determined entirely or to some extent by the constitution of the state : and perhaps (if we may assume that no one ought to acquiesce in a perfectly despotic govern- ment) every one in any state has such political duties, either those allotted to him by the constitution, or at any rate the general duty of making the constitution and the laws as good as possible. But further, all are agreed that the moral duties of a member of any commvmity must depend to some extent upon the actual state of its laws, and again, that in laying down Law we must have regard to current morality: but it is disputed how far this mutual implication extends. We have already seen that the relation of Ideal Law (as determined on theoretical principles) to Morality, will be decided differently 1 It is this penalty that Bentham called the "moral" sanction: as being the only external influence tending to secure the observance of Morality proper as distinct from Law. But the term is not a happy one, as it seems to imply that the whole of Morahty is supported by such a sanction : whereas scarcely any one holds that the rules imposed by universal consent exactly coincide with the whole law of Duty at any time: and least of all does a utilitarian hold this, as ho thinks that they ought to be revised in accordance with calculations of utility. Chap. II.] MORALITY AND LAIV. 17 by different ethical schools : but besides this we have to consider how Morality is related to positive Law where that diverges from the ideal, and is not judged to be the best or right law. It is universally recognised as a duty to conform to even bad laws, generally speaking, so long as they exist. But nearly all except Hobbes are agreed that some such laws ought to be disobeyed : as (e g.) that which bids us worship false gods. Again, though no one would maintain that all that is allowed by law is morally allowable : yet to some extent moral duty is thought to vary with positive law, even outside the sphere of strict law-observance. Thus positive Law seems to give to some extent the skeleton or frame-work, which Morality clothes or fills in. How far this is the case is however disputed: and the dispute cannot be settled without much discussion : so that at present we can only indicate vaguely and roughly the boundary of Morality on the side of Law. § 2. There is, however, another view which regards Etjiics as dependent on Politics in quite a different manner : viz. as being an investigation not of what ought to be done here and now, but of what ought to be the rules of behaviour in an ideal society. So that the subject-matter of our science would be doubly ideal : as it would not only prescribe what ought to be done as distinct from what is, but what ought to be done in a society that itself is not, but only ovglit to be. As this view involves a complete change in the statement of the fundamental problem of our science, and not merely a different method of solution, it must be carefully examined before we proceed further. This is the view which Plato's metaphysic led him to take : and it has been more or less expressly held by Platonists in all ages. In our own times the theory has been stated most distinctly by Mr Herbert Spencer \ " Morality," says that thinker, " is a code of rules proper for the guidance of hu- manity in its highest conceivable perfection... right principles of action become practicable only as men become perfect." And the analogy of Geometry is adduced to shew that Ethics ought to deal with ideally perfect human relations, just as Geometry treats of ideally perfect lines and circles. But the 1 Social Statics, Introduction, p. 4. S. E. 2 18 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. most irregular line has definite spatial relations with which Geometry does not refuse to deal : though of course they are more complex than those of a straight line. So in Astronomy, it would be more convenient for purposes of study if the stars moved in circles, as was once believed. But the fact that they move not in circles but in ellipses, and even in imperfect and perturbed ellipses, does not take them out of the sphere of scientific investigation : by patience and industry we have learnt how to reduce to principles and cal- culate even these more complicated motions. It is, no doubt, a convenient artifice for purposes of instruction to assume that the planets move in perfect ellipses (or even — at an earlier stage of study — in circles) : we thus allow the individual's knowledge to pass through the same gradations in accuracy as that of the race has done. But what we want, as astronomers, to know is the actual motion of the stars and its causes : and similarly as moralists we naturally inquire what ought to be done in the actual world in which we live. It may be that neither in the former case nor in the latter can we hope to represent in our calculations the full complexity of the actual considerations : but we endeavour to approximate to it as closely as possible. It is only so that we really grapple vvith the ques- tion to which mankind have so long been demanding an answer: 'What is a man's duty in his present condition?' For it is too absurd to sa}^ that the whole duty of man is summed up in the attainment of a right state of social relations (though some travellers in Utopia seem to think so), and that we owe no duties to our contemporaries, but only to those who are to attain fruition of these ideal conditions. We must therefore determine our duties to the present world of men somehow : and Ethics seeks to do this in a systematic manner. This inquiry into the morality of an ideal society can there- fore be at best but a preliminary investigation, after which the step from the ideal to the actual, in accordance with reason, remains to be taken. We have to ask, then, how far such a pre- liminary construction seems desirable. And in answering this we must distinguish the different methods of Ethics. For it is generally held by Intuitionists that true morality pi'escribes absolutely what is in itself right, under all social conditions ; at CiiAP. II.] MORALITY AND LAW. 19 least as far as determinate duties are concerned: as (e.g.) that " Truth should always be spoken " and "Justice be done, though the sky should fall." And so far there seems to be little ground for distinguishing, in our determination of duty, between the actual and an ideal state of society. For though some of the details of duty may vary with social institutions, perfect per- formance of duty is held to be in the power of man under all circumstances, though not actually attained by him. It would seem more natural that those methods which pro- pose an ultimate end, which at present we cannot perfectly attain, viz. Happiness (whether individual or universal), should develope this consideration of the ideal conditions under which the end could be more fully reahzed^ And I shall not at pre- sent deny that this task might usefully be included in an exhaustive investigation of the particulars of these methods. But it can easily be shewn that it is involved in serious diffi- culties. For as in ordinary deliberation we have to consider what is best under certain conditions of human life, internal or ex- ternal, so we must do this in contemplating the ideal state ; since what is in itself best is simply the attainment of the end, that is, of the most pleasant consciousness conceivable, lasting without intermittence. And it is not this that we want to con- template so much as some method of realizing it, pursued by human beings, existing under conditions not too remote from our own, so that we can at least endeavour to imitate them. And for this we must know how far our present circumstances are modifiable ; which is a very difficult question, as the con- structions which have actually been made of such ideal societies shew. For example, the Republic of Plato seems in many respects sufficiently divergent from the reality, and yet he con- templates war as a permanent unalterable fact, to be provided for in the ideal state, and indeed such provision seems the pre- dominant principle of his construction ; whereas the soberest modern Utopia would certainly include the suppression of war. Indeed the ideal will often seem to diverge in diametrically 1 For brevity's sake I omit to consider the method which takes Perfection as an end : because this, as ordinarily understood, either coincides to a great ex- tent with Virtue, or is a means to Happiness. 9 O 1/ 20 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book 1. opposite directions from the actual, according to the line of imagined change which we happen to adopt, in our visionary V flight from present evils. For example, permanent marriage- unions now cause some unhappiness, because conjugal affection is not always permanent ; but they are thought to be neces- sary, partly to protect men and women from vagaries of passion pernicious to themselves, but chiefly in order to the better rearing of children. Now it may seem to some that in an ideal state of society we could trust more to parental aifections, and require less to control the natural play of emotion between the sexes, and that "Free Love" is therefore the ideal; while others would maintain that permanence in conjugal affection is natural and normal, and that any exceptions to this rule must be supposed to disappear as we approximate to the ideal. Again, the happiness enjoyed in our actual society seems much diminished by the unequal distribution of the means of hap- piness, and the division of mankind into rich and poor. But we can conceive this evil removed in two quite different ways ; either by an increased disposition on the part of the rich to redistribute their share, or by such social arrangements as would enable the poor to secure more for themselves. In the one case the ideal involves a great extension of almsgiving : in the other, its extinction. In short, it seems that when we abandon the firm ground of actual society we have an illimitable cloudland surrounding us on all sides, in which we may construct any variety of pat- tern states ; but no definite ideal to which the actual unde- niably approximates, as the straight lines and circles of the actual physical world approximate to those of scientific geo- metry. It may be said, however, that we can reduce this variety by studying the past history of mankind, as this will enable us to predict to some extent their future manner of existence. But even so it does not appear that we shall gain- very much for our present purposes. For let us make the most favourable suppositions that we can, and such as soar even above the con- fidence of the most dogmatic of scientific historians. Let us assume that the process of human history is a progress of man- kind towards ever greater happiness. Let us assume further CiiAP. II.] MORALITY AND LA W. 21 that we can not only fix certain limits within which the future social condition of mankind must lie, but even determine in detail the mutual relations of the different elements of the future community, so as to view in clear outline the rules of behaviour, by observing which they will attain the maximum of happiness. It still remains quite doubtful how far it would be desirable for us to imitate these rules under the circum- stances in which we now live. For this foreknown social order is ex hypoiliesi only presented as a more advanced stage in our social progress, and not as a type or pattern which we ought to make a struggle to realize approximately at any earlier stage. How far it should be taken as such a pattern, is a question which would still have to be determined by con- sidering the effects of our actions on the present life of man- kind ; and hence it does not appear that the construction of an ideal society can fitly be taken as the foundation of any system of Ethics \ 1 Some fm-tlier consideratiou of this question will be found in a subsequent Chapter, Cf. Book iv. c. iv. CHAPTEPv III. MORAL REASON. § 1. In the first chapter I spoke of what ought to be done as being right and reasonable, that which Reason prescribes and urges us to do, either absolutely or as a means to an end apprehended as ultimately rational. This manner of speaking is employed by writers of different schools, and seems in ac- cordance with the common view and language on this subject. For we commonly think that wrong conduct is essentially irra- tional, and can be shewn to be so by argument; and though we do not conceive that it is by reason alone that men are influenced to act rightly, we still hold that appeals to the reason are an essential part of all moral persuasion, and that part which concerns the moralist or moral philosopher as dis- tinct from the preacher or moral rhetorician. On the other hand elaborate and serious objections have been made to this phraseology, which we must carefully examine. There seem to be two grounds of objection, which though closely connected may yet be distinguished : one relating to the cognitive func- tion, and the other to the motive or volitional influence, of the Practical Ileason. It is maintained, first, that it is not by the reason that we apprehend moral distinctions, but rather by virtue of some emotional susceptibility commonly called a Moral Sense ; and, secondly, that the Reason cannot be a spring of action, as it must always be Feeling that stimulates the Will. Let us consider the two questions separately. In discussing whether moral distinctions are perceived by the Reason, it is especially important to make clear the point at issue. As we know nothing of any faculty of the mind Chap. III.] MORAL REASON. 23 except from its effects, and only assume different faculties to explain or express differences among the mental phenomena which we refer to them, we must always be prepared to state what characteristics in the feeling or cognition investigated such reference imports : thus only can we avoid the sterile logo- machy of which there has been unhappily too much in the present controversy. For in saying that the Reason apprehends moral distinc- tions, it would seem that no more is usually meant than that there is such a thing as moral truth and error ; that two con- flicting judgments as to what ought to be done cannot both be true and sound. Now if I were attempting to establish dog- matically a system of Ethics, it might be desirable to prove this at the outset. But as my object is rather to expound the different methods of moral reasoning, in the most consistent (and so far rational) form which it seems possible to give to each, with the view of ascertaining exactly their points of agreement and disagreement ; it can hardly be necessary to prove a proposition that must necessarily be assumed by all who pass ethical judgments. Such an assumption is really as much made by Hobbes, who identifies Eeason with Rational self-love, and by Bentham when he announces that the greatest happiness of the greatest number is "the only right and proper end of human action," and by Adam Smith when he declares that general rules (resulting from the com- plex action of sympathy) are "plainly intended to be the go- verning principles of human nature," as it is by an Intuitional moralist. We have to ask, then, whether anything that conflicts with this is intended by those who prefer to say that moral distinc- tions are perceived by a Sense. Now no doubt by sense is sometimes meant a faculty not conversant with objective truth but only with the sensations — purely subjective phenomena — of the sentient being, which may vary from A to B without either being in error. But then such a faculty does not fur- nish us with what are here called moral, but rather with psychological distinctions : its exercise does not lead to the affirmations " that this and that action ought to be done," but rather that '' this and that action excite in me such and such 24 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. specific emotions." In so far, however, as supremacy is attributed to these emotional impulses over others (as it is by Hutcheson, and the Moral Sense school generally), and it is affirmed that we ought to obey them, it is obvious that this affirmation cannot also be referred to a Sense, as above defined : and hence even this system seems to rest ultimately on an objective truth — apprehended, we may say, by the Reason. But in fact those who have spoken of a Moral Sense have not always meant to deny the objectivity of its apprehensions: any more than in speaking of the sense of beauty we commonly intend to imply that there is no objective standard of beauty: and even in the case of colours, sounds, and all the so-called secondary qualities of matter, apprehended by special senses, it can scarcely be said to be the common view that they may be apprehended differently by different persons without error. In this case the opposition between Sense and Keason would seem to vanish, as the perception, to whichever faculty attributed, is the same "that such and such actions are right and outjht to be done:" except in so far as the term Sense implies that a specific emo- tion always attends this perception. But here again there hardly seems to be any ground for controversy. For no one would maintain that the moral apprehension is ever a purely, intellectual state of consciousness, containing no emotional element. While, on the other hand, it could not be denied that the amount of emotion attending the recognition of duty varies very much from individual to individual, and with the different moods of the same individual : the essential fact of the moral judgment i-emaining the same. It must be allowed, however, that the use of the term "reason" for the faculty that perceives and prescribes moral rules is liable to lead to some confusion, which it may be well to notice and dispel. In the first place, just as we have had to distinguish the relative from the absolute use of "right," "ought," " duty," &c.; so correspondingly we must distinguish from the authoritative, "categorically imperative" function of the Practical Reason, another in which its operation is more subordinate, prescribing not the end of action but only the means to a given end. In this latter case the end is determined by desire or impulse of Chap. III.] MORAL REASON. 25 some kind, which may or may not be itself rational. The in- tellect merely apprehends that this or that thing or action is causally connected with the end or object of desire. Desiring the end, we cannot but be impelled to employ the indispensable means for attaining it: and thus the intellectual apprehension furnishes, so to speak, the machinery by which the impulsive force of desire is directed upon certain objects or actions which would not otherwise have come within its range. Or, again, the desire may be a general one for a class of objects : and the intellect may direct it upon a particular object by demonstrating that this jjossesses the attributes of the class. Such demon- stration may be veiy complicated and elaborate, requiring the highest exercises of the intellect : but still the desire itself is independent of the reason, so that we cannot say that the actions to which it prompts are rationally prescribed. In these cases the reason seems to introduce consistency into our conduct : and we may say generally that one meaning of "irrational" as applied to conduct is "inconsistent." Look- ing closer we see that there are two grades of inconsistency, of which we may call the one negative and the other positive. Our impulses to action may be such as not to conflict, and yet not harmonized or systematized : or they may be actually opposed and conflicting. In the latter case our conduct is more obviously and violently irrational: as when (e.g.) desiring an end w^e decline to take the necessary means to its attain- ment, or if aiming generally at a kind of objects or results, we shew ourselves arbitrarily indifferent to a particular individual or instance. This kind of conflict, however, is only possible when impulses have reached a certain degree of comprehensive- ness and generality : there would be no place for it if they were (as we commonly conceive the impulses of brutes to be) quite momentary and particular. Still conduct prompted by a series of such unconnected impulses we call irrational, as being absolutely unsystematized, and in that sense inconsistent. Every one who claims to act reasonably, acts by general rules or notions; and considers an impulse unreasonable, not only when it conflicts with these, but when it cannot be brought under some one of them, when no general grounds can be stated for it. But, again, general rules and maxims may in their turn be 26 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. found mutually inconsistent, in either sense : and here too con- duct appears to us irrational, or at least imperfectly rational, not only if the maxims upon which it is professedly based con- flict with and contradict one another, but also if they cannot be bound together and firmly concatenated by means of some one fundamental principle. For practical reason does not seem to be thoroughly realized until a perfect order, harmony, and unity of system is introduced into our actions. And certain methods of effecting this systematization were noticed in Chapter I.: being those that constitute the subject-matter of this treatise. But it must be observed that there are many ends besides those that claim to be rational ends, which may be, and by many men actually are, accepted as ultimate ends and governing principles of action : and in fact any end sufficiently comprehensive may fulfil the function of rendering conduct consistent and systematic, and so far rational. Thus a man may devote his life to the attainment of wealth or fame, or sensual pleasure, or to the gratification of any other ruling passion : and in so far as this gives unity to his conduct and renders it consistent, it seems to impart a certain kind of rationality. Such conduct satisfies, we may say, the formal re- quirements of the discursive reason. Still we should not call it thoroughly rational : for we commonly regard the ruling passions just mentioned as in themselves irrational. It seems, there- fore, to belong to reason not merely to judge of the relation of means to ends, or of the consistency of maxims : but also to determine the ultimate ends and true first principles of action. Such an intuitive operation of the practical reason seems, as was said, to be somewhere assumed in all moral systems : and it is with this that we are here especially concerned. But there is another point in reference to the nature of moral dictates or apprehensions, upon which the use of the terra Reason may seem tacitly to assume a decision ; whereas it needs to be expressly raised and decided in the course of our investi- gations. We do not say, in physics, that individual facts are apprehended by the Reason : we consider this faculty to be conversant in its discursive operation with the relation of judg- ments or propositions : and the intuitive reason (which is here rather in question) we restrict to the apprehension of universal Chap. III.] MORAL REASON. 27 truths, such as the axioms of logic and mathematics. Now, as I shall presently notice, it is not uncommonly held that the moral faculty judges primarily of individual cases, applying directly to these the general notion of Duty, and deciding intuitively what ought to be done by this person in these par- ticular circumstances. On this view the moral apprehension is more analogous to Sense-Perception than to Rational Intuition (as commonly understood) : and hence the term Moral Sense has been preferred by many, who did not mean to suggest thereby any scepticism as to the reality of moral (as distinct from psychological) truth. But it is so important to avoid this suggestion, that it seems better to use generally the term Reason: provided it be not supposed to mean anything more specific than ' a faculty which takes cognizance of objective truth.' § 2. I pass now to the second point on which controversy has been raised : the question whether the Reason is a spring of action. Now in so far as Reason is here contrasted with Sentiment or Emotion, this, like the former issue between Reason and Sense, may be partly compromised. As was said, no one is competent or really concerned to maintain that the apprehension of duty is a state of consciousness which occurs without any emotional element. Hence we need not ask whe- ther a mere cognition can act upon the Will and prompt to action. It is enough if it be granted that there exists in all moral agents as such a permanent desire (varying, no doubt, very much in strength from time to time, and in different per- sons) to do what is right or reasonable because it is such: so that when our practical reason recognises any course of con- duct as right, this desire immediately impels us with a certain force towards such conduct. This force is often very slight, and too frequently insufficient to make us act as we think right. The "power" of conscience — to use Butler's words- is lamentably inferior to its " authority." But experience justi- fies us in assuming that it has some power \ Indeed since, in the common view, a truly virtuous man is one who would do 1 It can hardly be saitl that Intuitional Moralists generally have been dis- posed to oYerestimate the actual force of the practical reason. Certainly neither Clarke nor Kant have fallen into this error. 28 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. what he thought right as such, whether or not he had any other motive for doing it : it is surely paradoxical to assert that the impulse which in this ideal case is conceived to be permanently paramount is one which is nowhere to be found among men. If this were so, the inquiry into what is abso- lutely right and reasonable would be one of purely speculative interest. But probably few would maintain that it is of no practical importance whatever whether a man adopts one ethical principle or another: at any rate all who have spent any labour in the demonstration of any such principles seem to have held the opposite opinion. We may assume then as generally admitted that the recog- nition of any action as reasonable is attended with a certain desire or impulse to do it : and that in this sense the Reason may be affirmed to be a spring of action. It may perhaps be thought that the " Moral sentiments," on which one school of moralists lay stress as supplying the real impulsive force, are after all very different from this im- pulse to do what is reasonable. And no doubt by a Moral sentiment we commonly mean an impulse towards a special kind of right action to which we feel a strong attraction (or a strong aversion to its opposite), such as the sentiment of veracity, courage, purity, &c. But each such specialized senti- ment in its normal state includes or is combined with the more general impulse to do right. We may see this clearly from considering the exceptional cases in which the two impulses are separated. Suppose that any one habitually influenced (e.g.) by the sentiment of veracity is convinced that under certain peculiar circumstances in which he finds himself, speaking truth is not right but wrong. The sentiment, no doubt, still remains : the person still feels a repugnance against violating the rule of veracity : but it remains as a feeling quite different in kind and degree from that which prompted him to truth- speaking as a department of virtuous action. Again, some may think that the impulse to do what is right and that to do what is reasonable ought not to be identified as completely as I have identified them, although they may always coincide. I think, however, that this objection will probably arise from a confusion between the two functions of the CiiAP. III.] MORAL REASON. . 29 Practical Reason distinguished in the previous section. In its subordinate operation, in which it only prescribes ac- tions hypothetically, the really impulsive force and that which fixes the end of action after deliberation is very com- monly self-love : and hence by reasonable action is sometimes meant "action prescribed by rational self-love." But, as was said, this exercise of reason is different from that by which we affirm that self-love — or anything else — is the right principle of conduct : and it is in this function that we are now considering reason as practical and prompting to action. (In fact I have defined " reason " so that " reasonable " conduct must mean " right " or " what ought to be done.") It must be allowed, however, that by " reasonable " impulse Avould naturally be understood what Butler and Hutcheson would call a " calm " or " cool " motive : whereas the impulse which urges us to duty has often a passionate and enthusiastic tinge. But in an inquiry that is strictly ethical and not psy- chological we are not primarily concerned with the quality of the emotion which attends the apprehension of duty: but rather with the direction of its volitional impulse. It may be observed however that the character of the feeliuff fre- quently depends on some other notion being inseparably con- nected with the notion of duty. For example, a religious person will not contemplate duty merely as duty, but also as being God's ordinance : and hence his impulse to do it will be tinged with religious feeling: and it is possible that this latter con- ception may altogether obscure the former. Still most reflec- tive Theists would say that they do not conform to God's law as the dictate merely of Supreme Power, but also of Supreme Goodness : that is, because God's will is itself reasonable and right : and in this manner the purely moral impulse again emerges, distinct from, though in harmony with, the religious feeling. And similarly the utilitarian's impulse towards what is right and good, which for him is identified with the hap- piness of mankind or of sentient beings, will naturally be blended and identified with sympathetic and philanthropic feeling : although the desire to do one's duty is still in it- self distinguishable from the desire to benefit one's fellow- creatures. CHAPTER IV. PLEASURE AND DESIRE. § 1. In the preceding chapter I have tried to shew that the psychological proposition, 'that all voluntary action is prompted by Feeling or Sentiment of some kind/ does not really conflict with the ethical assumption that Reason prompts us to a cer- tain kind of action : we have only to suppose (what psycho- logical observation seems to confirm) that all moral agents, as such, feel a certain desire to do what Reason dictates. It is thus of some practical importance to ascertain what Reason does dictate : which is the aim of all ethical discussion. There is however an account of voluntary action, very commonly accepted at the present day, which appears to exclude the above-mentioned assumption altogether, and (at least when stated in its most extreme form) to settle sum- marily the fundamental question of Ethics, I mean the theory that the motives to voluntary action are always pleasures or pains in prospect. For on this view there seems no room for the impulse to do what is right and reasonable as such: and the ultimate end of action is fixed for us by nature and not dictated by Reason. In examining this theory, we may conveniently take the statement of it which is given by its most distinguished recent expositor, J, S. Mill. He tells us {Utilitarianism , c. 4) not only that " desiring a thing and finding it pleasant, aversion to it and thinking of it as painful, are phenomena entirely insepa- rable, or rather two parts of the same phenomenon," but also, still more precisely, that " we desire a thing in proportion as the idea of it is pleasant." It is important to notice tlie italic- CnAP. IV.] PLEASURE AND DESIRE. 31 ized words : as, if the statement thus exactly defined were true, the scope of ethical discussion would be much more limited than it is ordinarily thought to be. If in the case of any con- flict of impulses all the conflicting desires and aversions are strictly proportioned to pleasures and pains in prospect, then the resultant impulse must ahvays be directed towards what appears to be the individual's greatest happiness. - On this view the notions "right" and "wrong" would seem to have no meaning except as applied to the intellectual state accompany- ing volition : since if future pleasures and pains be truly repre- sented, the desire must be directed towards its proper object. And thus the only possible method of Ethics would seem to be some form of Egoistic Hedonism. It will be said, perhaps, that I might still regard the Eight or Reasonable course of conduct as different from that which tends to my own greatest happi- ness : and such a view may be conceivable as a psychological phenomenon : but no one would maintain it to be a reasonable view. I cannot rationally think that one end of action has been definitely determined for me by unvarying psychological laws, and another conflicting end prescribed for me by Reason. If my own greatest happiness — or what I think such — is what I cannot help aiming at, it cannot be true that I ought to aim at something else. But it is surely manifest, without referring to the disputed cases of Virtuous or Self-sacrificing conduct, that there can be no such definite proportion maintained between strength of desire (or aversion) and intensity of foreseen pleasure (or pain) : at least in any sense in which it would much concern the student of Ethics. For it is a matter of common experience that the resultant or prevailing desire in men is often directed towards what (even in the moment of yielding to the desire) they think likely to cause them more pain than pleasure on the whole. "Video meliora proboque, deteriora sequor" is as applicable to the Epicurean as it is to any one else. If any evidence is needed of this, I cannot do better than quote Mill himself. He tells us^ that men often, not from merely intellectual deficiencies but from "infirmity of character, make their election for the nearer good, though they know it- to be less valuable: and this ^ Utilitarianism, c. 2, p. 14. 32 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. no less when the choice is between two bodily pleasures they pursue sensual indulgences to the injury of health, though perfectly aware that health is the greater good." It may be said, however, that in this and other cases the prevailing desire is always directed towards some pleasure or other, though it may not be the greatest pleasure within our reach or even what we think such : and that thus, though the strict proportionality between pleasure and desire must be abandoned, it still remains true that the object of desire is always pleasure and nothing else. Now it should be observed that this more indefinite psycho- logical generalization is prima facie compatible with any of the different methods of Ethics. For it admits the notion of Duty or Reasonable or Virtuous action, as determined on other grounds than by reference to its pleasurable or painful conse- quences to the individual agent : since the performance of duty, however determined, will equally be attended by the special pleasure of the "moral sense," and this pleasure may be preferred to all others, and chosen in sjaite of all concom- itant jDains. Indeed, as Aristotle says, our idea of a vir- tuous man includes the characteristic that he takes pleasure in doing virtuous actions : and it does not at first sight seem very important whether we say that he does his duty because he recognises it as duty, or because he finds a moral pleasure in doing it. On reflection, however, I think it will appear that we have a natural tendency to pass from the psychological generaliza- tion that Pleasure is the Desired, to the ethical principle that Maximum Pleasure is for each the Most Desirable, or Summum Bonum. If we once admit that our actual motives are always pleasures and pains of some kind, it seems rational to compare these with each other in respect of their pleasantness or pain- fulness, and to choose the greatest pleasure or least pain on the whole : though perhaps the transition from the one view to the other cannot be thrown into the form of a cogent inference. And further, it must, I think, be admitted that if I do an act from the sole desire of obtaining the glow of moral self- complacency which I believe will attend its performance, my act docs not really correspond to tlio common notion of virtuous Chap. IY.] PLEASURE AND DESIRE. 33 conduct, however complete may be its external conformity to the rule of virtue. It seems therefore important to subject this generalization, even in its more indefinite form, to a rigorous examination. § 2. It will be well to begin by defining more precisely the point at issue. In the passage which I first quoted. Mill goes on to say that " desiring a thing, and finding it pleasant, are, in the strictness of language, two modes of naming the same psychological fact." If this be the case, it is hard to see how the assertion we are discussing requires to be determined by "practised self-consciousness and self-observation;" as the denial of it would involve a contradiction in terms. The truth is that there is an ambiguity in the word Pleasure, which has always tended seriously to confuse the discussion of this ques- tion\ By Pleasure we commonly mean an agreeable sensation not necessarily connected with desire or volition, as it may arise from external causes without having been foreseen or desired at all. But when we speak of a man doing something at his own " pleasure," or as he " pleases," we signify the mere fact of choice or preference ; the mere determination of the will in a certain direction. Now, if by "pleasant" we mean that which influences choice, exercises a certain attractive force on the will, it is not a psychological truth, but a tautological assertion, to say that we desire what is pleasant — or even that we desire a thing in proportion as it appears pleasant. But if we take "pleasure" to mean ''agreeable sensation," it then becomes a really debateable question whether our active impulses are always consciously directed towards the attainment of agreeable (or the avoidance of disagreeable) sensations as their end. And this is what we must understand Mr Mill to consider " so obvi- ous, that it will hardly be disputed." It is rather curious to find that the best-known of English moralists regards the exact opposite of what Mr Mill thinks so obvious, as being not merely a universal fact of our conscious experience, but even a necessary truth. Butler, as is well known, distinguishes self-love, or the impulse towards our own ^ The confusion occurs in the most singular form in Hobbes, who actually identifies Pleasiure and Appetite, " this motion in which consisteth pleasure, is a solicitation to draw near to the thing that pleaseth." S. E. 3 34 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. pleasure, from "particular movements towards particular external objects — honour, power, the harm or good of another;" the actions proceeding from which are " no otherwise interested than as every action of every creature must from the nature of the case be; for no one can act but from a desire, or choice, or preference of his own." Such particular passions or appetites are, he goes on to say, "necessarily presu2^iosed by the very idea of an interested pursuit ; since the very idea of interest or happiness consists in this, that an appetite or affection enjoys its object." We could not pursue pleasure at all, unless we had desires for something else than pleasure ; for pleasure consists in the satisfaction of just these " extra-regarding" impulses. Butler has clearly over-stated his case^; for many pleasures (as was just remarked) occur to us without any relation to pre- vious desires, and it is quite conceivable that our appetitive con- sciousness might consist entirely of impulses towards such plea- sures as these. But taken as a mere statement of actual fact, his doctrine faithfully represents a great, perhaps the greater, part of our experience. For throughout the whole scale of our impulses, sensual, emotional, and intellectual alike, we can dis- tinguish the primary, extra-regarding desire, directed towards some end other than our own feelings, from the secondary, reflective, self-regarding impulse towards the pleasure which attends the fulfilment of the former. § 3. To begin with the impulses commonly placed lowest in the scale : the bodily appetites. Hunger is an impulse which terminates in the eating of food. Its indulgence is no doubt commonly attended with an agreeable feeling of more or less intensity : but it cannot, I think, be strictly said that this agreeable feeling is the object of hunger, and that it is the representation of this pleasure which stimulates the will of the hungry man. Of course hunger is frequently and naturally accompanied with anticipation of the pleasure of eating: but careful introspection seems to shew that the two are by no means inseparable : and that even when they occur together the pleasure is the object not of the primary appetite, but of a secondary desire which is to be distinguished 1 The same argument is put in a more guarded, and, I think, unexception- able form by Hiitcheson. Chap. IV.] PLEASURE AND DESIRE. 35 from the former. I do not mean that the analysis which distinguishes the two kinds of impulse can in all cases be performed. Of much of our appetitive consciousness it seems truer to say that neither the strictly extra-regarding impulse nor the strictly self-regarding are yet " differentiated " (if I may borrow a term of Mr Herbert Spencer's). Still on other occasions this differentiation seems to be made quite clear by the different actions to which the two elements respectively prompt. For as the pleasure depends to a great extent on the strength of the appetite, the desire of the pleasure of eating prompts men not only to gratify but to stimulate hunger. The gourmand who takes a walk in order to enjoy his dinner, is impelled by one sensual impulse to aim at producing another : here at least the two cannot be identified. Indeed it is so obvious that hunger is somethinsf different from the desire for pleasure, that some writers have regarded its volitional stimulus (and that of appetite generally) as a case of aversion from pain. This, however, seems to me a distinct mis- take in psychological classification, though one very natural and easily explained. Hunger, and we may say desire gene- rally, is a state of consciousness so far similar to paio, that in both we feel a stimulus prompting us to pass from the pre- sent state into a different one. But in pain the impulse is to get out of the present state and pass into some other state which is only negatively represented as different from the pre- sent : whereas in desire proper we are indifferent to the present consciousness, and the impulse is towards the realization of some future end positively conceived. The desire itself seems to be a state of excitement which becomes pleasurable or pain- ful according to the nature of its concomitant circumstances, and is often not definitely either the one or the other. When it is, for any reason, baulked of its effect in causing action, it is generally painful in some degree : and so a secondary aversion to the state of desire is generated, which blends itself with the desire and may easily be confounded with it. But here again we may distinguish the two impulses by observing the different kinds of conduct to which they respectively prompt: for the aversion to the pain of ungratified desire, though it may act as an additional stimulus towards the gratification of the desire, 3—2 3G THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. may also (and often does) prompt us to get rid of the pain by suppressing the desire. We may observe also that desire, even when it has become a pain or uneasiness, is often but very slightly painful : so that the mere aversion to it as pain is but a small part of the total volitional stimulus of which we are conscious. When, however, the desire is having its natural effect in causing the actions which tend to its gratification, it seems to be commonly a more or less pleasurable consciousness : even when the satisfaction at which it aims is still remote. Thus it may even generate a secondary desire for itself as a pleasure, or at least for the total consciousness of which it forms an essential part. In fact the pleasures that accompany actions under the influence of a keen desire, which we may call generally the pleasures of Pursuit, constitute a considerable item in the total enjoyment of life. And, for our present purpose, it will be important to examine them carefully ; as they are peculiarly well adapted to exhibit the difference between extra-regarding and self-regarding impulses. For here certainly we often find exemplified what Butler regards as the normal relation between desire and pleasure : the pleasure that we experience depends entirely on the pre-existence of a desire which cannot therefore be directed towards this pleasure as its object. Take, for example, a favourite amusement of rich Englishmen. What is the motive that impels a man to fox-hunting? It is not the pleasure of catching the fox. Nobody, before entering on the chase, represents to himself the killing of the fox as a source of gi'atification, apart from the eagerness produced by pursuit. What the fox-hunter deliberately and before the chase desires is, not the capture of the fox, but the pleasure of pursuing it : only of this pleasure a temporary vehement desire to catch the fox is an essential condition. This desire, which does not exist at first, is stimulated to considerable intensity by the pursuit itself: and when it has thus been stimulated the con- sciousness attending the pursuit becomes pleasurable, and the capture, which was originally indifferent, comes to afford a keen enjoyment \ ^ To avoid misapprehension, it may be well to observe that I am not trying to give a complete analysis of the whole enjoyment of hunting, but only to rlrfine accurately a single (but the most essential) clement of it. Chap. IV.] PLEASURE AND DESIRE. 37 The same plicnomenon is exhibited in the case of more in- tellectual kinds of pursuit, where the objects sought are more abstract. It often happens that a man, feeling his life languid and devoid of interests, begins to occupy himself in the pursuit of some end, for the sake not of the end but of the occupation. At first, very likely, the occupation is irksome: but soon, as he foresaw, the mere reaction of his active upon his appetitive nature makes him (as we say) "take an interest" in the end at which he is aiming ; so that his pursuit becoming eager be- comes also a source of agreeable sensations. Here it is no doubt true that in proportion as his desire for the end becomes strong, the attainment of it becomes pleasant in prospect : but it would be inverting cause and effect to say that it is this prospective pleasure that he desires. When we compare these pleasures with those previously dis- cussed, another important observation suggests itself. In the former case, though we could distinguish appetite, as it appears in consciousness, from the desire of the pleasure attending the satisfaction of appetite, there appeared to be no incompatibility between the two. The fact that the gourmand is dominated by the desire of the pleasures of eating in no way impedes the development in him of the appetite which is a necessary con- dition of these pleasures. But when we turn to the pleasures of the chase, we seem to perceive this incompatibility to a cer- tain extent. In all forms of pursuit a certain enthusiasm is necessary to obtain full enjoyment. A man who maintains throughout an epicurean mood, fixing his aim on his own pleasure, does not catch the full spirit of the chase ; his eager- ness never gets just the sharpness of edge which imparts to the pleasure its highest zest and flavour. Here comes into view . what we might call the fundamental paradox of Hedonism, that the self-regarding impulse, if too predominant, defeats its own aim. This effect is not visible, or at an}'^ rate is scarcely visible, in the case of passive sensual pleasures. But of our active enjoyments generally, whether the activities on which they attend are classed as " bodily " or as " intellectual " (as well as of many emotional pleasures), it may certainly be said that we cannot attain them, at least in their best form, so long as we directly aim at them. Nor is it only that the exercise of our 38 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. faculties is insufficiently stimulated by the mere desire of the pleasure attending it, and requires the presence of other more objective, extra-regarding impulses, in order to be fully deve- loped : we may go further and say that these other impulses must be temporarily predominant and absorbing, if the exercise and its attendant gratification are to attain their full height. This is true (e. g.) of most other bodily exercises pursued as sports, no less than of the chase. It is true again of the pleasures of thought and study : these can only be really en- joyed by those who have an ardour of curiosity which carries the mind temporarily away from self and its sensations. In all kinds of Art, again, the exercise of the creative faculty is attended by intense and exquisite pleasures : but in order to get them, one must forget them : the desire of the artist is always said to be concentrated and fixed upon the realization of his ideal of beauty. The important case of the benevolent affections is at first sight somewhat more doubtful. On the one hand it is of course true, that when those whom we love are pleased or pained, we ourselves feel sympathetic pleasure and pain : and further, that the flow of love or kindly feeling is itself highly pleasurable. So that it is at least plausible to interpret the benevolent im- pulse as aiming ultimately at the attainment of one or both of these two kinds of pleasures, or at the averting of sympathetic pain. But we may observe, first, that the impulse to beneficent action produced in us by sympathy is often so much out of proportion to any actual consciousness of sympathetic pleasure and pain in ourselves, that it would be paradoxical to regard this latter as its object. Often indeed we cannot but feel that a tale of actual suffering arouses in us an excitement on the whole more pleasurable than painful, like the excitement of witnessing a tragedy : and yet at the same time stirs in us an impulse to relieve it, even when the process of relieving is painful and laborious and involves various sacrifices of our own pleasures. Again, we may often free ourselves from sympa- thetic pain most easily by merely turning our thoughts from the external suffering that causes it : and we sometimes feel an egoistic impulse to do this, which we can then distinguish clearly from the properly sympathetic impulse prompting us Chap. IV.] PLEASURE AND DESIRE. 39 to relieve the original suffering. And finally the much-com- mended pleasures of benevolence seem to require, in order to be felt in any considerable degree, the pre-existence of a desire to do good to others for their sakes and not for our own. As Hutcheson explains, we may cultivate benevolent affection for the sake of the pleasures attending it (just as the gourmand cultivates appetite), but we cannot produce it at will, however strong may be our desire of these pleasures : and when it exists, even though it may owe its origin to a purely egoistic impulse, it is still essentially a desire to do good to others for their sake and not for our own. It cannot perhaps be said that the self-abandonment and self-forgetfulness, which seemed an essential condition of the full development of the other elevated impulses before noticed, characterize benevolent affection normally and permanently; as love seems naturally to involve a desire for reciprocated love, strong in proportion to the intensity of the emotion : and thus the consciousness of self and of one's own pleasures and pains seems often heightened by the very intensity of the affection that binds one to others. Still we may at least say that this self-suppression and absorption of consciousness in the thought of other human beings and their happiness is observable as a frequent incident of all strong affections : and it is said that persons who love strongly often feel a sense of antagonism between the egoistic and altruistic elements of their desire, and an impulse to suppress the former, which sometimes exhibits itself in acts of fantastic and extravagant self-sacrifice. If then our moral consciousness declares — as it certainly seems to do — that "the pleasure of virtue is one which can only "be obtained on the express condition of its not being the object sought V we are not to treat this as an abnormal phe- nomenon, requiring a special explanation. It is merely another illustration of a psychological law which, as we have seen, is exemplified throughout the whole range of our desires. It is not (as Kant seems to hold) that the natural determination of the Will is by motives of pleasure and pain, but that when our action is truly rational, a higher law of causation comes into "^ ItQcky, Hist, of European Morals, InivoHiViQiion. 40 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. play, apparently — though not really — contradictory of this natu- ral law. Rather (as Butler maintains) in the promptings of Sense no less than in those of Intellect or Reason Ave find the phenomenon of strictly disinterested impulse : base and trivial external ends may be sought without ulterior aim, as well as the sublime and ideal: and there are many pleasures of the merely animal life which can only be obtained on condition of not being directly sought, no less than the satisfactions of a good conscience. § 4. So far I have been concerned to insist on the felt in- compatibility of the self-regarding and extra-regarding impulses only as a means of proving their essential distinctness. I do not wish to overstate it, as it has sometimes been overstated by the anti-hedonistic moralists who have been perfectly right in drawing attention to it. I believe that in the commonest state of our activity the incompatibility is only momentary, and does not prevent a real harmony from being attained by means of a sort of alternating rhythm of the two impulses in conscious- ness. A man's predominant desire is, I think, most commonly not a conscious impulse towards pleasure ; but where there is sti'ong desire in any direction, there is commonly keen suscep- tibility to the corresponding pleasures ; and the most devoted enthusiast is sustained in his work by the recurrent conscious- ness of such pleasures. But it is important to point out that the familiar and obvious instances of conflict between self-love and some extra-regarding impulse are not paradoxes and illu- sions to be explained away, but phenomena which the analysis of oiir consciousness in its normal state, when there is no such conflict, would lead us to expect. If we are continually acting from impulses whose immediate objects are something other than our own happiness, it is quite natural that we should occasionally yield to such impulses when they prompt us to an uncompensated sacrifice of pleasure. Thus a man of weak self-control, after fasting too long, ma}' easily indulge his appe- tite for food to an extent which he knows to be unwholesome : and that not because the pleasure of eating appears to him, even in the moment of indulgence, at all worthy of consider- ation in comparison with the injury to health : but merely because he feels an impulse to eat food, too powerful to be CiiAP. IV.] PLEASURE AND DESIRE. 41 resisted. Thus, again, men have sacrificed all the enjoyments of life, and even life itself, to obtain posthumous fame : not from any illusor}-- belief that they would be somehow capable of deriving pleasure from it, but from a direct desire of the future admiration of others, and a preference of it to their ovn\ pleasure. And so, again, when the sacrifice is made for some ideal end, as Truth, or Freedom, or Eeligion, or Humanity: it is or may be a real sacrifice of the individual's happiness, and not merely the preference of one highly refined pleasure (or of the absence of one special pain) to all the other elements of happiness. No doubt this preference is possible : a man may feel that the high and severe delight of serving his ideal is a "pearl of great price" outweighing in value all other plea- sures. But he may also feel that the sacrifice will not repay him, and yet determine that it shall be made. To sum up, in contravention of the doctrine that our con- scious active impulses are always directed towards the produc- tion of agreeable sensations in ourselves, I would maintain that we find everywhere in consciousness extra-regarding impulse, directed towards something that is not pleasure ; that in many cases this impulse is so far incompatible with the self- regarding that the two do not easily coexist in the same mo- ment of consciousness ; and that more occasionally (but by no means rarely) the two come into irreconcileable conflict, and prompt to opposite courses of action. And this incompatibility (though it is important to notice it in other instances) is no doubt specially prominent in the case of the impulse towards the end which competes in ethical controversy with pleasure : the love of virtue for its own sake, or desire to do what is ridit as such. It may be said that whatever be the case with our present adult consciousness, our original impulses were all directed towards pleasure, and that any impulses otherwise directed are derived from these by " association of ideas." I do not think this can be proved ; and the results of observation, as far as we can carry it, seem to tend in the opposite direction ; as pre- ponderant objectivity seems characteristic of the earlier stages of our consciousness, and the subjective attitude does not become habitual till later in life. But supposing the assertion were 42 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I, proved, it would have little bearing on the present question. What I am concerned to maintain is that all men do not now desire pleasure, but rather other things : some in particular having impulses towards virtue, which may and do conflict with their desire for their own pleasure. It is no reply to this to say that all men once desired pleasure, except on the assumption that the earlier condition of our impulses is some- how better and more trustworthy than the later. But this assumption would require us to prefer the coarsest and lowest of our pleasures to those that are more elevated and refined : which no one would maintain to be reasonable. CHAPTEH Y. FREE WILL, § 1. In the preceding chapters I have treated first of ra- tioual, and secondly of disinterested action, without introducing the vexed question of the Freedom of the Will. The metaphysical difficulties connected with this question have been proved by long dialectical experience to be so great, and appear to me so insoluble in the present state of our faculties, knowledge, and fundamental notions, that I am anxious to confine them within as strict limits as I can, and keep as much of my subject as possible free from their perturbing influence. And I am con- vinced that the identification which Kant and others after him have sought to establish between Free Action and (1) Rational, (2) Disinterested action, is in neither case required as an assumption nor adequately supported by psychological ex- perience, while in the latter case it is distinctly erroneous. Conduct strictly disinterested, that is, disregardful of foreseen balance of pleasure to ourselves, is found, as I have tried to shew, in the most instinctive and unconscious as well as in the most deliberate and self-conscious region of our active life : nay, it appears to exist (as far as any phenomenon known to us only by introspective observation may be thought to exist) in the lower animals. We have at any rate just as much reason to say that a faithful dog acts disinterestedly, as we have to say that he acts interestedly. Again, the conception of acting rationally, that is from an impulse in harmony with an intellectual apprehension of an objective rule, or intrinsically desirable end, is certainly not bound up with the notion of Free 44 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. Will : it remains unaltered, if Free Will be a chimera. At the same time it must be allowed that in behalf of this latter connexion, a plausible appeal may be made to our inner ex- perience. It may fairly be said that ^ " we consider our Reason as being ourselves rather than our desires and affections. We speak of Desire, Love, Anger, as mastering us, or of ourselves as controlling them. If we decide to prefer some remote and abstract good to immediate pleasures, or to conform to a rule which brings us present pain, (which decision implies exercise of Reason,) we more particularly consider such acts as our own acts." Still even if this language represented a uniform ex- perience (which it does not) it would not adequately justify the Kantian proposition. For, granted that when Reason yields to passion we lapse from freedom to slavery, still this is a voluntary slavery, a free abnegation of freedom, even in the view of Libertarians : or indeed especially in their view, as they especially insist that we are responsible for such conces- sions. But it should be observed that the conflict in question does not always appear in consciousness as a conflict between Reason and blind passion, between "ourselves" on the one hand and a force of nature on the other. We are sometimes con- scious of deliberately preferring what we clearly see to be an irrational course of action : not merely self-interest to duty (for here is rather a conflict of claims to rationality than clear irrationality): but (e.g.) port wine to health, revenge to reputa- tion, &c. And if it be said that in such cases we perceive on reflection that we have been "the slaves of our desires and appetites:" it may be answered that sometimes when we have acted morally, a reaction comes, another state succeeds, in which we seem to ourselves to have been in bondage to idle scruples, and vain or exaggerated opinions of duty. Nay, even in the conflict itself we sometimes change sides : the moral law, though we still recognise its authorit}', suddenly seems to become external to us, and instead of identifying ourselves with the Reason that prescribes obedience to it, we seem to feel that the real ego is impulsively struggling to violate it. Indeed there are many persons, to whom, from a preponderance of the emotional and active elements in their nature, the state of re- 1 Whewell, Elements of Morality, Bk. i. c. ii. Chap, v.] FREE WILL. 45 flection in wliich action is most deliberate is essentially irksome and depressing: they do not seem to themselves truly to exist unless Avhen they are borne along upon some tide of impulse : so that when they act most deliberately, they feel least really alive, least their real selves : the more they yield, at any rate to some impulse, the " freer," in a sense, they seem to be. Such persons certainly do not give much heed to philosophy : but philosophy must give heed to them and to the deliverances of their consciousness. I cannot therefore accept that identification of Free Will with Practical Reason, which lays the transcendental fact of Freedom at the foundation of Ethics. Indeed I hold with many English moralists that it would be quite possible to compose a treatise on Ethics which should completely ignore the Free-will controversy. At the same time I think that such a treatment would not only be felt to be shallow, but would omit the consideration of really important practical questions. Although it seems to me that the question of the Freedom of the Will, in its fundamental and general aspect, has no bearing upon the determination of what is intrinsically good for man, or ideally right and reasonable in human conduct: I think that it has a special and limited connexion with Ethics, which it is highly important to consider. If, however, it had been indispensable, for the satisfactory treatment of my subject, to offer a solution of the general question, the present treatise would not have been written. The "Freedom of the Will" presents itself to me as an unsolved problem: a subject on which I am obliged to confess that I have no knowledge, be- cause I have no really consistent thought : on which therefore I have reason to believe that my absence of knowledge springs from the imperfect state of my conceptions. This imperfection, however, I am unable to remove, and therefore I am forced to suspend my judgment on the question. The reasons for this suspense I will proceed to give, partly from the strong interest which all persons who concern themselves with moral theories have always taken in this time-honoured topic ; and partly because they are almost necessary to introduce and explain my treatment of the question as standing in a merely special and very restricted relation to systematic morality. 46 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. § 2. We must begin by defining the problem as precisely as possible. The assertion is often made that there is really no difficulty at all to be solved, and that the illusory belief that there is a difficulty springs from inaccuracy or shallowness of thought. And I am quite willing to believe that if we could apply the right conceptions to the facts we should either ask no question at all, or one that could be answered as soon as asked. But in so far as any actual attempts to shew the illusoriness of the difficulty have ever seemed plausible, it has been, I think, in consequence of careless statement of the question, which most men at present are irresistibly impelled to ask. For clearness' sake 1 will put this question in the following differ- ent forms. Is my voluntary action at any moment completely deter- mined by (1) my character as it has been partly inherited, partly formed by my past actions and feelings, and (2) my cir- cumstances, or the external influences acting on me at the moment? or not? Could the volition that I am just about to originate be certainly calculated by any one who knew thoroughly my nature at this moment and the forces acting upon me ? or is there a strictly incalculable element in it ? Is the self to which I refer it as cause a self of determinate moral qualities (which have more or less become known to me and to others from my past actions), or "myself" in some other sense, some "unconditioned" ego lying within or behind the "con- ditioned'?" I have avoided using terms which imply materialistic as- sumptions, because, though a materialist wall naturally be a determinist, a determinist need not be a materialist. In the above questions a materialist would substitute " brain and nerv- ous system " for " character," and thereby obtain certainly a ^ It is not uncommon to conceive of each volition as connected by uniform laws with our past states of consciousness. But any uniformities we might trace among a man's past consciousnesses, even if we knew them all, would yet give us very imperfect guidance as to his future action: as there would be left out of account (1) all inborn tendencies and susceptibilities, as yet latent or incompletely exhibited ; (2) all past physical influences, of which the effects had not been perfectly represented in consciousness. Chap. V.] FREE WILL. 47 clearer notion ; but I have taken the view of common sense, or Natural Dualism, which distinguishes the agent from his body. For the present purpose the difference is unimportant. The substantial dispute relates to the causal connexion of any voli- tion with the state of things at the preceding instant, whether we specify these as " character and circumstances," or " brain and environing forces." In favour of the connexion there is a cumulative argument so strong as almost to amount to complete proof. The belief that events are determinately related to the state of things im- mediately preceding them, is now held by all competent thinkers in respect of all kinds of occurrences except human volitions. It has steadily grown both intensively and extensively, both in clearness and certainty of conviction and in universality of application, as the human mind has developed and human expe- rience has been systematized and enlarged. Step by step in suc- cessive departments of fact conflicting modes of thought have receded and faded, until at length they have vanished every- where, except from this mysterious citadel of Will. Everywhere else the belief is so firmly established that some declare its opposite to be inconceivable : others even maintain that it always was so. Every scientific procedure assumes it : each suc- cess of science confirms it. And not only are we finding ever new proof that events are cognizably determined, but also that the different modes of determination of different kinds of events are fundamentally identical and mutually dependent : and naturally with the increasing conviction of the essential unity of the cognizable universe, increases the indisposition to allow the exceptional character claimed by Libertarians for the depart- ment of human action. Again, when we contemplate the action of man, we find that a large portion of it is originated unconsciously : all such action is undeniably determined by physical causes : and we find that no clear line can be drawn between acts of this kind, and those which are conscious and voluntary. Not only are many acts of the former class entirely similar to those of the latter, except in beinsf unconscious : but we remark further that actions which we habitually perform continually pass from the latter class into the former : and the further we investigate, the more the 48 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. conclusion is forced upon us, that there is no kind of action ori- ginated by conscious voUtion which cannot also, under certain circumstances, be originated unconsciously. Again, when we look closely at our conscious acts, we find that in respect of many of these, done suddenly and (as we say) "from impulse," under the stimulus of a momentary sensation or emotion, our con- sciousness does not even suggest that they are not completely determined by the strength of the stimulus and the state of our previously determined temperament and character at the time of its operation. Such acts indeed we often call "in- voluntary':" and here again it is difficult to draw a line clearly separating from such the strictly voluntary. Further, we always explain^ the voluntary action of all men except ourselves on the principle of causation by character and circumstances. Indeed otherwise social life would be impossible : for the life of man in society involves daily a mass of minute forecasts of the actions of other men, founded on experience whether of mankind generally or of particular classes of men, or of individuals ; who are thus necessarily regarded as things having determinate properties, causes whose effects are calculable. We infer generally the future actions of those whom we know from their past actions : and if our forecast turns out in any case to be erroneous, we do not attribute the discrepancy to the dis- turbing influence of Free Will, but to our incomplete acquaintance with their character and motives. And passing from individuals to communities, whether we believe in a " social science " or not, we all admit and take part in discussions of social phenomena in which the same principle is assumed : and however we may differ as to particular theories, we never doubt the validity of the method : and if we find anything inexplicable in history, past or present, it never occurs to us to attribute it to an extensive exercise of free will in a particular direction. Nay even as regards our own actions, however "free" we feel ourselves at any moment, however unconstrained by present motives and ^ Aristotle calls tliem voluutary [eKoiaia] but not purposed {TrpoatpeTd]. '^ I do not mean that this is the only view that we take of the conduct of others: I hold (as will presently appear) that in judging of their conduct morally, we naturally apply the conce])tiou of Free Will. But we do not naturally regard it as one kind of causation, limiting and counteracting the other kind. Chap. V.J FREE IVILL. 49 circumstances and unfettered by the result of what we have previously been and felt our volitional choice may appear : still when it is once well past, and we survey it in the series of our actions, its relations of causation and resemblance to other parts of our life appear, and we naturally explain it as an effect of our nature, education and circumstances. Nay, we even apply the same conceptions to our future action, and the more, in propor- tion as our moral sentiments are developed : for with our sense of duty generally increases our sense of the duty of moral cul- ture, and our desire of self-improvement : and the possibility of moral self-culture depends on the assumption that by a present volition we can determine to some extent our actions in the more or less remote future. No doubt we habitually take at the same time the opposite, Libertarian, view as to our future : we believe, for example, that we can resist to-morrow and hence- forward temptations to which we have continually yielded in the past. But it should be observed that this belief is (as moralists of all schools admit and even urge) at any rate to a great extent illusory and misleading. Though Libertarians con- tend that it is 'possible for us at any moment to act contrary to our formed character and previous custom : still, they and De- terminists alike teach that it is much less easy than men com- monly imagine to break the subtle unfelt trammels of habit. It is said, however, that the conception of the Freedom of the Will, alien as it may be to speculative science, both gene- rally and in the special department of human action, is yet indispensable to Ethics and Jurisprudence : we may exclude it from our systematic apprehension of what is, but it is forced upon us irresistibly in our systematic elaboration of what ought to be. Our recognition of the moral law, says Kant, is ratio cognoscendi of the Freedom of the Will : " ought " implies " can:" the real voluntariness of an action is the criterion by which we distinguish it as a proper subject of moral approbation and disap- probation. The notion of Justice, say jurists of the same school, and with it the reasonableness of the criminal law, depend on the assumption of Free Will : unless a man could have acted other- wise than he did, he cannot really have either merit or demerit : and if he has not merit or demerit, it is repugnant to the moral reason and sentiments of mankind to reward and punish him. s. E. • 4. 50 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. Now it seems to me clear that this is the natural and pri- mary view of the matter: that, on the Determinist theory, " ought," " responsibility," " desert," and similar terms, have to be used, if at all, in new significations : and that the concep- tion of Freedom is, so to say, the pivot upon which our moral sentiments naturally play. On the other hand I cannot deny that the Determinist can give to the fundamental terms of Ethics perfectly clear and definite meanings : that the distinc- tions thus obtained give us a practically sufficient basis for criminal law : while the moral sentiments actually existing are seen to be appropriate and useful, as a part of the na- tural adaptation of social man to his conditions of life. The Determinist allows that, in a sense, " ought " implies " can," that a man is only morally bound to do what is " in his power," and that only acts from which a man " could have abstained " are proper subjects of punishment or moral condemnation. But he explains "can" and "in his power" to imply only the absence of all insuperable obstacles except want of sufficient motive. It is precisely in such cases, he maintains, that punish- ment and the expression of moral displeasure are required to supply the desiderated motive force. True, the meaning of punishment is altered : it is no longer properly retributory, but reformatory and preventive : but it may be fairly said that this is the more practical view, and the one towards which civiliza- tion — quite apart from the Free-will controversy — seems to tend. And so of the moral feelings and judgments. If the Libertarian urges that it is unreasonable to resent involuntary harm any more than volantary, as both are equally resultant effects of similar complex natural forces : the Determinist answers that the reasonableness depends on the effect of the resentment, which obviously tends to prevent the one kind of action and not the other : nay, lie retorts, indignation is only reasonable on the assumption that men's actions are determined by motives, among which the fear of others' indignation may be reckoned. It may be replied, that however useful moral senti- ments may be on this theory, its general adoption would prac- tically prevent their development and effective operation. But tlius the ground is shifted and the belief in Free Will asserted to be necessary not logically, as an assumption involved in Chap. V.] FREE WILL. 5 1 ethical and jural reasoning; but practically, as the only means to a desirable end. Such an assertion stands in need of much more empirical proof than has ever yet been offered : and even if it were proved, to conclude from the practical efficacy of the belief to its speculative truth is to use a doubtful and now generally discredited method of inference. § 8. This almost overwhelming cumulative proof seems, however, more than balanced by a single argument on the other side : the immediate affirmation of consciousness in the moment of deliberate volition. It is impossible for me to think, at such a moment, that my volition is completely determined by my formed character and the motives acting upon it. The opposite conviction is so strong as to be absolutely unshaken by the evidence brought against it. I cannot believe it to be illusory. So far it is unlike the erroneous intuitions which occur in the exercise of the senses : as (e. g.) the misperceptions of sight or hearing. For experience soon teaches me to regard these as appearances whose suggestions are misleading : but no amount of experience of the sway of motives even tends to make me distrust my intuitive consciousness that in resolving after deliberation I exercise free choice as to which of the motives acting upon me shall prevail. Nothing short of abso- lute proof that this consciousness is erroneous could overcome the force with which it announces itself as certain. Now I cannot perceive that such proof has been given : and hence I am conscious that I habitually think upon this subject in two conflicting modes, between which I cannot pretend to offer any reconciliation. But it seems possible to reduce this conflict within narrower limits than it sometimes occupies, by scrutinizing carefully this consciousness of Freedom, and ascer- taining exactly the extent of its affirmation. In the first place, as was said, it seems to be only in moments of Deliberation that I become conscious of Freedom (in the sense in which the word is here used) : conscious, that is, that "I" am to some extent distinct from and independent of my formed character, and that I can choose to be swayed by motives, of which the impulsive force (so far as I can estimate it) is less than that of conflicting motives. This consciousness of Freedom seems only to emerge when 4—2 52 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. self-consciousness reaches a certain degree of intensity and pro- minence : but self- consciousness, though a permanent element of our conscious life, is during a great part of it not a prominent element, and is often almost evanescent. Frequently, even for long periods, consciousness is almost entirely absorbed in objec- tive contemplation and action : and we seem to act from impulse and habit, without reflection, and therefore without the pos- sibility of any separation or distinction between the Free Self and the Formed Character. At such times we cannot, from the nature of the case, analyse introspectively the phenomenon of volition when actually present : for introspection involves pre- cisely that higher degree of self-consciousness, the absence of which characterizes the state in question. But in so far as we can observe it in memory, the analysis given by the Deter- minist school (which was found inadequate in the case of deli- berate action) is here completely satisfactory. We find nothing more in the phenomenon than an antecedent passive conscious- ness. — pleasure or pain or desire or aversion — and a consequent active consciousness, exertion or effort. Even if the Libertarian will not admit that Freedom is ever entirely absent, any more than self-consciousness, he must at any rate allow that it is at such times latent and evanescent : and that what we then actually do is entirely accounted for by our formed tendencies to action and susceptibilities of feeling, together with the ex- ternal influences operating on us. Secondly, it is important to observe exactly what it is that the Will is free to effect : or rather (for we need not pursue the inquiry upon exclusively Libertarian assumptions) what the range of effects is, which it would be possible to cause by human volition, provided that adequate motive were not wanting. These effects seem to be of three kinds : first, changes in the external world consequent upon muscular contractions : secondly, changes in the train of ideas and feelings that con- stitutes our conscious life : and thirdly, changes in the per- manent tendencies to action that compose what is called our character. I. The sphere of volitional causation is by some confined entirely to such events as can be produced by muscular con- tractions : and certainly these constitute the most obvious and CiiAP. v.] FREE WILL. 53 prominent part of it. ' As regards these, it is sometimes said tliat it is properly the muscular contraction that we will, and not the more remote effects : for these require the concurrence of other causes, and therefore we can never be absolutely cer- tain that they will follow. But no more is it certain, strictly speaking, that the muscular contraction will follow, since our limb may be paralyzed, &c. And hence some say that the immediate object of the will is some molecular change in the motor nerves. And this is no doubt an inseparable concomitant of such volitions : but we are never thinking of our motor nerves and their changes, nor indeed commonly of the muscular contractions that follow them: and therefore it seems a misuse of terms to describe either as the " object " of the mind in willing : since it is always some more remote effect, which we consciously will and intend. Still of all effects of our will on the external world, some contraction of our muscles is always an indispensable antecedent : and when that is over our part in the causation is completed. II. We can control to some extent our thoughts and feel- ings. We cannot indeed directly summon or dismiss any thought or state of consciousness : and in the case of emotion an important part of what we commonly call "control of feel- ing" comes under the head just discussed. Our control over our muscles enables us to keep down the expression of the feel- ing and to resist its promptings to action : and as the giving free vent to a feeling tends, generally speaking, to sustain and prolong it, this muscular control amounts to a certain power over the emotion. But there is not the same connexion be- tween our muscular system and our thoughts : and yet experi- ence shews that most men (though some, no doubt, much more than others) can voluntarily determine the direction of their thoughts, and pursue at will a given line of meditation. How then is this control exercised, and what is it precisely that the effort of will effects ? It seems to be the concentration of our consciousness on a part of that which is present to it, so that this part grows more vivid and clear, while the rest tends to become obscure and ultimately to vanish. Frequently this voluntary exertion is only needed to initiate a train of ideas, which is afterwards continued without effort : as in recalling a 54 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. series of past events or going through a familiar train of reason- ing. By such concentration we can free ourselves of many thoughts and feelings upon which we do not wish to dwell: but our power to do this is very limited, and if the feeling be strong and its cause persistent, it requires a very unusual effort of will to banish it thus. III. It is, however, to that other effect of volition which I have called "alteration of character" that I especially wish to direct the reader's attentioD. I do not find this generally recognised by psychologists : yet there seems no doubt that common experience testifies to it, and it particularly requires notice in an ethical treatise. For it is in making resolutions for future conduct that it is of most practical importance for us to know what is within the power of the will. Take an exam- ple. A man has been in the habit of drinking too much brandy nightly : one morning he resolves that he will do so no more. In making this resolve he acts under the belief that by a present volition he can so far alter his habitual tendency to indulgence in brandy, that some hours hence he will resist the full force of his habitual craving for the stimulant. Now whether this be- lief is well or ill-founded is not the question usually discussed between Determinists and Libertarians : they rather debate whether in taking the resolution one is free or entirely swayed by motives, &c. At the same time the two questions are liable to be confused. It is sometimes vaguely thought that a belief in Free Will requires us to maintain that at any moment we can alter our habits to any extent by a sufficiently strong exer- tion. And no doubt most commonly when we make such efforts, we believe at the moment that they will be completely effectual. We will to do something hours or days hence with the same confidence with which we will to do something next minute : and do not very clearly distinguish the two. But on reflection, no one, I think, will maintain that a future act is in his power in the same sense that a present one is : or that at the moment of making such a resolution he has an immediate cognition of its future effects. Not only does continual experience shew us that such resolves have a limited and too frequently an inade- quate effect : but the common belief seems actually inconsistent with the very doctrine of Free Will that is thought to justify CiiAP. v.] FREE WILL. 55 it : for if by a present volition 1 can finally determine a future act, when the time comes to do that act I shall find myself no longer free. We must therefore accept the conclusion that each such resolve has only a limited effect : and that we cannot know when making it whether this effect will exhibit itself in the performance of the act resolved upon. At the same time it would be flagrantly contrary to experience to deny altogether this effect of volition. Such resolves do sometimes suddenly change old habits : and when they fail of this, they generally substitute a painful struggle for smooth and easy indulgence. They always have some effect, though of very varying intensity,* And this effect, such as it is, seems to be often strictly volitional No doubt the same sort of change is sometimes brought about by a powerful emotional shock, due to extraneous causes : and hence it might be infeiTed that in all cases it is a powerful impression of an emotional kind that produces the effect : and that the will is only concerned in concentrating our attention on the benefits to be gained or evils ta be avoided by the change of habit, and so intensifying the impression of these. But though this kind of voluntary contemplation is a useful auxiliary to good resolutions, it does not seem to be this effort of will that constitutes the resolution : we can clearly dis- tinguish the tw^o. Hence this third effect of volition cannot be resolved into the second, but must be stated separately. § 4. Let us now proceed to examine how far the question of Free Will is necessarily included in an investigation of ethi- cal truth. Here the importance of the discussion in the pre- ceding chapter appears. For if it were true that the Will is restricted to the tw'o alternatives of (1) Freedom and (2) Deter- mination by pleasure and pain, a Determinist scheme of mo- rality would naturally (though, as we saw, not necessarily) be constructed on an Epicurean or egoistic basis. But I have en- deavoured to shew that there are no grounds for rejecting the prima facie testimony of experience to the existence of disin- terested impulses, and among them of the conscientious impulse to do what is right as such. The Determinist therefore may appeal to this impulse just as much as the Libertarian : the only difference being that while the Determinist holds that in many cases it certainly cannot prevail over opposing forces, the 56 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. Libertarian only thinks that it too probably will not prevail, although it is always possible that it may. Nor again does it appear that there will be any general dif- ference between the two schools in determining the details of duty. We saw that it is easy to throw into a form suitable to De- terminism the general characteristic of duty " that it is in our power to do it: " we have only to say " that there is no obstacle to our doing it except absence of motive:" a formula which is, of course, practically convertible with the other. And so far as the absolute duties are concerned, which are prominent in intuitional systems, the moralist does not consider in prescribing them whe- ther any one is likely to do them or not. In precisely determin- ing relative and indefinite duties, we have, no doubt, to consider circumstances present and future, and among these the probable future conduct not only of other men, but also of ourselves. For it is often foolish and wrong to perform a single act of (say) benevolence, unless others are to follow it. But even here no practical difference Avill emerge between Determinists and Libertarians, if the latter admit the limitations of Free Will, as above expounded. For if by any effort of resolution at the pre- sent moment we can only produce a certain limited effect upon our character and so indirectly upon our action at some future time, and immediate consciousness cannot tell us that this effect will be adequate to the occasion, nor indeed how great it will really prove to be : we ought obviously before pledging our- selves to any future course of action to estimate carefully, from our experience of ourselves and general knowledge of human nature, what the probability is of our keeping present resolu- tions in the circumstances in which we are likely to be placed. It is no doubt morally most important that we should not tran- ([uilly acquiesce in any weakness or want of self-control : but the fact remains that such weakness is not curable by a single volition : and whatever we can do towards curing it by any effort of will at any moment, is as clearly enjoined by reason on the Determinist theory as it is on the Libertarian. On neither theory is it reasonable that we should deceive ourselves as to the extent of our weakness, or ignore it in the forecast of our conduct, or suppose it more easily remediable than it really is. Chap, v.] FREE WILL. ' 57 There seems therefore to be no general connexion between systematic ethics and the disputed question of Free Will But it seems to be in a special manner involved in the determi- nation of one particular branch of morality; namely, Justice. For Justice as commonly understood implies the due re- quital of good and ill Desert, and the notion of Desert when closely scrutinized seems to involve free choice of good or evil : if there is really no such free choice, there does not seem to be, strictly speaking, any Desert : so that Justice has to be de- termined on a different principle. Thus as we saw, on the De- terminist theory, punishment is regarded as preventive instead of retributive. And though roughly and generally the two views will coincide in practice, it is easy to see that they may diverge to a considerable extent, especially as regards the quantity of punishment that ought to be inflicted in any case : for example, the fact that men are urged by strong natural impulses to com- mit a crime may be a reason for making its punishment more severe, if this be considered purely as preventive : but it cer- tainly seems to render the ill-desert of the act less rather than greater. But the further consideration of this point had better be deferred till we have examined more closely the notion of Justice \ 1 Cf. Book III. c. 5. CHAPTER VI. THE METHODS OF ETHICS. § 1. The results of the discussions in the last three chapters may be thus briefly stated. The prevailing motive in conscious action is not always an impulse towards the attainment of pleasure or the avoidance of pain : as we experience powerful impulses towards the re- alization of something other than a state of our own con- sciousness : such as the welfare of those who are to live after us, or the triumph of a cause which we shall never see trium- phant. Among these latter impulses we may place the desire to do what is right and reasonable as such, of which the characteristic is that, as Butler says, it claims supremacy: i.e. that in so far as we are moral beings we think that it ought to prevail, whether it does or not. This desire we may consider as existing in more or less strength in different persons according to the nature, education and circumstances of each : so that though it seems impossible not to believe ourselves free in the moment of deliberate volition, still the question of the "Freedom of the Will" need not arise in de- ciding generally between ethical systems. A Determinist need not believe himself to act universally from self-interest alone : on the other hand a Libertarian must admit that he may deli- berately prefer the pleasures of sense to the dictates of duty. Still, when a man deliberates, he generally desires to act in accordance with reason. Now though there is a partial rationality in any kind of conduct tliat is consistent, and such that, when it is viewed as a whole, there appears some prin- ciple and method of preference to which it all conforms : yet Chap. VI.] THE METHODS OF ETHICS. 59 this is no more than a partial, or, we may ahnost say, merely apparent rationality. Many men whose conduct has become systematic by the predominance of some one impulse do not yet maintain that the ends thus systematically sought are ends in themselves rational. They admit that for such ends reasons have to be given ; and sometimes they offer such reasons, and sometimes are conscious that they cannot give them, and that their conduct, however consistent, is profoundly irrational. The Methods of systematizing conduct, that claim to be reasonable, are thus found to be limited m number : and they seem to be those enumerated in the first chapter. For, in the first place. Happiness appears to be a reasonable end (although we reject the doctrine that we all necessarily seek it) : if I can say of any action that it makes me happier, it seems that no further account need be given of my doing it. Though when we ask whose Happiness, a controversy emerges: for to some it seems that the agent ought to seek his own happiness, and that this is what each individual's reason must necessarily prescribe to him : Avhile others think that the view of reason is essentially universal, and that it cannot be reasonable to aim ultimately at the happiness of any one individual rather than that of any other equally deserving and susceptible of it. There are therefore two views and methods in which Happiness is regarded as the ultimate and rational end of actions : in the one it is the agent's happiness which is so regarded, in the other the happiness of all men, or all sentient beings. It is of course possible to adopt an end intermediate between the two, and to aim at the happiness of some limited portion of mankind, such as one's family or nation or race : but any such limitation seems arbitrary, and probably no one would maintain it to be reasonable |)er se, but only as the most practical way of seeking the general happiness, or as a means of attaining one's own. Again, Perfection or Excellence is thought a rational end, and if by anything that we can do we can make our own nature or any part of the world around us better, more perfect and excellent in its kind, we seem to need no further reason for doing it. And here, too, the Perfection aimed at may be either individual or universal. But in this case it would seem 60 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. that more divergent views of the universal end are possible : for we are not necessarily limited as in the case of happiness to the consideration of mankind or of sentient beings: as in- animate things also seem to have a perfection and excellence of their own and to be capable of being made better or worse in their kind. And this excellence or one species of it we call beauty: and we find that men have actually devoted their lives to the embodiment and realization of some ideal of beauty in some kind of matter. But whether beauty or any other quality of inanimate objects can on reflection be regarded as good or desirable in itself and out of relation to consciousness, we must presently consider^ : meanw^hile it is more clearly and admittedly rational to take the perfection or excellence of one- self or of other human beings as an ultimate end. But again, it is a common opinion that of truly right action a great part is not done for any end outside of and apart from the action itself, but merely because it is right or good ; and that such right or good action can be classified under certain general heads, as Justice, Truth, &c. : so that to each such divi- sion corresponds a proposition, " that we ought to do what is just, truthful, &c. :" and that these propositions are to be taken as ethical axioms, requiring no proof and constituting in them- selves so many final reasons for the performance of the actions denoted by the general terms. This is commonly called the Intuitional theory of morals, and I have thought it best to term the method founded upon it Intuitionism ; because its rules are thought to be ascertained by direct intuition of the actions themselves, instead of being inferred from consideration of their consequences. There are serious objections to this term, and even the distinction just given does not turn out to be as clear and sharp as could be desired : but no other word would so readily bring to the reader's mind the general object which I wish it to denote. § 2. It may seem, however, that I have by no means ex- hausted the list of reasons which are Avidely accepted as ulti- mate grounds of action. Many religious persons think that the highest reason for doing anything is that it is God's Will : and 1 CI. post, c. 9. Chap. VI.] THE METHODS OF ETHICS. 61 famous schools of philosophy have put forward the principle of " living according to Nature " as really ultimate. And I cannot deny that we have here principles pri7nd facie different from those above examined, and notions sufficiently general to give the summum genus of right conduct. But I think we shall find, when we come to consider more closely the methods to which these principles lead, that they either lie outside the scope of the present inquiry, or resolve themselves into one or other of those above indicated : or perhaps into a confused blendinsf of two or more of these. For if we ask how God's Will is to be ascertained we are referred either to Revelation or to Reason. Revelation is distinguished as "internal" and " external." Internal revelation must be either ecstatic, in which case it does not seem possible to systematize its results at all; or not ecstatic, in which case its operation cannot be introspectively distinguished from that of our ordinary cognitive faculties, and so the resulting method seems to coincide with some form of Intuitionism. If, again, an external Revelation is proposed as the standard, we are led into inquiries as to its nature and evidences, which carry us beyond the range of Ethics proper : in fact Ethics, in this case, must be pursued as a department of Scriptural Interpretation. On the other hand, when we try to ascertain by reason the Divine Will, the prac- tical result is always found to coincide with that of one or other of the methods above delineated. For either it is assumed that God desires the happiness of men, in which case our efforts should be concentrated on its production : or that He desires their perfection and that that should be our end : or that what- ever His end may be (into which perhaps we have no right to inquire) He has written His Laws in our hearts, these being the rules of conduct which are commonly thought to be intui- tively known. So that " conformity to God's Will," though it may supply a new motive for doing what we believe to be right, does not — apart from Revelation — suggest any special criterion of rightness. It rather presents itself as a common form or point of view under which a religious miad naturally regards whatever method of determining conduct it apprehends to be rational. And the same will, I think, be found to be the case with "life according to Nature," though as this latter 62 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. notion is somewhat ambiguous, its thorough investigation is more difficult. For in speaking of " conformity to Nature " men commonly imply more or less consciously an intelligent design exhibited in the natural world. Otherwise by " natural " it would seem that we could only mean the common as opposed to the rare and exceptional, or the original as opposed to that which is later in development; or, negatively, that which is not due to the deliberate action of human wills. But no one would maintain that these characteristics, considered in themselves and not as indications of design, are clear criteria of the reason- able in conduct : and that it is absolutely our duty to do what most persons do, or what our ancestors did, or what our infan- tile impulses suggested, or what we should have been impelled to do, but for the direct or indirect influence of society. If how- ever we are really implying an intelligent design, this principle seems to resolve itself into the one just discussed. It will be said, perhaps, that on this theory the Divine Will is not ascer- tained in either of the two alternative ways before discussed : being not learnt from Revelation or reasoning on the Divine attributes, but collected from observations of natural phe- nomena. We are supposed to view the natural world, or more particularly our own frames and the ensemble of our impulses and dispositions, as a kind of machine of which we have to find, by looking at it, the proper function and use. But though it is not difficult to describe, in a way that all would accept, the general outline of man's natural life, we cannot obtain from such contemplation a method for solving practical problems. For it does not help us to say with Butler " that the supremacy of Reason is Natural," as we start by assuming that we are to do what Reason prescribes, and that this is conformity to Nature, and so our line of thought would become circular : nor can we avoid this circle by substituting for Reason Consci- ence or the Moral sentiments ; because that in us wliich claims authority is never a mere sentiment, but always a faculty cog- nisant of an objective rule or imperative which exists independ- ently of its effect on our feelings, and such a faculty is what we must mean by Reason, How then is the Nature that we are to follow to be distinguished from our Practical Reason, so as to Chap. VI.] THE METHODS OF ETHICS. G3 become a guide to it ? In a sense, as Butler observes, any impulse is natural : but it is manifestly idle to bid us follow Nature in this sense : for the question of duty is never raised except when we are conscious of a conflict of impulses, and wish to know which to follow. And it will scarcely be said that we are always to follow the impulse that is felt as the strongest: for this would be rather a rejection than an interpretation of the dictates of reason, and would sometimes lead to conduct flagrantly irrational. Nor does it seem, on reflection, that any of the three meanings before suggested (which are all, I think, involved in the current notion of " natural ") will serve our purpose. For we can hardly maintain that the frequency of an impulse or the priority of its appearance in time is clearly indicative that God designs us to follow it : especially since, when we take a retrospective view of the history of the human race, we find that some impulses which all admire, such as the love of knowledge and enthusi- astic philanthropy, are both rarer and later in their appearance than others which all despise. Nor, again, can we eschew as unnatural and opposed to the Divine design all such impulses as have been produced in us by the institutions of society, or our use of human arrangements and contrivances, or that result in any way from the deliberate action of our fellow-men : for this were arbitrarily to exclude society and human action from the scope of the Divine purposes. And besides it is clear that many impulses so generated are auxiliary to morality and in other ways beneficial : and though others no doubt are per- nicious and misleading, it seems that we can only distinguish these latter from the former by taking note of their effects, and not by any precision that reflection can give to the notion of " natural." And if we take a more physical view of our nature and endeavour to ascertain for what end our corporeal frame was constructed, we find that such contemplation determines very little. We can tell from our nutritive system that we are intended to take food, and we can say that we are intended to exercise our various muscles in some way or other, and move our variovis limbs, and perhaps that we are to exercise our brain and organs of sense. But this carries us a very trifling way, for the practical question almost always is, not whether we are to use our organs or leave them unused, but to what extent 64 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. or in what manner we are to use them : and when men at- tempt to enunciate the teachings of Nature on these points, their divergence seems to shew that they are merely formu- lating the habits and instincts that result from varying custom, or confused intuitions of expediency. On the whole, it appears to me that no definition that has ever been ofifered of this notion exhibits it as capable of being laid at the basis of an ethical system. And no one maintains that " natural " like " beautiful " is a notion that though inde- finable is yet clear, being derived from a simple unanalysable impression. No doubt, when we have otherwise determined the right and wrong in conduct, we may assert that what is right is necessarily conformable to Nature (or to the Divine Will), and that this latter notion supplies the ultimate ground and reasonable motive for doing what is right. But at any rate it is not in itself sufficiently precise to give a practical criterion of the rightness of actions. § 3. It thus appears that not all the different views that are taken of the ultimate reason for obeying rules of conduct lead to different methods of determining what these rules shall be. In- deed we seem to find on closer examination that there is no necessary connexion between the Method and the Ultimate Reason in an ethical system : almost any method may be con- nected with almost any ultimate reason by means of some possi- ble — or even plausible — assumption. Hence arises considerable perplexity and confusion in the classification and comparison of ethical systems : for these appear to have different affinities accordinof as we consider Method or Ultimate Reason, and hence are not easy to classify even when both elements are made clear : which is often not the case, as some writers lay stress on Method, and are hesitating and uncertain in their enunciation of Ultimate Reason, while others chiefly confine themselves to the discussion of the latter and leave the former obscure. These and other difficulties in our classification will be seen more clearly as our investigation proceeds. In the meantime the list of first principles already given seems to include all that have a prima facie claim to be included : and to afford the most convenient classification for the current modes of deter- mining right conduct. At the same time I do not wish to lay Chap. VI.] THE METHODS OF ETHICS. 05 stress on the completeness or adequacy of the classification. I do not profess to prove a priori that there are these practical first principles and no more. They have been taken merely empirically from observation of the moral reasoning of myself and other men, whether professetl moralists or not : and though it seems to me improbable that I have overlooked any im- portant phase or point of view, it is always possible that I may have done so. On the other hand some readers may be expected to blame the list for excess rather than defect. They may have been taught to believe that " the common sense of mankind has in every age led to two seemingly opposite schemes of morality, that which makes Virtue and that which makes Pleasure the guide of human action :" and they may consider it a fault in my enumeration that it somewhat obliterates this fundamental distinction. Now perhaps no material error would be committed by stating the generally received methods of ethics as three in number and classifying all varieties under these three heads. For, as far as I am aware, there has been no systematic attempt to determine the rightness of conduct by considering its tendency to promote universal Perfection. And when Perfection or Excellence of the individual is spoken of as the ultimate end, what is most commonly meant is Moral Perfection, or at any rate this latter is taken to be its chief element: and when "Moral Perfection" has come to be defined, it has been found to mean " dispositions and habits tending to good action," the goodness being determined intuitively or by reference to common sense, and not by any special criterion de- rived from the notion of Perfection. And so far the method based upon this notion would coincide with a species of Intui- tionism : and whatever divergence is introduced by including in the End other than moral excellences may seem not sufficiently important to constitute this a fundamentally distinct method. This point it is not particularly needful to determine. But against any identification or blending of Egoistic and Universalistic Hedonism, and even against any representation of their differ- ences as secondary and subordinate, it seems very important to protest : as such a rapprochement encourages a serious misappre- hension of both the historical and the philosophical relations of s. E. 5 66 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I, these methods to the Intuitional or Common-Sense Morality. And the contrast between Egoism and Altruism is at any rate prima facie one of the most fundamental that morality exhibits. No doubt it is a postulate of the practical Reason, that it must be consistent with itself: and hence we have a strong pre- disposition to reduce any two methods to unity. But it is just because this postulate has been the source of a large amount of bad reasoning in ethics, that it is a special object of the present work to avoid all hasty and premature reconciliations, and to exhibit fairly the divergence of the different methods without extenuation or exaggeration : and no divergence ap- pears more obvious and glaring than that between the two systems not unfrequently confounded under the name of Utili- tarianism. At the same time it is not difficult to find reasons for this close union between principles and methods from one point of view so antagonistic. In the first place, the systems of Epicurus and Bentham are essentially similar in being both dependent systems ; that is, in prescribing actions as means to an end distinct from, and lying outside the actions ; and thus both consist of rules which are not absolute but relative, and only valid if they conduce to the end. Again, the ultimate end, or entity regarded as intrinsically good and desirable, is in both systems the same in quality, i.e. pleasure; or, more strictly, the maximum of pleasure attainable, pains being subtracted. Be- sides, it is of course to a great extent true that the conduct recommended by the one principle coincides with that incul- cated by the other. Though it would seem to be only in an ideal polity that "self-interest well understood" leads to the perfect discharge of all social duties, still, in a tolerably well- ordered community it prompts to the fulfilment of most of them, unless under very exceptional circumstances. And, on the other hand, a sincere Benthamite may fairly hold that his own happiness is that portion of the universal good which it is most in his power to promote, and which therefore is most especially entrusted to his charge. And the practical blending of the two systems is sure to go beyond their theoretical coin- cidence. It is much easier for a man to move in a sort of diagonal between egoistic and universalistic hedonism, than to Chap. VI.] THE METHODS OF ETHICS. G7 be practically a consistent adherent of either. Few men are so completely selfish, Avhatever their theory of morals may be, as not occasionally to seek the general good of some smaller or larger community from natural sympathetic impulse unsup- ported by Epicurean calculation. And probably still fewer are so resolutely unselfish as never to find "all men's good " in their own with rather too ready conviction. In spite of all this, the distinction between one's own happiness and that of people in general is so natural and obvious, and so continually forced upon our attention by the circumstances of life ; that some other reason is required to explain the persistent confusion between the systems that re- spectively adopt either end as furnishing the right and reason- able standard for each individual's conduct. And such a reason is found in the theory of human action held by Bentham (and generally speaking by his disciples), which has been discussed in a previous chapter. Though ethically Epicureanism and Benthamism may be viewed as standing in polar opposition, psychologically Bentham is in fundamental agreement with Epicureans. He holds that a man ought to aim at the maxi- mum felicity of men in general; but he holds, also, that he always does aim at what appears to him his own maximum felicity — that he cannot help doing this — tliat this is the way his volition inevitably acts. Bentham takes every opportunity of putting these two propositions with characteristic sharpness and clearness. "The greatest happiness of all those whose interest is in question is the only right and proper and uni- versally desirable end of human action in every situation." But " in the general tenor of life, in every human breast, self- regard is predominant;" or, more explicitly, "on the occasion of every act he exercises, every human being is led to pursue that line of conduct which, according to his view of the case, taken by him at the moment, will be in the highest degree contri- butory to his own greatest happiness, whatsoever be the effect of it in relation to the happiness of other similar beings, any or all of them taken together." He goes on to refer those who doubt to the "existence of the human species as being itself a proof, and a conclusive one." Here, if self-interest be not the "right and proper end of ■5—2 G8 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book 1. action V' it is at any rate not wrong or improper, because it is inevitable. If Bentham is asked, " Why then do you inveigh (as you certainly do with much bitterness and emphasis) against lawyers and statesmen who seek their own interest when it unfortunately happens to diverge from the public interest?" his answer is ready and clear : ' I do so with a view of removing the divergence ; by my own disapprobation and the disappro- bation of all whom I can persuade to sympathize with me, I would supply the force that is wanting to turn the wills of these public servants in the direction of public duty.' If he is asked again, " But when you concern yourself about the public good, and call it the right and proper end of action, do not you re- cognise a principle of duty, obedience to which you prefer to your own pleasure?" he answers unhesitatingly, 'No, I con- cern myself about the public good, because in me selfishness has taken the form of public spirit, and when I call it the proper end, I mean that I wish all other men to take it for such, with a view to its attainment, with which the attainment of my own greatest happiness is bound up.' There is, therefore, in Bentham's mind no confusion and no logical connexion between his psychological generalization and his ethical assumption. But it has been so common among moralists of ail schools to identify the natural and the ideal, and to argue from what men universally or normally do to what they ought to do, that it is not surprising that a Ben- thamite should be thought to approve of the egoism which he accepts as inevitable, and in some way to base upon it his universalistic hedonism. And we find that the latest expositor of utilitarianism, J. S. Mill, does try to establish a logical connexion between the psychological and ethical principles, which he holds in common with Bentham, and to convince his readers that because each man naturally seeks his own hap- piness, therefore he ought to seek the happiness of other people*^. ^ As far as I am aware, this term is never appliad to it in works written by Bentham himself. In the Deontology, and elsewhere where the composition is due to Dumout, we find a loose and vague combination of Egoistic and Universalistic Hedonism, which it is impossible to attribute to so exact and coherent a thinker as Bentham. ^ We shall have occasion to consider MilFs nrgnmont on tliis point in a subsequent chapter. Cf. ■po^t, Book iii. c. Vd. Chap. VI.] THE METHODS OF ETHICS. G9 Nevertheless, it can hardly be denied that the affinity be- tween Utilitarianism and Intuitionism, if we consider not the principles of the methods but their practical results, is really much greater than that between the two forms of Hedonism. Many moralists who have maintained as practically valid the judgments of right and wrong which the Common Sense of mankind seems intuitively to enunciate, have yet regarded Happiness as an end to which the rules of morality were means. I do not mean merely that they believed happiness to be annexed as a Divine reward to the observance of these rules : but that they believed such observance by any individual to tend naturally to the happiness of others ; and that the rules had been implanted by Nature or revealed by God to that end. It would follow that, though I am bound to take, as iny ultimate standard in acting, conformity to a rule which is for me absolute ; still the Divine and (we may say) intrinsic reason for the rule laid down would be Utilitarian. On this view, the method of Utilitarianism is certainly rejected : the connexion between right action and happiness is not ascertained by a process of reasoning. But we can hardly say that the Utili- tarian principle is rejected : rather the limitations of the human reason are supposed to prevent it from apprehending adequately the real connexion between the true principle and the right rules of conduct. This connexion, however, has always been to some extent visible to and recognised by all reflective persons. Indeed so clear is it that in most cases the observance of the commonly received moral rules tends to render human life tranquil and hajDpy, that even moralists (as Whewell) who are most strongly opposed to Utilitarianism have, in attempting to exhibit the "necessity" of moral rules, been led to dwell on utilitarian considerations. And during the first period of ethical controversy in modern England, after the audacious enunciation of Egoism by Hobbes had roused in real earnest the search for a philosophical basis of morality, Utilitarianism appears in friendly alliance with Intui- tionism. It was not to supersede but to support the morality of Common Sense, against the dangerous innovations of Hobbes, that Cumberland declared " the common good of all Rationals " to be the end to which moral rules were the means. We find 70 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. him quoted with approval by Clarke, who is commonly taken to represent Intuitionism in an extreme form. Nor does Shaftes- bury, in introducing the theory of a " moral sense," seem to have dreamt that it could ever impel us to actions not clearly conducive to the Good of the Whole : and his disciple Hutcheson expressly identified its promptings with those of Benevolence. Butler seems to have been the first who distinctly pointed out the occasional discrepancy between the apj)arent well-being of society and Virtue as commonly understood \ When Hume presented Utilitarianism as a mode of explaining current mo- rality, it was seen or suspected to have a destructive tendency. But it was not till Bentham's time that it was offered as a method for determining conduct, absolutely complete in itself: the conclusions of which were to overrule all traditional precepts and supersede all existing sentiments. And even this complete and final antagonism relates rather to theory and method than to practical results : indeed the discrepancy in results between Utilitarianism and Common ' Sense has been rather ex- teniiated than exaggerated by most utilitarians. The prac- tical conflict is so essentially between Egoism and Altruism, that the sense of this continually tends to draw together Utilitari- anism and Intuitionism into their old alliance. Indeed from a practical point of view Egoism and Utilitarianism may fairly be regarded as extremes between which the Common-Sense mo- rality is a kind of media via. For this latter is commonly thought to leave a man free to pursue his own happiness under certain definite limits and conditions: whereas the "greatest happiness of the greatest number" seems to self-love a principle more oppressive from the comprehensive, indefinite, and unceas- ing character of its exactions. And thus, as Mill remarks. Utilitarianism is sometimes attacked from two precisely op- posite sides : from a confusion Avith Egoistic Hedonism it is called base and grovelling: while at the same time it is more plausibly charged with setting up too high a standard of ^ I tliink wo can trace a change in Butler's view on tliis point, if we compare the first of bis Sermons on Human Nature with tlie Dissertation on Yirtuo which forms an appendix to the Aualoijij. Certainly in the former treatise he does not notice, any more than Shaftesbury and Hutcheson, any ac- tual or possible want of harmony between Conscience and Rational Benevolence- Chap. VI.] THE METHODS OF ETHICS. 7 1 unselfishness and making exaggerated demands on human nature. A good deal remains to be said, in order to make the princi- ple and method of Utilitarianism perfectly clear and explicit : but it seems best to defer this till we come to the investigation of its details. It will be convenient to take this as the final stage of our examination of methods. For on the one hand it is simpler that the discussion of Egoistic Hedonism should precede that of Universalistic : and on the other, it seems desirable that we should obtain in as exact a form as possible the enunciations of Intuitive Morality, before we compare these with the results of the more doubtful and difficult calculations of utilitarian con- sequences. In the remaining chapters of this book I shall endeavour to define more clearly the nature and relations of the other two methods, before proceeding to the fuller examination of them, with which we shall be occupied in Books ll. and III. CHAPTER VII. EGOISM AND SELF-LOVE. § 1. In the preceding chapter I have used the term " Egoism," as others have done, to denote a system which pre- scribes actions as means to the end of the individual's happi- ness. The ruling motive in such a system is commonly said to be " self-love." But both terms admit of other interpretations, which it will be well to distinguish and set aside before pro- ceeding further, as the ambiguous meaning of " egoism " and " self-love " has been a frequent source of confusion in ethical discussion. I may illustrate this by a reference to the doctrines of Hobbes, His method is naturally and quite properly called egoistic, but it is not throughout, strictly speaking, hedonistic. In fact his deviations from pure Hedonism are considerable : and it is of some interest to notice them, as they are essential characteristics of his system, which in its original plan and purpose, (though not perhaps in its effect upon mankind,) was the reverse of destructive. His aim was to promulgate philo- sophical principles of conduct upon which the social order might firmly rest, and escape the storms and convulsions with which it seemed to be menaced from the vagaries of the unen- lightened conscience. Now pure egoistic hedonism, as I shall presently shew, cannot furnish a solid basis for such social con- struction : and even such imperfect constructiveness as Hobbism attained is only managed by means of qualifications and as- sumptions alien to pure hedonism. For example, it is not "self-love" in Butler's sense — the impulse which aims at the Chap. VII. ] EGOTSM AND SELF-LOVE. 73 individual's pleasure — but " self-preservation," which determines the first of those precepts of rational egoism which he calls " Laws of Nature." It is true that his psychological theory that " pleasure helpeth vital actions " made him to some extent blend the two notions : for so by aiming at pleasure a man would seek to increase if not strictly to preserve his vitality. Still in the development of his system we often find that it is Preservation rather than Pleasure that he has in vicAV. I do not mean merely that he considers social rules to be enjoined by prudence on the individual as "articles of peace:" for peace is a means to the end of Pleasure as well as of Preservation. But in determining the very important question, when the same prudence or egoistic reason will prompt the individual not to conform to his articles of peace, he decides that such non-conformity is justifiable at the point at which submission would tend to interfere not with his pleasure, but with his life and freedom of action ; " when death or imprisonment are threatened " by society. Again in Spinoza's view the principle of rational action is necessarily egoistic, and is (as with Hobbes) the impulse of self preservation. The individual mind, says Spinoza, like everything else, strives so far as it is able to continue in its state of being : indeed this effort is its very essence. It is true that this impulse cannot be distinguished from the desire of pleasure: because pleasure or joy is "a passion in which the soul passes to higher perfection." Still it is not at Pleasure that the impulse primarily aims, but at Perfection or Reality : as we should now say, at Self-development. Of this, according to Spinoza, the highest form consists in a clear comprehension of all things in their necessary order as modifications of the one Divine Being, and that willing acceptance of all which springs from this comprehension, and which Spinoza calls the " intellectual love of God." In this state the mind is purely active, without any admixture of passion or passivity : and thus its essential nature is realized or actualized to the greatest possible degree. We perceive that this is the notion of self-realization as defined not only hy but for a philosopher : and that it would mean something quite different in the case of a man of action 74 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. — such, for example, as the reflective dramatist of Germany introduces exclaiming : Icli kann micb nicLt Wie so eiu Wortheld, so eiu Tugeud-Schwatzer An meinem Willeu warmon, und Gedanken Wenn icli uiclit wirke melir, Liu ich vernichtet ^. The artist again often contemplates his essentially different manner of life under the same notion. Nay, even the philo- sopher, if his thought takes a more distinctly ethical turn than Spinoza's, will include moral action as well as metaphysical contemplation in his conception of self-development ; and hold that true self-love promj)ts us to obey the moral rules laid down by the governing principle within us, as in such obedience we shall be realizinsf our truest self ^ We see, in short, that the term Egoism, as it merely im- plies that some reference to self is made in laying down first principles of conduct, does iiot really indicate in any way the substance of such principles. For all our impulses, high and low, sensual and moral alike, are so far similarly related to self, that — except when two or more impulses come into conscious conflict — we identify ourselves Avith each as it arises. Thus self-consciousness may be prominent in yielding to any impulse : and egoism, in so far as it merely implies such prominence, is a notion equally applicable to all varieties of external behaviour, and a common form into which any moral system may be thrown. It may be said, however, that we do not, properly speaking, " develope " or " realize" self by yielding to the impulse which happens to be naturally predomina.nt in us; but by exercising, each in its due place and proper degree, all the different faculties and capacities, propensities and susceptibilities, of which our nature is made up : as it is the sum or complex of these which constitutes the self in each of us. But here there is an important ambiguity. What do we mean by " due pro- portion and proper degree " ? These terms may imply an ideal balance and composition of mental elements, into con- formity wdth which the individual mind has to be trained, by ' Schiller's Wallcnstcin. ■ " Cf. Aristotle, Ethics, Book ix. c. 8. CuAP.VII.] EGOISM AND SELF-LOVE, 75 restraining some of its natural impulses and strengthening others. Or they may merely refer to the natural combination and proportion of tendencies in the character of each : to this, it may be meant, we ought to adapt as far as possible the cir- cumstances in ^Yhich we place ourselves and the functions which we choose to exercise : in order that we may " be ourselves," "live our own life," &c. But it does not seem that "self- development" in this latter sense is ever put forward as an absolute end, but as a means to happiness : for supposing a man to be born with dispositions tending to his own unhappi- ness, no one would recommend him to develope these as fully as possible, instead of modifying or subduing them in some way: but it is thought that the best way of seeking happiness is to give free play to one's nature. This view we will hereafter consider more fully. In the former interpretation Self-develop- ment (it might perhaps be better termed Self-culture) implies the principle of taking the perfection of the' individual as the proper ultimate end of action. Now as the notion of Perfection or Excellence is quite distinct from that of Happiness, this principle leads to a method of determining right conduct prima facie different from the Hedonistic method which is more com- monly called Egoism, The ends at which the two methods aim are different, although they may turn out to be inseparably connected. Indeed in so far as Virtue is the prominent element of human Perfection, the former kind of Egoism will coincide with what we have called Intuitionism, Similarly, we must discard a common account of Egoism which describes its end or first principle as the "good" of the individual: for the term "good" really contains undeveloped (but therefore unreconciled) all possible views of the ulti- mate end of rational conduct. Indeed it may be said that Egoism in this sense was assumed in the whole ethical contro- versy of ancient Greece. For when men inquired, " What is the Supreme Good V they meant the supreme good for each in- dividual inquirer, and assumed that this was for him the right and proper end of action. But the question still remained open whether it was Pleasure or Virtue, or anything else, that was intrinsically Good or the Highest Good. Nor is the ambiguity removed if we follow Aristotle in confining our attention to the 76 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. Good attainable in human life, and call this EvSai/xovla, Well- being. For Ave may still argue with the Stoics, that virtuous or excellent actions and not pleasures are the elements of which true human Well-being is composed. Indeed Aristotle himself adopts this view, and determines the details of evSat,- fiovla accordingly: though he does not, with the Stoics, regard the pursuit of Virtue and that of Pleasure as competing alternatives, holding rather that the " best pleasure " is an inseparable concomitant of the most excellent action. Simi- larly some modern utilitarians prefer to state as their ultimate end " greatest Good " rather than " greatest Happiness," because the former notion naturally includes Pleasure in indefinite synthesis with whatever else is commonly reckoned desirable. And even the term Happiness is not quite clear. It seems to be commonly used in Bentham's way as convertible with Pleasure : or rather as denoting that of which the elements are pleasures. Still it is not quite certain that by Happi- ness we always understand this and nothing else : so that even this term may involve us in verbal disputes and misunder- standings \ § 2. To be clear, then, we must particularize as the object of self-love, and End of what (for distinctness' sake) I have called Egoistic Hedonism, a certain state or quality of the conscious- 1 Ai'istotle's selection of evdaifiovla to denote what lie elsewhere calls •'Human" or "Practicable" good, and still more the fact that, after all, we have no better rendering for evdaifiovia than "Happiness" or "Felicity," has cansed his whole system to be misunderstood : so that he is often thought to have taught a species of Hedonism. We may conjecture that it was not without doing some violence to common usage that Aristotle could bring his readers to understand by evSat/xovla that kind of Well-being that consists of Well-doing, and of which pleasure is not the element but the inseparable concomitant : and if the term "happiness" is used, it is almost impossible for the English reader to seize Aristotle's exact view. Thus it may be observed that when Stewart {Philosophy of the Active and Noral Poivcrs, Book ii. c. 2) says that " by many of the best of the ancient moralists our sense of duty was considered as resolvable into self-love, and the whole of ethics was reduced to this question . . . What is most conducive on the whole to our happiness?" the remark, if not exactly false, is certain to mislead his readers. For Stewart always uses "happiness," as most English writers do, as equivalent to "sum of pleasures:" and he uses "self-love," as most exact writers after Butler have done, to denote the impulse which prompts US to seek the greatest amount of such pleasure attainable. CiiAP. VII] EGOISM AND SELF-LOVE. 77 ness of the agent which we call Pleasure or Satisfaction ; or rather the sum and series of such states, to denote which, with- out violation of usage, we may take the terms Happiness or Felicity. Still even so we have not quite got rid of ambiguity : for it may still be maintained that only certain kinds of pleasure are to be sought, and not others. And this view has actually been held by some who have professed to take Pleasure as the ultimate end and standard of right conduct. But reflec- tion will shew that by the admission of this qualification the method might practically be metamorphosed into any other, and can no longer be appropriately called Hedonism. One has only to say (e. g.) that no other pleasures are worth seeking but those that attend the practice of Virtue, and then this latter and not Pleasure will become the notion practically important for determining our conduct, so that our method will be indis- tinguishable from Intuitionism. But Hedonism, strictly un- derstood, should obviously be a method that aims at pleasure as pleasure and nothing else ; and so at pleasure generally, not any particular kind of pleasure. And Self-love, as understood by Butler and other English moralists after him, is similarly an impulse towards pleasure generally, however obtained. In fact, it is upon this generality that the supremacy or authority attached to it in Butler's system, and the " rationality " which Stewart attributes to it, are founded. For since satisfaction or pleasure of some kind results from gratifying any impulse ; when antagonistic impulses compete for the determination of the Will, Self-love prompts us to compare the pleasures which we foresee will respectively attend their gratification, and when Ave have ascertained which pleasure is the greatest, adds its weight to the corresponding impulse. It is thus called into play whenever impulses conflict, and is therefore naturally regulative and directive (as Butler argues) of other impulses. As far, then, as Self-love goes, we are not supposed to consider anything except the amount of pleasure or satisfaction : or, to use Bentham's forcible illustration, " quantity of pleasure being equal, push-pin is as good as poetry." This position, however, seems to many offensively para- doxical ; and consequently an eminent disciple of Bentham^ 1 J. S. MilL 78 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. Las thouoflit it desirable to abandon it and to take into account differences in quality among pleasures as well as dif- ferences in degree. Now here we may observe, first, that it is quite consistent with the view quoted as Bentliam's, to describe some kinds of pleasure as inferior in quality to others, if by " a pleasure" we mean (as is often meant) a whole state of con- sciousness which is only partly pleasurable ; and still more if we take into view subsequent states causally connected with this. For many pleasures are not free from pain even while enjoyed : and many more have painful consequences. These are, in Ben- tham's phrase, "impure:" and as the pain has to be set off against the pleasure, it is in accordance with strictly quantita- tive measurement of pleasure to call them inferior in kind. And again, we must be careful not to confound intensity of pleasure with intensity of sensation : as a pleasant feeling may be strong and absorbing, and yet not so pleasant as another that is more subtle and delicate. With these explanations, it seems to me that in order to develope consistently the method that takes pleasure as the sole ultimate end of rational conduct, Bentham's proposition must be accepted, and all qualitative comparison of pleasures must really resolve itself into quantita- tive. All pleasures are understood to be so called because they have a common property of pleasantness, and may therefore be compared in respect of this common property. If, then, what we are seeking is pleasure as such, and pleasure alone, we must evidently always prefer the more pleasant pleasure to the less pleasant : no other choice seems reasonable, unless we are aim- ing at something besides pleasure. And often when we say that one kind of pleasure is better than another — as (e.g.) that the pleasures of reciprocated affections are superior in quality to the pleasui'es of gratified appetite — we mean that they are more pleasant. No doubt we may mean something else : we may mean, for instance, that they are nobler and more elevated, although less pleasant. But thus we are clearly introducing p non-hedonistic ground of preference : and if this is held to be i valid reason for choosing the less pleasure rather than the greater, the method adopted can no longer be properly called Hedonism. In fact, in tlie case just supposed, we might fairly call the mothod Intuitionism in the garb of Hedonism. For there is Chap. VII.] EGOISM AND SELF-LOVE. 79 but the slightest formal, and no substantial, difference between a method that aims at the most elevated and refined activities — or realization and development of the most elevated facul- ties and capacities — and a method that aims at the most elevated pleasures \ To sum up, Egoism, if we merely understand by it a method that aims- at Self-realization, seems to be a form into which almost any ethical system may be thrown, without modi- fying its essential characteristics. And even when further de- fined as Egoistic Hedonism, it becomes indistinguishable from some phase of Intuitionism if qualitative superiority of pleasures is admitted as distinct from and overruling quantitative. There remains then Pure or Quantitative Egoistic Hedonism, which, as a method essentially distinct from all others and widely main- tained to be rational, seems to deserve a detailed examination. And this seems to be what is commonly intended by the vaguer terms egoism, egoistic : and therefore I shall allow myself to use these terms in this more precise signification. ^ Here again vre may turn for illustration to the Ai-istotelian Ethics. For we have two editions of this system, in one of which we are told that the end of action is the sum of the best possible ivepyeiai (exercises of faculties), and at the same time that the best pleasure {rlSov^^) always attends the best ivcpyda: while in the other ivepyeia is identified with tjoout), and therefore the end assumes a hedonistic aspect. In fact, on one view, Aristotle's system may be called a reconciliation of Hedonism and lutuitiouism, yet so that the method of determining right conduct is pm-ely intuitional : that is, if we make the assumption that the greatest pleasure — it is hard to say whether Aristotle distinguishes this from best — attends the lest exercise of faculty. If, on the other hand, we decline to make this assumption, his method exhibits exactly the boundary line at which Intuitionism meets Hedonism, but still must be regarded as a phase of the former. CHAPTER VIII. INTUITIONISM. § 1. We have used the terms "Intuitional" to denote the method which recognises rightness^ as a quahty inherent in actions independently of their conduciveness to any end. With this method we have agreed to associate that which aims at the Perfection of the individual as the ultimate end : because of this Perfection moral excellences have commonly been regarded as at least the chief constituent : and these moral excellences can only be defined as dispositions and habits that tend to right or virtuous action, the rightness or virtuousness being intuitively ascertained. There are, no doubt, important differences between this method and what is commonly known as Intuitive Morality : but their general co- incidence may perhaps justify us in regarding the former as merely a phase or variety of the latter. When we say that Right Conduct is known by Intui- tion, we are understood to mean that it is ascertained by simply "looking at" the actions themselves, without consider- ing their consequences. It may be said, however, that no morality ever existed which did not consider consequences. 1 I may remind the reader that I use the terms " right " and " reasonable," and the equivalent phrase "what ought to be " [done or aimed at], to express a notion so fundamental that it does not seem possible to define it in the ordinary way : but only in the manner in which I have tried to make it clear in c. 1 of this book, by distinguishing it from other notions with which it is liable to be confounded. Chap. VIII.] INTUITIONISM. 81 Prudence or Forethought has always been reckoned a virtue : and all modern lists of Virtues have included Benevolence, v^hich aims generally at the happiness of others, and therefore necessarily takes into consideration even remote effects of actions. It may be said, too, that it is difficult to draw the line between an act and its consequences: as the effects which follow each of our volitions form a continuous series stretching to infinity, and we intend equally whichever of these at the moment of volition we foresee to be probable. However the common notions of different kinds of actions do practically draw a line between the results included in the notion and regarded as forming part of the act, and those considered as consequences. For example, in speaking truth to a jury, I may foresee that my words, operating along with other statements and indications, will lead them to a wrong conclusion as to the guilt or innocence of the accused, nearly as certainly as I foresee that they will produce a right impression as to the particular matter of fact to which I am testifying. Still we commonly consider the latter foresight or intention to determine the nature of the act as an act of veracity, while the former merely relates to a consequence. And the most strictly Intuitional systems do not bid us disregard what are considered as consequences generally, but only in respect of certain determinate classes of actions (as Truth-speaking) where the general notions of the acts indicate clearly enough what events are to be included, and what excluded. According to the common view, which regards Intuitionism and Hedonism as the only possible alternatives, the only con- sequences of actions which are ethically important are plea- sures and pains. It is, however, quite conceivable that men should judge remote as well as immediate events to be in themselves desirable, without considering them in relation to the feelings of sentient beings. Indeed we not unfrequently find men who, while they judge the conduct of others and shape their own by a consideration of remote effects, yet seem to regard not pleasures and pains but some other kind of effects as intrinsically and ultimately desirable : such as the promotion of Art or Knowledge, generally or in some particular depart- ment. But probably most such men, if they undertook to s. E. 6 82 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. shew the reasonableness of their judgment, would admit the necessity of exhibiting the tendency of such effects either to increase the Happiness of sentient beings, or to bring mankind nearer to Perfection — or perhaps, to raise the world as a whole into a higher state of existence. One or other of these latter views seems at least latent in the thought of all persons, who, while they repudiate Hedonism on the one hand, are still not satisfied with a method which prescribes conformity to certain rules as absolutely and ultimately reasonable. And therefore I have included Perfection of Mankind or of the world among the ends which claim to be rational. The rela- tion of the method based upon the assumption of this end to Intuitive Morality will be more conveniently discussed at a later period \ Meanwhile by Intuitionism we are to understand a method which to a certain extent — indeed, in so far as it is clearly distinguished from hedonistic methods — prescribes certain ac- tions to be done without regard to their consequences : the line between " act " and " consequences " being drawn in each case by a proper definition of the general term denoting the action. Of this method there are, however, many different forms, either expressly developed in the treatises of moralists or discoverable as implicit in the moral reasoning of ordinary men, which it is a matter of some delicacy to distinguish and arrange. The differences may be classed, I think, under three heads. There are, first, differences of method strictly speaking, according as that is held to be deductive or inductive, and the propositions from which we start in reasoning universal or particular. Again, men have used different notions to represent the special object of intuition, the quality that is intuitively apprehended in actions by the moral faculty. For this may be either (1) the rightness of actions and the moral obligation to perform them, or (2) their goodness or (3) their moral beauty, in so far as this requires to be distinguished from goodness. Thirdly, there seem to be different views as to the ultimate reason for actually doing what is intuitively ascertained to be right. The common view, indeed, is that which has already been given, that in this intuition itself is contained the final 1 CLpostyBk. ni.c. 14, Chap, VIII.] INTUITIONISM. 83 reason for obeying it : it is in fact a perception of wliat is in- trinsically reasonable to be done. On this view no further reason ought to be demanded or given, and the question, "Why ought I to do what is right ?" seems just as superfluous as the question, " Why should I believe what is true ? " Still many persons, while relying entirely on their moral intuitions for prac- tical guidance, are yet dissatisfied with this account, and seek out some further notion by the aid of which obedience to the moral faculty may be made to appear more undeniably reason- able. Of the different general conceptions which have been thus put forward as the real basis of Intuitive or Common Sense morality, we have already had occasion to notice the most important, viz. " conformity to the Divine Will," or " to Nature " (in so far as this can be distinguished from the former), and "Self-realization," the End of what may be called Moral Egoism, The adoption of any such conception as fundamental does not necessarily lead to any deviation in details from the commonly received rules and principles; but the intrinsic vagueness of these notions seems to render such deviations very probable. A man who now regards strictly moral conduct as most natural or the best expression of his true mil, may be easily led to take a different view of nature or his real self, and so to deviate indefinitely from the commonly received code of morality. Still, we cannot, I think, systematize any such deviations as logically following from the acceptance of either principle. § 2, We are more concerned to study carefully the dif- ferences in the current views of what may be called the Logic of Intuitional Ethics. Here what was said above may have somewhat surprised the reader, as he will have frequently heard "intuitive" contrasted with "inductive" morality, the latter being treated as synonymous with hedonism of some kind. Another pair of terms used in the same opposition are ^' a prioi^i " and " d jJosteriori :" and in this way a certain presumption is raised against " Intuitionism," as an " d pos- teriori" method is thought to be most in harmony with the habits and tendencies of modern science. Now there is a rough appropriateness in the common use of these terms : and therefore I have not hesitated to adopt Intuitionism as a title : 6—2 84 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. but the antithesis is imperfect, and generally involves a curious confusion of thought. For what the " inductive " moralist professes to know a posteriori, by induction from experience, is commonly not the same thing as what the intuitive moralist professes to know by intuition. In the former case it is the conduciveness to pleasure of certain kinds of action that is methodically ascertained : in the latter case, their rightness : there is therefore no proper opposition. If Hedonism pre- sents itself as a system of Ethics, and claims to give practical guidance, this can only be in virtue of the principle "that pleasure is" — to use Bentham's phrase — "the only right and proper end of human action." It is true that this principle is not often explicitly stated : but it is always necessarily im- plied, and it cannot be known by induction from experience. Exj)erience can at most tell us that all men always do seek pleasure (that it does not support this conclusion I have already tried to shew) : it cannot tell us that any one ought to seek it. Again — and this leads us back to the subject now under discussion — a moralist may hold the rightness of actions to be cognizable apart from the pleasure produced by them, and yet his method may be properly called Inductive. He may hold that it is always this or that individual action, which is in the first place apprehended to be right : and that all valid general propositions in ethics are obtained by generalization from such particular judgments. When Socrates is said by Aristotle to have applied induc- tive reasoning to ethical questions, it is this kind of induction which is meant. He discovered, as we are told, the latent ignorance of himself and other men : that is, that they used general terms confidently, without being able when called upon to explain the meaning of those terms. His plan for remedying this ignorance was to obtain, or work towards, the true defini- tion of each terra, by examining and comparing different instances of its application. Thus the definition of Justice would be sought by comparing different particular actions intuitively recognised as just, and framing a general proposition that would harmonize with all these particular intuitions ^ 1 It must however be remembered that Aristotle regarded the general Chap. VIIL] INTUITIONISM. 85 Again the popular view of Conscience seems — at least prtmd facie — to point to such a method. We most commonly think of the dictates of conscience as relating to particular actions : and when a man is bidden, in any particular case, to " trust to his conscience," it commonly seems to be meant that he should exercise a faculty of judging morally this particular case with- out reference to general rules, and even in opposition to con- clusions obtained by systematic deduction from such rules. And in this way the aversion of the unphilosophic conscientious man to " Casuistry" may be justified : for if the particular case can be satisfactorily settled by conscience without reference to general rules, " Casuistry," which consists in the application of general rules to particular cases, is clearly superfluous. But then, on this view, we shall have no practical need of any such general rules, or of a science of Ethics at all. We may of course form general propositions by induction from these particular conscientious judgments, and arrange them systematically : but any interest which such a system may have will be purely speculative. And this accounts for the indifference or hostility to systematic morality shewn by some conscientious persons. For they feel that they can at any rate do without it : and they fear that the cultivation of it may place the mind in a wrong attitude in relation to practice, and prove rather unfavourable than otherwise to the proper development of the practically important faculty by which we pass particular moral judg- ments. This view may be called ultra-intuitional, as it recognises simple immediate intuitions alone and rejects all modes of reasoning to moral conclusions. But it may equally well be called ultra-empirical, as it emphasizes the authority of par- ticular moral experiences in comparison with universal rules or axioms. This then we may describe as one phase or variety of the Intuitional method, involving really a negation of method, and excluding what is more strictly called Reason^ from moral decisions. proposition obtained by induction as really more certain (and in a liiglier sense knowledge), than the particulars through which the mind is led up to it : and that it is with this meaning that he — quite correctly as far as we know — charac- terizes the procedure of Socrates as inductive. ^ i.e. the faculty of apprehending universal truth. Cf. arite, c. 3, § 1, 86 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. § 3. But though probably all moral agents have experience of such particular intuitions, and ^^though they constitute a great part of the moral phenomena of most minds, compara- tively few are so thoroughly satisfied Avith them, as not to demand some more certain moral knowledge, even for practical purposes. And indeed, even when the decision of the moral faculty is felt to relate primarily to some particular action, we cannot really exclude generality from the notion of the act thus judged to be right. The belief that what I ought to do here and now would be right for all persons in precisely similar circumstances seems at least latent in all moral consciousness^: hence the quality of rightness must be dependent upon cer- tain general characteristics of the action, agent, and circum- stances : and the moral truth apprehended will be intrinsically universal, though particular in our first apprehension of it. Again, these particular intuitions do not, to reflective persons, present themselves as quite indubitable and irrefragable. Fre- quently when they have put the ethical question to themselves with all sincerity, they are not conscious of clear immediate insight in respect of it. Again, when we compare the utter- ances of our conscience at different times, we find it difiicult to make them consistent : the same conduct will wear a dif- ferent aspect at one time from that which it wore at another, although our perception of its circumstances and conditions remains unchanged. Thirdly, we become aware that the in- tuitions of different minds, to all appearance equally compe- tent to judge, frequently conflict : one condemns what another approves. In this way serious doubts are aroused as to the validity of each man's moral perceptions : and we endeavour to set these doubts at rest by appealing to general rules, more immutable, and resting on a firmer basis of common consent, than such particular intuitions. And in fact, though the view of conscience before discussed is one which much popular language seems to suggest, it is not that which Christian and other moralists have usually given. They have rather represented the process of conscience as analogous to one of jural reasoning, such as is conducted in a Court of Law. Here we have always a system of universal 1 Cf. ante, c. 1, § 3, and Book in. c. 1, § 2. Chap. VI TL] INTUITIONISM. 87 rules given, and any particular action has to be brought under one of these rules before it can be pronounced lawful or un- lawful. Now the rules of positive law are not discoverable by the individual's reason : this may teach him that law ought to be obeyed, but what law is must be communicated to him from some external authority. And this is not unfrequently the case with the conscientious reasoning of ordinary persons : they have a genuine impulse to conform to the right rules of conduct, but they are not conscious of seeing for themselves what these are : they have to inquire that of their priest, or their sacred books, or more often the common opinion of the society to which they belong. But so far as this is the case we cannot call their morality Intuitional. They follow rules generally received, not intuitively apprehended. Still no doubt other persons (or perhaps all to some extent) do seem to see for themselves the truth ^ and bindingness of all or most of these current rules. Their reception by common consent is still an argument for their validity : but only as supporting the in- dividual's intuition, not as a substitute for it or as superseding it. Here then we have a second Intuitional Method : of which the fundamental assumption is that we can discern general rules with really clear and finally valid intuition. Such general rules are sometimes called moral axioms, and compared to the First Principles of Geometry. They are held to be implicit in the moral reasoning of ordinary men, who are thought to apprehend them adequately for most practical purposes, and to be able to enunciate them roughly. But to state them with proper precision seems to require a power of contemplating clearly and steadily abstract moral notions, which is only ob- tained by special cultivation. The moralist's function then is to do this, and to arrange them as systematically as possible, and by proper definitions and explanations to remove vagueness and prevent conflict. It is such a system as this which seems to be generally intended when Intuitive or d priori morality is mentioned, and which will chiefly occupy us in Book ill. However there still remain minds to which the Morality ^ It should be borne in mind that the ideas of truth and falsehood are only applicable to Eules, when they are changed from the imperative mood (" Do X") into the indicative (" X ought to be done '"). 88 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. of Common Sense, even when made as precise and orderly as possible, is still not satisfactory as a system, although they have no disposition to question its general authority. In the first place, even if we do not doubt the validity of these rules, it is difficult to accept them, as they are empirically obtained by reflection on common sense, for scientific first principles. Even if they can be so defined as perfectly to fit together and cover the whole field of human conduct, without coming into conflict and without leaving any questions unanswered : still this harmony wears an accidental aspect. Without being dis- posed to deny that these are the true rules, we yet seem to require some deeper explanation why they are so : some deeper conception or principle by means of which we may organize them into a truly rational system. But further, in reflecting on these rules, all the doubts recur that were just now noticed in respect of the particular dictates of conscience, A man's intuition of moral truth, even if we only contemplate each rule taken separately, is rarely so certain as his intuition of geometrical truth : and there are numerous cases where moral rules prima facie conflict, and it seems doubtful hov>r far this conflict can be removed by merely defining the rules themselves, without penetrating to any deeper principle. And if we succeed in removing this conflict to our satisfaction, and in making our own moral system har- monious, still we shall find important discrepancies between it and the moral systems of other ages and countries. Nay more, in proportion as we introduce precision into our moral rules, so as to get rid of ambiguity and guard against the possibility of conflict, we seem gradually to lose the support which they at first derived from the general consent of mankind : as this universal agreement can only be obtained by keeping them vague and undefined. Here we have another reason why "Casuistry " comes to be regarded with suspicion : for the rules in their vague form are sufficient for practical purposes, while Casuistry inevitably attempts to make them precise, and in so doing is found to diminish their established certainty and to weaken their hold on the mind. And thus from the two impulses which together have been the source of all philosophic effort (as distinct from mere curi- Chap. VIIL] INTUITTONTSM. 89 osity), the desire of completer synthesis, and the desire of greater certainty, springs a third species or phase of Intuitionism. This, while accepting the morality of common sense as in the main sound, still attempts to find for it a philosophic basis which it does not itself offer : to get one or more principles more absolutely and undeniably true and evident, from which the current rules might be deduced, either just as they are commonly received or with slight modifications and rectifica- tions. § 4. The three kinds of Intuitionism just described seem to exhibit three stages in the scientific development of Intuitive Morality: they might be termed respectively Perceptional or Instinctive, Dogmatic, and Rational or Philosophical. The first of these, as was said, is, if taken strictly by itself, a complete negation of method, and so offers nothing to be investigated. The second method proceeds by reflection upon common sense, and therefore can only deviate from common opinion in its results very slightly, where common opinion is manifestly confused and obscure. The third obviously admits of great variation : in fact as yet I have presented it only as a problem, of which it is impos- sible to foresee how many solutions may be attempted : but it does not seem desirable to investigate it further at present, as it will be more satisfactorily studied after examining in detail the morality of common sense. It must not be thought that these three modes are sharply distinguished in the moral reasoning of ordinary men : but then no more is Intuitionism of any sort sharply distinguished from either species of Hedonism. A loose combination or confusion of methods is the most common type of actual moral reasoning. Probably most moral men believe that their instinct in any case will guide them pretty right, but also that there are general rules for determining right action, those that prescribe the several virtues known as such : and that probably for these again a philosophical explanation may be found, deducing them from a smaller number of fundamental principles. Still for systematic direction of conduct, we require to know on what judgments we may rely as ultimately valid. Nor, again, have professional moralists of the Intuitional school always made clear the methodical aspect of their system. 90 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. For example, Dugald Stewart uses the term "perception" to denote the immediate operation of the moral faculty ; which certainly suggests that it judges primarily of the individual action, as "perception" is by metaphysicians chiefly used to denote cognition of an individual thing or quality. At the same time, in describing what is thus perceived, he always seems to have in view general rules or notions : and he speaks of moral distinctions as apprehended by the Reason. Still we can tolerably well distinguish among English ethical writers those who have been Intuitionists of the third or philo- sophical variety, from those who have confined themselves to the definition and arrangement of the morality of Common Sense. And we find that the distinction corresponds in the . main to a difference of periods : and that — what perhaps we should hardly have expected — the more philosophical school is the earlier. The explanation of this may be partly found by referring to the doctrines in antagonism to which, in the respec- tive periods, the Intuitional method asserted and developed itself. In the first period all orthodox moralists were occupied in refuting Hobbism. But this system, though based on Materialism and Egoism, was yet, as I have said, intended as ethically constructive. Accepting in the main the commonly received rules of social morality, it explained them as the conditions of peaceful existence which enlightened self-interest directed each individual to obey ; provided only the social order to which they belonged was not merely ideal, but made actual by a strong government. Now no doubt this view renders the theoretical basis of duty seriously unstable, as depending upon the arbitrary commands of an actual government : still, assuming a decently good government, Hobbism may claim to at once explain and establish, instead of undermining, the morality of Common Sense. And therefore, though some of Hobbes' antagonists (as Cudworth) contented themselves with simply reaffirming the absoluteness of morality, the more thoughtful felt that system must be met by system and ex- planation by explanation, and that they must penetrate beyond the dogmas of common sense to some more irrefragable cer- tainty. And so, while Cumberland found this deeper basis in the notion of " the common good of all Rationals " as an ulti- Chap. VIII.] INTUITIONISM. 91 mate end, Clarke sought to exhibit the more fundamental of the received rules as axioms of perfect self-evidence, necessarily forced upon the mind in contemplating human beings and their relations. Clarke's results, however, were not satisfactory : the more bizarre attempt of Wollaston in the same direction was a more complete failure : the attempt to exhibit morality as a body of scientific truth fell into discredit, and the dis- position to dwell on the emotional side of the moral conscious- ness became prevalent. But thus the objectivity of duty, with which its authority is bound up, fell out of view, without its being perceived how serious the loss was : for example, we find Hutcheson, in intention most orthodox of moral Pi'ofessors, innocently asking, "why the moral sense should not vary in different human beings, as the palate does." When, however, the new doctrine was endorsed by the dreaded name of Hume, its dangerous nature, and the need of bringing again into pro- minence the properly intellectual element of the moral faculty, was clearly seen : and this work was undertaken as a part of the general philosophic protest of the Scotch school against the Empiricism that had culminated in Hume. But this school claimed as its characteristic merit that it met Em- piricism on its own ground ; and shewed among the facts of psychological experience which Empiricism professed to ob- serve, the principles and assumptions which it repudiated. And thus in Ethics it was led rather to expound and reaffirm the morality of Common Sense, than to offer any subtler principles which could not be so easily supported by an appeal to common experience. So much for differences strictly methodical. I pass now to consider variations of view as to the precise object of moral intuition, the quality immediately apprehended in the moral judgment. These are peculiarly subtle and difficult to fix in clear and precise language, and I therefore reserve them for a separate chapter. CHAPTER IX. GOOD. § 1. We have hitherto spoken of the quality of conduct discerned by our moral faculty as "rightness," which is the term commonly used by English moralists. We have regarded this term, and its equivalents in ordinary use, as implying the existence of an absolute rule or imperative, prescribing certain actions in themselves, or a certain ultimate end of actions. It was observed that it is impossible even for Hedon- ists definitely to exclude the notion expressed by these terms, in so far as all systems point to courses of action different from those actually adopted by the men whom the moralist addresses. The moralist outlines an ideal of conduct which he maintains to be a true ideal : the deviations from this ideal which he actually meets among men cannot be indifferent to him : he must disapprove of them and prescribe conformity with or approximation to his ideal. For example, the Epicurean shews men by what S,ctions each may obtain the greatest amount of pleasure possible for him : as these actions are not what men actually do perform, they are naturally described as actions that " ought " to be performed. No doubt the Epicurean may avoid introducing, even im- plicitly, this idea of "ought" into his account of the ultimate end of conduct: for he may say (as indeed Kant says) that his own happiness is what each individual universally or neces- sarily docs desire, and that therefore there is no room for the notion that he ought to desire it. I have already tried to shew, chap. 4, that this statement is not in accordance with facts. But oven if it were in any sense true, it would still Chap. IX.] GOOD. 93 be undeniable that each one's actions do not tend universally or even normally to promote his own greatest happiness, even as he conceives it : and that conduct consistently so directed throughout life is conduct that is not, and therefore (we must say) ought to be. And hence we may perhaps say that this notion of " ought," when once it has been developed, is a necessary form of our moral apprehension, just as space is now a necessary form of our sense-perceptions. Still it is possible to take a view of morality which at any rate leaves in the background the cognition of rule and restraint, the imperative, inhibitive, coercive effect of the moral ideal. We may consider the action to which the moral faculty prompts us intrinsically " good :" so that the doing of it is in itself desirable, an end at which it is reasonable to aim \ This, as I noticed in chap. G, is the more ancient view of Ethics : it was taken exclusively by all the Greek schools of Moral Philosophy except the Stoics ; and even with them "Good" was the more fundamental conception, although in later Stoicism the quasi-jural aspect of good conduct came into prominence. And this historical illustration may serve to shew the importance of this substitution of the idea of " goodness " for that of " rightness," which at first sight might appear purely formal or even verbal. For the chief charac- teristics of ancient ethical controversy as distinguished from modern may be traced to this, that a generic notion is used instead of a specific one in expressing the common moral judg- ments of conduct. For Common Sense regards Virtue or risrht o o action as only a species of good : and so on this view of the moral intuition, the first question that offers itself, Avhen we endeavour to systematize conduct, is how to determine the relation of this species of good to the rest of the genus. It was on this question that the Greek thinkers argued, from first to 1 In modern language the term " Good" as applied to conduct has distinctly the specific meaning of " morally excellent." It seems however legitimate, and convenient for our present purpose, to consider this only as a special applica- tion of the fundamental notion of " Good '' = " intrinsically preferable or desir- able." 94 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. last. Their speculations can scarcely be understood by us un- less with a certain effort we throw the quasi-jural notions of modern Ethics aside, and ask (as they did) not " What is Duty aod what is its ground ?" but " What of the objects that men desire and think good is truly or most desirable, the Good or the Highest Good ?" or, in the more specialized form of the question which the moral intuition introduces, "What is the relation of the kind of Good we call Virtue, the qualities of conduct and character which men commend and admire, to other good or desirable things ?" And we may perhaps observe as a fundamental charac- teristic of the process of ethical thought in Greece, that it continually brings into greater clearness and sharpness the antagonism between different species of the desirable, different elements included in the complex notion of good. When the effort to make conduct rational was initiated, in the latter half of the fifth century B. C, by those remarkable public lec- turers commonly known as the Sophists, this antagonism did not appear at all. The Sophists did not profess to teach a man his duty as distinct from his interest, or his interest as dis- tinct from his duty, but Good Conduct conceived as duty and interest identified. And this same identification is implied in the notion of what Socrates, on his negative side, continually sought in vain to know : and this is what, as a positive teacher, he was always employed in demonstrating, with that singular mixture of solid common sense and fine-drawn argumentative ingenuity which characterized his discourses. And though to Plato the conflict between Virtue and Pleasure became mani- fest, so that in one phase of his mental development he repudiated the latter as an object of rational impulse : still his general tendency is to regard the two as inseparable. The Good which he investigated persistently and profoundly we must conceive as something which blends the satisfaction of non-moral and moral impulses at once : except so far as the man becomes, as it were, evanescent in the philosopher, and the investigation itself appears as the highest Good which can be realized in this earthly state. This latter position was taken by Aristotle, with conviction equally strong, if colder and more tranquil. He taught that man's Summum Bonum Chap. IX.] GOOD. 95 was to be found in the school : but still endeavoured, no less than Socrates and Plato, to shew that in the inferior region of the market-place the maximum of pleasure is attendant on Virtuous activity. But the issues of life for mankind in general were not so easily to be settled, ah extra, from the eminence of speculative felicity : and hence in the post-Aristo- telian period, the main influence of philosophy upon mankind was divided between the two schools which presented Virtue and Pleasure as competing interpretations of the problematical notion of highest or ultimate Good. This, then, is the first difference to be noticed between the two forms of Intuitionism. In the recognition of conduct as " right " is involved an authoritative prescription to do it : there can be but one right action under any circumstances, and it is clearly reasonable to do this and no other. But when we have judged conduct to be good, it is not yet clear that we ought to prefer this kind of good to all other good things. In short, the notion of " rightness " is essentially positive, and that of " goodness " admits of degrees. The standard of comparison, as far as goodness of conduct or character is concerned, is of course conceived to be given in the moral intuition itself: but a standard for estimating the relative values of the different kinds of "goods" has still to be sought. § 2. There is, however, a mode of interpreting this notion " good," which seems to offer such a standard : but in so doing it metamorphoses the method that we are now examining into one previously discussed. It has been maintained by one line of thinkers from the earliest times, that by calling anything " good " we really mean no more than that it is " pleasant," directly or indirectly : so that the comparison of different modes of conduct with each other, and with other things in respect of goodness, is really a comparison of them as sources of pleasure : in which case a system aiming at the greatest pos- sible good would be merely a disguised form of Hedonism. This is not the same question as that which was discussed in Chap. 4, though it is closely connected with it. We there considered whether Pleasure is always the only thing which men actually desire. We have now to consider whether it is the only thing which they think and call "good" or "desirable." 96 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. Now no doubt there is a close correspondence between our apprehension of pleasure derived from an object, and our recog- nition that the object is in itself "good." And if we consider the usage of the term outside the sphere of character and con- duct, it seems plausible to say that " good " means (directly or indirectly) " pleasant." The good things of life are things which give pleasure, whether sensual or emotional: either directly, as good food, good wines, good poems, pictures, music : or in- directly, as good instruments of all kinds. And hence there is a strong a priori argument for Hume's view (commonly known as " utilitarian "), that in its application to character and con- duct " good " must have the same meaning : and that Virtues are qualities directly or indirectly agreeable to the virtuous man or to others. A little reflection, however, will shew that we may admit this account of the notion, as far as it is sup- ported by common sense, without practically adopting Hedon- istic principles. For however closely connected the judgment that a thing is good may be with the consciousness that we derive pleasure from it, it is quite clear that the latter may vary to an indefinite extent while the former remains constant. Sui^pose we derive pleasure from a thing today and pronounce it " good : " then if tomorrow it no longer gives us pleasure, we do not therefore say that it has become less good : w^e consider the fault to lie in our temporary incapacity to apprehend its goodness. And we recognise that the capacity of deriving pleasure from different kinds of good things is possessed by different persons in different degrees. As regards each class of things which we call good (omitting the class of instruments, which are obviously not judged to be good intrinsically, but only as a means to something else) we are agreed that some per- sons have more and some less taste : and it is only the judg- ment of persons of good taste that we recognise as valid in respect of the real goodness of the things enjoyed. Of his own pleasure each individual is the final judge, and there is no appeal from his decision ; but the affirmation of goodness in any object involves the assumption of an objective or absolute standard, which we believe the persons to whom we attribute good taste to possess, perfectly or approximately. But, again, it does not appear to be always the person of best taste who Chap. IX.] GOOD. 07 derives the greatest enjoyment from any kind of good and pleasant things. We are familiar with the fact that connois- seurs of wines, pictures, &c., often retain their intellectual faculty of appraising the merits of the objects which they criti- cize, and deciding on their respective places in the scale of excellence, even when their susceptibilities to pleasure from these objects are comparatively blunted and exhausted. And more generally we see that freshness and fulness of feeling by no means go along with taste and judgment : and that a person who possesses the former may derive more pleasure from infe- rior objects than another may from the best. But, further, while allowing that the judgment that any object is good of its kind is closely connected with the appre- hension of pleasure derived from it, we must observe that it is always to a specific kind of pleasure that the affirmation of goodness corresponds: and that if the object haj)pens to give us pleasure of a different kind, we do not therefore call it good — at least without qualification. For instance, we should not call a wine good solely because it was wholesome : nor a horse because it was beautiful, if deficient in useful qualities : nor should we call a man a good general or a good lawyer on account of his piety : nor a poem good on account of its moral lessons. And hence when we come to consider the meaning of the term "good" as applied to conduct, there is no reason, so far, to suppose that it has any reference or correspondence to all the pleasure that may result from the conduct. Rather the perception of goodness or virtue in actions would seem to be analogous to the perception of beauty in material things : which is normally accompanied with a specific pleasure which we call " aesthetic," but has often no discoverable relation to the general usefulness or agreeableness of the thing discerned to be beautiful. Nay, we often recognise this kind of excellence in things hurtful and dangerous : while many useful things we do not think beautiful. It does not, then, seem that the general admission that things which are called " good " are sources of pleasure, and that it is as such that they are thought to be good, even tends to make us accept Maximiun Happiness as the ultimate end of conduct. For it seems (1) that the attribution of S. E. 7 98 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. goodness to conduct (as to other things) corresponds not generally to all the pleasure that may be caused by the conduct, but to a specific pleasure, in this case the contem- plative satisfaction which the conduct causes to a disinterested spectator : and (2) it is not thought to excite this specific pleasure generally in proportion to its goodness, but only (at most) in persons of perfect moral taste : and even in their case we can distinguish the intellectual apprehension of goodness from the pleasurable emotion which commonly accompanies it, and may suppose the latter element of consciousness dimi- nished almost indefinitely. So that (as far as this line of reasoning goes) the pleasure actually caused by the best con- duct may be almost insignificant, and much less than what would result from some other kind of action. § 3. If, then, the natural judgment that afiirms a thing to be good, though closely connected with consciousness of pleasure, cannot be considered as equivalent to a judgment respecting pleasure : it seems that the scale in which any number of objects compared together are arranged in respect of goodness or badness is naturally determined by such simple ultimate intuitions as those by which we determine compara- tive magnitudes of material things. We will not yet ask how far we can decide by similar intuitions on the relative goodness of things different in kind : of acts of virtue, for example, in comparison with works of art or objects of appetite. Confining ourselves for the present to the good in conduct, we have to ascertain the exact relation between the perception that an action is right, and the perception that it is good. They seem to coincide substantially, but with two important differences. First, as was before said, the former perception is essentially positive, and carries with it an absolutely authoritative (though not irresistible) direction to the will to do the act. The latter is comparative : many alternative acts may be good, though in different degrees : and even when we have judged that one kind of conduct is "best" in the sense that it has more of the specific excellence which we recognise in conduct, it may be still questioned whether the finest or noblest conduct is always better than other goods which life offers us. Secondly, the right conduct is always within our power : Chap. IX.] GOOD. 99 what we oiiglit to do we can do ; or rather — as I do not mean here to introduce the metaphysical controversy as to the Free- dom of the Will — there is at least no other insuperable obstacle to our doing it except absence of motive. But the Good or Excellent in conduct is not necessarily within our power^ : there are many nobilities and graces of behaviour wdiich we cannot attain at will : and for this reason again we often feel that the recognition of goodness in conduct does not carry with it a clear and definite precept to do likewise, but rather the Tague desire That stu-s an imitative will. "With these qualifications we may say that the difference between the two phases of Intuitivism in Avhich these notions are respectively prominent, is purely formal : their practical prescriptions are never found to conflict. Though conduct on the whole wrong may have a certain goodness, the right conduct must always be best, or at least the best that is in our power. And hence it seems to me that, at the present stage of thought, we must distinguish between the ideas of Goodness and Beauty as applied to actions : although there is much affinity between them, and they have frequently been identified, espe- cially by the Greek thinkers. And indeed both the ideas themselves and the corresponding pleasurable emotions, arising on the contemplation of conduct, are often indistinguishable : the high, noble, admirable in character, is a species of the beau- tiful : the delineation of human virtue is an important part of the means which the artist has at his disposal for producing his peculiar effects : and a noble action affects us like a scene, a picture, or a strain of music. Still, on looking closer, we see not only that there is much good conduct which is not beautiful, or at least does not sensibly impress us as such : but also that certain kinds of crime and wickedness have a splendour and sublimity of their own. For example, such a career as Csesar Borgia's, as a French critic of fine moral as well as eesthetic sensibility says, is "beau comme une tempete, comme un abime," It is true, I think, that in all such cases the beauty ^ That is directly and at the moment : of course, in so far as it is stated as a rational end, it must be at least indirectly attainable by effort. 7-2 100 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. depends upon the exhibition in the criminal's conduct of striking gifts and excellences mingled with the wickedness : but it does not seem that we can abstract the latter without impairing the sesthetic effect. And hence we cannot identify the purely sesthetic view of conduct with what may be called the aesthetic phase of the moral view : the most beautiful con- duct is not absolutely the best, but only cetens ]jarihus. § 4. We have hitherto considered the idea of Good in its application to conduct : and assuming that in judging an act to be good and therefore choosing to do it, we have no end, to use Aristotle's phrase, beyond and beside the action : that to do the action well is recognised as an ultimate end, just as in the now more ordinary form of the moral judgment, the mere recog- nition of duty contains a sufficient reason for doing it. We saw, however, that the former kind of judgment naturally suggests a doubt as to its own finality : for it sug- gests that there are other things good and intrinsically de- sirable, the value of which must be somehow coordinated and compared with that of good conduct. Indeed it would not be unnatural or paradoxical to consider the notion of Good as pri- marily applicable to permanent results of actions, material or otherwise : and to regard all conduct as merely a means to such permanent results. We should thus be led to a method prima facie quite different from the one just discussed. This method would obviously take different forms, according to the different definitions that may be given of the €lass of things intrinsically good or ultimate ends. Now excluding Pleasure or Happiness (as essentially not a peniianent result) we may divide the ob- jects commonly judged to be good into (1) Qualities of human beings, mental or bodily, and (2) all other good objects. Among these latter we may first notice the material things already mentioned to which the notion is ordinarily applied, as " good " wines, horses, &c. As was said, we do not always call such things good in proportion to the j)leasure which they actually give us. Still, reflection seems to shew that they are not thought to possess this quality of goodness intrinsically and out of relation to human beings or at least to some consciousness. No doubt there is a point of view, half religious half poetic, sometimes adopted with great earnestness of feeling, from Chap. IX.] GOOD. 101 which the whole universe and not merely a certain condition of rational or sentient beings is contemplated as good : just as the Creator in Genesis is described as contemplating it. But such a view can scarcely be developed into a method of ethics. Indeed it is almost antithetical to morality : if virtue is to live and thrive we require to think some parts of the universe bad or at least capable of improvement. And we do not seem to have any ground for drawing such a distinction between dif- ferent portions of the non-sentient universe, considered in themselves and out of relation to sentient beings. An exception to this statement may be taken from the fact that we com- monly judge some inanimate objects, scenes, &c. to be object- ively beautiful, and others indifferent or even unsightly. Still no one would consider it rational to aim at the production of beauty in external nature, apart from any possible con- templation of it by human beings. In fact when beauty is maintained to be objective, it is not commonly meant that it exists as beauty out of relation to any mind whatsoever : but only that there is some standard of beauty valid for all minds. This leads us however to observe that there are results com- monly judged to be good, which, though we do not conceive them to exist out of relation to human beings (or at least minds of some kind), are yet so far separable as ends from the human beings on whom their existence depends, that their realization may conceivably come into competition with the perfection or happiness of the latter. Thus, though beautiful things cannot be thought worth producing except as possible objects of con- templation, still a man may devote himself to their production without any consideration of the persons who are to contemplate them. Similarly knowledge is a good which cannot exist except in the minds of men : and yet one may be more interested in the development of knowledge than in its possession by any particular human beings: so that he may aim at the advancement of knowledge and neglect its diffusion. And the same may be said of other elements of that complex of ideal good, with the realization of which the finest minds of our race have been concerned. Still, as soon as this view is clearly stated, it must be ad- 102 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. mitted that it is not truly rational : and that all objects of this kind, as well as all things more distinctly external, are only reasonably to be sought in so far as they conduce either to the Happiness (which we do not at present consider) or to the Perfection or Excellence of hiiman existence. I say " human,'' for though most utilitarians consider the pleasure (and freedom from pain) of the inferior animals to be included in the Hap- piness which they take as the right and proper end of conduct : no one, I conceive, would contend that we ought to aim at perfecting them, except as a means to our ends, or at least as objects of aesthetic contemplation for us. It seems then, on reflection, that all that we commonly judged to be " good " is thought to be such not in itself and absolutely, but as contributing to the excellence of human ex- istence. Or shall we include also the existence of beings above the human ? For we certainly apply the idea of Good to the Divine Existence, just as we do to His work, and indeed in a preeminent manner. And when it is said that "we should do all things to the glory of God," it seems at first sight to be implied that the existence of God is made better by our glorifying Him. Still this inference when explicitly drawn seems somewhat impious ; and theologians generally recoil from it, and refrain from using the notion of a possible addition to the Goodness of the Divine existence as a ground of human duty. Nor can the influence of our actions on other extra- human intelligences besides the Divine be at present made matter of scientific discussion. We may conclude then, that if there be any absolute perma- nent Good to be sought by man it can only be the Goodness or Excellence of Human Existence. But here the question has to be raised, " Does man exist at all as a permanent entity? Is not the notion of Existence as applied to man properly identical with Conscious Existence, the stream of action and feeling of which the parts are almost or altogether as transient as the Time in which they exist ?" Now here it would be out of place to enter into the metaphy- sical question as to the existence of permanent substrata or Noumena, mental or material. We must be content with the common-sense view, according to which the human body Chap. IX.] GOOD. 103 is conceived as a comparatively permanent existence, capable of certain equally permanent excellences, such as beauty, symmetry, &c. And no doubt we commonly think of mind as equally or perhaps far more enduring, and even destined to endless existence. But when we reflect upon our concep- tion of any particular mind, we find that all that is definite in it — all indeed that it contains, except the bare notion of per- manent identity, represents merely possibilities of existence. We conceive each of the minds we know (in so far as we separate it in thought from the particular state in which it now exists) as being a complex of tendencies, i.e. Faculties, Habits, Dispositions, &c. : all these terms denoting, as metaphysicians agree, potential existence as distinct from actual. And it seems clear that mental possibilities are not valuable to us, except as representing future mental actualities. Hence when we speak of Excellence or Perfection of Character as the true Good and ultimate end at which we ought to aim, we seem to mean really Excellence of future Conduct in which the cha- racter now being formed is expected to exhibit itself. The same is true of many excellences which are commonly classed as bodily, such as aptitudes for delicate and complex movements of the limbs : what we really admire is the skilful perform- ance, not the permanent aptitude. And as for the other bodily excellences before noticed, beauty, symmetry, &c,, we seem to value these (apart from their utility) just as we value similar qualities exhibited elsewhere in the material world, merely as objects of contemplation by minds, and so furnishing tliem with an excellent kind of consciousness. Thus we are led to the conclusion that the only Good that can claim to be so intrinsically, and at the same time capable of furnishing a standard of conduct, is Perfection or Excellence of conscious life. And so we seem brought round again to the method discussed in the first part of this chap- ter, the form or phase of Intuitionism which takes " good " in- stead of " right " conduct as its most general notion. Only there is this important difference, that Conscious Life inchides besides actions the whole range of feeling. We saw in chap. 7 that we had to distinguish the recognition of Excellence in feelings from the recognition of their Pleasantness : and that 104 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I. this distinction seemed to bo implied in the contrast drawn by recent Hedonists between the quality of pleasures and their quantity. In aiming, therefore, at the Perfection of conscious life, we shall endeavour to realize this excellence in all our feelings. Now though Feeling is to some extent a subject of our common intuitions of right and wrong (as we think that actions, to be perfectly right, must be done from right motives), yet it seems to be so only in a subordinate and restricted manner; and there is much excellence of feeling (elevation or refinement of taste, &c.) which is not thus included. It seems then that the method which takes Perfection or Excellence of conscious existence as ultimate end, if we restrict its scope to the Perfection of the individual agent, coincides primd facie with the ordinary form of Intuitionism, since Virtues are always recognised as the chief of human perfections : but that in so far as the former notion comprehends more than virtue, there is likely to be a certain practical divergence between the two methods. And if we take the Perfection of mankind in general as the ultimate end, this divergence may be increased indefinitely : for we cannot assume a priori that the best way for each man to attain his own perfection is by aiming at the perfection of others. We cannot but hope that this is the case, just as we cannot but hope that when an individual sacrifices his own happiness to that of others, the sacrifice will be in some way repaid him ; but perhaps the constitution of things does not admit of this. We will recur to the consideration of these divergences after the detailed examination of the Intuitive morality with which we shall be occupied in Book m. BOOK II. EGOISM. BOOK 11. CHAPTER I. THE PRINCIPLE AND METHOD OF EGOISM. § 1. The object of the present book is to examine the theory of reasonable conduct which has been already defined in outline under the name of Egoism. It is, perhaps, a suf- heient reason for considering this first of the three systems with which this treatise is principally concerned, that there seems to be more general agreement among reflective persons as to the reasonableness of its fundamental principle, than exists in the case either of Intuition ism or of that Universalistic Hedonism to which I propose to restrict the name of Utili- tarianism. For even Utilitarians of the school of Bentham (as has been already noticed), although they put forward the great- est happiness of the greatest number as the "right and proper" end of conduct, yet regard it as natural and normal, and so reasonable or not unreasonable, that each individual should aim at his own greatest happiness. And similarly the most influen- tial English moralist of the Intuitional school expressly allows " that our ideas of happiness and misery are of all our ideas the nearest and most important to us... that, though virtue or moral rectitude does indeed consist in affection to and pursuit of what is right and good as such : yet, when we sit down in a cool hour, we can neither justify to ourselves this or any other pur- suit till we are convinced that it will be for our happiness, or at least not contrary to it\" 1 Butler, Serm. xi. 108 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book II. And even Clarke^ admits that "though Virtue truly de- serves to be chosen for its own sake and Vice to be avoided... it is not very reasonably to he expected that men " should prefer Virtue to " all the comforts of life, and even life itself, without any expectation of future recompense." Again, we have noticed^ that throughout the ethical debate that was carried on for centuries in the schools of ancient Greece (though no doubt the idea of Good was not clearly understood to mean Happiness, as we use the latter term), the principle that each individual ought primarily to aim at his own good was always assumed. In Butler's language, the faculty of Conscience was not yet distinguished from Rational Self-love. And so in the ancient world Self-sacrifice, though often practised in a striking and touching manner, was not conceived as a Duty clearly and under its proper notion : it was justified to moral reflection as a kind of pursuit of one's own interest. As an honourable and noble mode of action, it was felt to be " good " for the agent. Again, in the ages of Christian faith, it has been still more obvious and natural to hold, though on different grounds, that Virtue is only enlightened and far-seeing Self-love. Nor has this doctrine been held only by persons of a cold and calculating turn of mind : we find it urged with emphasis by so chivalrous and highminded a preacher as Bishop Berkeley. No doubt this is only one side or element of the Christian view : the opposite doctrine, that an action done from motives of self-interest is not properly virtuous, has continually asserted itself as either openly conflicting or in some manner reconciled * with the former. Still the former, though less refined and ele- vated, seems to have been the commonest view. And generally speaking, we may say that common sense assumes that inter- ested or Egoistic conduct is prima facie reasonable : and that the onus j^^ohajidi lies with those who maintain that dis- interested conduct, as such, is reasonable. But, as has been before said, in the common notions of " interest," " happiness," and also of " egoism," " egoistic," &c., there is a certain amount of vagueness and ambiguity, which 1 Jioijle Lectures (1705). Trop, i. p. 116. » Cf. I. c. 7. Chap. I.] THE METHOD OF EGOISM. 109 must be carefully excluded in a discussion that aims at scien- tific exactness. By Egoism, therefore, we must mean Egoistic Hedonism, the system that fixes as the reasonable ultimate end of each individual's action his own greatest happiness : i. e. a life so arranged that the excess in it of pleasurable over painful consciousness shall be the greatest possible. And if the method is to be clear and consistent, pleasurable consciousness must be sought as pleasurable : and therefore the less pleasurable con- sciousness must not be preferred to the more pleasurable, on the ground of any other qualities that it may possess. Tlie distinctions of quality iki^^i Mill and others urge can only be ad- mitted as grounds of preference, if and in so far as they can be resolved into distinctions of quantity. This, as has been said, is not the only system that may naturally and fairly be called Egoism. For not only may consciousness be preferred as ele- vated and refined, as morally and sesthetically better, instead of being chosen merely as pleasurable : but also many other things besides a certain kind of consciousness are included in the com- mon notion of the Good or the Desirable : for example, wealth, health and strength, beauty, knowledge, fame. However, the mass of mankind would probably admit on reflection that they consider these objects desirable only as means to the end of happiness : that it is not reasonable ever to sacrifice happiness to the attainment of them, however strongly we may be prompted to do so in moments of impulse. It may (as was argued Bk. i. c. 4) be not only natural, but desirable as conducive to happiness, that in moments of pursuit these external goods should seem to be ultimate ends. But when we attempt that synthesis or systematization of impulses and activities which is implied in the very notion of rational action : the principle or criterion most naturally suggested for comparing the different objective goods, so as to combine them into one comprehensive end or harmonious system of ends, and to ascertain how far each particular good is to be sought and which is to be preferred when two are incompatible, seems to be this subjective criterion of pleasure \ And accordingly in ^ ThosG wlio would distinguisli from this and prefer as their ultimate end what in chap. 9 of the last book we called " Perfection of Conscious Life" are after all a small, though cultivated, minority. 110 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book II. Butler's scheme of human nature considered as a pohty or hierarchy of impulses, self-love is made supreme and naturally authoritative over all the particular passions and desires that tend towards external objects. In short, when we try to make natural Egoism precise, it is found to resolve itself into pure Hedonism : and it is ouly in this more precise form that it seems worth while to subject it to a detailed examination. We must therefore understand by an Egoist a man who aims at getting out of life the greatest possible amount of pleasurable - consciousness : and so, when two or more courses of action are open to him, reiDresents to himself as accurately as possible the pleasures and pains that are likely to attend each, and chooses the one which he thinks will involve as concomitant or con- sequent the greatest surplus of pleasure over pain. § 2. It must however be pointed out that the fundamental principle and the method of egoism, as just explained, are by no means inseparable: in fact they have not unfrequently been separated by moralists. A man may seek to obtain the greatest possible pleasure within his reach, and yet not attempt to ascer- tain empirically what amount of pleasure and pain is likely to attend any course of action. He may believe that he has some surer deductive method for determining the species of conduct which will make him most happy in the long run. He may believe this on grounds of Positive Religion, because God has promised happiness as a reward for obedience to certain definite commands : or of Natural Religion, because God being just and benevolent must have so ordered the world that Happiness will in .the long run be distributed in proportion to Virtue. It is (e.g.) by a combination of both these arguments that Paley con- nects the Universalistic Hedonism that he adopts as a method for determining duties, with the Egoism which seems to him self-evident as a fundamental principle of rational conduct. Or again, a man may connect virtue with happiness by a process of d j^riori reasoning, purely ethical : as Aristotle seems to do by the assumption that the "best" activity will be always attended by the greatest pleasure as its inseparable concomi- tant : " best " being determined by a reference to moral in- tuition, or to the common moral opinions of men generally, or of well-bred and well-educated men. Or the deduction CiiAP. I.] THE METHOD OF EGOISM. Ill by which Maximum Pleasure is inferred as a concomitant or consequent of a particular kind of action may be psychological or physiological : we may have some general theory as to the connection of pleasure with some other physical or psychical fact, according to which we can deduce the amount of pleasure that will attend any particular kind of behaviour : as (e.g.) we may consider ourselves justified in assuming that a perfectly healthy and harmonious exercise of our different bodily and mental func- tions will always produce the greatest pleasure in the long run. In this case, though accepting unreservedly the Hedonistic principle, we shall not be called upon to estimate and com- pare particular pleasures, but rather to define the notions of " perfect health " and " harmony of functions " and consider how these may be attained. Still in using such deductive methods we should naturally appeal to consciousness, at least as supplying confirmation or verification. And as Pleasure and its intensity are empirical facts known to us by reflection or intro- spection: the natural method of Egoistic Hedonism is that which we may call Empirical-reflective : and it would seem to be this that is commonly used in egoistic deliberation. It will be well therefore to examine this method in the first instance : to ascertain clearly the assumptions which it involves, and estimate the exactness of its results. CHAPTER 11. EMPIRICAL HEDONISM. § 1. The first and most fundamental assumption, involved not only in the empirical method of Egoistic Hedonism, but in the very conception of " Greatest Happiness " as an end of action, is the commensurability of Pleasures and Pains. Or perhaps we should strictly say that we are forced to assume all pleasures and pains to have definite quantitative relations to each other: for otherwise they cannot be conceived as possible elements of a total of which we are to seek the maximum. It is not absolutely necessary to suppose that there is no one kind of pleasure so much more pleasant than another, that the smallest conceivable amount of the former would outweigh the greatest conceivable amount of the latter. And we find it sometimes asserted by persons of enthusiastic and passionate temperament, that there are feelings so exquisitely delightful, that one moment of their rapture is preferable to an eternity of agreeable consciousness of an inferior kind. But probably these assertions are consciously hyperbolical, and are not intended to be taken as scientific statements : at any rate, the common opinion would seem to be, that all the pleasures that man can experience bear a finite ratio to each other in respect of pleasantness : and so that they can all be arranged in a certain scale as greater or less in some finite degree. And from this it follows that (to use Bentham's terms) the Intensity of a pleasure can be balanced against its Duration ^ : 1 Benthiim gives four qualities of auy pleasure or paiu (taken singly) as important for purposes of Hedonistic calculation : (1) Intensity, (2) Duration, •(3) Certainty, (4) Proximity. If we assume (as above argued) that Intensity must be commensurable with Duration, the influence of the other qualities on the comparative value of j^loasures and pains is not difficult to determine : for wc arc accustomed to estimate the value of chances numerically, and by this CuAP. II.] EMPIRICAL HEDONISM. 113 for if one pleasure be intensively greater than another in some finite degree, the latter may be increased extensively until it just balances the former in amount. That is, not merely can pleasures be arranged in a scale, as more or less pleasurable : but each is conceived to have, as pleasure, a certain positive quantity : which involves the assumption of a hedonistic zero, or perfectly neutral state of consciousness, as a point from which pleasures may be measured. This latter assumption emerges still moi'e clearly when we consider the corapai'isou and balancing of pleasures with pains, which Hedonism as- sumes to be possible. For pain must be reckoned as the nega- tive quantity of pleasure, to be balanced against and subtracted from the positive : there must therefore be a point of transition in consciousness at which we jjass from the positive to the nega- tive. That is, this strictly indifferent or neutral consciousness is at least ideally possible. It is not absolutely necessary to assume that such a state ever actually occurs. Still experience seems to shew that a state at any rate very nearly approxi- mating to this is even common : and we certainly experience continual transitions from pleasure to pain and vice versa, and thus (unless Ave conceive all such transitions to be abrupt) we must exist at least momentarily in this neutral state. Here we may notice the paradox of Epicurus \ that pain- lessness is equivalent to the highest possible pleasure : so that if we can attain absolute freedom from pain, the goal of Hedon- ism is reached : after that we may vary, but cannot increase our pleasure. The paradox was probably due in some measure to an unavowed desire in the mind of Epicurus to mitigate the sharp provocation which unmixed Hedonism naturally gives to the moral sense of mankind. It is, however, merely the exag- method we can tell exactly (iu so far as the dcgi-ee of uncertainty can be exactly determined) how much the doubtfulness of a pleasure detracts from its value : and proodmity is a property which it is reasonable to disregard except in so far as it is a particular case of certainty. For my feelings a year hence should be just as important to me as my feelings next minute, if only I could make an equally sure forecast of them. Indeed this equal and impartial concern for all parts of one's conscious life is perhaps the most prominent element in the common notion of the rational — as opposed to the merely imjndsive — pursuit of pleasure. 1 Cf. Cic. dc Fin. Bk. i. S. E, 8 114 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book II. geration of a truth that it is important to notice : namely, that this neutral feeling — hedonistic zero, as I have called it — is not (as might vaguely be thought) the normal condition of our con- sciousness, out of which we occasionally sink into pain, and occasionally rise into pleasure. Nature has not been so nig- gardly to man as this : so long as health is retained, and pain and irksome toil banished, the mere sense of living, the mere performance of the ordinary habitual functions of life, is itself a pleasure of a certain degree. Similarly we may venture to say that the "apathy" which so large a proportion of Greek moral- ists in the post- Aristotelian period regarded as the ideal state of existence, was not really conceived by them as " without one pleasure and without one pain :" but rather as a state of placid intellectual contemplation, which in j)hilosophic minds might easily reach a high degree of pleasure. § 2. This last observation will have shewn the desirability of getting a more precise notion of pleasure than we have yet attained. How shall we define pleasure ? It seems obvious to define it as the kind of feeling which pleases us, which we like or prefer. Or if we consider it in relation to the action of which it is the end and stimulus, we may say that it is the kind of feeling wdiich prompts us to actions tending to produce or sustain it : to sustain it, if actually present ; and to produce it, if only represented in idea. If, hoAvever, we defiue pleasure thus, a question of some subtlety arises when we compare plea- sures and consider which is the greatest. Are we to say that pleasures are greater and less exactly in proportion as they exercise more or less influence in stimulating the will to action? At first sight it would seem so : but when we look closer we see clearly that the intellectual valuation of represented pleasures is continually out of proportion to the volitional stimulus which accompanies the representation. On this point the best psy- chologists seem to be agreed. For instance, J, S. Mill points out that men often "from infirmity of character" choose what they " know to be the less valuable " good. Mr Bain again characterizes different kinds of feeling as more and less " voli- tional " : by which he means that with an equal intensity as pleasures (or pains) they yet stimulate action some in a greater, Chap. IL] EMPIRICAL HEDONISM. 115 some in a less, degree. We must therefore define pleasure, if we are to estimate it exactly, not as the kind of feeling which we actually seek and pursue, but as that which we judge to be preferable. Of course the two definitions are to a great extent coincident, and in the case of perfectly rational egoistic conduct they Avould coincide altogether : but no one will deliberately maintain that such conduct is common, even on a purely sub- jective interpretation of "rational." All would agree (though it is sometimes overlooked in argument) that few or no men act in perfect conformity to their own perceptions of their own interests. But now another difficulty occurs. It has been already stated, as an assumption of Hedonism, that it is reasonable to prefer pleasures in proportion to their intensity, and not to allow this ground of preference to be outweighed by any merely qualitative difference. If of two pleasures the one that is morally or Aesthetically better, " higher " or more " refined," is at the same time less pleasant, the Hedonist must consider it unreasonable to prefer it. This statement implies that the non-hedonistic preference (on grounds of quality as opposed to quantity) is possible : and indeed it is commonly thought to be of frequent occurrence. But if we take the definition of pleasure just given — that it is the feeling which we judge to be preferable — it seems to be a contradiction in terms to say that the less pleasant feeling can ever be judged preferable to the more pleasant. Of this difficulty two solutions may be given, which on closer examination appear to reduce themselves to one. In the first place, it would seem that in deciding on the pre- ferableness of a feeling, considered merely as pleasant, the judgment of the individual who feels it at the time of feeling it must be taken as final. Pleasure is in intensity what it appears to be : the Real in this case coincides with the Phe- nomenal, and the sentient individual alone is directly cogni- zant of the phenomenon. Others may know (on general grounds) that by preferring this gratification to some other which he might hereafter enjoy he will obtain less happiness oa the whole, and so far may rightly pronounce his choice mis- taken ; but no one can controvert his preference as far as the 8—2 116 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book II. present feeling alone is concerned. But when we judge of the preferable quality of a state of consciousness as distinct from its pleasantness \ we seem to take a point of view from which the judgment of the sentient individual is no longer finally valid.. While the pleasantness of the feeling is a purely subjective fact of which he who feels has alone direct expe- rience ; in estimating its " elevation " or " refinement" we seem to appeal to some objective standard which others can apply as well as he. Or, secondly, it may be said that when one kind of con- sciousness is judged to be qualitatively superior to another, although less pleasant, it is not the feeling itself that is pre- ferred, but something in the circumstances under which it arises, in the active or passive relations of the sentient indi- vidual to other persons or things or permanent objects of thought. And perhaps this view is really required to com- plete the former explanation. For if we separate in thought any state of consciousness from all its objective circumstances and conditions (and also from all its effects on the conscious- ness of the same individual or of others) and contemplate it merely as the transient feeling of a single subject; it seems impossible to find in it any other preferable quality than that which we call its pleasantness, as to Avhich the judgment of the sentient individual must be taken as fioally valid. This at any rate is the preference that Hedonism regards as idtimately rational, viz. the preference of feeling or consciousness considered merely as such, without any regard to the objective relations under which it arises. And the fundamental assump- tion of Hedonism, clearly stated, is that all feelings considered merely as feelings can be arranged in a certain scale of pre- ferableness, so that the preferableness or pleasantness of each bears a definite ratio to that of all the others. The empirical method of Hedonism, however, assumes somewhat more than this. It assumes that this scale and these ratios are empirically cognizable : are given in our experience ^ It was before observed that by saying that one pleasure is superior in quaVily to another we may mean that it is preferable when consitleretl merely as jileasaut : in which caBe uillereuce in kind resolves itself into difference in degree. Chap. II.] EMPIRICAL HEDONISM. 117 of pleasure and pain. And indeed if the former assumption be conceded, this can scarcely be denied : as feeling cannot be conceived to exist otherwise than as it is felt — its manner of existence is its being felt — and therefore no state of conscious- ness can be thought to be more or less pleasurable or painful, than we in feeling it perceive it to be. There is one more assumption of a fundamental kind, which is not perhaps involved in the acceptance of the Hedonistic calculus considered as purely theoretical, but is implied if it be put forward as a practical method for determining right con- duct : the assumption, namely, that we can by foresight and calculation increase our pleasures and decrease our pains. It may be thought that this must be granted without dis- cussion, and that it is even pedantic to state it formally. And in fact no one will deny that the conditions upon which our . pleasures and pains depend are to some extent cognizable by us and within our own control. But, as we shall see, it may be maintained that the habitual practice of hedonistic observa- tion and calculation has an inevitable tendency to decrease our pleasures generally, or the most important of them : so that it becomes doubtful whether we can gain our greatest happi- ness by seeking it, or at any rate by trying to s.eek it, with scientific exactness. CHAPTER HI. EMPIRICAL HEDONISM CONTINUED. § 1. Let, then, pleasure be defined as feeling that is pre- ferable or desirable, considered merely as feeling, and therefore from a point of view from which the judgment of the sentient individual is final : and not considered in respect of its causes, or of the relations of the sentient individual to other persons or things, or of any other facts that come directly within the cognizance and judgment of others beside the sentient indi- vidual. And let it be assumed that all feelings can be com- pared from this point of view, and arranged in a scale, as more or less pleasant. Then the empirical-reflective method of Egoistic Hedonism would seem to be, that we should repre- sent to ourselves the different series of feelings that experience leads us to infer as concomitant or consequent upon the differ- ent lines of conduct that lie open to us : judge which series, as thus represented, appears on the whole preferable : and adopt the corresponding line of conduct. The calculation is obviously too complex to be performed with anything like completeness : for any complete forecast of the future would involve a vast number of contingencies of varying degrees of probability : and to calculate the hedonistic value of each of these chances of feeling would be interminable. Still we may perhaps reduce the calculation within manageable limits, at the expense of strict scientific exactness, by neglecting the less probable and less important contingencies : as we do in some of the arts that have more definite ends, as strategy and medicine. For if the general in ordering a march, or the physician in recom- mending a change of abode, took into consideration all the Chap. III.] EMPIRICAL HEDONISM CONTINUED. 1 1 9 circumstances that were at all relevant to the end sought, their calculations would become impracticable : accordingly they con- fine themselves to the most important : and we may deal simi- larly with the Hedonistic art of life. There are however objections urged against the Hedonistic method which go much deeper : and indeed may plausibly be pressed to the extreme of rejecting the method altogether, as intrinsically useless for the attainment of the end sought. A careful examination of these objections seems on all grounds desirable : as it will, at any rate, give us a clearer and juster view, both of the method itself and of the results that may be expected from it, than could be otherwise obtained. It should, however, be premised that the objections now to be discussed are only those that can be taken, so to say, from within the system : arguments against the possibility of attaining by it the results at which it aims. We are not now to consider whether the principle of Egoistic Hedonism is to be accepted without reservation as the supreme maxim of con- duct : or whether the rules deduced from it coincide with the current opinions as to what is right. The first of these ques- tions is one which it hardly comes within the plan of this work to decide. The position here taken is that there are certain principles of conduct which claim to be reasonable, and ap- pear to be so _2)riV?i« facie, when considered each by itself: and that one of these is the principle of Egoistic Hedonism, that what really concerns each agent is his own feeling, and that his ultimate aim should be to get this as pleasant as possible. Now the current rules of morality, taken as a whole, scarcely appear — even prima facie — to be rules prescribing for each individual the best way of securing his happiness in this life. It has no doubt been held that they really are such, and it will be important presently to consider this view : but we must do this impartially, without prejudging the ques- tion whether it is reasonable , for the individual to conform to the dictates of Egoism or to the rules of ordinary morality, if the two are found to conflict. If then Ave confine our attention to the objections tending to shew the inherent impracticability of the present method, we find that, for the most part, they may be arranged under two 120 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book II. heads. It is urged (1) that the comparison of pleasures in respect of their intensity, as empirically ascertained, is liable to such numerous and fundamental errors that its results are altogether untrustworthy : (2) that the habit of mind which results from the continual recourse to this comparison is it- self unfavourable to the attainment of the greatest possible pleasure. Let us examine these in order. § 2. It cannot be denied that it is natural and habitual to all or most men to compare pleasures and pains in respect of their intensity. For example, when we pass from one state of consciousness to another, or when in any way we are led to recall a state long past, we often pronounce unhesitatingly that the present state is more or less pleasant than the past. But it is maintained (1) that this comparison as naturally made is both occasional and very rough, and that it can never be extended as scientific Hedonism seems to require, nor ap- plied, with any accuracy, to all possible states however differing in quality : and (2) that as commonly practised it is .liable to illusion, of which we can never measure the precise amount, while we are continually forced to recognise its existence. We may observe that this illusion was urged by Plato as a ground for distrusting the apparent affirmation of consciousness in respect of 'present pleasure. He thought that the apparent intensity of the coarser bodily pleasures was illusory; that these states of consciousness, being preceded by pain, were really only states of relief from pain, and so properly neutral, neither pleasant nor painful — in fact the hedonistic zero, as I have called it : only appearing pleasurable from contrast with the preceding pain. To this, however, it has been answered, that in estimating pleasure there is no conceivable appeal from the immediate decision of consciousness. The Phenomenal is the Real : there is no other real that we can distinguish from it. And this seems clear, in so far as we are concerned only with the pre- sent state. But then, in any estimate of its intensity we are necessarily comparing it with some other state. And this must be an ideal, not an actual feeling : for though we can expe- rience two or perhaps more pleasures at once, we do not Chap. III.] EMPIRICAL HEDONISM CONTINUED. 121 seem to experience them so as to compare tliem satisfactorily : for either the one interferes with the other, and prevents it from reaching its natural degree of intensity : or, more often, the two blend into one state of pleasurable consciousness, the elements of which we cannot estimate separately. But thus we see the possibility of error ; for the ideal state may not adequately represent the pleasantness of the corresponding actual state. And in the hedonistic comparison, the validity of which we are now discussing, the objects compared will com- monly be all represented or ideal states : for we are desiring to choose between two or more possible courses of conduct, and therefore to forecast future feelings. Let us then examine more closely the manner in which this comparison is ordinarily performed, that we may see what positive grounds we have for mistrusting it. In estimating for practical purposes the value of different pleasures open to us, we commonly trust most to our prospective imagination : we project ourselves into the future, and imagine what a particular pleasure will amount to under hypothetical circumstances. This imagination seems to be chiefly deter- mined by our experience of past pleasures, the effect of which usually operates unconsciously, though sometimes particular instances of important pleasures occur to us as definitely re- membered : but partly also by the state of our mind or nerves at the time, as we are almost always more susceptible to some pleasures than others, and these then appear greater. Partly, too, we are influenced by the experience of others sympatheti- cally appropriated : and here again we sometimes definitely refer to particular experiences which have been communicated to us by individuals, and sometimes to the traditional generaliza- tions which are thought to represent the common experience of mankind. Now it does not seem that such a j)rocess as this is likely to be free from error : and indeed, no one pretends that it is. In fact there is scarcely any point upon which moralizers have dwelt with more emphasis than this, that man's forecast of pleasure is continually erroneous. Each of us frequently recognises his own mistakes : and each still more often at- tributes to others errors unseen by themselves, arising either 122 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book II. from misinterpretation of their own experience, or from igno- rance or neglect of that of others. How then are these errors to be eliminated ? The obvioiis answer is that we must substitute for the instinctive, implicit inference just described a more scientific process of reasoning : by deducing the probable degi'ee of our future pleasure or pain under any circumstances from inductive generalizations based on a sufficient number of careful observations of our own and others' experience. We have then to consider whether a process of this kind can be satisfactorily developed : a question which seems to resolve itself into the three fol- lowing : First, how far can each of us estimate accurately his own past experience of pleasures and pains ? secondly, how far can he appropriate the past experience of others ? thirdly, how far can this knowledge of the past enable him to choose, with any certainty, the greatest happiness within his reach ? As regards the first of these questions, it seems at first sight a simple thing to take note of our different pleasures and pains as they occur, and to generalize from a series of such observations. But it must be remembered that what we have to note is the positive or negative degree of each feel- ing : it is not sufficient to know generally that we derive pleasures and pains from such and such sources : unless we can estimate them quantitatively, it is absurd to try to aim at our greatest j^ossible haj^piness. We have therefore to compare each pleasure as it occurs, or as recalled in imagination, with other imagined pleasures : and the question is, whether such comparisons can ever be altogether trustworthy, or take rank as scientific observations. Now for my own part, when I reflect on my pleasures and pains, and endeavour to compare them in respect of intensity, it seems to me that the comparative judgments which I pass are by no means clear and definite, even taking each separately. This is true even when I compare feelings of the same kind : and the vagueness and uncertainty increases, in proportion as the feelings differ in kind. Let us begin with sensual gratifications, which are thought to be especially definite and palpable. Suppose I am enjoying a good dinner : if I ask myself whether one kind of dish or wine gives me more plea- OQ Chap. III.] EMPIRICAL HEDONISM CONTINUED. l^:. sure than another, sometimes I can decide, sometimes not. So if I reflect upon two modes of bodily exercise that I may- have taken : if one has been in a marked degree agreeable or tedious, I take note of it naturally : but it is not natural to me to go further than this in judging of their pleasurableness or paiufulness, and the attempt to do so does not seem to lead to any clear affirmation. And similarly of intellectual exer- cises and states of consciousness predominantly emotional : even when the causes and quality of the feelings compared are similar, it is only when the diiferences in pleasantness are great, that hedonistic comparison seems to yield any definite result. But when I try to arrange in a scale pleasures differing in kind: to compare (e.g.) labour with rest, excitement with tran- quillity, intellectual exercise with emotional effusion, the plea- sure of scientific apprehension with that of beneficent action, the delight of social expansion with the delight of aesthetic reception: my judgment wavers and fluctuates far more, and it is but rarely that I can give any confident decision. And if this is the case with what Bentham calls "pure" — i.e. painless — pleasures, it is still more true of those even commoner states of consciousness, where a certain amount of pain or discomfort is mixed with pleasure, although the latter preponderates. If it is hard to say which of two different states of content- ment was the greater pleasure, it seems still harder to com- pare a state of placid satisfaction with one of eager but hopeful suspense, or with triumphant conquest of painful obstacles. And perhaps it is still more difficult to compare pure pleasures with pure pains, especially when they do not occur simultaneously : and to say how much of the one kind of feeling we consider to be exactly balanced by a given amount of the other. But again if these judgments are not clear and definite, still less are they consistent. I do not now mean that one man's estimate of the value of any kind of pleasures differs from another's: for each sentient individual must be the final judge of the pleasantness and paiufulness of his own feelings, and therefore this kind of discrepancy does not affect the validity of the judgments, and creates no difficulty until any one tries to appropriate the experience of others. But I mean that each individual's judgment of the comparative value of his own 124 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book II. pleasures is apt to be different at different times : and that this variation is a legitimate ground for distrusting the validity of any particular comparison. The causes of this variation seem to belong partly to the state of the mind at the time of making the representation : and partly to the represented feeling, or rather to certain uni- versal conditions of its being represented, independent of the particular state of the representing mind. To begin with the latter: common reflection has long ago anticipated the observa- tion of the scientific psychologist, that different kinds of plea- sures and pains are not equally recoverable in idea. Bodily pain, e. g., unless it is both intense and prolonged, is very hard to recall after any considerable interval of time. I find it at this moment much less easy to recall the pain of having a tooth drawn, than the discomfort of expectancy which preceded the operation : although I am aware — by recalling judgments passed at the time — that the latter pain was trifling compared with the former. To this it seems due that past hardships, toils, and anxieties often appear pleasurable when we look back upon them, after some interval : for the excitement, the heightened sense of life that accompanied the painful struggle, would have been pleasurable if taken by itself : and it is this that we recall rather than the pain. In estimating pleasures the other cause of variation is more conspicuous : we are conscious of changes occasional or periodic in our estimate of them, depending upon changes in our mental or bodily condition. E. g. it is a matter of common remark with respect to the gratifications of appetite that we cannot estimate them adequately in the state of satiety \ and that we are apt to exaggerate them in the state of desire. {It is no doubt also true that intensity of antecedent desire intensifies the pleasure of fruition when that comes — the pleasure not only ai^pears, as Plato thought, but actually is greater. Still it is also a matter of common experience that pleasures which have been intensely desired are found less than they were imagined.) ^ Hence the gourmand's advice that we should order the dinner of tomorrow just before the dinner of today : in order that we may represent to ourselves more faithfully the pleasure to be derived from different combinations of flavours. Chap. III.] EMPIRICAL HEDONISM CONTINUED. 125 There seem to be no special states of aversion, determined by bodily causes, and related to certain pains as our appetites to their correspondent pleasures ; but all persons (though some more than others) are liable to be thrown by the prospect of pains into the state of passionate aversion which we call fear : in which state they are apt to exaggerate the kind of pain feared. Further, when feeling any kind of pain or uneasiness we are apt to underrate its opposite : as Horace observes, in danger we value repose, overlooking its ennui, while the tedium of security makes us long for the excitement of danger. And ao^ain when we are absorbed in any particular pleasure, pleasures of a different kind are apt to be contemned : they appear coarse or thin, as the case may be : and the same is true in the state of eager desire. Indeed any strong excitement tends to make us contemptuous of alien pleasures and pains alike. And, more generally, we cannot represent to ourselves as very intense a pleasure of a kind that at tlie time of representing it we are incapal)le of experiencing: as (e.g.) the pleasures of intellectual or bodily exercise at the close of a wearying day : or any emotional plea- sure when our susceptibility to the special emotion is tem- porarily exhausted. Nor is it easy to guard against error, as philosophers have often thought, by making our estimate in a cool and passionless state. For there are many pleasures which require precedent desire, and even enthusiasm and highly wrought excitement, in order to be experienced in their full intensity : and it is not likely that we should appreciate these adequately in a state of perfect tranquillity. § 3. These considerations place in a clearer light the extent and magnitude of the fundamental assumption of Hedonism, which at first sight we are ready to grant without hesitation ; that all our feelings can be arranged in one scale of pleasures and pains, each having its own degree of desirability or the reverse, considered merely as feeling. For first, if we admit, as was said, that pleasure only exists as it is felt, it is hard to see how the degree of any pleasure can be proved to have any real existence. For the pleasure only has the degree as com- pared with others: but it cannot be actually felt along with these others : the comparison can only be made in imagination, 126 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book II. and this can only yield the h3rpothetical result that if they could be felt together one would be found greater than the other. The question then arises, what ground have we for believing this imaginative comparison accurate ? Is the mind ever in such a state as to be a perfectly neutral and colourless medium for imagining all kinds of pleasures? The existence of such a neutral mood is obviously incapable of empirical proof: but can we say that experience, impartially examined, leaves it even a probable assumption ? It certainly shews us the frequent occurrence of moods in which we have an apparent bias for or against a particular kind of feeling. Is it not probable that there is always some bias of this kind ? that we are always more in tune for some pleasures, more sensitive to some pains, than we are to others ? If so, may it not be said that this supposed scale of pleasures (which at first sight seemed so clear and familiar a notion that it would be extreme scepticism to doubt its validity) turns out to be strictly incognizable I in fact a mere philosophical chimera ? However, the conviction that our pleasures and pains have each a real definite degree, seems to be so deeply rooted in our minds, that we cannot but reject this sceptical conclusion : though we must admit that the belief cannot be verified by experience, and therefore that scientific Hedonism does not rest on an empirical basis. The exact cognition of the place of each of our feelings in a scale of desirability, measured positively and negatively from a zero of perfect indifference, is an ideal to which we can never tell how closely we approximate. We can, however, guard against known sources of error, and allow for them, at least roughly : correcting in thought the defects of imagination. And since what we require for practical guidance is to estimate not individual past experiences, but the value of a kind of pleasure or pain, as obtained under certain circum- stances or conditions ; we can to some extent diminish the chance of error in this estimate by making a number of ob- servations and imaginative comparisons, at different times and in different moods. In so far as these agree we may perhaps feel a reasonable confidence in the result : and in so far as they differ, we can at least reduce our possible error by striking an average between the different estimates. It will be evident, Chap. III.] EMPIRICAL HEDONISM CONTINUED. 127 however, after all tliat has been said, that such a method as this cannot be expected to yield more than a rough approximation to the supposed truth. But we have by no means exhausted the possible sources of error in that forecast of future pleasures which a reflective egoist naturally makes, and which egoistic Hedonism endea- vours to render exact. For no one, in making such a forecast, can or does rely entirely on his own experience : when endea- vouring to estimate the probable effect upon his happiness of new circumstances and influences, untried rules of conduct and fashions of life, he inevitably argues from the experience of others. Indeed the most important and anxious deliberations in a man's life, and those in which he most strongly feels the need of making the hedonistic calculation as complete and exact as possible, generally concern changes of conduct recom- mended solely or chiefly by an inference from the advantages that other men have derived from similar changes. But this inference proceeds on the assumption of a similarity of nature among human beings : an assumption which is never exactly true, while we can never exactly know how much it falls short of the truth : thouo^h we have sufficient evidence of the strikinsf differences between the feelings produced in different men by similar causes, to convince us that the assumption would in many cases be wholly misleading. Hence (e. g.) the short me- thod that Plato and others have proposed for deciding the issue between the Philosopher and the Sensualist is palpably fal- lacious. The philosopher, it is said, has tried both kinds of pleasure, sensual as well as intellectual: and prefers the de- lights of philosophic life. The sensualist ought therefore to trust his decision and follow his example. But who can tell that the philosopher's constitution is not such as to render the enjoyments of the senses, in his ease, comparatively feeble : while on the other hand the sensualist may not be able to attain more than a thin shadow of the philosopher's delight And so, generally speaking, if we are to be guided by another's experience, we require to be convinced not only of his general accuracy in observing, analysing, and comparing his sensations, but also that his relative susceptibility to the different kinds of pleasure and pain in question coincides with our own. If he is 128 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book 11. unpractised in introspective observation, it is possible that lie may mistake even the external conditions of his own happi- ness : and so the communication of his experience may be alto- gether misleading. But however accurately he has analj'sed and determined the causes of his feelings, that similar causes would produce similar effects in us must always be uncertain. And the uncertainty is increased indefinitely if he has to recall in memory out of a distant past some of the pleasures or pains to be compared. Thus, for example, in the ever-renewed con- troversy between Age and Youth, wisdom is not after all so clearly on the side of maturer counsels as it seems to be at first sight. When a youth is warned by his senior to abstain from some pleasure, on the ground of prudence, because it is not worth the possible pleasures that must be sacrificed for it and the future j^ains that it will entail : it is difficult for him to know how far the elder man can recall — even if he could once feel — the full rapture of the delight that he is asking him to renounce. No doubt we can reduce this liability to error, if we can ascertain how far we and the persons whose experience we wish to appropriate have been similarly influenced by similar circumstances in the past : for so we can infer in what respects our natures are similar to theirs, and in what different : but we can never make this inference complete, and often the requisite comparison is not in our power. And further, this source of error besets us in a more extended and more subtle manner than has yet been noticed. For our sympathetic ajjprehension of alien experiences of pleasure and pain has been so conti- nually exercised, in so many ways, during the whole of our life, both by actual observation and oral communication with other human beings, and through books and other modes of symbolic suggestion : that it is impossible to say how far it has uncon- sciously blended with our own experience, so as to colour and modify it when represented in memory. Thus we often overlook the discrepancy between our own experience and that of others, in respect of the importance of certain sources of pleasure and pain, if no sudden and striking disappointment of expectations has forced it on our notice. Only with considerable care and attention can sympathetic persons separate their individual likes and dislikes from those of their associates : and we Chap. III.] EMPIRICAL HEDONISM CONTINUED. 129 can never tell whether this separation has been completely effected. We must conclude then that our estimate of the hedonistic value of any past pleasure or pain, is liable to an amount of error which we cannot calculate exactly ; because the repre- sented pleasantness of different feelings fluctuates and varies indefinitely with changes in the actual condition of the repre- senting mind (or minds in so far as we elect to be guided by others). We have now to observe that, for similar reasons, even supposing we could approximately allow for and so ex- clude this source of error in our comparison of past pleasures, it is liable to intrude again in arguing from the past to the future. For our capacity for particular pleasures may be about to change, or may have actually changed since the expe- riences that form the data of our calculation. We may have reached the point of satiety in respect of some of our past pleasures, or otherwise lost our susceptibility to them, owing to latent changes in our constitution : or we may have increased our susceptibility to pains inevitably connected with them: or altered conditions of life may have generated in us new desires and aversions, and given relative importance to new sources of happiness. Or any or all of these changes may be ex- pected to occur, before the completion of the course of conduct upon which we are now deciding. The most careful estimate of a girl's pleasures (supposing a girl gifted with the abnormal habit of reflection that would be necessar}'^) would not much profit a young woman : and the hedonistic calculations of youth require modification as we advance in years. But again : the practical inference from the past to the future is farther complicated by the fact that w^e can alter ourselves. For it may be that our past experience has been greatly affected by our not being pro^Dcrly attuned to certain pleasures, as e.g. of art, or study, or muscular exercise, or society, or dutiful and beneficent action : or not properly hardened against certain pains, as e.g. toil, or anxiety, or abstinence from luxuries : and there may be within our power some process of training or hardening ourselves which may profoundly modify our suscei3tibilities. And this consideration is especially important, — and at the same time especially S. E. 9 130 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book II. difficult to deal with — when we attempt to appropriate the experience of others. For we may find that they estimate highly pleasures which we not only have never experi- enced at all, but which we cannot experience without consi- derable alteration of our nature. For example, the pleasures of the religious life, the raptures of prayer and praise and the devo- tion of the soul to God, require (as is commonly said) Con- version or complete change of nature before they can be experienced\ And in the same way moral conduct, the per- formance of duty as such, is disagreeable to the non-moral man when he at first attempts it, but affords to the truly virtuous man a high and severe delight. And so almost all the more refined intellectual and emotional pleasures require training and culture in order to be enjoyed: and since this training does not always succeed in producing any considerable degree of susceptibility, it may always be a matter of doubt for one for whom it would involve sacrifices of other pleasures, whether these sacrifices are worth making. § 4. The foregoing considerations must, I think, seriously reduce our confidence in the Empirical method of Egoistic Hedon- ism, But we have yet to discuss a different kind of objection that has been brought against the practical use of the method. It is said that the habit of mind necessarily resulting from the continual practice of hedonistic comparison is unfavoura- ble to the attainment of the hedonistic end : because it is incompatible, either (a) with any high degree of pleasure gene- rally, or (6) with certain kinds of elevated and refined plea- sures. And we may further distinguish two grounds for this conclusion: for it may be either (1) the frequent adoption of the introspective attitude of thought, or (2) the jjredominance of self-love over all other impulses, which is thought to be incom- patible with greatest possible happiness^ These two, no doubt, ^ It may be said that these pleasures oiight to he left out of the discussion, because they cannot be experienced if they are sought merely as pleasiu-es, from egoistic motives. The objection will be noticed later. Meanwhile I may remark that many religious teachers seem to regard self-love as the ultimately rational principle of action : and others who do not expressly take this view endeavour to influence their disciples by depicting in a vivid manner the pleasures of the religious life. ^ Perhaps we may say that («) is usually maintained on the ground of (1), and {h) on that of (2). CH.VP. III.] EMPIRICAL HEDONISM CONTINUED. 131 are very commonly blended, but it will be well to examine them separately. First, then, let us consider what effect habitual reflection or introspection, the continual attention to our pleasures in order to observe their degree of intensity, is likely to have on these pleasures themselves. The inquiry is not an easy one, as it seems to lead us at once to an antinomy or irreconcileable con- tradiction in our view of pleasure. For if, as was said, pleasure only exists as it is felt, the more conscious we are of it, the more pleasure we have : and the more our attention is directed towards it, the more fully we shall be conscious of it. On the other hand Hamilton's statement that "knowledo^e and feelinof" (cognition and pleasure or pain) are always " in a certain inverse proportion to each other," seems to be in harmony with our experience : for consciousness, in so far as it is purely cognitive, is neither pleasurable nor painful, and the more consciousness is occupied with the one element, the less room there would seem to be for the other. How then shall we deal with this apparent contradiction ? On looking closer at Hamilton's aroument we see that his doctrine rests on the assumption that our total consciousness is a constant quantity ; so that when one element of it positively increases, the rest must positively diminish. Now there does not appear to be any valid ground for making this assumption : and experience seems to shew that though intense pleasure sometimes impairs momentarily the exercise of our intellectual faculties, at other times it is accompanied with peculiarly keen and vivid observation : so that it is not at any rate impossible that cognition and pleasure should be intensified simultaneously. Still it seems to be a fact that any very powerful feeling, reaching to the full intensity of which our consciousness is normally capable, is commonly diminished by a contempo- raneous stroke of cognitive effort : and indeed it has often been noticed as a difficulty in the way of exact observation of our emotions that the object cognized seems to shrink and dwindle in proportion as the cognitive regard grows keen and eager. How then are we to reconcile this with the proposition first laid down, that pleasure only exists as it is felt ? Perhaps we 9—2 132 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book II. may say that in so far as we are merely conscious of the feeling, entirely absorbed in the state of pure presentative consciousness, the cognition cannot diminish the feeling of which it is an inseparable concomitant and indispensable con- dition : but in what we call introspective cognition, we go beyond the present feeling, comparing and classifying it with past feelings : and the effort of representing and comparing these other feelings tends to decrease the mere presentative consciousness of the pleasure. But this only applies to the attempt to observe and esti- mate actual present pleasure. We have seen however that this is not the kind of observation likel}^ to furnish us with accurate data for hedonistic calculation : but rather comparison of past pleasures and pains, represented in idea. And hence this objection does not seem to be important. For the observation that Hedonism requires will best be practised during the inevitable intervals of enjoyment : and there is no evidence to shew that it is so unnatural and unhealthy as permanently to incapacitate the mind for the enjoyment of other exercises and impressions. § 5. Let us now consider whether the predominance of self- love, and the habit of regarding pleasure as the ultimate end of action, is incompatible with the highest degree either of pleasure generally or of some kinds of pleasure : or even with the more refined and elevated pleasures altogether. I have had occasion to point out in a previous chapter^ the difference between the impulses that are, strictly speaking, directed towards pleasure, and the objective, extra-regarding impulses which do not aim at pleasure, though perhaps most of our pleasure consists in the gratification of these, and therefore depends upon their existence. It was there argued that in many cases the two kinds of impulse are so far incompatible that they do not easily coexist in the same moment of conscious- ness. It was added, however, that in the ordinary condition of our activity the incompatibility is only momentary, and does not prevent a real harmony from being attained by a sort of alternating rhythm of the two impulses in consciousness. Still it would seem that the normal bent and attitude of our ^ Book I. c. 4. Chap. III.] EMPIRICAL HEDONISM CONTINUED. 133 minds, in the exercises and pursuits from which the happiness of most of us is derived, is objective, extra-regarding, rather than introspective. The question then is, how far the adoption of the principle of Egoistic Hedonism, and the consequent setting of the Will habitually to aim at pleasure as the ultimately de- sirable end, is compatible with a healthy and vigorous outflow of those impulses towards external objects and particular activi- ties, the pre-existence of which seems necessary to the attainment of most of our pleasures. The question is not easy to answer decisively. There can be no doubt, I think, that the danger thus indicated, of Egoism defeating itself, is not imaginary : that the concentration of the mind upon pleasure as an object of pursuit tends to diminish the fullness and flavour of the pleasures actually experienced. We may therefore state as generally true, what has been called the Fundamental Paradox of Egoistic Hedonism, that in order to attain the end we must to some extent put it out of sight and not directly aim at it. But though this presents itself as a paradox, there does not seem to be any diflficulty in its practical realization, when once the danger indicated is clearly seen. For it is an experience only too common among men, engaged in whatever pursuit, that they let the original end and goal of their efforts pass out of view, and come to regard the means to this end as ends in themselves : so that they at last even sacrifice the original end to the attainment of what is only secondarily and derivatively de- sirable. And if it be thus easy and common to forget the end in the means overmuch, there seems no reason why it should be difficult to do it to the extent that Rational Egoism pre- scribes. It is true that as our desires are not directly under our own control — or at least cannot be produced by an effort of Will, if they can to some extent 1x5 repressed by it — if we start with no impulse except the desire of pleasure, it may seem difficult to execute the practical paradox of attaining pleasure by aiming at something else. Yet even on this supposition the difficulty is less than it appears. For the reaction of our activi- ties upon our emotional nature is such that we may commonly bring ourselves to take an interest in any end by concentrating our efforts upon its attainment. So that, even supposing a man 134 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book II, to begin with absolute indifference to everything except his own pleasure, there is no reason to believe that if he were con- vinced that the possession of other desires and impulses were necessary to the attainment of the greatest possible pleasure, he could not succeed in producing these. But this supposition is never actually realized. Every man, when he commences the task of systematizing his conduct whether on egoistic principles or any other, is conscious of a number of different impulses and tendencies within him, other than the mere desire for pleasure which urge his will in particular directions, to the attainment of particular external results : so that he has only to indulge them and give them free play, he has only to place himself under certain external influences, and these desires and impulses will begin to operate without any effort of will. This last objection, as I before noticed, has been chiefly taken in the case of certain special impulses : as the love of virtue, or personal affection, or the religious impulse to love and obey God. Now, according to the common view of the virtuous or the benevolent impulse, there would seem to be no more difiiculty here than in the case of any particular passion or desire of some external object. And we may notice that none of the school of moralists that followed Shaftesbury in con- tending that it is man's true interest to foster in himself strictly disinterested social affections, perceive any inherent incom- patibility between the existence of these affections and the supremacy of rational self-love. And similarly the Christian preachers before mentioned, who have commended the religious life as really the hapiDiest, have not thought genuine religion irreconcileable Avith the conviction that each man's own happi- ness is his most near and intimate concern. Other persons, however, seem to carry the religious con- sciousness and the feeling of human affection to a higher stage of refinement, at which a stricter disinterestedness is exacted. They maintain that the essence of either feeling, in its best form, is absolute self-devotion and self-sacrifice. And certainly these seem incompatible with self-love, however cautiously self- limiting. A man cannot both wish to secure his own happiness and be willing to lose it. And yet how if willingness to lose it Chap. III.] EMPIRICAL HEDONISM CONTINUED. 135 is the true means of securing it ? Can self-love not merely reduce indirectly its prominence in consciousness, but directly and unreservedly annihilate itself? This emotional feat does not seem to me possible : and therefore I must admit that a man who embraces the principle of Rational Egoism cuts himself off from the special pleasure that attends this absolute sacrifice and suppression of self But however exquisite this may be, the pitch of emotional exalta- tion and refinement necessary to attain it is so comparatively rare, that it is scarcely included in men's common estimate of happiness : and it cannot be said that what are commonly known as the pleasures of virtue, or of benevolence, or of religion, are out of the reach of the Rational Eo'oist as such. On the whole, then, I do not think that the common experience of mankind, impartially examined, really sustains the view that Egoistic Hedonism is necessarily suicidal ; though it certainly shews a subtle danger attending the most tranquil and rational pursuit of one's own happiness. But the argument drawn from the indefiniteness and uncertainty of hedonistic calculation cannot be denied to haye great weight : and if it does not lead us to reject altogether the method of estimating pleasure and pains by empirical-reflective comparison, it at least shews us the desirability of confirming or correcting the results of this comparison by any other method upon which we may find reason to rely. CHAPTER IV. HEDONISM AND COISOION SENSE, § 1. Befoke we examine those methods of seeking one's own happiness which are more remote from the empirical, as entirely altei-ing the immediate object of rational aim, and depending on assumptions which carry us into a different sphere of thought ; it will be well to consider how far we can avoid the difficulties and uncertainties of the method of reflective comparison, by relying on the current opinions and generally accepted estimates of the value of different pleasures and sources of pleasure. We had occasion to appeal to these at the end of the last chapter, in order to repel a general objection against Egoistic Hedonism : and it may be plausibly said that they express the net result of the combined experience of mankind from generation to genera- tion : in which the divergences due to the limitations of each individual's experience, and the diff"erently tinged moods in which different estimates have been taken, have balanced and neutralized each other and so disappeared. And no doubt many persons are guided more by common opinion in the direction of their egoistic aims than by any independent reasoning : and probably most of us would be much puzzled if we were suddenly deprived of the guidance of com- mon sense in our pursuit of happiness, and had to rely entirely on the experiences of individuals. When, however, we consider these common opinions as premises for the deductions of scien- tific egoism, they appear open to the following grave objections. In the first place Common Sense gives us only, at the best, an estimate true for an average or t}^ical luiman being : and it is probable that any particular individual will be more or less divergent from this type. In any case, therefore, each person will have to correct the estimate of common opinion by Chap. IV.] HEDONISM AND COMMON SENSE. 137 some other method in order to obtain from it trustworthy guidance for his own conduct. And, secondly, it seems that the experience of the mass of mankind is confined w^ithin limits too narrow for its results to be of much avail in the present inquiry. The majority of human beings spend most of their time in labour- ing to avert starvation and severe bodily discomfort : and the brief leisure that remains to them, after suppl^dug the bodily needs of food, sleep, &c., is spent in ways determined rather by impulse, routine, and habit, than by a deliberate estimate of probable pleasui'e. It would seem, then, that the common sense to which we here refer is only that of a minority of compara- tively rich and leisured persons. But again, we cannot tell that the mass of mankind, or any section of the mass, is not generally and normally under the influence of some of the causes of mal-observation pre- viously noticed. We avoid the " idola specus " b}^ trusting Common Sense, but what is to guard us against the "idola tribus " ? Moreover, the common estimate of different sources of happiness seems to involve all the confusion of ideas and points of view, which in defining the empirical method of Hedonism we have taken some pains to eliminate. In the first place it does not distinguish between objects of natural desire and sources of experienced pleasure. Now we have seen (Bk. i. ch. 4) that these two are not exactly coincident. No doubt we all desire pleasure, and our desires of external objects are in close relation to our experiences of pleasure. But just as they do not seem originally to spring altogether from experiences of pleasure, so neither are they at any period of our life exactly in harmony with the results of such experiences. Indeed we find numerous examples of men who continue not only to feel but to indulge desires, the gratification of which they know by ample experience to be attended with more pain than pleasure. And therefore the current estimate of the desirability of objects of pursuit cannot be taken to express simply men's experience of pleasure and pain : for men naturally think desirable what they strongly desire, and not merely what they have found pleasant : and so the common opinion will rather represent a compromise between the average force of desires and the average experience of the consequences of gratifying them. 138 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book II. We must allow again for the intermingling of moral and aesthetic preferences with the purely hedonistic in the estimate of common sense. For even when men definitely expect greater happiness from the course of conduct which they choose than from any other, it is often because they think it the right, or more excellent, or more noble course : making expressly or tacitly the assumption (which we shall presently have to con- sider) that the most excellent action Avill prove to be also the most pleasant. Again, the introduction of the moral and esthetic points of view suggests the following doubt. Are we to be guided by the preferences which men avow, or by those which their actions would lead us to infer? On the one hand, we cannot doubt that men often, from weakness of character, fail to seek what they sincerely believe will give them most pleasure in the long run : otherwise all who accept the Christian creed would conform to the Christian code. On the other hand, as a genuine prefer- ence for virtuous or refined pleasure is a mark of the man of genuine virtue or refined taste : men who do not really feel such preference are unconsciously or consciously influenced by a desire to gain credit for it, and their express estimate of pleasures is thus modified and coloured. § 2. But, even if we had no doubt on general grounds that Common Sense would prove our best guide in the pursuit of happiness, we should still be perplexed by finding its utterances on this topic very deficient in clearness and consistency. I do not mean that they are found to vary from age to age, and from country to country : for there is no improbability in the supposition that men's susceptibilities to pleasure and pain vary in a similar manner. Let us consider only the common opinion of our own age and country. We may perhaps make a list of sources of happiness apparently recommended by an over- whelming consensus : as health and good spirits, wealth, fame and social position, power, the enjoyment of society, especially family society, congenial occupation and amusement, including the gratification, in some form, of curiosity, and of those more refined, partly sensual, partly emotional, susceptibilities which we call ffistlietic. But if we inquire into the relative value of these oTyects of common pursuit, wc seem to get no clear Chap. IV.] HEDONISM AND COMMON SENSE. 139 answer from Common Sense : unless, perhaps, it would be gene- rally agreed that health ought to be paramount to all other secondary ends : though even on this point we could not infer general ao^reement from observation of the actual conduct of mankind. Nay, even as regards the positive estimate of these sources of happiness, we find on closer examination that the supposed consensus is much less clear than it seemed at first. Not only are there numerous and important bodies of dissidents from the current opinions : but the very same majority, the same Common Sense of Mankind that maintains these oj)inions, is found in a singular and unexpected manner to welcome and approve the paradoxes of these dissidents. Men shew a really startling readiness to admit that the estimates of happiness which guide them in their ordinary habits and pursuits are erroneous and illusory : and that from time to time the veil is, as it were, lifted, and the error and illusion made manifest. For, first, men seem to attach great value to the ample gi'atification of bodily appetites and needs : the wealthier part of mankind spend a considerable amount of money and fore- thought upon the means of satisfying these in a luxurious manner : and though they do not deliberately sacrifice health to this gratification — common sense condemns that as irra- tional — yet one may say that they are habitually courageous in pressing forward to the very verge of this imprudence. And yet the same people are fond of saying that " hunger is the best sauce," and that " temperance and labour will make plain food more delightful than the most exquisite products of the culinary art." And they often argue with perfect sin- cerity that the rich have really no advantage, or scarcely any advantage, over the comparatively poor, in respect of these pleasures ; for habit soon renders the more luxurious provision for the satisfaction of their acquired needs no more pleasant than the appeasing of his more primitive appetites is to the poor man. And the same argument is often extended to all the material comforts that wealth can purchase. It is often contended that habit at once renders us indifferent to these while they are enjoyed, and yet unable to dispense with them without annoyance : so that the pleasures of the merely animal life are no greater to the rich than to the poor, but only more 140 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book II. insecure. And from this there is but a short step to the con- clusion, that Avealth, in the pursuit of which most men agree in concentrating tlieir efforts, and on the attainment of which all congratulate each other: wealth, for which so many risk their health, shorten their lives, reduce their enjoyments of domestic life, and sacrifice the more refined pleasures of curiosity and art, is really a very doubtful gain : that the cares and anxieties which it entails balance, for most men, the slight advantage of the luxuries wdiich it purchases \ And similarly, although social rank and status is, in England, an object of passionate pursuit, yet it is continually said with general approval, that it is of no intrinsic value as a means of happiaess : that though the process of ascending from a lower grade to a higher is perhaps generally agreeable, and the process of descending from a higher to a lower certainly jDainful, yet permanent existence on the loftier level is no more pleasant than on the humbler : that happiness is to be found as easily in a cottage as in a palace (if not, indeed, more easily in the former) : and so forth. Still more trite are the commonplaces as to the emptiness and vanity of the satisfaction to be derived from Fame and Reputation, The case of posthumous fame, indeed, is a striking instance of the general proposition before laid down, that the commonly accepted ends of action are determined partly by the average force of desires that are not directed towards plea- sure, nor conformed to experiences of pleasure. For posthu- mous fame seems to rank pretty high among the objects that common opinion regards as good or desirable for the indivi- dual : and the pursuit of it is not ordinarily stigmatized as contrary to prudence, even if it leads a man to sacrifice other important sources of happiness to a result of which he never expects to be actually conscious. Yet the slightest reflection 1 It is striking to find the author of the Wealth of Nations, tho founder of that long line of plutologists who arc commonly believed to exalt the material means of hapiDiuess above all other, declaring that " wealth and greatness are mere trinkets of frivolous utility," and that " in ease of body and peace of mind, all the different ranks of life are nearly upon a level, and the beggar who suns himself by the side of the highway possesses that security which kings are fighting for." Adam Smith, Moral Sentiments, Part iv. c. i. Chap. IV.] HEDONISM AND COMMON SENSE. 141 shews such a pursuit to be prima facie irrational \ from an egoistic point of view ; and every moralizer has found this an obvious and jDopular topic. The actual consciousness of pre- sent fame is no doubt very delightful to most persons : still the moralizer does not find it difficult to persuade us that even this is attended with such counterbalancing disadvantages as render its hedonistic value very doubtful. Again, the current estimate of the desirability of Power is tolerably high, and perhaps the more closely and analytically we examine the actual motives of men, the more widespread and predominant its pursuit will appear : for many men seem to seek wealth, knowledge, even rejDutation, as a means to the attainment of power, rather than for their own sakes or with a view to other pleasures. And yet men assent willingly when they are told that the pursuit of power, as of fame, is prompted by a vain ambition, never satisfied but only rendered more uneasy by such success as is possible for it : that the anxieties that attend not only the pursuit but the possession of power, and the jealousies and dangers inseparable from the latter, far outweigh its pleasures. Society of some sort no one can deny to be necessary to human happiness: but still the kind and degree of social intercourse which is actually sought by the more wealthy and leisured portion of the community, with no little expenditure of time, trouble and means, is often declared to yield a most thin and meagre result of pleasure. We find, no doubt, great agreement among modern mo- ralizers as to the importance of the exercise of the domestic affections as a means of happiness : and this certainly seems to have a prominent place in the plan of life of the majority of mankind. And yet it is difficult to prove that men in general do value domestic life very highly, apart from the gratification of their sensual passions. Certainly whenever and wherever society has been in such a state that men can indulge these 1 No doubt sucli a pursiiit may be justified to self-love by dwelling on the pleasures of liope and auticiijation wliicli attend it. But this is obviously an after-thought. It is not for the sake of those originally that posthumous fame is sought by him ■whom it spiu-s " To scorn delights and live laboxious days." 142 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book 11. passions and at the same time avoid the burden of a family, without any serious fear of social disapprobation, celibacy has become common : sometimes even so common as to excite the grave anxiety of the legislator. And though such conduct has always been condemned by common sense, it seems doubtful whether it has been condemned as imprudent, and not rather as anti -social. Thus our examination seems to shew great instability and uncertainty in the most decisive judgments of common sense: since these objects — bodily comfort and luxur}'-, wealth, fame, power, society — are those which common opinion seems most confidently to recommend as sources of pleasure. For though the pleasures derived from Art and the contemplation of the beautiful in Nature, and those of curiosity and the exercise of the intellect generally, are highly prized, it will I think be admitted that they are usually postponed to those above enumerated. And in truth it seems almost impossible to formulate a " common opinion " in respect of these more refined delights. For the very high estimates often set upon them seem to express the real experience of only small minorities. And though these have persuaded the mass of mankind, or that portion of it which is possessed of leisure, to let Culture be regarded as an important source of happiness : they can scarcely be said to have produced any generally accepted opinion as to its importance in comparison with the other sources before mentioned, the pleasures of which are more genuinely appreciated by the majority : still less as to the relative value of different elements of this culture. But even supposing the consensus, in respect of sources of happiness, were far more complete and clear than impartial reflection seems to shew, its value would still be considerably impaired by the dissent of important minorities, which we have not yet noticed. For example, many religious persons regard all the mundane pleasures of which we have been speaking, as not only relatively contemptible, in comparison with the lofty delights of the religious life, but positively mean and trifling, full of vanity and emptiness; so that the pursuit of them is not only occasionally but normally illusory, and leading to bitter disappointment. And a somewhat similar judg- Chap. IV.] HEDONISM AND COMMON SENSE. 143 ment, though from a different point of view, has in all ages been passed by the majority of the class known as Philosophers. And when we consider, as Plato urges, that these latter have paid especial attention to the subject in debate, which the mass of mankind have not done, we shall hesitate to let our con- clusion be determined by merely counting heads. On the other hand, as has been already observed, the philosopher's suscepti- bilities and capacities of feeling do not fairly represent those of humanity in general : and hence if he ventures to erect the results of his individual experience into a universal standard, he is likely to overrate some pleasures and underrate others. Perhaps the most convincing illustrations of this are furnished by thinkers not of the idealist or transcendental type, but pro- fessed egoists, such as Epicurus and Hobbes. We cannot accept as fair expressions of the average or common experience of the race either the former's identification of Painlessness with the highest degree of pleasure, or the latter's asseveration that the gratifications of curiosity "far exceed in intensity all carnal delights." Thus we seem to be in this dilemma : the mass of mankind, to whose common opinion we are naturally referred for catholically authoritative beliefs respecting happiness, are deficient in the faculty and the habit of observing and record- ing their experience : and usually, in proportion as a man is, by nature and practice, a better observer, the phenomena that he has to observe are more and more divergent from the ordinary type. § 3. On the Avhole it must, I think, be admitted that the Hedonistic method cannot be freed from inexactness and uncer- tainty by appealing to the judgments of common sense respect- ing the sources of happiness. At the same time I would not exaggerate the difficulty of combining these into a tolerably coherent body of probable doctrine, not useless for practical o'uidance. For first, it must be observed, that it is only occasionally and to a limited extent that these commonly commended sources of happiness come into competition with one another and are presented as alternatives. For example, the pursuit of wealth often leads also to power (besides the power that lies in wealth) and reputation: and again, these objects of desire can usually be best attained — as far as it is 144 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book II. in our power to attain them at all — by employment which in itself gives the pleasure that normally attends energetic exercise of one's best faculties : and this congenial employment is not incompatible with adequate exercise of the affections, social and domestic : nor with cultivated amusement (which must always be carefully limited in amount if it is to be really amusing). And, as was said, no one doubts that to carry either employ- ment or amusement to a degree that injures health involves a sacrifice of happiness. And as for the quasi-philosophical jjaradoxes as to the illusoriness of sensual enjoyments, wealth, power, fame, &c., we may explain the general acceptance which these find by admitting a certain amount of inevitable exaggeration in the common estimates of such objects of desire, which from time to time causes a reaction and an equally excessive temporary depreciation of them. For as we saw (ch. 3) it is natural for men to value too highly the absent pleasures for which they hope and long. It seems clear, for instance, that luxury adds less to the ordinary enjoyment of life than most men struggling with penury suppose : there are special delights attending the hard-earned meal, and the eagerly expected amusement, which must be weighed against the profuser pleasures that the rich can command : and so, more generally, we may con- clude that while the richer man is on the average happier, yet increase of happiness attends increase of wealth in a rapidly decreasing ratio. Again, power and fame, though probably to most men they bring a clear balance of happiness, are yet cer- tainly attended with anxieties and disgusts which were not foreseen when they were merely represented in longing ima- gination. And thus happiness, we may suppose, though not "equally distributed through all ranks and callings" (as the eighteenth-century moralists seem generally to have thought), is yet more equally distributed than the aspect of men's external circumstances would lead us to infer. Especially if to most persons the pleasures that attend the exercise of the afTections are really the most important of all ; as these are probably equal on the average in all ranks of life that are raised above griping poverty. Again common sense fully recognises that there are persons of peculiar temperament to whom the com- Chap. IV.] HEDONISM AND COMMON SENSE. 145 mouer pleasures of life are really quite trifling in comparison with more refined enjoyments : and also that most men for particular periods are under the sway of absorbing impulses, which take them out of the range within which the judgments of common sense are even broadly and generally valid. No one (e. g.) expects a lover to care much for anything except the enjoyments of love : nor considers that an enthusiast sacrifices happiness in making everything give way to his hobby. In fact we may say that common sense scarcely claims to provide more than rather indefinite general rules, which no prudent man should neglect without giving himself a reason for doing so. Such reasons may either be drawn from one's know- ledge of some peculiarities in one's nature, or from the experi- ence of others whom one has ground for believing to be more like oneself than the average of mankind are. For though, as we saw, there is considerable risk of error in thus appropriating the experience of others — and in fact the expression of it will sometimes appear to be as hesitating and contradictory as the judgments of common sense — we may extract from it counsel sufficiently consistent and authoritative to supplement at least roughly the deficiencies of our own empirical generalizations. Still, by no process of this kind, neither by appealing to the common opinion of the " ttoWoI," nor to that of the " 'xapUvre^," or of those whom we judge to resemble ourselves, can we hope to solve with anything like precision or certainty the problems of egoistic conduct. S. E. 10 CHAPTER V. HAPPINESS AND DUTY. § 1. Among the current opinions as to the sources of happiness, there is one of such peculiar and supreme importance that it seemed best to reserve it for a special and separate examination : the belief, namely, that happiness is best at- tained by the performance of what is commonly recognised as Duty, It seems undeniable that this is affirmed by the com- mon sense of Christian communities : and indeed of mankind generally, at least after a certain stage in civiHsation has been reached. But it is doubtful whether it would be affirmed, among ourselves, as a generalization for experience, and not rather as a matter of direct Divine Eevelation, or an immediate inference from the proposition that the world is governed by a perfectly Good and Omnipotent Being: which latter doctrine again is held to be proved either by miraculous Revelation, or the in- tuitions of Natural Religion, or both combined. To examine thoroughly the validity of the belief in the Moral Government of the World is one of the most important tasks that human reason can attempt : but involving as it does an exhaustive inquiry into the evidences of Natural and Revealed Religion, it could hardly be included within the scope of the present treatise'. Here, then, I shall only consider the coincidence of Duty and Happiness in so far as it is maintained by empirical arguments and supposed to be realized in our present earthly life. Perhaps, as so restricted, the coincidence can hardly be said to be "currently believed :" indeed it may be plausibly urged that the reverse belief is implied in the general admission ^ Such discussion of the question as seemed desirable in such a work as this will be found in the concluding chapter of Book iv. Chap, v.] HAPPINESS AND DUTY. 147 of the necessity of rewards and punishments in a future state, in order to exhibit and reaUze completely the moral govern- ment of the world. Still, this implication is not strictly neces- sary : for it may be held that even here virtue is always re- warded and vice punished, so far as to make the virtuous course of action always the most prudent : only that the rewards and punishments are not sufficient to satisfy our sense of justice. Allowing that the virtuous man is often placed on earth in circumstances so adverse that his life is not as happy as that of many less virtuous : it may still be maintained that by virtue he will gain the maximum of happiness that can be gained under these circumstances, all appearances to the con- trary notwithstanding. And this view has certainly been held by moralists of reputation on grounds drawn from actual experience of human life : and seems often to be emphatically, though not very definitely, put forward on similar grounds by popular preachers and moralizers. It is therefore necessary, in such an inquiry as the present, to subject this opinion to a careful and complete examination : as, if it be true, the Hedon- istic method will coincide to a great extent with the Intuitional : the performance of Duty will absorb the chief part of the Rational Egoist's effort, and only secondarily and within strictly defined limits will he require to aim directly at his own ' greatest happiness. It may be thought that we ought properly to suspend this inquiry until after we have examined the details of Intuitionism : but it is more convenient to take it now, and perhaps the common notions of Duty will suffice for our present purpose without further definition or analysis : for the preceding chapters will have fully shewn that the gene- ralizations of Hedonism must be established, if at all, by large considerations and decisive preponderances : and that it would be idle in considering a question of this kind to take account of slight differences, and to pretend to weigh in our mental scales comparatively small portions of happiness. § 2, Accepting, then, the common division' of duties into self-regarding and social, it may be conceded that as far as the 1 Whatever modifications of this division may afterwards appear to be necessary (cf. Bk. in. c. 7) -will, as far as they go, tend to support the con- clusions of the present chapter. 10—2 148 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book II. first are concerned there is no controversy between Hedonism and Intuitionism : for by " duties towards oneself" are commonly meant acts that tend directly or indirectly to the maintenance or increase of one's happiness. We may therefore confine our attention to the social department of Duty, and consider whether the observance of the moral rules that prescribe cer- tain modes of behaviour towards others will always be attended with a balance of happiness to ourselves. Here it will be convenient to adopt with some modification the point of view and terminology of Bentham. It has been already observed, that while stating General Happiness as the right and proper end of conduct, Bentham still regarded it as natural and normal for each agent to aim at his own individual happiness. He therefore considered human pleasure (and pain as its negative quantity) from two quite distinct points of view: first as constituting the end and standard of right conduct, and so determining the rules which Bentham and other rational philanthropists would desire to be generally obeyed in any community : and secondly as constituting the motives (whether pleasures or pains) by which each member of the community is or may be induced to conform to these rules. These motives or Sanctions we may classify as External and Internal. The former class will include both " Legal Sanctions," or penalties inflicted by the authority, direct or indirect, of the sovereign: and " Social Sanctions," which are either the pleasures that may be expected from the approval and goodwill of our fellow- men generally, and the services that they will be prompted to render both by this goodwill and by their appreciation of the usefulness of good conduct, or the annoyances and losses that are to be feared from their distrust and dislike. In so far as the happiness earned by virtue comes from internal sources, it will lie in the pleasurable emotion attending virtuous action, or in the absence of remorse, or in some effect on the mental constitution of the agent produced by the maintenance of virtuous habits. It is not merely the intrinsic difference of the sanctions themselves that renders this classification important : but also the fact that the systems of rules to which they are respectively attached may be divergent and even mutually con- flicting. For, in the first place, it is obvious that the generally Chap, v.] HAPPINESS AND DUTY. 149 accepted rules which are supported by the social sanction, form- ing what is called the Positive Morality of any community, may not only fall short of, but even clash with, the moral intuitions or instincts of any individual member of the community. And even Intuitionists will admit that this may occur in cases where the individual is right and common opinion wrong : for however confidently they may appeal to the universal consent of mankind in favour of the broad principles of Morality, they will not deny that in any actual society one or more of these principles may be partially misapprehended and misapplied : and that this may be apparent to an individual excelling his con- temporaries in moral insight. Again, Law and Positive Morality may be at variance. It is true that a law cannot permanently exist, which it is universally thought wrong to obey: for no despot could enforce the penalties of such a law. But there may easily be laws commanding conduct that is considered immoral by some portion of the community, some sect or party that has a public opinion of its OAvn : and any individual may be so much more closely connected with this sect or party than with the rest of the community, that the social sanction may in his case practically operate against the legal. No doubt in a thoroughly well-ordered state there would be no such conflict of sanctions: Law would always be in harmony with current moral sentiments, and these latter would always be found supporting such rules of behaviour as an enlightened moralist would lay down. And such a state of things, of course, is that to which Benthamites (and other philanthropists) are continually trying to approximate : it is their object so to adjust legal penalties, and influence public opinion, and train and develope the moral habits and social sentiments of each indi- vidual, that, as far as possible, "Each may find his own in all men's good."^ What they have therefore to consider is the actual impulsive force of different sanctions on the minds of ordinary men, and how this may be increased or better directed. But the point that we are now investigating is somewhat different : namely, whether these sanctions as at present existing, or rather as empirically cognizable, are sufiicient in all cases to determine 150 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book II. a perfectly rational egoist to the performance of social duty. And from this point of view the actual conflict of sanctions is of great importance : for the more stress we lay on either the legal or the social sanctions, the greater difficulty we shall have in proving the coincidence of duty and self-interest in the excep- tional cases in which these sanctions are arrayed against duty. But even if we put this conflict out of sight, it still seems clear that the external sanctions of morality alone are not always sufficient to render immoral conduct also imprudent. We must indeed admit that in an even tolerably well-ordered society, i.e. in an ordinary civilized community in its normal condition, all open crime is folly : and further that it is, gene- rally speaking, the interest of an individual to live in such a state rather than in one more anarchical : so that if all men were perfectly under the control of enlightened self-love, the danger of political disturbances would nearly vanish. For these disturbances inevitably involve so general and widespread a destruction of security and of other means of happiness, that it is improbable that a number of persons sufficient to produce them will ever find their individual interests promoted by so doing. Still, as actual human beings are not all rational egoists, such times of disorder will occur, when Law is in conflict with Law, and a man is in danger of legal penalties for per- forming his political duty. And we cannot even concede to Hobbes that under existing circumstances it is a clear universal precept of Rational Self-love that a man should "seek peace and ensue it : " since some men gain, by the disturbance of society, wealth, fame, and power, to an extent to which in peace- ful times they could not hope to approximate : and though there is always some risk involved in this mode of pursuing these goods, it may be reduced to a small amount l)y a cool and skilful person who has the art of fishing in troubled waters. It may be admitted that this road to success is over-hazardous for prudent persons in tolerably good circumstances. But even these, though they will not assist in producing social disorder, are not likely to make any great sacrifices to avert it : it will often be sufficient for them to defer it, and even when it is innninent prudence may counsel evasion rather than resistance. In short, though a society composed entirely of rational egoists Chap, v.] HAPPINESS AND DUTY. 151 would, when once organized, be in a condition of stable internal equilibrium : it seems very doubtful whether this would be the case with a community of pure egoists, among whom the average degree of enlightenment and self-control was no greater than it is among ourselves. But at any rate, in the most orderly societies with which we are acquainted, the administration of law and justice is never in so perfect a state as to render secret crimes always acts of folly, on the score of the legal penalties attached to them. For however much these may outweigh the advantages of crime, cases must inevitably occur in which the risk of dis- covery is so small, that on a sober calculation the almost certain gain will more than compensate for the slight chance of the penalty. And finally, in no community is the law actually in so perfect a state that there are not certain kinds of flagrantly anti-social conduct, such as common sense regards as intrinsically criminal, which slip through its meshes and escape legal penal- ties altogether. § 3. It remains to consider how far the social sanction in; such cases supplies the defects of the legal. No doubt the hope of praise and liking and services from one's fellow- men, and the fear of forfeiting these and incurring instead blame, aversion, refusal of aid, and social exclusion, are con- siderations important enough to determine the rational egoist to legal and orderly conduct as a general rule. Still these sanc- tions are liable to fail just where the legal penalties are defect- ive, although not quite to the same extent. For social penalties- are evaded as well as legal by secret crimes : and in times of disturbance, opinions are generally divided, so that a success- ful criminal has only to incur the disapprobation of a part of the community. It should be observed too that the force of the social sanction diminishes very rapidly, in propor- tion to the number of dissidents from the common opinion that awards it. Disapprobation that is at once intense and absolutely universal, would be so severe a penalty as perhaps to outweigh any imaginable advantages. For it seems impos- sible for a human being to live happily, whatever other goods he may enjoy, without the kindly regards of some of his fel- lows : and so, in contemplating the common philosophic portrait 152 THE METHODS OF ETHICS, [Book II. of the tyrant of old time, wlio is represented as necessarily suspicious of those nearest him, even of the members of his own family, we feel prepared to admit that such a life must involve the extreme of unhappiness. But Avhen we contemplate the modem tyrannical usurpers, unprovoked conquerors, wicked statesmen, successful rebels, and generally the great criminals whose position raises them out of the reach of legal penalties, though the moral odium under which they lie is in most cases a source of some pain, it does not appear that it must neces- sarily count for much in an egoistic calculation of the gain and loss resulting from their conduct. For this disesteem is only expressed by a portion of the community : and its utterance is often drowned in the loud-voiced applause of the multitude. It seems, then, impossible to state generally that the ex- ternal sanctions of men's legal duties will always be sufficient to identify them with their interests. And a similar assertion would be still more hazardous in respect of that part of Positive Morality which extends beyond the sphere of Law. We may grant that the full force of the social sanction would be suffi- cient by itself to sustain any moral rule : and no doubt there are many things not punishable by law, which no reasonable man would ever think of doing, on account of the universal disapprobation that he would thereby incur. And there is much weight in what may be called the Principle of Reciprocity, by which certain utilitarians have endeavoured to prove the co- incidence of the individual's interests with his social duties. Virtues (they say) are qualities either useful or directly agree- able to others : thus they either increase the market value of the virtuous man's services, and cause others to purchase them at a higher rate and to allot to him more dignified and interest- ing functions : or they dispose men to please him, both out of gratitude and in order to enjoy the pleasure of his society in return : and again — since man is an imitative animal — the ex- hibition of these qualities is naturally rewarded by a reciprocal manifestation of them on the part of others, through the mere influence of example. And no doubt the hope of these advan- tages is an adequate motive for cultivating many virtues and avoiding much vice. Thus on such grounds a rational egoist will generally be strict and punctual in the fulfilment of all his Chap, v.] HAPPINESS AND DUTY. 153 enjjafjcments, and tmtliful in his assertions, in order to win the confidence of other men; and he will he zealous and industrious in his work, in order to obtain gradually more important and therefore more honourable and lucrative employment : and he will control such of his passions and appetites as are hkely to interfere with his efficiency; and will not exhibit violent anger or use unnecessary harshness even towards servants and sub- ordinates ; and towards his equals and superiors in rank he will be generally polite and complaisant and good-humoured, and prompt to shew them all such kindness as costs but little in proportion to the pleasure it gives. Still, reflection seems to shew that the conduct recommended by this line of reasoning does not really coincide with moral duty. For, first, what one requires for social success is that one should appear, rather than he, useful to others : aud hence this motive will not restrain one from doing secret harm to others, or even from acting openly in a way that is really harmful, though not perceived to- be so. And again, a man is not useful to others by his virtue only, but sometimes rather by his vice : or more often by a certain ad- mixture of unscrupulousness with his good and useful qualities. And further, morality prescribes the performance of duties equally towards all, and that we should abstain as far as possible from harming any : but on the principle of Reciprocity we should exhibit our useful qualities chiefly towards the rich and powerful, and abstain from injuring those who can retaliate ; while we shall reasonably omit our duties to the poor and feeble if we find even a slight advantage in so doing. More- over, some vices (as, for example, many kinds of sensuality and extravagant luxury) do not inflict any immediate or obvious injury on any individual, though they tend in the long run to impair the general happiness : hence no one finds himself per- sonally spurred to check or punish this kind of harm. The result is that there are many acts which, in spite of a decided general opinion that they are wrong, yet do not seem to involve any danger to the immoral agent except that of losing a certain amount of reputation. We have ag;ain to observe that the conflict of codes, which we noticed as an exceptional phenomenon in the case of Law proper, occurs to a greater extent in the case of 154 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book II. Positive Morality. More than one moralist has noticed the discrepancy in modern Europe between the Law of Honour (or the rules maintained by the social sanction of polite per- sons) and the morality professed in society at large. The discrepancy generally lies in the greater laxity of the former : but in a few instances conflicting duties are prescribed by the two codes, as in the case of duelling. The Law of Honour, however, is by no means the only instance of a special code, divergent in certain points from the moral rules generally accepted in the community where it exists. Most religious sects and parties, and probably the majority of trades and pro- fessions, exhibit this phenomenon in some degree. I do not mean merely that special rules of behaviour are imposed upon mem- bers of each jarofession, corresponding to their special social functions and relations : I mean that a peculiar moral opinion is apt to grow up, conflicting to a certain extent with the opinion of the general public. The most striking part of this divergence consists generally in the approval or excusal of practices disapproved by the current morality : as (e.g.) license- among soldiers, bribery among politicians in certain ages and countries, unveracity of various degrees among priests and advocates, fraud in different forms among tradesmen. In such cases there are generally strong natural inducements to disobey the stricter rule (in fact it would seem to be to the continual pressure of these inducements that the relaxation of the rule has been due): while at the same time the social sanction is weakened to such an extent that it is sometimes hard to say whether it outweighs a similar force on the other side. For a man who conforms to the general code, if he does not actually meet with contempt and aversion from those of his calling, is at least liable to be called eccentric and fantastic. And this is still more the case, if by conformity to the generally received rule he foregoes advantages not only to himself but to his relatives or friends or party. Very often this professional or sectarian excusal of immorality of which we are speaking is not so clear and explicit as to amount to the establishment of a rule, conflicting with the generally received rule : but is still sufficient to weaken indefinitely the social sanction in favour of the latter. More generally, we may almost say that CiiAP. v.] HAPPINESS AND DUTY. 155 in most civilized societies there arc two different degrees of positive morality, both maintained in some sort by common con- sent ; a stricter code being publicly taught and avowed, while a laxer set of rules is privately admitted as the only code which can be supported by social sanctions of any great force, such as strong dislike or exclusion from social intercourse. By refusing to conform to the stricter code a man only loses, as was before said, a certain kind of reputation. Now it is difficult to esti- mate generally the relative hedonistic value of reputation as compared with other sources of pleasure : it no doubt varies very much with different individuals : but at any rate we may say that there are many men whose happiness does not appear to depend on the approbation or disapprobation of the moralist, and of mankind in general in so far as they support the moralist. " Virtus laudatur et alget : " and it does not seem to be prudent to purchase this praise by any great sacrifice of other goods, except in the case of persons peculiarly sensitive to the pleasures and pains of reputation. § 4. We must conclude, then, that if the conduct pre- scribed by Conscience or the Moral Faculty can be shewn to coincide with that which Egoistic Hedonism would dictate, it must be, in many cases, on the score of the internal sanctions only : and that, even when there is no actual conflict between the conscience of the individual agent and the law or positive morality of the community to which he belongs. In con- sidering the force of these sanctions, we have first to distinguish those pleasures and pains which are properly moral from those which lie in the anticipation of rewards and punishments in a future life : as the two seem to be blended in what are commonly known as the satisfactions of a good conscience or the pangs of remorse. For as wo are now supposing the calcu- lations of Rational Egoism to be performed without taking into account any feelings that are not empirically ascertainable, we must in consistency exclude also the pleasurable or painful anti- cipations of such feelings. If, then, we contemplate by itself the satisfaction that at- tends the performance of duty as such (without taking into consideration any ulterior consequences), and the pain that fol- lows on its violation, we cannot doubt that they are sufficiently 156 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book II. intense to constitute very powerful motives with some minds. At the same time, though the preceding discussions will have shewn the great difficulty of weighing exactly these pleasures and pains against others, there are very strong grounds for believing that they are not sufficiently intense to turn the balance of prospective happiness always in favour of duty. This will be most easily seen if we take an extreme case, which is yet quite within the limits of experience. The call of duty may impel a soldier or other public servant, or a member of a political party in civil strife, or a member of a persecuted sect, to face certain and painful death, under circumstances where it might be avoided with little or no loss even of reputation. In order to constitute such conduct reasonable, we have to assume that in all cases where such a duty could exist, or at least be recognized, the moral pain that would follow on evasion of duty would be so great as to render the whole remainder of life hedonistically worthless. Surely such an assumption would be extravagant and paradoxical. It rather appears that while the majority of persons in any society are generally able to discern their duty (according to the code and standard cuirently accepted in their society), the number of those in whom the moral feelings taken alone form^ a preponderant or even im- portant element of happiness is by no means large. A striking evidence of this is furnished by those Christian writers of the last century who treat the moral unbeliever as a fool who sacrifices his happiness both here and hereafter. These men were, for the most part, earnestly engaged in the practice of virtue, and yet this practice had not made them love virtue so much as to prefer it, for its own sake, to mere sensual enjoy- ment. Still less then can we believe that, in the case of per- sons who have not developed and strengthened by habit their virtuous impulses, the pain that might afterwards result from resisting the call of duty would be sufficient to neutralize all other sources of pleasure. And even if we take more ordinary cases, where a man is called on to give up, for virtue's sake, not life, but a considerable share of the ordinary sources of human happiness ; can we say that all, or even most men are so consti- tuted that the satisfactions of a good conscience are certain to repay them for such sacrifices ? Chap, v.] HAPPINESS AND DUTY. 157 And perhaps so mucli as this has scarcely ever been ex- pressly maintained. What Plato in his most famous treatise, and others since Plato, have rather tried to prove, is not that at any particular moment duty will be, to every one on whom it may devolve, productive of more happiness than any other course of conduct : but rather that the life of the virtuous man will always be on the whole intrinsically the happiest. But even this it is very difficult even to render probable : as will appear, I think, if we examine the lines of reasoning by which it is commonly supported. To begin with Plato's argument, which seems to have found no little acceptance, even in modern times. He represents the soul of the virtuous man as a well-ordered polity of impulses, in which every passion and appetite is duly obedient to the right- ful sovereignty of reason, and operates only within the limits laid down by the latter. He then contrasts the tranquil peace of such a mind with the disorder of one where an alternation of baser impulses, or some ruling passion, lords it over reason: and asks which is the happiest, even apart from external rewards and punishments. But we may grant all that Plato claims, and yet be no further advanced towards the solution of the question before us. For here the issue does not lie between Reason and Passion, but rather — in Butler's language — be- tween Rational Self-love and Conscience. We are supposing the Egoist to have all his impulses under control, and are only asking how this control is to be exercised. Now we have seen that the regulation and organization of life to attain the end of self-interest appears prima facie divergent at certain points from that to which men in general are prompted by a sense of duty. In order to maintain Plato's position it has to be shewn that this appearance is false : and that a system of self-govern- ment, which under certain circumstances leads us to pain, loss, and death, is still that which self-interest requires. It can scarcely be said that our nature is such that only this latter kind of regulation is possible : that the choice lies between this and none at all. It is easy to imagine a rational egoist, strictly controlling each of his passions and impulses — including his moral and social sentiments — within such limits that its in- dulgence should not involve the sacrifice of some greater 158 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book 11. gratification : and experience seems to shew us many ex- amples of persons who at least approximate as closely to this type, as any one else does to the ideal of the ordinary moralist. Hence it would seem that if the regulation accord- ing to the notions of duty be really the best means to the individual's happiness, it must be on account of the specific emotional pleasure that attends the indulgence of the moral sentiments, and the specific pain consequent on their repression and violation. Here, however, a fundamental difficulty suggests itself, which must be removed before we can proceed further. If a man thinks it reasonable to seek his own interest, it is clear that he cannot himself disapprove of any conduct that comes under this principle or approve of the opposite. And hence it may appear that the pleasures and pains of conscience cannot enter into the calculation whether a certain course of conduct is or is not in accordance with Rational Egoism, because they cannot attach themselves in the egoist's mind to any modes of action, which have not been already de- cided, on other grounds, to be reasonable or the reverse. The truth is that we have here to recur to the distinc- tion (indicated in Book I. ch. 3) between the general impulse to do what is reasonable as such, and special sentiments of liking or aversion for special kinds of conduct, independent of their reasonableness. In the moral sentiments as they exist in ordinary men, these two kinds of feeling are indistinguish- ably blended : because it is commonly believed that the rules of conduct to which the common moral sentiments are attached are in some way or other reasonable. We can however con- ceive the two separated : and in fact we have experience of such separation whenever a man is led by a process of thought to adopt a different view of morality from that in which he has been trained : for in such a case there will always remain in his mind some quasi-moral likings and aversions, no longer sus- tained by his deliberate judgment of right and wrong. And thus we may believe that most men, however firmly they might adopt the principles of Egoistic Hedonism, would still feel senti- ments of preference and aversion for certain kinds of conduct, prior to any conclusion that the actions prompted by such senti- Chap, v.] HAPPINESS AND DUTY. 159 ments were reasonable and right. It may be thought that such feehngs are likely to dwindle and decay, when once a man has definitely embraced the principle of Egoism. But it does not seem that this will necessarily be the case with ethical any more than with aesthetic sentiments : both may be cultivated for the sake of the pleasure that they directly afford : and such cultivation seems especially easy in the case of sentiments prompting to the performance of social duty : as these are sure to be, for the most part, powerfully sustained and echoed by the sympathy of others. And since it is agreed that the conduct commonly recognised as virtuous is generally coincident with that which enlightened self-love would dictate, a rational egoist's habits of conduct will be such as naturally to foster these moral or quasi- moral sentiments. The question therefore before us is not whether the Egoist should cherish and indulge these feelings up to a certain point — which all would admit ; but whether he should allow them to grow to such a pitch that they will always pre- vail over the strongest opposing considerations : whether, in fact, he should give them the rein and let them carry him whither they will. We have already seen ground for believing that Eational Self-love will best attain its end by limiting its con- scious operation and allowing free play to disinterested im- pulses : but we are now asked to accept the further paradox that it is reasonable for it to abdicate its supremacy altogether over some of these impulses. It must be admitted that this paradox has often been urged with much rhetorical persuasiveness : indeed it might almost be called a common-place of moral rhetoricians. We are told, for example, that ' virtue must not be wooed with a divided heart ;' that ' her true worth is never revealed to the huckstering spirit who would weigh her in the scales against alien pleasures.' More definitely, it seems to be held that there is so great a difference in respect of pleasure between the emotions at- tendant upon such virtuous or quasi-virtuous habits as are com- patible with adhesion to egoistic principles, and the raptures that attend the unreserved and passionate surrender of the soul to virtue ; that it is really a man's interest to encourage in himself this passionate and enthusiastic strain of sentiment, although under certain circumstances it must necessarily lead 160 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book II. Lim to act in a manner which, considered by itself, would be undoubtedly imprudent. But when we look closer at the matter, it seems in the first place to be very doubtful whether the abdication of reason that is here contemplated is even possible to a sane mind. A man may, no doubt, resolve that he will devote himself un- reservedly to the practice of virtue, without any considera- tion of what appears to him to be his interest: he may perform a series of acts in accordance with this resolution, and these may gradually form in him strong habitual tendencies to acts of a similar kind. But it does not seem that these habits of virtue can ever become so strong as to gain irresistible con- trol over a reasonable will. When the occasion comes on which virtue demands the last extreme sacrifice, the agent must always be able to deliberate afresh, and to act (as far as the control of his will extends) without reference to his past actions. But suppose that it is possible so to surrender the will to the sway of moral enthusiasm : or else that it is possible to cultivate virtuous sentiments of such preponderant strength, that in every possible case more pleasure or less pain will result from yielding to them than from any other course of action : it must surely be admitted that there are comparatively few men in whom morality has reached anything like this pitch of development : and it is not evident that even they have attained thereby the maximum of happiness open to them. We may, however, believe this to be the case with persons of special moral susceptibilities. But as far as the great majority of mankind are concerned, experience would lead us to suppose that they are so constituted as to feel far more keenly pleasures (and pains) arising from some other source than the con- science : either from the gratifications of sense, or from the pos- session of power and fame, or from strong human affections, or from the pursuit of science, art, &c. : so that in their case per- haps no training could succeed in giving to the moral feelings the requisite predominance. And even if we grant that it is each one's interest to dcvelope his moral susceptibilities as far as possible, still, so long as they are actually less developed, it is clearly not his interest to make extreme sacrifices for the fulfilment of duty. Chap, v.] HAPPINESS AND DUTY. 161 To sum up. Although the performance of duties towards others and the exercise of social virtue seems to be generally the best means to the attainment of the individual's happi- ness, and it is easy to exhibit this coincidence between Virtue and Happiness rhetorically and popularly : still, the more carefully we analyse and estimate the consequences of Virtue to the virtuous agent, the more improbable does it appear that this coincidence is complete and universal. We may conceive the coincidence becoming perfect in a Utopia where men were as much in accord on moral as they are now on mathematical questions, where Law was in perfect harmony with Moral Opinion, and all offences were discovered and duly punished: or we may conceive the same result attained by intensifying the moral sentiments of all members of the community, without any external clianges (which indeed would then be unnecessary). But just in proportion as existing socie- ties and existing men fall short of tliis ideal, rules of conduct based on the principles of Egoistic Hedonism must diverge from those which most men are accustomed to recognise as prescribed by Duty and Virtue \ ^ Utilitarians may think that in the above discussion sufficient stress has not been laid on Sympathy with the pleasures and pains of others: holding that it is this, rather than the moral feelings proper, which supplies a really effective stimulus to the performance of social duty. My own view is that these two kinds of internal sanction are inextricably blended in our ordinary moral consciousness: and the argument above given seems equally applicable, mutatis mutandis, to whichever element is regarded as most important. It will be desirable, however, to vmdertake a further examination of Sympathy, as a specially Utilitarian sanction, in the concluding chapter of Book iv. : to which accordingly the reader may refer. S. E. 11 CHAPTER VI. OTHER FORMS OF THE EGOISTIC METHOD. § 1. It remains to ask whether there be any other valid method of determining what conduct will be attended with the greatest excess of pleasure over pain, so as to dispense with the continual reference to empirical results, which it has been found so difficult to estimate with accuracy. This question, as was noticed in chap. 1, has been answered affirmatively in severa.1 different ways. Among these answers we have already noticed the most important, as lying beyond the range of our present inquiry : those, namely, that recommend the Egoist to conform to certain codes of Divine Law, in the belief that he will thus secure his greatest happiness in another state of existence — for that the rewards of religious obedience in this life are always adequate, is a proposition which pro- bably no one would now maintain to be a certain theologi- cal deduction. Nor, again, can we admit without verification the proposition which some philosophers, including Aristotle (and Plato in some passages), seem to assume djnnori: that the kind of feeling which is most pleasant or preferable as feeling, will always accompany the kind of activity which we approve, or which we rank highest in some scale of excellence, determined by an appeal to moral or aesthetic intuition. The extent of this assumption seems to have been concealed from the ancient thinkers by the ambiguity of the term "good," signify- ing as it does both the object of desire generally and the object of moral approbation : but when once the ambiguity is clearly seen, the assumption cannot be admitted as valid. The pro- position, that conformity to moral rules, intuitions or instincts, is the course of action which tends to produce the agent's own Chap. VI.] OTHER FORMS OF THE EGOISTIC METHOD. 1 G3 greatest happiness, must be referred to the test of expressions: and this, as we have seen, does not support it\ And, to speak more generally, it will probably be now admitted that there is no universal connexion between Pleasure (or Pain) and any other jDsychical or physical phenomenon, discoverable by any process of a priori reasoning. Hence the problem of attaining the individual's gi-eatest happiness, if treated scientifically, must be investigated by a method of which the ultimate pre- mises are facts of empirical observation. § 2. Is there then any general law of the inseparable antecedents or concomitants of pleasure, established on so firm a basis of induction that it may be safely used deductively in the pursuit of our own greatest happiness ? Such a law seems to be affirmed by Mr Herbert Spencer in constructing a system of this kind : a system which, while it states Happiness as the ultimate end of Conduct, yet rejects the method of Empirical Hedonism on account of its difficulties and uncertainties. This theory I will give, as far as possible, in Mr Spencer's own words '^ "It is from the activity of one or more of the faculties that all gratification arises. To the healthful performance of each function of mind or body attaches a pleasurable feeling. And this pleasurable feeling is obtainable only by the performance of the function: that is, by the exercise of the correlative faculty. Every faculty in turn affords its special emotion : and the sum of these constitutes happiness." " Or the matter may be put briefly thus, desire is the need for some species of sensation. A sensation is producible only by the exercise of a faculty. Hence no desire can be satisfied except through the exercise of a faculty. But happiness consists in the due satisfaction of all the desires : that is, happiness con- sists in the due exercise of all the faculties." 1 It may be worth observing that neither the acceptance of the religious belief nor of the ethical assumption above mentioned would render the present inquiry unimportant to us. For the code of common-sense morality— which forms part of the code of most religions— allows within limits the pursuit of our own happiness and prescribes the promotion of the happiness of others : and so far leaves us as much concerned as before to ascertain the best means of attaining happiness. 2 Social Statics, c. 4, § 1. 11—2 164 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book II. It might perhaps be supposed from this passage taken by itself that Mr Spencer was thinking exclusively of active pleasure : the " reflex," as Hamilton terms it, of exertion of some kind. But as he has before said that " all affections of consciousness are received" through " what are called faculties," we must understand him to use the term " faculty" relatively to passive as well as active consciousness ; as including, there- fore, what are more commonly known as " capacities " (or " sus- ceptibilities ") of feeling\ So interpreted, the assertion that " man's happiness can only be produced by the exercise of his faculties " is manifestly true : as all his feelings, pleasurable and painful alike, depend upon the exercise of some faculty or other. But Mr Spencer continues^: "to exercise his faculties he must have liberty to do all that his faculties naturally impel him to do... therefore he has a right to that liberty" (limited only, as Mr Spencer proceeds to explain, by the equal right of others to similar liberty). Here the ethical step taken is very important. It is almost an insignificant proposition to say that " happiness consists in the exercise of our faculties:" since, as we are not directly cognizant of our faculties, but only of the mental phenomena which result from their exercise, this amounts to little more than saying that happiness consists in feeling of some kind. But the further conclusion, that our happiness will be produced by "liberty to do all that our faculties naturally impel us to do," seems to require the assumption that our faculties will never impel us to do things that will cause us more pain than pleasure. Mr Spencer does not, of course, venture upon this paradox : he admits that a man who has perfect liberty to exercise his faculties (limited only by the equal freedom of others), may use this liberty in a manner injurious to himself. But he maintains^ that "when ^ We might obtain an equivalent extension of meaning in a different way, by exchanging the psychological point of view for the physiological. For every feeling is believed to be preceded or accompanied by a process which may be called [coii^oreal] action : by the movement, that is, of some particles in some organ of the body. But in the case of emotional pleasures the essential part of the physiological phenomenon is so obscure, that it seems better to dii-ect our attention to the psychological. 2 Social Statics, c. 4, § 2. 3 loc. cit. § 5. Chap. VI.] THER FORMS OF THE EGOISTIC METHOD. 165 we set about drawing practical deductions" from this admission, "we find ourselves involved in complicated estimates of plea- sures and pains:" and that in such calculations "trustworthy inferences are only attainable in a minority of cases," For "in the first jjlaco, we frequently cannot say whether the bad results will exceed the good ones : and, in the second place, we frequently cannot say whether the faculties on which suffering will be inflicted are in normal or abnormal states. For ex- ample, though it is very manifest that drunkenness is an injurious exercise of faculties, as being clearly productive of more pain than pleasure, it is by no means manifest how much work is proper for us, and when work becomes detrimental : it is by no means manifest where lies the line between due and undue intellectual activity : it is by no means manifest what amount of advantage will justify a man in submitting to unsuitable climate and mode of life : and yet in each of these cases happiness is at stake, and the wrong course is wrong for the same reason that drunkenness is so." Hence, though we must accept, in the abstract, the principle that a limitation of liberty is necessary to the complete attainment of happiness : still this principle " does not admit of scientific development \" If then we cannot ascertain, by inference from past expe- riences, when our impulses ought to be checked : by what method can we attain or approximate to the happiness which we seek 1 We seem to be in a dilemma. We are continually experiencing the ill effects of misdirected impulses : and yet Mr Spencer will not allow the possibility of gaining from ex- perience such knowledge as will enable us to control and direct them rightly. Or rather, as we have seen, he allows this possi- bility in simple cases, where the gratification of impulse results in an obvious balance of pain over pleasure (as in the instance 1 I have omitted oue element of uucertaiuty in the hedonistic calculation on ■\;\hich Mr Spencer lays stress. He argues that actions productive of a balance of suffering to the individual may still be beneficial to the race : as they may be in the right line of development, and have the effect of bringing mankind somewhat nearer the ideal type by the realization of which their greatest happiness will be secured. I have omitted this, because it is urged from the point of view of Universalistic and not of Egoistic Hedonism : and Mr Spencer seems to regard the arguments given in the text as sufficient to prove his conclusion. 166 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book II. of drunkenness) : but these cases, he thinks, are a minority. In the more frequent cases where the considerations are more complex, he seems to consider that the only course is to exercise our faculties freely in obedience to impulse : " for although it may be impossible in such cases for the intellect to estimate the respective amounts of pleasure and pain consequent upon each alternative, yet will experience enable the constitution itself to do this : and will further cause it instinctively to shun that course which produces on the whole most suffering — or, in other words, most sins against the necessities of existence — and to choose that which least sins against them." In short, Keason is to abdicate in favour of Instinct : the unconscious registration of pleasurable and painful experiences, which " in virtue of the law of adaptation " our organisms are continually performing, is to be preferred as more likely to lead us to happiness than any deliberate collection and comparison of these experiences. Now it is one thing to affirm generally that all organisms tend to adapt themselves to their environment : and quite another thing to maintain that in the human organism one particular kind of adaptation, that which proceeds by uncon- scious modification of instinct, is better than that other kind of adaptation which is brought about by conscious comparison and inference. By what evidence is this proposition to be proved ? For it is clear, in the first place, that it can only be justified by a comparison of the consequences of yielding to impulse with the consequences of controlling them by calcula- tions of resulting pleasure and pain : that is, by the very method of which the coznparative untrustworthiness is sought ' to be proved. We require then, at least, a very wide induction from those clear and simple cases in which Mr Spencer allows the intellect to be capable of deciding between the amounts of happiness consequent respectively on two alternatives of con- duct. If in the great majority of clear instances where impulse conflicts with rational forecast, a subsequent calculation of con- sequences appears to justify impulse, we might admit Mr Spencer's conclusion: for though no method can be logically applied to demonstrate its own absolute untrustworthiness, it may perhaps be fairly used to make its own comparative in- validity probable, Mr Spencer, however, adduces no such array Chap. VI.] THER FORMS OF THE EGOISTIC METHOD. 167 of instances : on the other hand, he concedes to Common Sense that in many cases Impulse alone would clearly lead us wrong, clearly needs to be controlled by prudential calculations. Nor is it relevant to urge that, in other animals, the organism is continually adapted to its environment through the unconscious modification of Instinct by experience. For the extent of the analogy between such animals and man is just the point at issue. It would be maintained on the other side that even in brutes, requiring as they do a far less complex adaptation to circumstances, the results of the unconscious process are imper- fect : that conscious comparison and prudential forecast may be regarded as the natural substitute for and development of this unconscious adaptation in the more highly organized brain of man, related to far more complicated conditions of existence : that these comparisons and forecasts, again, become in their final form and most complete development the calculations of systematic hedonism wdiich we have been examining : and that in proportion as Reason is developed the instincts that remain naturally sink into a subordinate place, and become more and more feeble and fallible guides. Indeed in many cases a man who took the resolution to rely on Instinct would simply sur- render his will to a complicated conflict of wavering and alternating impulses, leading to the most ineffective fitfuluess and fluctuation in external conduct. In short, it is so para- doxical to put forward, as the dernier mot of ethical philosophy, a negation of the natural supremacy of Reason over impulse ; that I am perhaps wrong in understanding Mr Spencer to take up so extreme a position \ But I have examined the paradox carefully, because it only expresses, in an extreme form, a view to which many minds are led in a natural reaction from con- 1 My difSculty iu representing Mr Spencer's argument is clue to the fact noticed in the preceding note : that it is conducted from the point of view of Universalistic Hedonism. What Mr Spencer is concerned to prove is that a scientific deduction of the proper secondary limitations of individual hbcrty (as contrasted with its great primary limitation by the equal freedoms of other individuals) is impossible on the assumption of Universal Happiness as the ultimate end. It is only a portion of his argument that ajiplies equally from the Egoistic point of view : and though he appears to me to regard this portion, taken by itself, as adequate to justify his distrust of Empirical Hedonism, I am not quite sure that ho would deliberately maintain this position. 168 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book II. templating the perplexities and uncertainties of systematic hedonism, which we have discussed in chapters 3 and 4. And further, the paradox is not without some practical utility : since it contains, like so many other paradoxes, the exaggeration of an important truth. It is, perhaps, an error characteristic of the majority of philosophers in all ages to despise or neglect too much the leadings of natural instinct. No doubt the ex- istence of a strong, impulse ought always to be counted as an important element in deciding what course of conduct is likely to promote our happiness. And in estimating its importance we have not only to consider the pleasure to be gained by satisfying it, and the pain of ungratified desire; but also the general adaptation of our impulsive or appetitive nature to the circumstances of our life, and the consequent probability that the impulse is prompting us to an act which will be productive of happiness in other ways than by its own gratification. If our prudential comparison, apart from this latter consideration, gives an uncertain result, this consideration may reasonably turn the scale in favour of impulse. And further, experience, as interpreted by Common Sense, seems to declare that there are certain departments of life, in which instinct is on the whole a safer guide than prudential calculation. The intrusion of Prudence into these regions appears therefore to be suicidal : and we are led by a different road to the conclusion previously stated, that Rational Egoism is naturally and necessarily self- limiting. Still, this will not lead us to substitute any other method for that of Empirical Hedonism : as there seems no satisfactory mode of determining, the limits to which prudential calculation may prudently be carried, except by this very cal- culation itself. § 3. I have left till the last one important reason why the state of our desires at any given time is an imperfect indication of the possibilities of pleasure open to us. It is not uncommon to find that Ave derive an important part of our happiness from activities and passive experiences towards which we originally felt no instinctive prompting. In such cases we often say that the faculty or capacity was there from the first, though latent: it did not express its presence in any conscious need of exer- cise : it required to be developed by actions and experiences Chap. VI.] THER FORMS OF THE EGOISTIC METHOD. 1 G 9 which were originally indifferent or even irksome. Hence we see that " the exercise of all our faculties," which Mr Spencer declares to constitute happiness, may mean something quite different from the gratification of all our desires. And thus we are led to conceive another deductive method for attaining our greatest possible happiness, quite different from that last discussed. Starting with the same principle, that " happiness consists in the due exercise of all our facul- ties," we may infer, not that we ought in the pursuit of happi- ness to give free play to all natural impulses, but that we ought to ascertain the sum total of our faculties and capacities, and the relative importance of each : and endeavour, in arrang- ing our life, to provide for the complet^st possible exercise of all. Here the reader may be reminded of the ambiguity latent in the term Egoism, which was noticed in a previous chapter \ It was there observed that Egoism might mean not only (what it is ordinarily understood to mean) the doctrine of Egoistic Hedonism, but also the doctrine that Self-development or Self-realization ought to be taken as the ultimate end of action. We now see that this latter end may be put forward as theoretically subordinate to the former, while practically sub- stituted for it as a first principle for determining right conduct. Happiness being accepted as the ultimate end, it may be held that we should seek it indirectly, aiming directly at self- development. Before considering whether happiness is likely to be at- tained in this way, let us ask ourselves what the self is which we are to attempt to develope, and how we are to know it. How can we ascertain at any time the sum of our faculties and capacities ? In so far as they correspond to bodily organs they may be partly inferred from these: but this inference can carry us but a very little way: not so far as a slight reflection on a brief portion of experience. We could perhaps infer from an examination of the human body the number of our senses, by observing the peculiar systems of nerves con- nected with the different organs of sense : but we could not predict the corresponding actual sensations without specific experience. And all attempts, even with the utmost aid ^ 1,§7. 170 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book II. from experience, to connect with cerebral characteristics our different emotional susceptibilities or our powers of performing different intellectual processes (or even the more delicate and complex bodily movements) have as yet failed. Indeed, it seems that as regards the latter the notion of acquisition is really more appropriate than that of development : because the per- manent possibilities of action, and even of passive feeling, which seem to constitute my present "self" or mind, in so far as it is something definitely charactered and cognizable as like or unlike other minds, appear to be greatly due to my own pre- vious actions and feelings, and are still capable of being modi- fied by my own efforts and the influence of external circum- stances. "I" am now a being possessed of certain bodily dexterities and powers of intellectual apprehension and pro- duction : but no one doubts that a different training and course of life would have given me equal dexterities of a quite dif- ferent kind, and rendered my intellect competent to deal with quite other matters of thought as easily as it now deals with those with which 1 am most conversant. And similarly, though to a less degree, different experiences would have produced in me different emotional susceptibilities and habits of desire. Hence, in using the notion of '' self-development " we must carefully exclude the apparent implication that we are beings with perfectly definite potentialities which we have only the alternatives of developing or not developing. We are not born such beings, nor does it seem that we ever become such. The "self" of each (meaning by the term his particular character and intellect) is never more than partially determinate : it may always be '' developed " further in a number of different ways, though no doubt these appear to be confined within limits that, as life advances, are drawn continually closer. How then can this notion help us to determine what line of conduct we ought to adopt ? How shall we decide, when alternatives of conduct are presented to us, which is the one most calculated to "devclope self" ? Perhaps it may seem that the course of conduct which pro- duces most effect on the whole must bo that by which the agent is most developed. And probably most results of import- ance in human affairs are produced by sustained effort, in which CnAP. VI.] TITER F0R3IS OF THE EGOISTIC METHOD. 171 the agent's latent energy is fully called out. Still (even if we had a satisfactory criterion for comparing the different magni- tudes of different effects) we cannot strictly infer from greatness in the effect greatness, or fulness of development, in one of its causes : and the human agent is in every case only one cause among many. There are some circumstances under which a slight action in one direction may produce more effect than a great effort in another: as in a quarry, when a mine is laid, one may move more stone by momentarily pulling a trigger than one could by hacking and dragging rocks all day long. And in fact it not seldom happens in life that the line of most effective action is not that which seems to conduce most to self-deve- lopment. Suppose a man of assthetic or speculative bent, upon whom circumstances have thrown important practical responsi- bilities : on the one hand he may know that his practical work, though distasteful to him, is work which he can do, and which would be neglected or left undone if he did not do it : and on the other hand his services to Art or Thought may be of very second-rate importance : but he may still feel that the poetic or philosopliic life would draw out his latent energies far more than the mere mechanical routine of business. What, then, is the true criterion of the greatest possible drawing out or development of latent faculties and capacities ? Shall we say that it is found in "intensity of consciousness" or " fullness of life" ? Certainly the self in each of us seems to be most actual, most realized, at the times when consciousness is fullest and most intense : and we recognise great variations in this intensity : indeed we seem able to trace the heightening of life or consciousness, through different degi'ees, from a point not much above zero up to the state when powerful emotional excitement is sustaining the most energetic action of which our system is capable. Thus interpreted, then, the principle of self-development directs us to place ourselves under such con- ditions as will render our feelings most intense and our actions most energetic. Now, of course, if consciousness be pleasurable in quality, the more intense it is, the greater will be the pleasure : but the mere intensity does not make it pleasurable. We experience intense pains as well as intense pleasures, and in those "full 172 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book II. tides of soul," in which we seem to live most and be most deve- loped, painful consciousness may be mixed in almost any pro- portion. And we may observe that pain (including that distress of mind which results from the prescience of worse pains to come) stimulates to energetic action no less than pleasure actual or prospective : and though the action to which it prompts ope- rates somewhat as an anodyne, this does not prevent the total consciousness from being intensely painful. And even if we exclude distinctly painful consciousness from the notion of self-development (which is surely arbitrary), we still cannot say that consciousness tends to be pleasurable in proportion to its intensity. For we often experience excite- ment nearly or quite neutral in quality (i.e. not distinctly plea- surable or painful), which reaches a great pitch of intensity, as in the case of strong desire or vigorous action for an end of which the attainment remains quite uncertain. Indeed a large portion of reflective mankind have placed their ideal of happi- ness at the opposite pole to this excited or agitated conscious- ness : in " apathy," '' unperturbedness," " Divine Tranquillity Without one pleasure and witbout one pain;" which sometimes, as in the Buddhist Nirwana, becomes scarcely distinguishable from absolute insensibility. In order, therefore, to exhibit Self-development as clearly a means to the end of happiness, we must alter our definition of it, and say that self is most developed when our consciousness in so far as pleasur- able is most intense. But in this way the notion of Pleasure or Happiness is made the criterion of Development, instead of the latter guiding us to the former : and we are brought round again to the old method of Empirical Hedonism, for which Ave have been trying to find a substitute. But again, it may be said tliat true self-development con- sists not merely in a life where consciousness is intense : we must add the condition that all our different faculties or capa- cities are harmoniously developed : that we cultivate all sides of our nature. For a man may live a very intense life if he be passionately devoted to field-sports or beetles, or the service of his country or of his religion : but — it may be said — he would be happier if he exercised other faculties and capacities, if he Chap. VI.] THER FORMS OF THE EGOISTIC METHOD. 173 added intellectual to physical activity, artistic to scicutific inter- ests, domestic ati'ections to patriotism, &c. &c. And experience certainly seems to support the view that men lose happiness by allowing some of their faculties or capacities to be withered and dwarfed for want of exercise, and thus not leaving themselves sufficient variety of feelings or activities. And the analogy of bodily health supports this view : for it seems that health is difficult to maintain unless we duly exercise each of the different organs of the body. Still, it would appear that the harmony of functions necessary to health is a very elastic one, and admits of a very wide margin of variation, as far as the organs under voluntary control are concerned. A man (e. g.) who exercises his brain alone will probably be ill in consequence: but he may exercise his brain much and his legs little, or vice versa, without any morbid results : and he may even repeat monotonously one short series of movements for the greater part of his waking life (as some workers in factories do) without any apparent injury to health. And, in the same way, we cannot lay down the proposition, that a varied and many-sided life is the hap- piest, with so much breadth and precision as would justify us in accepting it as a practical first principle. For it is also true, on. the other side, that the more we come to exercise any faculty with sustained and prolonged concentration, the more fully we live in such exercise : up to the point at which it becomes wearisome, or turns into a semi-mechanical routine which rend- ers consciousness dull and languid. It is, no doubt, important for our happiness that we should keep within this limit : but we cannot fix it precisely in any particular case without specific experience : especially as there seems always to be a certain amount of weariness and tedium which must be resisted and overcome, if we would bring our faculties into full swing and obtain the full enjoyment of our labour. And similarly in re- spect of passive, emotional consciousness ; if too much sameness of feeling results in languor, too much variety inevitably in- volves shallowness : and here again the right mean between the two is hard to find, because we are liable to ebbs and pauses of feeling, intervals of unsuscej)tibility which do not really indicate that we are overstraining our capacity for the emotion in ques- tion. The point where concentration ought to stop, and where 174 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book II. dissipation begins, varies from man to man, and cannot be decided by any general formula. We seem, then, forced to conclude that there is no scientific short cut to the ascertainment of the right means to the indi- vidual's greatest happiness : every attempt to find a " high priori road" to this goal brings us back ultimately to simple empiricism. For instead of a clear principle universally valid, we only get at best a vague and general rule, based on considerations which it is important not to overlook, but the relative value of which we can only estimate by careful observation and comparison of individual experiences. Whatever uncertainty besets these pro- cesses must necessarily extend to all our reasonings about hap- piness. I have no wish to exaggerate these uncertainties, feeling that we must all continue to seek happiness for ourselves and for others, in whatever obscurity we may have to grope after it : but there is nothing gained by underrating them, and it is idle to argue as if they did not exist. BOOK III. INTUITIONISM. BOOK HI. CHAPTEPv I. INTUITIONISM. § 1. In the effort to examine, closely but quite neutrally, the system of Egoistic Hedonism, with which we have been engaged in the last book, one effect that will probably have been produced on the reader's mind is a strong aversion to the principle and method examined. Certainly such an aversion is very commonly announced as the result of contemplating Egoism : and that, though we find it impossible not to admit the "authority" of self-love, or the "rationality" of the impulse to seek one's own individual happiness. Nay, more, it seems difficult to deny the natural supremacy of self-love, even over moral sentiments and virtuous impulses, which Butler, as we saw, fully admits \ The moralist, therefore, has to treat self-love, not merely as an universal impulse difficult to resist, but as sup- plying a i^rimd facie tenable principle for the sj'stematization of conduct. And hence it is of great importance to ascertain exactly the results to which this principle logically leads : and especially to know how far it can be reconciled with conscience, or common moral judgments and sentiments, and serve as a foundation of duty. In order to pursue this inquiry in a purely scientific temper, I have thought it well to give no expression to the feeling that the pursuit of one's individual happiness is mean and ignoble. But when we seem to find on careful examination that Egoism cannot fairly be represented as soci- ally constructive, and that the common precepts of duty, Avhich we are trained to regard as sacred, must be to the egoist rules 1 Cf. anto, Book i. c. 1, § 1. S. E. 12 178 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. to which it is only generally speaking and for the most part reasonable to conform, but Avhich under special circumstances must be decisively ignored and broken : the sense of the igno- bility of Egoism adds force to that recoil from it which this per- ception of the conflict with duty naturally causes. We cannot believe that these are the results which j^ractical Reason really prescribes : and so we are prepared to embrace some other method for determining right conduct. But further, we are accustomed to expect from Morality something like clearness and precision of precepts or counsels : and such rules as can be laid down for seeking the individual's greatest happiness cannot but appear wanting in these qualities. A dubious guid- ance to a despicable end seems to be all that the Hedonistic calculus has to offer. And it is by appealing to the superior clearness and certainty, with which the dictates of Conscience or the Moral Faculty are issued, that Butler maintains the practical supremacy of Conscience over Self-love, in spite of his admission (in the passage before quoted) of theoretical priority in the claims of the latter. We can see clearly, he says, what we ought to do: but we cannot see clearly what will lead to our happiness. This, then, is the fundamental assumption of the method with which the present book will be concerned : that we have the power of seeing clearly to some extent what actions are right and reasonable in themselves, apart from their conse- quences (except, as has been said, such consequences as are included in the notions of the acts). This power it is con- venient to call (as it is commonly called) the faculty of Moral Intuition. Let us proceed to examine the manner and results of its operation. § 2. At the outset we are met by a difference of opinion respecting the object to which the moral intuition is primarily directed : on account of which some would take exception to the fundamental assumption as above stated : holding that our moral judgments do not relate immediately to actions, but ra- ther to dispositions or motives. But as regards the former of these notions, we find when we try to make it clear to ourselves that it represents an obscure and not directly cognizable entity. We can only explain to ourselves a "disposition" as "something Chap. I.] INTUITIONISM. 179 permanent in tlie mind, tending to produce actions (or feelings) of a particular kind :" its riglitness therefore can only be infer- red from the rightness of the resulting actions (or feelings), and it is this latter that we have primarily to determine. And again, our dispositions do not seem to be directly under the control of the will, though no doubt they may be modified by voluntary effort : it is therefore rather this modifying effort than the dis- position itself which we must conceive to be prescribed as a duty. The case of motives is different : these are known to us directly by introspection : and as the same action may be done from most diverse motives, it makes a clear and important dif- ference whether we regard rightness as belonging to the action or to the motive. Let us first get the question quite clear. By " action " we mean not the actual effects of the agent's volition (for these may be other than he designed, and then they cannot be included in the notion of voluntary action), but the effects as he foresaw them in the act of willing, the intended effects, or briefly the intention. By " motive " we mean the conscious impulse to action, whether desire or aversion, which can be introspectively ascertained. It may be said that motives are not directly within the control of the will, any more than dispo- sitions : but though we cannot help having a desire, we can refuse to yield to it : and so if the motive contemplated in any case is the prevailing desire or aversion, we may properly judge it to be right or wrong \ Otherwise it will no doubt be more exact to speak of motives as better or worse, higher or lower. Is, then, Motive or Intended Action the proper subject of moral intuition ? Both, it would seem, if we follow common sense : but the judgment on actions is, in the view of most men, primary and paramount. Common sense holds that we must not do a bad action from a good motive : to say that the end justifies the means is thought a pernicious paradox. The ordinary rules of morality relate chiefly to actions ; though in some cases a particular state of feeling is included in the com- mon notion of the action prescribed, and may even be the most important element. But, generally speaking, it seems more ^ A certain difficulty arises from the complexity of motives in actual ex- perience, which will be noticed later. Cf. c. 12 cf this book. 10 o J. a. ^ 180 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. natural to most men to judge of an action in its external aspect. We cannot cognize the motives of other men directly as we can their actions (which we always begin by presuming intended) : nor do we take notice of our own except iu the introspective attitude of mind, w4iich is habitual only in a small minority. It is true that the common use of the term "conscience" to denote the moral faculty generally, suggests an opposite view to that just stated. " Conscience " implies properly the passing of moral judgments on ourselves, a process which tends to throw ns into the introspective attitude and to bring motives into view\ And some have thought that the judgments which we pass on the conduct of others are primarily judgments of con- science, and passed on ourselves hypothetically, by our consci- ously imagining ourselves in the position of the other persons. But this seems to be a mistake similar to that committed by Hobbes in describing Pity as involving " a fiction of the like calamity befalling ourselves." No doubt, in so far as we sympa- thize with others, we represent their feelings in imagination as if they were our own : as in reading any description we may be loosely said to imagine ourselves seeing the things described : but we do not really think of ourselves in the one case any more than in the other. And just as in the mental develop- ment of the individual and the race, the faculties of external perception are exercised earlier than introspection, so it would seem that moral judgments were originally passed on external actions, and that motives did not come to be considered till later. § 3. There is, however, one motive, of such special import- ance in Ethics, that it may be well to consider it separately : the impulse, namely, to do what is right, simply because it is right. In the Stoic system, and in the teaching of later schools whicli have much affinity with Stoicism, it has been held that action could not be strictly speaking right, unless done from this motive ^ On this view, however virtuous action may 1 Indeed tlie term Conscience in its original use blends the two notions of 'iulroRpective cognition' and 'ethical judgment.' - In Stoic phraseology an action not done from this motive, ho-n-evcr completely it possessed all external characteristics of rightness, was called merely KaOTJKov (officium) instead of KardpOco/xa (recti; factum). CuAP. L] INTUITIONISM. 181 braucli out iuto different departments, tlic virtuous impulse is radically one and the same in all actions. As, however, all schools teach that a person may mistake his duty, and do what is wrong, sincerely believing it to be right, it results that an action may be right in one sense and wrong in another. To express this, the terms "formal" and "material" have been used. An action done from the pure desire to fulfil duty is said to be " formally " right : if it really is a duty, it is also materiail}^ right. However, as " material " rightness is what we commonly mean by rightness, and what we desire to have deter- mined for us when we ask what our duty is (a question which generally supposes a desire to do duty, if we only knew what it was) ; it wovild seem that this view of the paramount import- ance of the dutiful impulse does not point to any special princi- ples or method of Ethics: we have still to arrive at these by some other road. But we must observe further, that even the Formal right- ness of an action, as just explained, includes two quite distinct elements, a desire and a belief \ The latter must always accom- pany the desire, but is capable of existing without it. I cannot perform an action from pure love of duty without believing it to be right : but I can believe it to be right and yet do it from some other motive. The former condition is therefore stricter than the latter': and, as was said, it is only by a certain class of moralists that it is regarded as essential to right action. Many would hold that an action may be perfectl}^ light, though done from a less exalted motive than the pure love of duty. In fact, some moralists have taken pains, in direct antagonism to the Stoical schools above mentioned, to distinguish the absolute end, to which (as they hold) every right action must be a means, ^ The words Form and Formal, as J. S. Mill lias remarked, are used in several more or less analogous significations, whicli it is somewhat difficult to comprehend under one definition. In the present ease we may understand them as denoting at once a universal and essential, and a subjective or internal condition of the rightness of actions. In Kants' ethical writings, where these terms are especially prominent, the two conditions distinguished in the text appear to be confounded under the one notion of 'Form of Duty.' This I regard as one of Kant's fundamental errors. The other (and more important) error lies in his attempt to deduce a complete code of duty from a purely formal principle. 182 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. from the immediate ends at which 23ersoiis who would act rightly ought consciously to aim. And if the ultimate end would be less attained if always consciously sought, its pursuit is, we may say, necessarily self- limitative : the principle that we ought to aim at it involves (however paradoxically) the sub- ordinate principle that we ought not to aim at it consciously. We have seen strong grounds for admitting this paradox in the development of Egoistic Hedonism : and it has been emiDhatic- ally adopted by Austin and other utilitarians of Bentham's school. But more generally, a moralist of any school may maintain against Stoicism, that it is right to do what is (ex- ternall}^) right from other, more particular and less exalted, motives than the mere desire of acting rightly. This question will come before us again when we examine more closely the Intuitional Method in its application to motives \ Meanwhile it will be commonly admitted that no act can be absolutely right, whatever its external aspect and relations, which the agent does not believe to be so. Thus upon any theory of Ethics we require to distinguish real from helieved, or, as is now commonly said, "objective" from "subjective" rightness. In- deed this distinction sometimes involves us in a practical per- plexity, not as regards our own conduct (for we obviously cannot distinguish what we believe to be right from what really is so), but in arguing with others. For if another is about to do what he thinks right while we believe it to be wrong, and we are able to bring other motives to bear on him that may overbalance his sense of duty, the question arises whether we ought thus to tempt him to realize objective rightness against his convictions. Perhaps when this question is fairly contemplated the moral sense of mankind would pronounce decidedly against such temptation; thus regarding the Subjective rightness of an action as more important than the Objective, when the two are presented as alternatives. But, however this may be, it seems at least clear that no action is perfectly right which is not so in both these aspects. It should be observed that in the mere fact that this dis- tinction is drawn it is implied that llight and Wrong are really objective : that is, Ihc same, whether recognised or not, for all 1 Cf. post, c. 12. Chap. I.] INTUITIONISM. 183 Minds or Subjects. This was before noticed' as a fundamental assumption both of ethical science and of ordinary moral reasoning. And indeed it would be scarcely necessary to draw attention to it, were it not that there are many judgments objective in form, of which yet, when we reflect, we commonly allow the objectivity to be merely apparent. If I say " This smell is sweet," and another " It is not sweet," the two judg- ments apparently conflict, yet neither of us would seriously accuse the other of error. But in ethical judgments w^e com- monly maintain the objectivity to be real, and therefore that there is a science of Ethics, at least possible, and indeed de- manded, as we all wash to avoid error. If then I assert any action to be right, I imply that it would be right for any other person in my circumstances : or (for obviously that the circum- stances are wy circumstances cannot make it right) for all persons in precisely similar circumstances. Observ^e, I do not imply that it would be right for persons in different circum- stances : all moralists teach that the rightness at any rate of most actions is altered by a material alteration of circumstances, and as I cannot determine without further inquiry what cir- cumstances are material, I can as yet assert nothing about cir- cumstances that are at all different. I can only assert that if the action is not right for a person in different circum- stances, the difference of circumstances must contain the ground and reason of the difference in the moral character of the action^ But, even as thus limited, the condition may supply us with a valuable practical rule. For all reflective persons have ob- served that our moral judgments are apt to be warped and perverted by strong desire, which continually impels us to pro- nounce its object objectively desirable (as a lover asserts his mistress to be objectively the most charming of women): so that we too easily think that we ought to do what we very much wish to do. If then we ask ourselves whether Ave think that any other person in precisely the same circumstances ought to ^ Cf. B. I. c. 1, § 3. ^ It should bo observed that difference of circumstances must be taken to include difference of nature and character — in short all differences beyond the mere individuality of different individuals. 184 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. do the action, the question will often disperse the false ap» pearance of objective Tightness which our intense individual impulse has given to the action. We see that we should not like other persons to do it, and therefore that it cannot be right for us. Indeed this subjective test of the rightness of our volitions is so generally effective, that Kant seems to have regarded it as supplying a complete criterion of Duty. But this is an error analogous to that of supposing that Formal Logic supplies a complete criterion of truth. A volition which stands this test may after all be w^rong, though a volition which does not stand it cannot be right. It is no doubt a most important precept that one should always "act on a maxim that one can will to be law universal." But every conscientious person, as such, implicitly conforms to this jDrecept : and since conscientious persons are continually disagreeing as to what ought to be done, we cannot say that every such person acts rightly without contradicting the very assumption upon which the precept is founded : viz. that what is (objectively) right for any one, is right for all persons under similar circumstances. It is clear then that no subjective criterion of duty, however important it may be, can help us to construct a system of objective rules of conduct. But this, as was said, is the primary object of the present inquir}^ : since a certain desire to do whatever we may conclude to be our duty is to be presumed from the mere fact of our undertaking an ethical investigation at all. § 4. It seems then that for the construction of our moral system we shall have to rely upon direct intuitions of the qualities of acts, considered for the most part in their external relations. But here arises the question. Have w^e any such intuitions ? For we ought not perhaps to take for granted the actuality of the Intuitional method, as we did that of Hedonism in the preceding book. There is uo doubt that men sometimes seek pleasure, and comparing different pleasures choose that which seems to be the greatest : but it has been doubted whether we ever by contemplating actions discern them to be right, and regard this perception as a paramount reason for doing them. Or, porlinpSj no one woidd explicitly deny the propositiori as Chap. I.] INTUITIONIS^^. 185 just stated: but it is maintained tliat this " perception of Tight- ness " is really a perception of conduciveness to pleasure. Here, if the agent's own pleasure be meant, the assertion is in manifest conflict with experience : for most of us never have what we call the perception of rightness more strongly than in cases where it is divorced from any expectation of conse- quent i^leasure to ourselves. It is no doubt true, as a general rule, that what is perceived to be right is conducive to some happiness or other, though possibly not to the agent's. Never- theless, introspection and observation of the mental processes of others, as far as we can infer them from external signs, seem to shew that the perception of rightness is, as a mental phenomenon, quite distinct from the prevision of consequent pleasure to somebody, however much the two may coincide : and this is confirmed by the numerous cases in which the coincidence is hard to demonstrate \ And probably the statement, that at any rate the majority of men, in the present stage of human development, have an intuitive and immediate apprehension of the rightness and wrougness of actions, would never have been denied as a psycho- logical proposition; if it had not usually been presented in com- bination with two other much more disputable propositions, which again require to be distinguished from one another, though they are intimately connected. The existence of moral intuitions has been confounded wdth their validity : and the inquiry into their nature as present facts has been mixed up with an inquiry into their origin. All three. Existence, Validity, and Origin, should be discussed quite independently. The mere fact that we continually pass moral judgments does not prove that we ought to accept them as unquestionably valid. It is no doubt an essential character- istic of such judgments that they present themselves as com- mands and claim paramount authority : but as we are continually convinced of error in respect of other mental processes, so these also may be erroneous : we may find it necessary to revise and correct the spontaneous utterances of conscience, or at any rate to yield them only a qualified obedience. Nor, again, can I 1 An interesting exposition of some of these cases is to be found iu Lecky's Ilistori/ of Month, Introduction, pp. '11 — 54. 186 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. admit that the question of existence can be in any way affected by inquiries into origin. This view, however, has received such wide acceptance, that the term " intuitive " has actually been confounded in use with " innate," even by respectable thinkers. It seems to be frequently assumed, that if it can be shewn how certain mental phenomena, thoughts or feelings, have grown up, if we can point to the antecedent phenomena, of which they are the natural consequents — then suddenly the phenomena which we began by investigating, have vanished : they are no longer there, but something else which we have mistaken for them: the " elements " of which they are said to be "composed." The illegitimacy of this inference will, I think, be allowed as soon as it is clearly contemplated. It has been encouraged partly by an infelicitous transference of the language and con- ceptions of Chemistry to Psychology. In chemistry we regard the antecedents (elements) as still existing in and constituting the consequent (compound) because the latter corresponds to the former in some of its properties (weight, &c.) and because we can generally cause the compound to disappear and obtain the elements in its place. But there is nothing similar to this in the formation of new mental phenomena by what Mill calls " mental chemistry," and therefore this term seems inappro- priate. The new mental fact is in no respect correspondent to its antecedents nor can it be resolved into them : nor does the fact that these antecedents have pre-existed render the conse- (|uent illusoiy and unreal. This confusion of Existence and Origin is, however, partly due to the supposed connexion of Origin and Validity. The proof that our moral apprehensions are not innate has been taken as evidence that they are something different from what they seem, because it has been held to invalidate that claim to be obeyed which is their essential characteristic. And no doubt this claim has been rested on their supposed innateness : the connexion of Origin and Validity has been assumed in the teaching of the Intuitional schools, as well as in the attacks of their antagonists. But it is so far from being self-evident that it may easily be represented as paradoxical. Why should our earliest beliefs and perceptions be more trust- worthy tlian our latest, supposing the two to differ ? The Chap. I.] INTUITIONISM. 187 truths of the higher matliematics are among our most secure intellectual possessions, yet the power of apprehending these is rarely developed until the mind has reached maturity. Or to take an example of a most opposite kind : our apprehensions of beauty vary so much from individual to individual (and still more from age to age and country to country), that it is a matter of common dispute whether there be any objective beauty, or standard apprehension of the beautiful : but no one ever thought of appealing from the adult's taste to the infant's, and seeking the standard in the cradle. It is hard to see why a different view should be taken in the case of moral intui- tions : especially when so many Christian theologians have emphatically proclaimed that the impulses with which we are born are in an altogether unsatisfactory state : and that we cannot even desire to do rightly until "nature" has been modified by "grace." It seems, in fine, that not only are the questions as to the (1) Existence, (2) Origin, (8) Validity of Moral Intuitions distinct, but the answers are to be sought by different methods. The first is a question of present psychological fact, and is to be settled by introspection or immediate observation of our own minds, and observation of the minds of others through the medium of language and other signs. The second is a question of historical psychology with which we are not here concerned ; and its answer can only be made approximately certain, by reasoning, to a great extent hypothetically, from the present to the past. The third is not a psychological question at all, but belongs to the Logic or Metapliysic of Ethics : and it seems more convenient to defer the discussion of it until we have carefully examined the ethical beliefs that lay claim to intuitive cer- tainty \ Meanwhile we may perhaps take for granted the psychological fact that we actually do judge intuitively of the rightness and wrongness of actions, whatever may be the historical explanation of such judgments and however much or little we ought to trust them. There is, however, a possible view of these moral rules which admits their validity, and yet after all brings us back to Hedonism l)y another road. It mav be maintained that bv a 1 Cf. I'ost, c. 11. 188 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. moral rule, wlien we reflect on our notion of it, we find we really mean a law of God, and that we are really moved to obey the rule from fear or hope of what God may do to us in the future. And no doubt in a Christian society, where there is a well-established belief that God will reward virtue and punish vice, it is difncult to prove that right actions are not done from hope of reward or fear of punishment. Still, there seems good ground for concluding that this is not always or perhaps even generally the case. For we land these moral beliefs strong and clear in persons in Avhom religious convictions are dim and feeble, or even non-existent : and again, even the most religious persons commonly hold that right actions ought to be done because they are right \ and not from desire of reward : and introspection seems to shew that they are frequently so done, and that the more clearly because there is a peculiar pleasurable emotion, sometimes called "the natural reward of virtue," which attends such acts when done from pure regard for duty, but not otherwise. But however this question may be decided, it does not really affect our present position. For the true rules of voluntary action may be just as muchi knoAvn by intuition, even if our motive for obeying them be purely egoistic : and, we may add, even if this be thought our only reasonable ground for obeying them. This in fact was precisely Locke's view. He held, on the one hand, that "good and evil are nothing but pleasure and pain, or that which occasions or procures pleasure or pain to us ^ : " so that " it would be utterly in vain to suppose a rule set to the free actions of man, without annexing to it some reward or punishment to determine his will : " while on the other hand he " doubted not, but from self-evident propositions, by necessary consequences, as incontestable as those in mathe- matics, the measures of right and wrong miglit be made out V' so that " morality might be placed among the sciences capable of demonstration." In tliis way wc get one of those composite ^ It may bo said that they onslit rather to bo douc from the love of God. But thiH would only throw the distiuclively moral motive oue stci? back : as the best theologians hold that God ought to be loved as a moral beiug, and not becavise he is able to punish and reward us. 2 Locke's A'x.wy, ii. c. 28, ^j^ 5, (">. ^ lb. iv. c. 3, § 18. Chap. I.] INTUITIONISM. 189 systems noticed before^: in wLicli the Intuitional method is united to the first principle of Egoistic Hedonism, by means of the theological conclusion, intuition, or postulate, " that God rewards virtue." Some such system seems to be widely ac- cepted, though its heterogeneous elements have not often been presented with as much clearness and sharpness of definition as in Locke's essay : but we need not dwell further on its distinc- tive peculiarities, since its method coincides with that of Intui- tionism proper, and it is with method chiefly that our present inquiry is concerned. § 5. The first question that arises when we try to get a clear idea of this method, is one that we have already^ dis- cussed : viz. whether the intuitive judgments which form the premises of moral reasoning are universal or individual. In a sense, as we saw, all moral judgments are universal in their import : that is, they affirm implicitly that something ought to be done not only by the individual whose action is judged, but by any one in similar circumstances. But admitting this potential universality, we may still ask whether the intuition on which we ultimately rely is a judgment that " such a class of actions is right (or wrong)," or that " this particular action ought or ouoht not to be done." In the latter case all our general propositions in Ethics must rest on induction from such particular judgments, and our scientific method will be strictly inductive : and at the same time strictly superfluous, as far as practice is concerned. For it is plain that if we rely thoroughly on the correctness and validity of each particular judgment, the comparison and classification of such judgments can have for us only a speculative interest. This is not, however, the view of the Moral Faculty which has been usually takea by Moralists of the Intuitive School : nor does it seem to be, on the whole, maintained by the com- mon opinion of reflective persons, although it is perhaps the one suggested by most of the popular talk about conscience. Reflective conscientious persons are not in the habit of trusting an unreasoned judgment respecting each case that comes before them : they are rather inclined to bring it under some general rule, which they believe to be supported ujDon the common con- 1 B. I. c. G, § 3. =" B. I. c. 8, § 2. 190 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. sent of mankind, as well as intuitively discerned by tlieir own moral faculty. In this way they hope to decide the differ- ences that notoriously arise among men in judging of particular actions : just as we decide disputed legal claims by a reference to the law that both disputants equally recognise '. And no doubt we find such universal moral intuitions in most or all minds: in fact, they seem to be involved in our judgments on particular cases. The moral faculty is wont to pronounce directly on the rightness or wrongness of classes of actions, represented by general notions : and we find current among mankind general moral maxims, as to the validity of which there is at least apparent agreement in the same age and country. A complete collection of such maxims, regarded as a set of rules imposed on an individual by the public opinion of the community to which he belongs, we have called the Posi- tive Morality of the community : but when regarded as a body of moral truth, warranted to be such by the consensus of man- kind, or of well-educated and morally enlightened persons, it is more significantly termed the Morality of Common Sense. When, however, we come to reflect on these currently ac- cepted principles, we find that the notions composing them are generally deficient in clearness. Indeed, the mere fact that mankind appear so much more agreed as to the general rules of morality than as to the rightness or wrongness of particular actions, is in itself suggestive of a want of definiteness in these general rules. In the parallel case of Law, to which reference was just now made, the reason why conscientious and candid persons differ as to the legality of an action is, generally, that the law is complicated and obscure, and requires erudition and intellectual effort in order to be completely known : but this is obviously not the case with moral rules as commonly conceived. If, therefore, their application is difficult and leads to contro- versies, it can only be on account of their indefiniteness. Some- times, indeed, in forensic disputes the law of which the applica- tion is sought is really indefinite : in which case the judge who decides the dispute has to modify the law by defining it further, ^ For, as was before explainecl, we cannot adopt the view that when two persons differ both may be right : that is, objectively right, as of course each person is subjectively right when he acts in accordance with his conviction. Chap. I.] INTUITIONTSM. 191 and thus we get what is called judge-made law. And if legal formula), with all their tedious fulness and laboured precision of phraseology, are found not sufficiently definite in their appli- cation to the complex circumstances of human life, it would be perhaps strange if the simple moral maxims formulated by the common opinion of mankind were found to be at once capable of universally clear application. We may illustrate this by taking a few examples from the Morality of Common Sense, in the state in which it first presents itself to the reflective intellect : by taking, that is, some of the chief Virtues commonly recognised, and considering how far they admit of immediate unhesitating application to particular cases of conduct. For instance, we might select the ancient cardinal virtues of Justice and Temperance, and add the more modern virtues of Universal Benevolence and Veracity. It is certain that all men would accept the general maxims that we ought to be benevolent, just, truthful, temperate: but when we ask (1) whether we may rightly indulge in luxuries when our fellow-men are in want, (2) whether primogeniture is just, or the disendowment of corporations, or the determination of the value of services by competition, (3) whether and how far false statements may be allowed in speeches of advocates, or in religious cere- monials, or to enemies or robbers, or in defence of lawful secrets, (4) whether we may eat and drink more than health requires for the sake of convivial enjoyment — on these ques- tions we do not find that even conscientious persons can give clear and unhesitating decisions. And yet such questions as these are, after all, those to which we naturally expect answers from the moralist. For we study Ethics, as Aristotle says, for the sake of Practice : and in practice we are concerned with particulars. Hence it seems that if the rules of Intuitive Morality are really to have the clearness and certainty which is commonly claimed for them : if they are to be compared, as Intuitive Mo- ralists have often compared them, to the axioms of Geometrj'-, as having equal self-evidence, and available in equally cogent demonstrations : they must first be raised, by an effort of reflec- tion which ordinary persons will not make, to a higher degree 192 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. of exactness and precision than attaches to them in the common thought and discourse of mankind in general. We have, in fact, to take up the attempt that Socrates initiated, and endeavour to define satisfactorily the general notions of Virtue which we all in common use for awarding approbation or disapprobation to conduct. This is the task upon which we shall be engaged in the nine chapters that follow. I must beg the reader to bear in mind that throughout these chapters I am not trying to prove or disprove Intuitionism, but merely to throw it into a scientific form : I am trying, that is, by mere reflection on the Common Sense which I and my reader share, and to which appeal is so often made in moral disputes, to obtain as explicit, exact, and coherent a statement as possible of its fundamental principles. CHAPTER 11. VIRTUE AND DUTY. § 1. Before, however, we attempt to define the principles of the different virtues, it may be well to examine further the notion of Virtue in general, in order to make clear its relations to the notions of ''right" and "duty" which we have so far chiefly employed. And first, the word seems to be used in two different connexions, as it sometimes denotes a quality of con- duct, and sometimes a quality or element of character. The latter usage seems on the whole the most common : but, in fact, as the two are strictly correspondent, it will make no dif- ference which we take : provided only we bear in mind that virtues, like other elements of the permanent self or character, are not cognizable directly, but only inferred from the transitory phenomena, actions or feelings, which are regarded as their effects. Shall we then define Virtue as the disposition to do Eight actions or Duties ? But perhaps these two latter notions, on closer examination, will be found not to coincide altogether. There is certainly some right conduct, and that very neces- sary and important, to which we do not generally apply even the notion of duty. For example, it is right that we should eat and drink enough : but we do not commonly speak of this as a duty. It would appear that those actions to which we are sufficiently impelled by natural desire are not called duties, because no moral impulse is needed for doing them. We may illustrate this by considering other actions which seem to be included in, or excluded from, the sphere of duty, according as our natural impulse is or is not thought to be strong enough to s. E. 13 194 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. impel us to perform them to the desirable extent : as marrying and producing children. In the last century, when our country was thought to require more population, it was often seriously said to be a man's duty to society to take a wife : but now that the opposite view prevails, and the 'surplus population' pre- sents itself as a difficulty to be met, no one would call this action a duty, except in jest or as a relic of an old manner of speech. Similarly we say of the exceptional persons who, being well off, eat and drink too little, that it is their duty to live more generously : and of those too intent on work that it is their duty to take a holiday. So again there are wanton injuries and gross breaches of decorum from which we do not commonly say that it is a man's duty to abstain, because we expect that he will abstain naturally. It will therefore be best to define Duties as * those Right actions or abstinences, for the adequate accom- plishment of which a moral impulse is at least occasionally necessary.' Inquiring now whether Duty and Virtue coincide, we see in the first place that there is some indefiniteness in the common conception of each. Some would no doubt define Virtue as a disposition to do duties ; but in its common use each term seems to include something excluded from the other. Virtue is a species of excellence : and we do not regard be- haviour as excellent when it is such as the majority of mankind would exhibit, and such as a man would be severely blamed for not exhibiting. Between the actions for which a person is praised and those for which he is blamed there seems to be an intermediate region, where the notion of duty applies, but not that of virtue. We should scarcely say it was virtuous to pay one's debts, or give one's children a decent education, or keep one's aged parents from starving : because these are duties which most men perform, and only bad men neglect. Again, there are excellent actions which we do not regard as incumbent on men, and so do not commonly call duties, though we praise men for doing them : as for a rich man to live very plainly and devote his income to works of public beneficence. At the same time it would, I think, carry us too far from common sense to use the two terms as mutually exclusive. For we call men virtuous for doing what is strictly their duty. It seems, therefore, best to employ the notions in such a way that the Chap. II.] VIRTUE AND DUTY. 195 realization of virtue in conduct may include the performance of duty as well as what goes beyond it. § 2. Virtue, then, would seem to be a disposition to do, or habit of doing, such voluntary actions as are deserving of praise or approbation. But here there may seem to be almost a contradiction in our terms : for if we do the action merely from habit, or as the result of disposition, it would seem that we cannot help doing it, and therefore that the action is not strictly voluntary, as no interposition of Free Will is required. To avoid this difficulty Kant distinguishes a habit or settled bent of will from a habit of action ; and calls the latter mechanical, but considers the former consistent with Freedom of Will. It seems, however, to be implied in the notion of Freedom, that the free act proceeds from the unconditioned Self or Ego, as distinguished from the definite formed character of which a habit is an element. In so far as we conceive an action to be a result and expression of our character, it appears to be connected by rigid links of causation with our past, and we cannot apply to it the idea of present freedom. And no doubt the definition naturally suggests the antinony or unsolved contradiction which we find in all our conceptions of human action, and for which no solution is offered in the present treatise \ An action to be virtuous must be voluntary : if it is not, there seems to be no merit in it : and yet virtue is an element of character, and in so far as a man's character takes effect in his actions, we can predict those actions beforehand, and they appear to be neces- sary. Still, w^e may avoid this difficulty, as was before proposed, by defining all conscious performance or non-performance of acts to be voluntary if the operation of a sufficiently strong motive would have prevented it. It will, perhaps, be said that there are some virtues which are not even in this sense voluntary : and that it is another distinctiositive law of our society, at least in so far as it has been esta- blished by the authority customarily recognised as lawful. But then, in a country where despotic government was established and traditional, the principle of abstract Freedom would lead to the justification of the most unqualified concrete tyranny: nor ^ For example, it was lieltl not long ago in England that the mental annoyance caused to Christians, by persons publishing their contempt for the objects of Christian worship, deserved legal punishment ; but this opinion does not seem to prevail at present. Chap, v.] JUSTICE. 251 need we stop here, for even slavery might be justified in the same way : and thus cm- theory Avould end by riveting men's chains under pretence of exalting their freedom. To avoid this conclusion, it is necessary to suppose this tacit social compact to be made with still more tacit reservations : which destroys the simplicity, and therefore the plausibility, of this whole theory of political obligation. But if it be difficult to define Freedom as an ideal to be realized in the merely personal relations of human beings, the difficulty is increased when we consider the relation of men to the material means of life and happiness. For it is commonly thought that the right to Freedom in- cludes the right of appropriating material things. And it is per- haps clear that the principle of non-interference secures to the present occupier the right of using such things as can only be used by one person at once. But it does not therefore follow that it gives him the right to prevent others from using at any future time anything that he has once seized : or, generally, to appropriate what he is not using, or what others may use without actually interfering with his use. Nor can it be said that a man, in appropriating a particular thing, does not inter- fere w^ith the freedom of others, because the rest of the world is still open to them. For others may want just this object : and they may not be able to find anything so good at all, or at least without much labour and search : for many of the instru- ments and materials of comfortable living are limited In quan- tity. And in respect of property in land, there is a further dif- ficulty in defining occupation : for land may be occupied In various modes and degrees; and It may be disputed whether a man who hunts over land has a natural right to prevent its being used for pasturage \ and whether a shepherd has such a right against one who wishes to till It, and whether one who Is using the surface has such a right to the minerals It may contain. And again, It Is disputed whether the right of Property, as thus derived, is to include the right of controlling the disposal of one's possessions after death. For this to most 1 It has been i:rged as a justification for expropriating savages from the laud of new colonies that tribes of hunters have really no moral right to properly in the soil over which thcv haul. 252 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. persons seems naturally bound up with ownership : yet it is absurd to say that we interfere with a man's free agency by anything that we may do after death to what he owned during his life : and many jurists have treated this right as purely con- ventional and not therefore included in "natural law." Other difficulties might be raised : but we need not pursue them, for if Freedom be taken simply to mean that one man's actions are to be as little as possible restrained by others, it is obviously more fully realized without aj^propriation. And if it be said that it includes, besides this, facility and security in the gratification of desires, and that it is Freedom in this sense that we think should be equally distributed, and that this cannot be realized without apj)ropriation ; then it may be replied, that in a society where nearly all material things are already appropri- ated, this kind of Freedom is not and cannot be equally distri- buted. A man born into such a society, without inheritance, is not only far less free than those who possess property, but he is less free than if there had been no appropriation. He is free to walk along the roads, to pluck heather on the mountain sides, and to drink of the rivers, when they do not run through private grounds : but what is this worth ? It may be said that, having freedom of contract, he will give his services in exchange for the means of satisfying his wants. And a brilliant essayist ^ has attempted to shew that this exchange must necessarily give him more than he could have got if he had been placed in the world by himself: that, in fact, society by existing makes the earth more capable of affording gratification to each and all of the after-born individuals than it would otherwise be. But, at the most, this does not prove that society, by appropriation, does not interfere with the natural freedom of individuals : but only that it compensates them for such interference, and that the compensation is adequate. However, even this, though it may be true as a general rule, is obviously not so in all cases : as men are' sometimes unable to sell their services at all, and often can only obtain in exchange for them an insufficient subsist- ence. And certainly any equality in the distribution of Freedom (in the sense of liberty to gratify desires) is prevented by the institution of property. ' Bastiat. Chap. V.] JUSTICE. 253 § 5. It seems, then, that though Freedom is an object of keen and general desire, and both directly an important element of happiness, and indirectly from the satisfaction of natural im- pulses which it allows, the attempt to make it the fundamental notion of theoretical Jurisprudence is attended with insuperable difficulties: and even the Natural Ris^hts which it claims to cover (which do not include all that have been demanded as natural) cannot be brought under it except in a very forced and arbitrary manner\ But further, as was before hinted, an equal distribution of Freedom does not seem to exhaust our notion of Justice. For Ideal Justice seems to demand that other things should be distributed equally besides Freedom, or at least justly (if Justice be not identical with Equality, but merely exclu- sive of arbitrary inequality). How, then, shall we find the principle of this highest and most comprehensive ideal? We shall be led to it, I think, by referring again to one of the grounds of obligation to render services, which was noticed in the last chapter : the claim of Gratitude. It there appeared that we have not only a natural impulse to requite benefits, but also a conviction that such requital is a duty, and its omission blameworthy, to some extent at least : though we found it diffi- cult to define the extent. Now it seems that when we, so to say, univei'salize this impulse and conviction, we get the ele- ment in the disposition and intuition of Justice, which we are now trying to define. For if we take the proposition " that good done to any individual ought to be requited by him," and leave out the relation to the individual in either term of the proposition, we seem to have an equally strong convic- tion of the truth of the more general statement "that good deeds ought to be requited I" And if we take into consideration 1 The further consideration of Political Freedom, with -which we shall be occupied in the next chapter, will afford additional illustrations of the difficulties involved in the notion. 2 If the view given in the text be sound, it illustrates very strikingly the difference between natural instincts and moral intuitions. For the impulse to requite a service is, on its emotional side, quite different from that which prompts us to claim the fruits of oiu- labour, or " a fair day's wages for a fair day's work." Still, our apprehension of the duty of Gratitude seems capable of being subsumed imder the more general intuition "that desert ought to bo requited." 254 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. all the different kinds and degrees of services, upon the mutual exchange of which society is based, we get the proposition " that men ought to be rewarded in proportion to their deserts." And this we should perhaps agree to be the true and simple princij)le of distribution in any case where there are no claims arising from Contract or Custom to modify its operation. For example, this seems obviously to be the principle on which the profits of any work or enterprise should be divided among those who have contributed to its success : if there has been no previous arrangement as to their division. And it may be observed, that some thinkers maintain the proposition dis- cussed in the previous section — that Law ought to aim at securing the greatest possible Freedom for each individual — not as absolute and axiomatic, but as derivative from the principle that we are now examining : on the ground that the best way of providing that Desert shall be Requited is to leave men as free as possible to exert themselves for the satisfaction of their own desires, and so to win each his own requital. '• Justice," says Mr Spencer, " demands equal Freedom, in order that benefit gained may be in proportion to faculty put forth." And simi- larly this seems to be really the principle upon which the Right of Property is rested, when it is justified by the proposition that " every one has an exclusive right to the produce of his labour." For on reflection it is seen that no labour really "produces " any material thing, but only adds to its value : and we do not think that a man can acquire a right to a material thing belonging to another, by spending his labour on it — even if he does so in the hond fide belief that it is his own property — but only to ade- quate compensation for his labour : and this is what the propo- sition must mean. Or, if it be stretched to explain the original right of property in materials, as being in a sense "produced" (i.e. found) by their first discoverer^ reflection again shews that ^ It certainly requires a considerable strain to bring the ' ' right of First Discovery" under the notion of "right to the produce of one's labour." Hence Locke and others have found it necessary to suppose, us the ultimate justifica- tion of the former right, a "tacit consent" of manldnd in general that all things previously unappropriated shall belong to the first appropriator. But this, as wo have seen, is a rather desperate device of cthico-political con- struction : on account of the fatal facility with which it may be used to justify almost any arbitrariness in positive law. CiiAP.V.] JUSTICE. 255 we do not grant this (as a moral right) absolutelj'-, but only in so far as it appears to us not more than adequate compensation for the discoverer's trouble. For example, we should not con- sider that the first finder of a large uninhabited region had a moral right to appropriate the whole of it. Hence this justifi- cation of the right of property refers us ultimately to the prin- ciple " that every man ought to receive adequate requital for his well-directed labour." So, again, when we speak of the world as justly governed by God, we seem to mean that, if we could know the whole of human existence, we should find that happiness is distributed among men according to their deserts. And Divine Justice is thought to be a pattern which Human Justice is to imitate as far as the conditions of human society allow. This kind of Justice, as has been said, seems like Gratitude universalized : and the same principle applied to punishment may similarly be regarded as Resentment universalized ; though the parallel is incomplete, if we are considering the present state of our moral conceptions. History shews us a time in which it was thought not only as natural, but as clearly right and incumbent on a man, to requite injuries as to repay bene- fits : but in the outset of moral reflection in Europe this notion was repudiated, and Socrates and Plato taught that it could never be right really to harm any one, however he may have harmed us. And this is the accepted doctrine in Christian societies, as regards individual Resentment. But in its uni- versalized form the old conviction seems still to remain in the intuitional view of Criminal Justice. For the view that punish- ment should be merely deterrent and reformatory is distinct- ively utilitarian ; and Common Sense seems to hold that a man who has done wrong ought to suffer pain in return (even if no benefit result either to him or to others from the pain), and that Justice requires this; although the individual wronged ought not to seek or desire to inflict the pain. This, then, is one element of what Aristotle calls Corrective Justice, which is embodied in criminal law. It must not be confounded with the principle of Reparation, on which legal awards of damages are based. We have already noticed this as a simple deduction from the maxim of general Benevolence, 256 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III- which forbids us to do liarni to our fellow-creatures: for if we have harmed them, we can yet approximately obey the maxim by giving compensation for the harm. Though here the ques- tion arises whether we ought to make reparation for harm that has been quite involuntarily caused : and it is not easy to answer it decisively. For to some it seems that one ought only to pay damages when one has been in fault : but others think that we ought to allow no one to suffer through our agency, if this can be prevented without violating other duties : and hence that we ought to endeavour to make compensation for all harm, voluntary or involuntary, of which we have been the physical cause. Common Sense does not seem clear on this point : and even if we could settle it without hesitation, there would still remain some difficulty, as \ve shall see presently, in defining the limits of the Voluntary\ Between the principle of Reparative and that of Retributive Justice, there is no danger of confusion or collision, as one is concerned with the injured party, and the other with the wrongdoer. In the actual administration of Law they may sometimes present themselves as alternatives : but so far as this is the case actual Law is seen to fall short of ideal Justice, and therefore does not come under our consideration here : but when we turn again to the other branch of Retributive Justice, which is concerned with the reward of services, we find another notion. Fitness, often blended indistinguishably with Desert proper, and so needing to be carefully separated from it : and when the distinction has been made, we see that the two are liable to come into collision. I do not feel sure that what I mean by Fitness belongs, strictly sj)eaking, to the analysis of Justice : but it certainly enters into our common conception of the ideal or perfectly rational order of society, as regards the distribution both of instruments and functions, and (to some extent at least) of other sources of happiness. We 1 There is often a further difficulty in ascertaining the amount of compen- sation due : for this frequently involves a comi^arison of things essentially dis- parite, and there are some kinds of harm which it seems impossible to compen- sate. Still, the principle, that we ought to balance any unhappiness that we may have caused to another by causing him an equal amount of happiness, seems clear : and the difficulties of carrying it into execution appear to resolve themselves \nto those which we have already encountered in Book ii. CriAP. v.] JUSTICE. 257 certainly think it reasonable and right that • instruments should be given to those who can use them best, and functions allotted to those who are most competent to perform them : but these may not be those who have rendered most services in the past : and yet, if the functions are interesting and delightful in them- selves, or such as are normally and properly attended with dignity and splendour of life, fame, material comfort and freedom from sordid cares, &c,, it is natural to regard them as prizes to be given to those whose good deeds have deserved them most- And again, we think it reasonable that particular material means of enjoyment should fall to the lot of those who are susceptible of the respective kinds of pleasure ; as no one would think of allotting pictures to a blind man, or rare wines to one who had no taste. Thus the notions of Desert and Fitness appear at least occasionally conflicting: but perhaps, as I have said, Fitness should rather be regarded as a utili- tarian principle of distribution, inevitably limiting the realisa- tion of what is abstractly just, than as a part of the interpret- ation of Justice proper : and it is with the latter that we are at present concerned. At any rate, it is the Requital of Desert that constitutes the chief element of Ideal Justice, in so far as this is something more than mere Equality and Impartiality. Let us then examine more closely wherein Desert consists : and we will begin with Good Desert, as being of the most fundamental and permanent importance : for we may hope that crime and its punishment will decrease and gradually disappear as the world improves, but the right or best distribution of the means of happiness is an object that we must always be striving to realize. § 6. And first, the question which we had to consider in defining Gratitude again recurs : whether, namely, we are to apportion the reward to the effort made, or to the results attained. For it may be said that the actual utility of any service must depend much upon favourable circumstances and fortunate accidents, not due to any desert of the agent: or again, may be due to powers and skills which were connate, or have been developed by favourable conditions of life, or by good education, and why should we reward him for these? (for the latter we ought rather to reward those who have s. E. 17 258 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. educated him). And certainly it is only in so far as moral excellences are exhibited in human achievements that they are commonly thought to be such as God will reward. But by drawing this line we do not yet get rid of the difficulty. For it may still be said that good actions are due entirely, or to a great extent, to good dispositions and habits, and that these are partly inherited and partly due to the care of parents and teachers : so that in rewarding these we are rewarding the results of natural and accidental advantages, and it is unreason- able to distinguish these from others, such as skill and know- ledge, and to say that it is even ideally just to reward the former and not the latter. Shall we say, then, that the reward should be proportionate to the amount of voluntary effort for a good end ? But Necessarians will say that even this is ultimately the effect of causes extraneous to the man's self. On the necessarian view, then, it would seem to be ideally just that all men should enjoy equal amounts of happiness : for there seems to be no justice in first making A better than B, and then, on that account, making him happier. But why should we not, instead of "all men," say "all sentient beings"? for why should man have more happiness than any other animal ? But thus the pursuit of ideal justice seems to con- duct us to such a precipice of paradox that Common Sense is likely to abandon it. At any rate the idea of Desert has thus altogether vanished. And as this is an essential element of the common notion of Justice, we seem to be led to the conclusion which I anticipated in Bk. I. c. 5: that in this one department of our moral consciousness the idea of Free Will seems indispensable in a quite exceptional manner to the morality of Common Sense, and we cannot without it make the common conception of right conduct at once rational and definite. However, perhaps it would be superfluous to discuss this further*. For in any case we cannot practically separate ^ Perhaps we may partly attribute to the difficulties above discussed, that the notion of Desert has sometimes dropped out of the ideal of Utopian reconstructors of society, and 'Equality of Happiness' has seemed to he the only end. Justice, it has been thought, prescribes simply that each should have an equal share of happiness, as far as happiness depends on the action of others. But there seems to be much difficulty in working this out : for (apart from the considerations of Fitness above ihentioned) equal happiness is not Chap. V.] JUSTICE. 259 that part of a man's achievement which is due strictly to his free volition from that part which is clue to the original gift of nature and to favouring circumstances. No doubt, it would be possible to remove, to some extent, the inequalities that are attributable to circumstances, by bringing the best educa- tion within the reach of all classes, so that all children might have an equal opportunity of being selected and trained for any functions for which they seemed to be fit. And this certainly seems to be prescribed by ideal justice, in so far as it removes or mitigates arbitrary inequality: and accordingly in those ideal reconstructions of society, in which we may expect to find men's notions of abstract justice exhibited, such an insti- tution as this has generally found a place. Still, there will be much natural inequality which we cannot remove or even estimate : so that we must necessarily leave to Providence the realization of what we conceive as the ideal of Justice, and content ourselves with rewarding in proportion to the service actually rendered (that is, if intentionally rendered ; for other- wise no one would think it deserving of reward). And we com- monly restrict the scope of Human Justice still further, by confining it to the requital of services in proportion to their utdity : for, according to the Intuitional view, there is a difference between the usefulness of actions and their goodness as measured by a true moral standard : in so far, then, as actions are good but not useful, we commonly think that they must be left to God to requite — or perhaps that "virtue is its own reward" — at any rate that man must only try to reward services in proportion to their utility. It remains to determine the comparative value of different services. Here, on first reflection. Common Sense seems to offer us an intuitive standard of value : for w^e continually speak of the " fair " or " proper " price of any kind of services as something generally known, and we condemn the demand to be attained by equal distribution of objects of desire. For some require more and some less to be equally bappy. Hence, it seems, we must take differences of needs into consideration. But if mental as well as corporeal needs are included (as seems reasonable) we should have to give less to cheerful, contented, self-sacrificing people than to the selfish, discontented, and grasping, as the former can be made happy with less. And this is too paradoxical to be recommended. 17—2 260 TEE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. for more than this as extortionate or unjust. However, when we look closer, we find that the " fair" in such cases is ascertained by a reference to analogy and custom, and that any service is considered to be "fairly worth" what is usually given for services of the kind. Hence this element of the notion of Justice may seem, after all, to resolve itself into that discussed in § 2. But probably no one would now maintain in its full breadth this identification of the Just with the Usual price of services: and indeed such judgments as those just men- tioned seem, for the most part, to be merely inadvertent, and to ignore the mode in which prices are actually determined, — at least in the more civilized communities: for in some states of society it certainly appears that the payment to be given for services is as completely fixed by usage as any other customary duty, so that it would be a clear disappointment of normal expectation to deviate from this usage. But in more progressive countries it is determined more and more by free competition: and so the market value rises and falls, and is different at different places and times : and no properly instructed person can expect any fixity in it, or complain of "unfairness " in any deviation from it. Can we then say that " market value " (as determined by free competition) corresponds to our notion of what is ideally just ? This is a question of much interest, because this is obvi- ously the mode of determining the remuneration of services that would be universal in a society constructed on the prin- ciple previously discussed, of securing the greatest possible Freedom of Action (only limited by Free Contract) to all members of the community. It should be observed that this, which we may call the Individualistic Ideal, is the type to which modern civilized communities have long been tending to approximate : and it is therefore very important to know whether it is one which completely satisfies the demands of morality : and whether Freedom, if not an absolvite end or First Principle of abstract Justice, is still to be sought as the best means to the realization of a just social order by the general requital of Desert. At first sight it seems plausible to urge that the "market Chap, v.] JUSTICE. 2G1 value" represents the estimate set upon anything by man- kind generally, and therefore gives us exactly that " common- sense" judgment respecting value which we are now trying to find. But on examination we perceive that the market price of different services does not usually depend on their comparative worth in any one's estimation, but upon the ease or difficulty of procuring them — as the plutologists say, "on the relation between the supply of services and the demand for them" — and it does not seem that any one's Desert can properly be lessened merely by the increased number or willingness of others rendering the same services. Nor, again, does it seem that it can be decreased by his own willingness, for it is strange to reward a man less because he is zealous and eager in the performance of his function : yet in bargain- ing the less willing always has the advantage. Then again, one man's reward may be more than another's, not because his service is more valuable, but because it is rendered to those who can pay lavishly: thus, e.g., those who minister to the pleasures of the rich are often thought to be over-paid. And it may be added that the majority of men seem unfit to decide on the value of many important services, from imperfect knowledge of their nature and effects: so that, as far as these are concerned, the true judgment will not be represented in the market-place. Then, again, there are highly important services which are not of immediate utility, as scientific dis- coveries. These may ultimately produce immense fruit, but pei-haps not in the lifetime of the discoverer: so that as ren- dered by him they have no market value. But even' in the case of services generally marketable, and where the bargain is made with perfect commercial acuteness on both sides, we still do not find that a "free" contract corresponds to our common notion of a "just" or "fair" con- tract, unless the contracting parties are on a tolerably equal footing. If I see a rich man drowning with no one near, I may bargain to save him at the price of all his wealth ; but we should not call this j ust, or at any rate fair and equitable \ ^ It is to be observed that we sometimes restrict Justice, in contrast with Fairness or Equity, to the observance of contracts and other definite claims : though we also and more commonly use it as convertible with these latter terms, and in an ethical treatise it seems best to take it in this wider meaning. 262 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. And this is only an extreme case of what is continually going on in the present state of society. A is continually enabled by £'s necessities to squeeze out of him a " free " contract in which he gets a most unequal share of the common gain. Nor does it seem that a closer approximation to the Individualistic Ideal is likely to reduce these inequalities of social situation. And any organized attempt to remove them — for example, as was before suggested, by a complete system of free education — would in the first place involve a considerable interference with Freedom, and would, after all, attain the desired result in a very imperfect manner. These reasons (especially the two first mentioned) have led some political thinkers to hold that Justice requires an entirely different mode of distributing payment for services from that at present effected by free competition : and that all labourers ought to be paid according to the intrinsic value of their labour as estimated by enlightened and competent judges. And cer- tainly this (which we may perhaps call the Socialistic Ideal) appears a nearer approximation to what we conceive as Divine Justice than the present state of society affords. But this supposes that we have found the rational method of determining value : which, however, is still to seek. Shall we say that these judges are to take the value of a service as proportionate to the amount of happiness produced by it ? Here, we are, of course, met in the first place by all the difficulties of comparing dif- ferent kinds of happiness (and happinesses of different persons) discussed in Book ii. But supposing these can be overcome, it is still hard to say how we are to compare the value of different services that must necessarily be combined to produce happy life. For example, how shall we compare the respective values of necessaries and luxuries ? for we may be more sensible of the enjoyment derived from the latter, but we could not have this at all without the former. And, again, when different kinds of labour cooperate in the same production, how are we to estimate their relative values ? for perhaps all mere unskilled labour may be brought to a common standard, but this seems almost impossible in the case of different kinds of skill. For how shall we compare the labour of design with that of achieve- ment ? or the supervision of the whole with the execution of Chap, v.] JUSTICE. ' 2G3 details? or the labour of actually producing with that of educating producers ? or the service of the savant who discovers a new principle, with that of the inventor who applies it ? It seems, in short, that there are almost insuperable theo- retical* difficulties in the way of the construction of an ideally just social order, in which all services are rewarded in exact proportion to their intrinsic value. And, more generally, we seem forced to conclude that it is impossible to obtain clear premises for a reasoned method of determining exactly different amounts of Good Desert. And, perhaps. Common Sense scarcely holds such a method to be possible : for though it considers Ideal Justice to consist in rewarding Desert, it regards any attempt to realize this ideal in the general distribution of the means of happiness as Utopian. In the actual state of society it is only within a very limited range that any endeavour is made to reward Good Desert. Parents attempt this to some extent in dealing with their children, and the State in reward- ing remarkable public services rendered by statesmen, soldiers, &c. : but reflection on these cases will shew how very rough and imperfect a standard is used in deciding the amount due. And ordinarily the only kind of Justice which we try to realize is that which consists in the fulfilment of contracts and definite expectations: leaving the general fairness of Distribution by Bargaining to take care of itself. § 7. When we pass to consider the case of Criminal Justice, we find, in the first place, difficulties corresponding to those which we have already noticed, although in a less degree. We find, to begin, a similar implication and partial confusion of the ideas of Law and Justice. For, as was said, by " bringing a man to Justice," we commonly mean " inflicting legal punish- ment " on him : and we think it right that neither more nor less than the penalty inflicted by law should be executed, although we often condemn the legal scale of punishment as unjust. At the same time, we have no such perplexity in respect of changes in the law as occurs in the case of Civil Jus- tice : for we do not think that a man can acquire, by custom, prescriptive rights to over-lenient punishment, as he is thought 1 It is not perhaps necessary that I should here enlarge on the practical obstacles in the way of any attempt to realize such an ideal system.. 264 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book 111. to do to an unequal distribution of liberties and privileges. If, again, we investigate the ideal of Criminal Justice, as intuitively determined, we find the principle of Desert more thoroughly accepted by Common Sense than in the former case : for in so far as punishment is not merely deterrent (as it is on the Uti- litarian view), it is commonly thought that it ought to be pro- portioned to the gravity of crime '. Still, when we endeavour to make the method of apportionment perfectly rational and precise, the difficulties seem at least as great as in the case of Good Desert. For, first, the assumption of Free Will seems necessarily to come in here also : since if a man's bad deeds are entirely caused by nature and circumstances, it certainly appears, as Robert Owen urged, that he does not properly desei^ve to be punished for them : we should rather devote our efforts to altering the conditions under which he acts (of course the prospect of punish- ment is one of these conditions, and it will not do to remove that, in so far as it prevents him from doing harm : but then it is retained on different grounds). And we certainly think that offences committed by persons who have had no moral training, or a perverted training, are really less criminal, and deserve less punishment — at any rate at God's hands: for perhaps men can- not take this into account, and must punish a man for any evil which he has intended to do^ and from which nothing pre- vented him from abstaining except absence of sufficient motive. Still the consciousness of this seems to render the penal arrangements of society imperfectly satisfying to our sense of Justice, And we actually do punish deliberate offences more than impulsive, apparently as implying a more free choice of evil. And the presence of any very powerful motive, in itself natural and innocent, seems to us to lessen the essential crimi- nality of an act, as when a man steals food to escape starvation. And, still more, if the motive be even laudable, as when a man kills a villain whose crimes elude legal punishment, or heads a hopeless rebellion for the good of his country. In such eases ^ Of course those who hold that the essence of Justice consists in securing external Freedom among the members of a community, and that punishment is only justified as a means to this end, naturally think that in awarding punishment we ought to consider merely its ellicacy as such means. But this can scarcely be put forward as an interpretation of the common notion of" JuBt runiHliiiiciit. €iiAi>. v.] JUSTICE. 2G5 we coiuinonly tliiuk that punisljineut ought to be mitigated : though in a vague and vacillating way, as we cannot estimate accurately the diminution of ill desert. But even if we neglect the motive, and take the intention only into account, it is not easy to state clear principles for determining the gravity of crimes. If it be said that punish- ment ought to be in proportion to the " harm " intended, we require further to know what is meant by harm. For if we could take it to mean " unhappiness " there would remain only such doubts and obscurities as were found to beset the Hedon- istic method (cf. Book ii.). But then we should be in conflict with Common Sense : for in many cases the criminal) though he knows that he is doing wrong, does not intend to produce any unhappiness at all: as when a thief takes what he thinks will not be missed. Indeed, in such cases as those of the starving man, or the patriotic rebel, the intention of the criminal is clearly to produce happiness. Again, wc do not commonly think that a crime is rendered less grave, by being kept perfectly secret : and yet a great part of the harm done by a crime is the " secondary evil " (as Bentham calls it) of the alarm and inse- curity which it causes : and this part is cut off by complete secresy. It may be replied that this latter difficulty is not a practical one : because we are not called upon to punish a crime until it has been discovered, and then the secondary evil has been caused, and is all the greater because of the previous secresy. But it remains true that it was not designed for dis- covery : and therefore that this part of the evil caused by the crime was not intended by the criminal. And if we say that the heinousness of the crime depends on the loss of happiness that would generally be caused by such acts if they were al- lowed to gO' unpunished, and that we must suppose the- criminal to be aware of this : we seem to be endeavouring to force a' utilitarian theory intio an intuitional form by means of a legal fiction. We have hitherto spoken' of intentional wrong-doing: but the Law awards punishment also for harm that is due to rashness or negligence : and the justification of this involves us in further difficulties. Some jurists seem to regard rashness and negligence ;x.s positive states of mind, in wliich the agent 26G THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. consciously refuses the attention or reflection which he knows he ouffht to ffive : and no doubt this sort of wilful recklessness does sometimes occur and seems as properly punishable as if the resulting harm had been positively intended. But the law does not require evidence that this was the agent's state of mind (which indeed in most cases it would be impossible to give) : but is content with proof that the harm might have been prevented by such care as an average man would have shewn under the circumstances. And most commonly by " carelessness " we simply mean a purely negative psychological fact, i.e. that the agent did not perform certain processes of observation or reflection : it is therefore at the time strictly involuntary, and so scarcely seems to be justly punishable. It may be said perhaps that though the present carelessness is not blame- Avorthy, the past neglect to cultivate habits of care is so. But in many individual instances we cannot reasonably infer even this past neglect : and in such cases the utilitarian theory of punishment, which regards it as a means of preventing similar harmful acts in the future, seems alone applicable \ The results of this examination of Justice may be summed up as follows. The j)rominent element in Justice as ordinarily conceived is a kind of Equality : that is. Impartiality in the observance or enforcement of certain general rules allotting good or evil to individuals. But when we have clearly dis- tinguished this element, we see that the definition of the virtue required for practical guidance is left obviously incomplete. Inquiring further for the right general principles of distribution, we find that our common notion of Justice includes — besides the principle of Reparation for injury — two quite distinct and divergent elements. The one, which we may call Conservative Justice is realized (1) in the observance of Law and Contracts and definite understandings, and in the enforcement of such penalties for the violation of these as have been properly an- nounced and generally accepted : and (2) in the fulfilment of na- tural and normal expectations. This latter obligation, however, is of a somewhat indefinite kind. But the other element, which ^ We have before noticed that similar difficulties arise in determining the limits within which Eeparatiou is due; that is, on the view that it is only iiicumbeut on uk to make compensation fur voluntary harm. Chap. V.] JUSTICE. 2G7 we have called Ideal Justice, is still more difficult to define : for there seem to be two quite distinct conceptions of it, embodied respectively in what we have called the Individualistic and the Socialistic Ideals of a political community. The first of these takes the realization of Freedom as the ultimate end and standard of right social relations : but on examining it closer we find that the notion of Freedom will not give a practicable basis for social construction without certain arbitrary definitions and limitations : and even if we admit these, still a society in which Freedom is realized as far as is feasible does not completely suit our sense of Justice. Prima facie, this is more satisfied by the Socialistic Ideal of Distribution, founded on the principle of requiting Desert : but when we try to make this jorinciple precise, we find ourselves again involved in grave difficulties : and similar perplexities beset the development of Criminal Justice on the same principle. Ideal Justice, therefore, is very difficult to delineate, even in outline : for if we cannot work out satisfactorily either of these two conceptions, it is still harder to make a satisfactory com- bination of the two ; and yet difficult altogether to discard either. And we are farther perplexed when we try to reconcile either with Conservative Justice. For both in public and in private affairs it is often questioned how far the natural ex- pectations of comparatively undeserving persons ought to inter- fere with Distribution according to Desert : and, again, how far such expectations, if not founded on definite contract, ouglit to hamper the Freedom of others. To such questions our attempt to define the common-sense notion of Justice does not seem to furnish an answer. CHAPTER VI LAWS AND PROMISES. § 1. Ix tLe discussion of Justice the moral obligations of obedience to Law and observance of Contract have been in- cluded, and have, indeed, appeared to be the most definite l^art of the complex system of duties commonly denoted by the term. At the same time the first obligation is sometimes put forward as an independent principle. And, in fact, as we have seen, there are some laws, the violation of which does not inter- fere with the rights of others, and therefore has not the cha- racteristics of an act of Injustice. Again, the duty of Fidelity to promises is also commonly considered as absolute, independ- ently of any injury done to the promisee by breaking it : for (e. g.) men think that a promise to the dead (who are beyond the reach of injury) ought to be kept : indeed, some would regard it as even more sacred than a promise made to the living. It is therefore incumbent on us to examine how far the principles " that Law ought to be obeyed " and " that promises ought to kept," seem to be truths underivative, self-evident, and capable of clear application. To begin with the former duty, which has been called the duty of Order. We have first to ascertain what the Law is which we are evidently bound to obey. It is plain that we cannot here distinguish Legal from other rules by considering the sanctions actually attached to them, as we had occasion to do in a previous chapter \ For commands may be issued by rebels and usurpers which we are morally bound to resist, though we may have to dread judicial penalties for disobedi- i Of. foifr, Bk. II. c. '). g 2. Cii.vp. YL] LAWS AND PROMISES. 2G9 ence. Shall we say then, as was proposed in Book i. c, 2, that Laws are those rules which ought to be euforced by a definitely organized infliction of punishments ? This certainly seems to be the definition most suitable for distinguishing theoretical Jurisprudence from Ethics proper: but it fails to indicate the special object and scope of the moral duty which we are now examining. For we think that, generally speaking, positive laws ought to be observed, even when they are such as a theoretical jurist would condemn : and it is only because there are such laws, that Law-observance has to be constituted a special department of duty : for the rules that we deduce from the principles of abstract Jurisprudence as proper to be enforced in any community, are always such as a moral man ought to observe, whether they are enforced or not. Hence it seems that for our j)resent purpose we must define Laws to be Rules of Conduct which we are morally bound to obey, not solely on account of their intrinsic rightness, but on account of the source from which they are derived : or, more briefly. Com- mands^ imposed by Rightful Authority. Of course it may sometimes be not only our interest but our duty to obey rules imposed by persons who have usurped authority to which they have no right. But this, all would agree, is solely in order to avoid the greater evils which might result to ourselves and others from our disobedience : and the extent of such a duty must be determined by considerations of expediency only, as in fact it is only a particular application of the more general duties of Prudence and Benevolence. This rightful authority is commonly conceived to reside in some living men. No doubt in some societies, at some stages of their development, the whole or a part of the code of laws habitually observed, or at least recognised as binding, has been believed to be of divine or semi-divine institution ; or perhaps from mere antiquity to possess a sanctity superior to that of any living authority; so that such laws are of right unalterable. But we do not find this view in the Common Sense of civilized Europe, upon which we are now reflecting. In our societies there is not thought to be any portion of law which, in virtue ^ The distinction bet'ween Laws proper and special ordinances is not here important. 270 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. of its origin, is beyond tlie reach of alteration by any living authority. What kind of authority, then, does Common Sense regard as legitimate ? It can hardly be said that there is any clear answer to be found to this question. For here the conflict between the Ideal and the Traditional or Customary, which has per- plexed us in seeking the definition of Justice, meets us again in an even more comj)licated form. For not only do some say that obedience is always due to the established authority in any country, while others maintain that an authority consti- tuted in a particular way is essentially legitimate, and that a nation has a right to claim that such an authority shall be established, even at the risk of civil sti lie and bloodshed : but often, too, the authority actually established is not even traditionally legitimate. So that we have sometimes to distin- guish three claims to authority : (1) that of the Government held to be ideally or abstractly right, and such as ought to be established : (2) that of the Government de jure, according to the constitutional traditions in any given country : and (3) that of the de facto Government. And, again, the attempt to define each of these claims, taken alone, involves us in con- siderable perplexity and disagreement, as a closer examination will shew. § 2. It will be convenient to begin by considering the Ideal. Here I do not propose to consider all views as to the right constitution of supreme authority which speculative think- ers have put forward : but only such as have a prima facie claim to express the Common Sense of mankind on the subject. Of these the most important, and the most widely urged and ad- mitted, is the principle that the Sovereign in any community can only be rightfully constituted by the Consent of the Subjects. This, as was noticed in the preceding chapter, represents the In- dividualistic Ideal of Society in the sphere of constitutional law. For if no one originally owes anything to another except non- interference, he clearly can only be placed in the relation of Sub- ject to Sovereign by his own consent. And thus, in order to reconcile the original right of Freedom with the actual duty of Law-observance, the famous hypothesis of the Social Contract Chap. YL] LAWS AND PROMISES. 271 appears necessary. "We must observe that on tins view the absolute and underivative character of the obligation that we are now examining is abandoned : as Obedience to Law be- comes merely a special application of the duty of keeping con- tracts. We shall return to this hereafter : but first we have to examine the theory of the Social Contract itself with some care, as it is a highly versatile doctrine, and leads to very various results in different hands. In the first place, it was once put forward as a historical hypothesis : it was supposed that the transition from the " na- tional " to the " political " state actually took place by means of a Contract, which (if we could only ascertain its terms) conferred indelible legitimacy on some particular form of social organi- zation. This view, however, seems to be now so universally abandoned, that we may dispense ourselves from considering it further. But apart from this historical fiction, the theory of a Social Compact may be employed in several different ways. As used by some thinkers, it has a merely formal effect: merely giving a new point of view from which the duty of obeying the traditional and customary authority in any society may be regarded. In this case it is thought that a man by remaining in a country enters into a "tacit understanding" to obey the laws laid down b}'- the authority generally recognised as lawful in the country. It is still a question what the conditions of the contract are, and under what circumstances it may be considered void. Some have maintained that — since the understanding is that the law should protect the individual's life and liberty — if he is unjustly menaced with death, imprisonment, &c., at the hands of the authorities, the compact is annulled, and he is no longer morally bound to submission. Socrates, however, in a well-known dialogue of Plato \ is represented as taking the opposite view. The extreme indefiniteness of an "implied un- derstanding" seems to render it impossible to argue con- clusively for either doctrine. Some, again, limit the contract in another way, holding that certain " Natural Rights " are inalienable, and that a man cannot be bound to submit to laws which deprive him of these. But as to the exact nature of these rights there are several 1 Crito. 272 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. different opinions, leading to different views of the essential legitimacy of positive laws and constitutions. For of those who would agree that all such rights may be summed up in the notion of Freedom, some would mean only civil Freedom : i. e. that no one was bound to submit to slavery, however much it might be established by law. But (2) it is easy to pass from civil to constitutional freedom : for, as we saw in the last chapter, the Right to one's own property is commonly included in the former notion: but all taxation is a forcible inter- ference with property : hence it has been held that a man has a natural right to refuse to pay any tax to which he has not actually consented personally or by his representatives, and that rebellion upon this ground is justifiable. But, again, (3) we may go further and hold that no man ought to be compelled to submit to laws of any kind to which he has not similarly assented ; and some would say that this is the only binding social contract, and that members of any society have a right to demand that they should be governed by no laws except those thus made, and to refuse obedience to other laws if thi« seems expedient. And thus, when we apply this principle to large communities, we are led to what is known as Representative Government as the only one whose authority seems on abstract principles valid. This, in fact, is the form which the Individualistic Ideal has usually taken in its application to Politics : but it seems open to some of the objections previously urged against the general .theory of Freedom as an absolute End, and also to others peculiar to this part of the subject. For, in the first place, if the principle be absolute, it ought to apply to all human beings alike : but it would be absurd not to exclude children, and yet we cannot do this without drawing an arbitrary line : and some would think it desirable to exclude women also. But, again, we -must admit that the theory is very imperfectly realized (even as regards the male adults to whom its application has commonly been re- stricted) by the Representative System of Government as at present carried out or even commonly conceived. For a Repre- sentative assembly is chosen only by a part of the nation, and each law is approved only by a part of the assembly : and it can hardly be said that one has assented to a law passed by CiiAP. VI.J LAWS AND PROMISES. 273 a mere majority of an assembly against one member of wliicli one has voted. In truth, it seems impossible to carry out this view of the social contract compatibly with the present appro- priation of the earth's surface by communities, not only for their exclusive use and enjoyment, but also for exclusive legis- lation within certain territorial limits. For, on this theory, individuals ought to have a right of withdrawing when laws are passed of which they do not approve, without being forced to sell their land — for how can any one else have a right to take their land from them ? It may be said that this would be too inconvenient : but if the principle will not hold for an extreme case, it must not be stated as absolute and independent. Otherwise, it seems that if constitutional Freedom is realized when the will of the majority prevails, constitutional and civil Freedom may come into irreconcileable conflict. For, as Mill and others have urged, the majority of a nation may be as tyrannical as any despot, and ma}'' encroach to any extent on the freedom of action of individuals. But, again, the principle that the laws of any community ought to express the will of the majority of its members seems prinid facie incompatible with the view so vigorously main- tained by Socrates and his most famous disciples, that laws ought to be made by people who understand law-making. For though the majority of a representative assembly in a particular country at a particular time may be more fit to make laws for their country than any set of experts otherwise selected, we certainly cannot tell a priori that this will be universally the case. Yet surely the Socratic projDosition (which is merely a special application of the principle noticed in the latter part of the preceding chapter, " that functions should be allotted to the fittest") has as much claim to be considered a primary intuition as the one we have been discussing. Indeed, the secular controversy between Aristocracy and Democracy seems ultimately reducible to a conflict between those two principles : a conflict of which it is impossible to find a solution, so long as the argument remains in the a priori region. § 3. However, to discuss this exhaustively would carry us too far beyond the range of Ethics proper : but we may perhaps conclude that it is impossible to elicit from Common Sense any S. E. IS 274 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. clear and certain intuitions as to tlie ideally right constitution. And there is an equal want of agreement as to the intrinsic lawfulness of introducing such a constitution in violation of the traditional and established order in any community. For some think that a nation has a natural right to the right or best form of government, and that it ought to be introduced by force. Others, however, hold that though the ideal polity may rightly be proclaimed and commended, and every means used to prepare the way for its introduction which the esta- blished government in any country permits ; still, rebellion against this latter can never be justifiable. While others, — perhaps the majority, — would decide the question on utilitarian grounds, balancing the advantages of improvement against the evils of disorder. But further, as we saw, it is not so easy to say what the established government is. For sometimes there occurs a clear rupture of order in a society, and a triumph of Might over Right : and then a new order, springing out of and jurally rooted in disorder. An authority declared by law to be ille- gitimate issues ordinances and controls the administration of justice. The question then arises, how far obedience is due to such an authority. All are agreed that usurpation ought to be resisted ; but as to the right behaviour towards an established government which has sprung from a successful usurpation, there is great difference of opinion. Some think that it should be regarded as legitimate, as soon as it is firmly established : others that it ought to be obeyed at once, but under protest, with the purpose of renewing the conflict on a favourable op- portunity : others think that this latter is the right attitude at first, but that a usurping government, when firmly established, loses its illegitimacy gradually, and that it becomes, after a while, as criminal to rebel against it as it was originally to establish it. And this last seems, on the whole, the view of Common Sense ; but it seems impossible to define the point at which, or the period within which, the metamorphosis takes place \ ^ In diBcussiug Justice, I did not notice tliis conflict of legalities : because (in modern times at least) it is but rarely that a change of goyernment is accompanied by violent interference mth the civil rigl.ts of the governed. Still, CiiAP. VI.] LAWS AND PROMISES. 275 But again, it is only in thu case of an absolute govern- ment, where customary obedience is unconditionally due to one or more persons, that the fundamental difficulties of ascer- taining the legitimacy of authority are of the simple kind just discussed. In a constitutionally governed state numerous other moral disagreements arise. For, in such a state, while it is of course held that the sovereign is morally bound to conform to the constitution \ it is still disputed whether the subjects' ob- ligation to obedience is properly conceived as conditional upon this conformity: and whether they have the moral right (1) to refuse obedience to an unconstitutional command; and (2) even to inflict on the sovereign the penalty of rebellion for violating the constitution. Again, there is often no little difficulty in determining what the constitutional obligations really are. I do not mean merely a difiiculty of erudition, capable of being removed by a completer knowledge of historical facts and docu- ments: but a difficulty arising from uncertainty as to the principles on which these ought to be treated. For the various limitations of sovereign authority comprised in the constitution have often been originally concessions extorted by fear from a sovereign previously absolute : and it is doubted how far such concessions are morally binding on the sovereign from whom they were wrested, and still more how far they are binding on such au interference sometimes occurs: and tlieu the determination of what I have called ConserYative or Customary Justice hecomes very perplexing. And sometimes the interference is only temporary, and the old order is afterwards restored : in which case the conflict of claims and expectations, arising out of different established orders, is theoretically insoluble : only a rough practical compromise can be effected. 1 It is perhaps hardly necessary that I should here notice the Hobbist doctrine, revived in a modified form by Austin, that " the power of the sovereign is incapable of [legal] limitation." For no one now maintains pm-e Hobbism : and Austin is as far as possible from meaning that there cannot be an express or tacit understanding between Sovereign and Subjects, the violation of which by the former may make it morally right for the latter to rebel. In fact, as used by him, Hobbes' doctrine reduces itself to the rather unimportant pro- position that a sovereign will not be punished for unconstitutional conduct through the agency of his own law-courts, so long as he remains sovereign. I may take this opportunity of observing that Austin's definition of Law is manifestly unsuited for our present purpose : since a law, in his view, is not a command that ought to be obeyed, but a command for the violation of which we ' may expect a particular kind of punishment. ■: 18—2 276 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. those wlio succeed. Or, vice versa, a people may have allowed liberties once exercised to fall into disuse: and it is doubted -whether it retains the right of reclaiming them. And, gene- rally, when a constitutional rule has to be elicited fnmi a com- parison of precedents, it may be disputed whether a particular act of either party should be regarded as a constitutive pre- cedent or as an illegitimate encroachment. And hence we find that in constitutional countries men's view of what their con- stitution traditionally is has often been greatly influenced by their view of what it ideally ought to be : in fact, the two ques- tions have rarely been kept quite distinct. But even if we could ascertain clearly to what authority obedience is properly due, there remains the difficulty of defin- ing the limits of such obedience. For no one in modern society maintains it to be due without qualification : we are always told that any authority ought to be disobeyed which commands immoral acts. But this is one of those tautological proposi- tions, so common in popular morality, wdiicli convey no real information : the question is, what acts there are which do not cease to be immoral when they have been commanded by a rightful authority. There seems to be no clear principle upon which these can be determined. It has sometimes been said that the Law cannot override definite duties ; but the obligation of fidelity to contract is jieculiarly definite, and yet we do not consider it right to fulfil a contract of which the law has forbidden the execution. And, in fact, we do not find any practical agreement on this subject. For some would say that the duties of the domestic relations must yield to the duty of law-observance, and that (e.g.) a son ought not to aid a parent actively or passively in escaping the punishment of crime : while others would consider tliis rule too inhuman to be laid dow^n, and others would draw the line between assistance and connivance. And similarly, when acts of extreme injustice are commanded by law : thus many have thought that laws could not make it right to deliver w]} a fugitive slave to his pursuers (and that without distinctly recognising any defect of authority in the persons from whom the law emanated). And others would consider that a certain degree of inexpediency in a law made it right to disregard it : this, however, seems Chap. VI. J LAWS AND PROMISES. 277 implicitly to admit that the duty of law-observance rests upon a utilitarian basis. Again, some jurists hold that we are not strictly bound to obey laws, when they command what is not otherwise a duty, or forbid what is not otherwise a sin : for that in the case of absolute duties prescribed only by positive laws, the alternatives of obeying or submitting to the penalty are morally open to us\ Others, however, think this principle too lax ; and certainly no such offer of alternatives is ever expressed in the promulgation of laws. Since, then, on all these points there seems to be so much difference of opinion, it seems idle to maintain that there is any clear and precise axiom or first principle of Order, in- tuitively seen to be true by the common reason and conscience of mankind. There is, no doubt, a vague general instinct bid- ding us obey laws as such (even bad laws) which may be fairly said to rest on a universal consensus of civilized society : but when we try to state any explicit proposition corresponding to this general instinct, the consensus seems to abandon us, and we are drawn into endless controversies. No doubt, in some states of society, the common sense of the community makes a much more absolute identification of the Leral and the Rightful than that which I have tried to express : but this unquestioning reverence for custom impedes social progress and seems to us now absurd^. § 4. We have next to treat of Good Faith, or Fidelity to Promises, which it is natural to consider in this place, because, as has been seen, the Duty of Order or Law-observance has by some thinkers been based upon a prior duty of fulfilling a contract. No one, however, now regards the Social Contract as something that has actually taken place in a previous period 1 Cf. Blackstone, Introduction, § 2. " lu relation to those laws which enjoin only positive duties, aud forbid only such things as are not mala i)t se, but mala prohibita merely, without any intermixture of moral guilt, annexing a penalty to non-compliance, here I apprehend conscience is no further concerned, than by du'ecting a submission to the penalty in case of our breach of those laws... the alternative is offered to every man, ' either abstain from this or submit to such a penalty.' " 2 Into the ethical difficulties peculiar to some departments of Law (com- monly so called), as (e. g.) International Law, I have not thought it worth while to enter. 278 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. of history, bnt merely as a convenient fiction, a logical artifice, by Avhich the mutual jural relations of the members of a civilized community may be neatly expressed. Such an artifice has been extensively used in civil law. Whenever it is considered that, from the mere fact of a man taking up a certain relation to other men, certain rights and claims upon him accrue to those others, it may be convenient to express this by supposing a tacit contract on his part to perform certain services. But in stating the ethical principles of Common Sense, such a fiction would be out of place. The Duty of Order, as commonly recognised, seems essentially dis- tinct from the Duty of Good Faith. It must, however, be allowed that there has frequently been a close historical connexion between the two. In the first place, a considerable amount of Constitutional Law at least, in certain ages and countries, has been established or confirmed by compacts expressly made between different sections of the community : who agree that for the future government shall be carried on according to certain rules. The duty of observing these rules thus presents itself as a Duty of Fidelity to com- pact. Still more is this the case, when the question is one of imposing not a law, but a law-giver. Among primitive men the duty of observing Law is often too absti-act to be felt with adequate force, unless it presents itself in the form of, or at least blended with, the duty of Fidelity to a Sovereign, who is the source of law. If the sovereign is definitely hereditary, he is conceived as having an original right to be obeyed, and the duty would still fall under the head of Order. But even in this case it may be desirable and customary to strengthen his authority by exacting an oath of allegiance from his subjects or a repre- sentative portion of them, or the chief men among them, or the officials : and this will be still more the case if he is wholly or partly elective. Thus the Duty of Order blends in the minds of men with the Duty of Good Faith, by which it is sup- ported. Still, even in such cases, it can only be by a transparent fiction that the mass of the citizens can be regarded as bound by an engagement which only a few of them have actually taken : and this practice of strengthening the obligation of Order by an actual or fictitious engagement is not very suitable CiiAP. VI.] LAWS AND PROMISES. 279 to an advanced state of society, iu winch it sometimes leads to disagreeable complication s. We have already noticed the difference of opinion as to the right classification of the duty of Keeping Promises : in that some moralists have placed it under the head of Justice, while others have classified or even identified it with Veracity. It seems, indeed, to resemble both from different points of view : superficially regarded, it certainly seems more analogous to Veracity, as we fulfil the obligations of Veracity and Good Faith alike by effecting a correspondence between words and facts — in the one case by making fact correspond with state- ment, and in the other by making statement correspond with fact. But the analogy is imperfect : for we are not bound to make our actions correspond with our assertions generally, but only wdth our promises. If I merely assert my intention of abstaining from alcohol for a year, and then after a week take some, I am (at worst) ridiculed as inconsistent : but if I have pledged myself to abstain, I am blamed as untrustworthy. Thus the essential element of the duty of Good Faith seems to be not conformity to my ow^n statement, but to the expecta- tions that I have intentionally raised in others : and thus it appears to come wathin our definition of Conservative Justice. For we have seen that one account of Justice defines it as the disposition to satisfy natural and reasonable claims or expectations : and this account seemed true if it had only been precise : but on examining further, we found that such expecta- tions were of various degrees of reasonableness, and that it is impossible or difficult to draw a clear line separating valid claims from invalid. But the observance of contracts seems to be a case where the above account of Justice is clearly ap- plicable and sufficiently precise : no one can doubt that it is natural and reasonable to expect a man to keep his promise. On this view, however, the question arises Avhether, when a promise has been understood in a sense not intended by the promisor, he is bound to satisfy expectations which he did not voluntarily create. Perhaps it is clear that he is so bound in some cases if the expectation w^as natural and such as most men would form under the circumstances : but that this is one of the more or less indefinite duties of Justice, and not 280 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book HI. properly of Good Faith, as there has not been, strictly speaking, any promise at all. The normal effect of language is to convey the speaker's meaning to the person addressed (here the pro- miser's to the promisee), and we always suppose this to have taken place when we speak of a promise. If through any accident this normal effect is missed, we may say that there is no promise, or not a perfect promise. The moral obligation, theu, of a promise is perfectly consti- tuted when it is understood by both parties in the same sense. And by the term " promise " we include not words only, but all signs, and even tacit understandings not expressly signified in any way, if such clearly form a part of the engagement. The promiser is bound to perform what both he and the promisee understood to be undertaken. § 5. Is, then, this obligation intuitively seen to be inde- pendent and certain ? It is often said to be so : and perhaps we may say that it seems so to unreflective common sense. But reflection seems at least to disclose a considerable number of qualifications of the principle ; some clear and precise, while others are more or less indefinite. In the first place, thoughtful persons would commonly admit that the obligation of a promise is relative to the promisee, and may be annulled by him. And therefore if the promisee be dead, or otherwise inaccessible and incapable of granting re- lease, there is constituted an exceptional case, of which the solution must cause some difficulty \ Secondly, a promise to do an immoral action is held not to be binding, for the prior obligation not to do the act is para- mount : just as in law a contract to do what a man is not legally free to do, is invalid: otherwise one could evade any moral obligation by promising not to fulfil it, which is clearly absurd I But this principle must be limited to strict duties, as distinct from good actions, to which the agent is not definitely ^ Vows to God constitute another exception : and it is thought by many that if these are binding, there must be some way in which God can be understood to grant release from them. But this it is beyond my province to discuss. * The case seems less clear when the act has become immoral after the promise was made : still, here also, the prior duty of abstaining from it would be universally held to prevail. CiiAP. VI.] LAWS AND PROMISES. 281 bound. Here, however, tlie case of the duties arising out of the domestic rehxtions may cause some difficulty : for though the fulfihnent of these is thought to be strictly a matter of debt, we yet found it impossible to define their extent : and so the limits of their obligation, as compared with that of promises, might seem to be obscured Still, we may say generally that the obli- gation of a promise is held to be inferior to strict prior obliga- tions, but only to these. For these qualifications we may claim the general assent, at least of reflective persons. But there are others, the considera- tion of which is involved in more difficulty and dispute. These we must now proceed to examine : they will be found to depend partly on the conditions under which the promise is made, and partly on its nature and the consequences of executing it. § 6. In the first place, it is much disputed how far promises obtained by " fraud or force " are binding. As regards fraud, if the promise was understood to be conditional on the truth of a statement which is found to be false, it is of course not binding. But a promise may be made in consequence of such a fraudulent statement, and yet made quite unconditionally. Even so, if it were clearly understood that it would not have been made but for the false statement^ probably most persons would regard it as not binding. But the false statement may be only one consideration among others, and it may be of any degree of weisfht : and it seems doubtful whether most moral men would feel justified in breaking a promise, because a single fraudulent statement had been a part of the inducement to make it. Or, again, there may have been no explicit assertion, but only a suggestion of what is false : or no falsehood at all, stated or suggested, but only a suppression of truth. We ought also to consider the case in which the false impression has not been wilfully produced, but was either shared by the promisee or produced in some Avay unintentionally. Perhaps in this last case most would say that the bindingness of the promise is not 1 For example, it might be doubted whether the promise of aid to a friend ought to override the duty of giving one's chiklren a good education (supposing the two incompatible). Still, such doubts would be due rather to the indefiuite- ness of the rules prescribing the domestic duties than of the rule of Good Faith. 2 W[xi\.i is here said of a "statement" may he extended to any mode of producing a false impression. 282 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. affected, unless it was expressly conditional. But even on this point Common Sense seems doubtful ; and, still more, how far a promise is binding if any kind of deception or concealment is shewn to have been used to obtain it. We may observe that certain kinds of concealment are even justified by the law : in a contract of sale, for example, the law adopts the principle of " caveat emptor," and does not refuse to enforce the contract because the seller concealed defects in the article sold, unless he expressly declared it to be free from such defects. Still, this does not settle the moral question : on which we scarcely seem to have any clear intuition. The same may be said of promises obtained by force. The Law in civilized countries certainly refuses to enforce any contract procured in this way or by positive fraud : but the law nowhere undertakes to enforce all engagements, but only such as it thinks fit. It has been observed, that Utilitarianism is much more the accepted method in Law than in Ethics : and since the utilitarian ground of the obligation to fulfil promises is the advantage to society of the mutual reliance which thus becomes possible among men, and since it is not advantageous to society that men should rely upon the i^erformance of engagements pro- cured by fraud, or by force exercised in defiance of law, there are strong utilitarian reasons for regarding such engagements as invalid. Still, it seems impossible to state it as a clear intuition that a forcibly extorted promise ought not to be kept. § 7. But, secondly, even if a promise has been made quite freely and fairly, circumstances may alter so much before the time comes to fulfil it, that the effects of keeping it may be ciuite other than those which were foreseen when it was made. In such a case probably all would agree that the promisee ought to release the promiser. But if he declines to do this, it seems difficult to decide how fir the latter is bound. Some would say that he is in all cases : while others would consider that a considei'able alteration of circumstances removed the obligation — perhaps adding that all engagements must be un- derstood to be taken subject to a general understanding that they are only binding if material circumstances remain substan- tially the same. But such a principle very much impairs the theoretical sharpness and clearness of the duty. Chap. VI.] LAWS AND PROMISES. 283 This difficulty assumes a new aspect when we consider the case ah'eady noticed, of promises made to those who are now dead or temporarily out of the reach of communications. For then there is no means of obtaining release from the promise ; while at the same time its performance may be really opposed to the wishes — or what Avould have been the wishes — of both parties. The difficulty is sometimes concealed by saying that it is our duty to carry out the " intention" of the promise. For as so used the word Intention is, in common parlance, ambiguous : it may either mean the signification which the promisee attached to the terms employed, as distinct from any other signification which the common usage of words might admit : or it may include ulterior consequences of the performance of the pro- mise, which he had in view in exacting it. Now we do not commonly think that the promiser is concerned with the latter. He certainly has not pledged himself to aim generally at the end which the promisee has in view, but only so far as some particular means are concerned: and if he considers these means not conducive to the end, he is not thereby absolved from his promise, under ordinary circumstances. But in the case supposed, when circumstances have materially changed, and the promise does not admit of revision, most persons would say that we ought to take into consideration the ulterior wishes of the promisee, and carry out what we sincerely think would have been his intention. But the obligation thus becomes very vague : it is so diffi- cult to tell from a man's wishes under one set of circumstances what he would have desired under circumstances varying from these in a complex manner : and practically this view of the obli- gation of a promise generally leads to great divergence of opinion. Hence it is not surprising that some hold that even in such a case the obligation ought to be interpreted strictly: while others o-q to the other extreme, and maintain that it ceases altogether. Under this head we may consider the undertaking of society to execute the testaments of dead persons : because, though there is here no express promise, there seems to be a sufficiently clear understanding to impose on society a duty of Good Faith. Wc have not now to discuss how far the right of 284 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. bequest ought to be free or restricted in a well-ordered state, which is a question of politics : but whether, when a testament has been made on a clear understanding that the state will execute it, the latter can afterwards morally decline to do so, altogether or in j)art. Nor is the question raised, when the execution of the testament is settled and completed at once : as is ordinarily the case when the testator's property is distributed among persons living at the time of his death : but ^.vhen it is appropriated to certain public uses, under regulations which remain continually in force. There seem two distinct principles upon which it is sought to limit the obligation in such cases. First it is said (as before) that when circumstances have materially changed, we ought to carry oat what would have been the intentions of the testator under the changed state of thiugs, rather than the prescriptions actually laid down by him. But secondly, it is sometimes doubted whether any obligation undertaken by the community, or any section of it which has a permanent existence, can last for ever : and whether such obli- gation does not intrinsically decay and come to an end in course of time. And so some have proposed that all such dis- positions of property should be formally declared to be in force for a certain term of years only : after which time the com- munity should enter into possession of the property. However, we do not doubt that there are some national contracts, the obligation of which has not this quality of becoming evanescent: and it is hard to see how these are to be distingidshed from others, except on utilitarian grounds. For example, we think ourselves bound to pay the interest on loans contracted by our forefathers : and most of us think that we are bound to observe their treaties also. And yet a nation is at least excused for repudiating a treaty, when it is humiliating and oppressive : and perhaps we shall agree that no national engagement ought to bo kept for ever, if the residts of keeping it are manifestly harmful on the whole. For the contemplation of a peri^etuity of such harmful results seems to force even the most reluctant Intuitionist to adopt a utilitarian view of the duty, at least to this extent. On similar grounds we do not think a nation eternally bound to observe, as a part of its constitutional law, any compact that may have been made between previously Chap. VI.] LAWS AND PROMISES. 285 divided or temporarily dissentient sections of itself: even though the compact may have been expressly announced as binding for ever. In short, we must conclude that some special qualifications of the duty of keeping engagements are needed in the case of nations or other undying corporations : though we can hardly elicit from Common Sense any clear decision as to what these are. § 8. It was laid down that a promise was binding in so far as it was understood on both sides similarly. This under- standing is ordinarily attained with sufficient clearness, as far as the apprehension of express words or signs is concerned. Still, even here obscurity and misapprehension sometimes occur: and in the case of the tacit understandings with which promises are often complicated, a lack of definite agreement is not im- probable. It becomes, therefore, of practical importance to decide the question previously raised. What duty rests on the promiser of satisfying expectations which he did not intend to create ? I called this a duty not so much of Good Faith as of Justice, which prescribes the fulfilment of natural and reason- able expectations. How then shall we determine what these are ? The method by wdiich we commonly ascertain them seems to be tiie following. We form the conception of an average or normal man, and consider what expectations he woidd form under the circumstances, inferring this from the beliefs and expectations which men generally entertain under similar circumstances. We refer, therefore, to the customary use of language, and customary tacit understandings current among persons, in the particular relations in which promiser and promisee stand. Such customary interpretations and understandings are of course not obligatory upon persons enter- ing into an engagement: but they constitute a standard which we think we may presume to be known to all men, and to be accepted by them, except in so far as it is explicitly rejected. If one of the parties to an engagement has deviated from this common standard without giving express notice, we think it right that he should suffer any loss that may result from the misunderstanding. In legal contracts the usage of words has often by judicial interpretation been fixed and hardened into a signification very different from the ordinary : still, both parties 28 G THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. are by law supposed to know this and to have used words accordingly. This criterion then is generally applicable : but if custom is ambiguous or shifting it cannot be ajaplied : and then the just claims of the parties become a problem, the solution of which is very difficult, if not strictly indeterminate. So far we have supposed that the promisor can choose his own words, and that if the promisee finds them ambiguous he can get them modified, or (what comes to the same thing) explained by the promisor. But we have now to observe that there are some promises where this is not the case : where a certain unalterable form of words has to be used if the promise is made at all. Here the difficulties of moral interpretation are obviously much increased. In such cases the promise is commonly imposed as a condition of holding some social status, so that the community at large is directly interested in its ful- filment and seems to stand as promisee. It would seem there- fore that the promise ought to be interpreted in the sense in which its terms are understood by the community. And, no doubt, if their visage is quite uniform and unambiguous, this rule of interpretation is sufficiently obvious and simple. But since words are often used in different ways by different members of the same society, and especially with different degrees of strictness and laxity, it often happens that a promise to the community cannot strictly be said to be understood in any one sense : the question therefore arises, whether the promisor is bound to keep it in the sense in which it will be most com- monly interpreted, or whether he may select any of its possible meanings. And if the formula is one of some antiquity, it is further questioned, whether it ought to be interpreted in the sense which its words would generally bear, or in that which they bore when it was draAvn up, or, if they were then am- biguous, in the sense which appears to have been attached to them by the government that imposed the promise. On all these points it is difficult to elicit any clear view from Common Sense. And the difficulty is increased by the fact that there are often strong inducements to make these formal engage- ments, which cause even tolerably conscientious persons to take them in a strained and unnatural sense. When this has been done continually by many persons, a new general understanding CiiAP. VI.] LAM'S AND PROMISES. 287 grows up as to the meaning of the engagements : sometimes they come to be regarded as " mere forms," or, if they do not reach this jjitch of degradation, they are at least understood in a sense differing indefinitely from their original one. The question then arises, how far this process of gradual illegiti- mate relaxation or perversion can modify the moral obligation of the promise for a thoroughly conscientious person. It seems clear that when the process is complete, we are right in adopt- ing the new understanding as far as Good Faith is concerned, even if it palpably conflicts with the natural meaning of language : although it is always desirable in such cases that the form of the promise should be changed to correspond with the changed substance. Unfortunately, the process rarely is com- plete: there is almost always a portion of the community which imderstands the engagement in the original strict sense : very often the new understanding is half- esoteric, and confined to the minority of persons whose attention is especially drawn to the subject. Here, probably, most professed moralists would say that we are bound not to aid the process of illegitimate relaxation or alteration, though we may avail ourselves of its results when it is absolutely complete : but it seems doubtful whether we can give this as the decision of Common Sense. § 9. It was said that a promise cannot abrogate a prior obligation: and, as a particular application of this rule, it would be generally agreed that no promise can make it right to inflict harm on any one. On further consideration, however, it appears doubtful how far the persons between whom the promise passed are included in the scope of this prohibition. For, first, it does not seem to be commonly held that a man is a^ strictly bound not to injure himself as he is to avoid harming others: and so it is scarcely thought that a promise is not binding because it was a foolish one, and will entail an amount of pain or burden on the promiser out of proportion to the good done to the promisee. Still, if we take an extreme case, where the sacrifice is very disproportionate to the gain, many conscientious persons would think that the promise ought rather to be broken than kept. And, secondly, a different question arises when we consider the possibility of injuring the promisee by fulfilling the promise. For when it is said to be 288 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. wrong to Jo harm to any one, we do not mean only what he thinks liarm, but what really is so, though he may think it a benefit : for it seems clearly a crime for me to give any one wliat I know to be poison, even though he may be stubbornly con- vinced that it is wholesome food. But now suppose that I have promised A to do something, wJiich, before I fulfil the pi'omise, I see reason to regard as likely to injure him. The circum- stances may be precisely the same, and only my view of them have chano'ed. If A takes a different view and calls on me to fulfil the promise, is it right to obey him ? Surely no one would say this in an extreme case, such as that of the poison. But if the ride does not hold for an extreme case, where can we draw the line ? at Avhat point ought I to give up my judgment to A, unless my own conviction is weakened ? Or can we say that I ought always to break a promise, if I believe that my keeping it would be injurious to the promisee? Common Sense seems to give no clear answer. To sum up : we seem able to state it as a moral intuition that a promise, express or tacit, is binding, if made by an indi- vidual, if the promiser has a clear belief as to the sense in which it was understood by the pi'omisee, and if he is still in a position to grant release from it, but unwilling to do so, if it was not obtained by force or fraud, if it does not conflict with definite prior obligations, if we do not believe that its fulfilment will be harmful to the promisee, or will inflict a dispropor- tionate sacrifice on the promiser, and, if circumstances have not materially changed since it was made. For the intuition thus qualified we may claim a clear consensus: but if any of the qualifications be omitted, the consensus seems to become evan- escent, and our moral percej)tions fall into obscurity and dis- agreement. CHAPTER YII. THE CLASSIFICATION OF DUTIES. — TRUTH. § 1. It may easily seem that when we have discussed Benevolence, Justice, and the observance of Law and Contract, we have included in our view the whole sphere of social duty, and that whatever other maxims we find accepted by Common Sense must be subordinate to the principles which we have been trying to define. For whatever we owe definitely to our fellow-men, besides the observance of special contracts, and of positive Law, seems — -at least by a slight extension of common usage — to be natu- rally included under Justice : while the more indefinite obliga- tions which we recognise seem to correspond to the goodwill which we think ought to exist among all members of the human family, together with the stronger affections appro- priate to special relations and circumstances. And hence it may be thought that the best way of treating the subject would have been to divide Duty generally into Social and Self-regarding, and again to subdivide the former branch into the heads which I have discussed one by one ; afterwards adding such minor details of duty as have obtained special names and distinct recognition. And this is perhaps the proper place to explain why I did not adopt this course. The division of duties into Social and Self-regarding, though obvious, and acceptable enough as a TOugh. prima facie classification, does not on closer examination seem exactly appropriate to the Intui- tional Method. For these titles naturally suggest that the happiness, of the agent or of others, is always the end and final determinant of right action : whereas the Intuitional doctrine s. E. 19 290 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. is, that at least certain kinds of conduct are prescribed abso- lutely, without reference to their effects upon happiness. And if a more general meaning be given to the terms, and by Social duties we understand those which consist in the production of certain effects upon others, while in the Self-regarding we aim at producing certain effects upon ourselves, the division is still an unsuitable one. For these consequences are not clearly recognised in the enunciation of common rules of morality : and in many cases we produce marked effects both on ourselves and on others, and it is not easy to say which (in the view of Common Sense) are most important : and again, this principle of division would sometimes make it necessary to cut in two the class of duties prescribed under some common notion : as the same rule may govern both our social and our solitary conduct. Take, for example. Courage. It seems clear that the prominence given to this Virtue in historic systems of morality has been due to the great social importance that must always attach to it, so long as communities of men are continually called upon to fight for their existence and well- being : but still the quality of bravery is the same essentially, whether it be exhibited for selfish or social ends. At the same time it is no doubt true that when we examine with a view to definition the qualities that would be enu- merated in any list of Virtues, we find, for the most part, that the corresponding maxims are not absolute and independent, but subordinate to the general principles of Prudence, Benevolence, and Justice : that is, we generally see that the quality denoted is only praiseworthy in so far as it promotes the ends of these wider virtues, and becomes blameworthy — though remaining in other respects the same — when it acts adversely to these ends. We have already noticed this result in one or two instances, and it will be illustrated at length in the following chapters. But though this is the case to a great extent, it is not so altoge- ther : and the exceptions are, for our present purpose, of special importance, because specially characteristic of the method that we call Intuitionism. Of these exceptions the most important are Truth and T*nvify. One distinguished writer* ranks these as two of the 1 Whewell. Chap.vii.] the classiftca tion of D UTTES.—TR UTH. 2 1 five Cardinal Virtues : and their importance in the modern view of morality will be generally allowed to be (at least) only secondary to that of the Virtues already discussed. In the present chapter I shall deal only with Truth ; as it seems more convenient to consider the notion of Purity in close connexion with that of Temperance. There is another reason, before noticed, for considering the duty of Truth in this place : its affinity, namely, with the duty of Good Faith or Fidelity to Promises. For either rule pre- scribes a cei'tain correspondence between words and facts : and hence the questions that arise when we try to make the maxims precise are somewhat similar in both cases. For example, just as the duty of Good Faith did not lie in conforming our acts to the admissible meaning of certain words \ but to the mean- ing which we knew to be put on them by the promisee : so the duty of Truth is not to utter words which might, according to common usage, produce in other minds beliefs correspond- ing to our own, biit words which we believe will have this result on the persons whom we address. And this is usually a very simple matter, as the natural effect of language is to convey our beliefs to other men, and we commonly know" quite well whether we are doing this or not. A certain difficulty arises, as in the case of promises, from the use of set forms imposed either by law or by custom ; to which most of the discussion of the similar difficulty in the preceding chapter applies mutatis mutandis. In the case of formulae imposed by law, it is doubted whether we are to understand the terms in any sense which they actually bear, or ex animo imponentis ; and again, a difficulty is created by the gi'adual degradation or perversion of their meaning, which results from the strong inducements offered for their general acceptance : for thus they are continually strained and stretched imtil a new general understanding seems gradually to grow up as to the meaning of certain phrases : and it is continually disputed whether we may veraciously use the phrases in this new signification. A similar process continually alters the meaning of conven- tional expressions current in polite societ}^ When a man declares that he "has great pleasure in accepting" a vexa- ^ The case vrhere set forms are used being the exceptio probans regulam. 19—2 292 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. tioiis invitation, or is "the obedient servant" of one whom he regards as an inferior, he uses phrases which were probably once deceptive. If they are so no longer. Common Sense con- demns as over-scrupulous the refusal to use them where it is customary to do so. But Common Sense seems doubtful and perplexed where the process of degradation is incomplete, and there are still persons who may be deceived : as by the reply that one is " not at home " to an inconvenient visitor. However, apart from the use of conventional jDhrases, the rule " to speak the truth " is not generally difficult of applica- tion in conduct. And many moralists have declared it to be a perfectly simple and definite intuition, needing no proof: an unexceptionable instance of an ethical axiom. I think, how- ever, that patient reflection will shew that this view is scarcely confirmed by the Common Sense of mankind. § 2. For, first, it does not seem clearly agreed whether Veracity is an absolute and independent duty, or whether it is based upon some higher principle. We find (e.g.) that Kant regards it as a duty owed to oneself to speak the truth, because " a lie is an abandonment or, as it were, annihilation of the dignity of man." And this seems to be the view in which lying is prohibited by the Code of Honour, only that it is not thought (by men of honour as such) that the dignity of man is impaired by any lying : but only that lying for selfish ends, especially under the influence of fear, is mean and base. In fact there seem to be circumstances under which the Code of Honour prescribes lying. Here, however, it may be said to be plainly divergent from the morality of Common Sense. Still, the latter does not seem to tell us clearly whether truth- speaking is absolutely a duty, needing no further justification : or whether it is rather a natural right of each man to have truth spoken to him by his fellows, but still a right Avhich may be forfeited or suspended under certain circumstances. Just as each man is thought to have a natural right to personal secu- rity generally, but not if he is himself attempting to injure others in life and property : and if we may even kill in defence of ourselves and others, it seems strange if we may not lie, if lying will defend us better. And again, just as the orderly and .systematic slaughter which we call war is thought per- CnAP.VII.] THE CLASSIFICATION OF DUTIES—TRUTH. 293 fectly right under certain circumstances, though painful and revoltinsr: so in the word-contests of the law-courts, the lawyer is commonly held to be justified in lying within strict rules and limits : for an advocate is thought to be over-scru- pulous who refuses to say what he knows to be false, if he is instructed to say it'. Nor, again, are we thought to owe truth- speaking to madmen, if it would lead them to injure others, or even if it would be injurious to themselves. And this latter instance suggests another general doubt as to the absoluteness of the rule : for a lie is usually harmful to the man deceived, whose interest it is to know the truth, which the deceiver seems to gain by concealing : but some- times deception seems beneficial to its object, and so claims to be a right and virtuous act. And though Common Sense is very jealous of admitting that it can be right to deceive men for their good, yet it seems to concede this in an extreme case : for example, few would hesitate to lie to an invalid, if this seemed the only way of concealing facts that might produce a dangerous shock. Nor do I perceive that any one shrinks from telling fictions to children, on matters upon which it is thought well that they should not know the truth. But if the lawfulness of benevolent deception in any case be admitted, I do not see how we can decide when and how far it is admis- sible, by any clear method except that of Utilitarianism ; that is, we must weigh the gain of any particular deception against the imperilment of mutual confidence involved in any violation of truth. The much-argued question of religious deception ("pious fraud") naturally suggests itself here. It seems clear, how- ever, that Common Sense now pronounces against the broad rule, that falsehoods may rightly be told in the interests of religion. But there is a subtler form in which the same prin- ciple is still maintained by moral persons. It is sometimes said that the most important truths of religion cannot be con- veyed into the minds of ordinary men, except by being en- closed, as it were, in a shell of fiction : so that by relating such ^ It cannot be said that the advocate merely reports the false affirmations of others: since the whole force of his pleading depends upon his adopting them and working them up into a view of the case which, for the time at least, he appears to hold. 294 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. fictions as if they were facts, we are really performing an act of substantial veracity^ Reflecting upon this argument, we see that it is not after all so clear wherein Veracity consists. For from the beliefs imme- diately communicated by any set of afiirmations inferences are naturally drawn, and we may clearly foresee that they will be drawn. And though commonly we intend that both the beliefs immediately communicated and the inferences drawn from them should be true, and a person who always aims at this is praised as candid and sincere : still we find relaxation of the rule prescribing this intention claimed in two different ways by at least respectable sections of opinion. For first, as was just now observed, it is sometimes held that if a conclusion is true and important, and cannot be satisfactorily communicated other- wise, we may lead the mind of the hearer to it by means of fictitious premises. But the exact reverse of this is perhaps a commoner view: viz, that it is only an absolute duty to make our actual afifirmations true : for it is said that though the ideal condition of human converse involves perfect sincerity and can- dour, and we ought to rejoice in exhibiting these virtues where we can, still in our actual world concealment is frequently necessary to the well-being of society, and may be legitimately effected by any means short of actual falsehood. Thus it is not uncommonly said that in defence of a secret we may not lie ^ i. e. produce directly beliefs contrary to fact : but we may "turn a question aside," i. e. produce indirectly, by natural inference from our answer, a negatively false belief: or "throw the in- quirer on a wrong scent," i. c. produce similarly a positively false belief Those two methods of concealment are known respec- tively as suppressio veri and suggestio falsi, and many think them legitimate under certain circumstances : while others say that if deception is to be practised at all, it is mere formalism to object to any one mode of effecting it more than another. On the whole, then, reflection seems to shew that the rule ^ While I write this (Aug., Sept., 1873) a certain religious school is publicly justifying itself in the manner above indicated for solemnly affirming a belief in the Fourth Commandment. It is urged that we may say that God created the world in G days and rested on the 7th, meaning that 1 : 6 is the divinely ordered proportion between rest and labour. ? Cf. Whcwcll, Elements of MoralUij, Book ii. c. 15, § 290. Chap. VII.] THE CLASSIFICATION OF DUTIES.— TRUTH. 295 of Veracity, as commonly accepted, caunot be evolved into a definite first principle : for there is no real agreement as to how far we are bound to impart true beliefs to others : and while it is contrary to Common Sense to exact absolute candour under all circumstances, we yet find no secondary general principle, clearly defining when it is not to be exacted. § 3. There is, however, one method of exhibiting a 'priori the absolute duty of Truth, which we must not overlook : as if it be valid, it would seem that the exceptions and qualifications above mentioned have been only admitted by Common Sense from inadvertence and shallowness of thought. It is said that if it were once generally understood that lies were justifiable under certain circumstances, it would imme- diately become quite useless to tell the lies, because no one would believe them : and that the moralist cannot lay down a rule which, if generally accepted, would be suicidal. To this there seem to be three answers. In the first place it is not neces- sarily an evil that men's confidence in each other's assertions should, under certain peculiar circumstances, be impaired or destroyed : it may even be the very result which we should most desire to produce : (e. g.) it is obviously a most effective protection for legitimate secrets that it should be universally understood and expected that those who ask questions which they have no right to ask will have lies told them : nor, again, should we be restrained from pronouncing it lawful to meet deceit with deceit, by the fear of impairing the security which rogues now derive from the veracity of honest men. Secondly, since the beliefs of men in general ai^e not formed purely on rational grounds, it is not true that unveracity becomes alto- gether ineffective under circumstances where it is generally understood to be legitimate. We see this in the case of the law-courts. For though jurymen are perfectly aware that it is considered the duty of an advocate to try to persuade them of the innocence of any criminal he may defend, still a skilful pleader can often produce a conviction of his sincerity : and it remains a question of casuistry how far this kind of hypocrisy is justifiable. But, finally, it cannot be assumed as certain that it is never right to act upon a principle of which the universal application would be an undoubted evil. This may seem to con- 296 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. tradict what was previously given as an ethical axiom, "that what is right for me must be right for all persons under similar circumstances \" But it can easily be shewn that there is a special case within the range of the axiom in which the uni- versal " all " is necessarily particularized into some : i. e. where my circumstances include (1) the knowledge that the rule is not universally accepted ; and (2) the conviction that my act will not tend to make it so, to any extent worth considering. And it can hardly be said that these conditions are impossible : at least so long as clear and consistent views of morality are only attained by a small minority in any society, and casuistical debates are for the most part confined within the same limited sphere. Hence the argument we are discussing certainly lacks demonstrative cogency : though it undoubtedly directs our at- tention to an important danger of un veracity, which constitutes a strong — ^but not formally conclusive — utilitarian ground for speaking the truth. 1 Cf. c. 1, § 3. CHAPTER VIII. OTHEE SOCIAL DUTIES AND VIRTUES. § 1. When we proceed to inquire how far the minor social duties and virtues recognised by Common Sense appear on examination to be anything more than special applications of tlie Benevolence — gpneral or particular — discussed in chap. 4, the department of duty which most prominently claims our attention, is that which deals with the existence, and deter- mines the legitimacy, of feelings antithetical to the benevolent. For it seems that malevolent feelings are as natural and normal to man as the benevolent : not indeed in the same sense normal, that is not at all times and towards all men (for man seems to have naturally some kindly feeling for any fellow-man, when there is no special cause operating to make him love or hate : though this is obscured and counteracted in the lower stages of social development by the habitual hostility between strange tribes and races) : but still as arising from causes that continually occur, and exemplifying a psychological law analo- gous to that by which the growth of benevolent feelings is explained. For just as we arc apt to love those who are the cause of pleasure to us whether by voluntary benefits or other- wise : so by strict analogy we naturally dislike those who have done us harm, either consciously from malevolence or mere selfishness, or even unconsciously, as when another man is an obstacle to our attainment of a much-desired end. Thus we naturally feel ill-will to a rival who deprives us of an object of competition ; and so in persons in whom the desire of superi- ority is strong, a certain dislike of any one who is more successful or prosperous than themselves is easily aroused : and 298 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. however repulsive to our moral sense, seems as natural as any other malevolent emotion. As regards their nature the malevo- lent affections seem (as was said) the exact antithesis of the benevolent : as they include a dislike of the presence of their object and a desire to inflict pain on it, and also a capacity of deriving pleasure from the pain thus inflicted. If now we ask how far their indulgence is right and proper, the answer of Common Sense is not easy to formulate. For some woidd say broadly that they ought to be repressed altogether or as far as possible. And no doubt we blame all envy (though sometimes to exclude it altogether requires a magnanimity which we praise): and we regard as virtues or natural excellences the good/mmour which prevents one from feeling even pain, much less resentment, from trifling annoy- ances inflicted by others, the meekness which does not resent even graver injuries, the mildness and gentleness which refrain from retaliating them, the placability which accords forgiveness rapidly and easily, and the mercy which spares even deserved punishment. And yet most moralists have allowed instinctive resentment for wrong to be legitimate and proper : and we all think that punishment ought to be inflicted for offences, and also that there is a righteous anger and a virtuous indignation. As regards punishment we have already noticed the change that has taken place in the moral view of mankind. What seems now to be commonly held is this : that punishment is properly and intrinsically due in return for wrong-doing, but that the individual wronged ought not to take pleasure in inflicting it and ought not, generally speaking, to inflict it him- self, but to leave it to society to enforce : and if in any case he must himself punish, he ought to do so as the organ of society, or at any rate to punish the act as abstractly wrong and not requite it as injury done to himself. And in accordance with this view it is stated generally that anger must be directed always against wrong acts as such, and not against the agent : for though the anger may prompt us to punish him, it ought never to overcome our kindly feeling towards him. And certainly if this state of mind is possible, it seems the simplest reconciliation of the general maxim of Benevolence with the admitted duty of inllicliiig punishment. Chap. VIIL] OTHER SOCIAL DUTIES AND VIRTUES 299 But some think that to retain a genuine kindly feeling towards a man, while Ave are gratifying a strong impulse of aversion to his acts by inflicting pain on him, requires a subtle complexity of emotion too far out of the reach of ordinary men to be prescribed as a duty : and that we must allow as right and proper a temporary suspension of benevolence towards wrong-doers until they have been punished. And others go even further and say that this is required in the interests of society, since the mere desire to realize Justice will not practi- cally be strong enough to repress offences : and that it is as serious a mistake to attempt to substitute this for natural resentment as it would be to substitute prudence for natural appetite in eating and drinking, or mere dutifulness for filial affection. Others, again (with Butler), make a distinction be- tween Instinctive and Deliberate Resentment: saying that the former is legitimate in so far as it is required for the self- defence of individuals and the repression of mutual violence: but that deliberate resentment is not similarly needed, for if we act deliberately we can act from a better motive. And even the rule of external duty, in respect of the actual infliction of punishment, is not easy to define. For it was said that punishment ought generally to be left to society (acting through its regular machinery of law-courts, judges, magis- trates, &c.): but there are some acute injuries to individuals which the law does not punish at all, or not adequately, or not in time: and there is no clear agreement as to our duty in relation to these. For the Christian code seems to prescribe a complete and absolute forgiveness of such offences, and many Christians in all periods of Christianity have endeavoured to carry out this rule : the majority, however, appear to under- stand these prescriptions as really relating to malevolent feeling and not to actual punishment for wrong. Others, again, seem to hold that we ought to bear without retaliation any injuries or insults inflicted on ourselves, but that we may rightly retaliate on behalf of friends or relatives who cannot defend themselves. Most, however, would probably say that acts of retaliation were permitted to private persons, not exactly as punishments, but in self-defence, and for the sake of others whom impunity might encourage the wrong-doer to attack. 300 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. So that tlie question how far the precepts of Christianity are to be practically carried out seems to be determined on utili- tarian grounds : we are to forgive except when forgiveness is likely to be attended with harmful consequences. On the whole we may perhaps sum up by saying that a superficial view of the matter naturally leads us to condemn sweepingly all malevolent feelings and the acts to which they prompt, as contrary to the general duty of benevolence : but that the common sense of reflective persons recognises the necessity of relaxing this rule in the interests of society : only it is not clear as to the limits or principles of this relaxation, though inclined to let it be determined on utilitarian grounds. § 2. Of the remaining virtues that are clearly and exclu- sively social, most will be seen at a glance to have no indepen- dent maxims, but to be merely special applications of those already discussed. We need not, then, enter upon an ex- haustive examination of these : — for it is not our object to frame a complete glossary of ethical terms — but for illustration's sake it may be well to discuss one or two of them ; and I will select for examination Liberality with its cognate notions, partly on account of the prominence that it has had in the earlier ages of thought, and partly because of a certain com- plexity in the feelings with which it is usually regarded. Considered as a Virtue, Liberality seems to be merely Bene- volence, as exhibited in the particular service of giving money, beyond the limits of strict duty. For in so far as it can be called a duty to be liberal, it is because in the performance of the more or less indefinite duties enumerated in chap. 4, we do not like exactness to be sought; a certain excess is need- ful if the duty is to be well done. And perhaps in the case of the poor this graceful excess is excluded by prudence: for though a poor man might make a great sacrifice in a small gift we should call this generous but scarcely liberal : for Liberality is a somewhat superficial virtue and seems to require an external abundance in the gift even more than a self-sacrificing disposition. It seems therefore to be possible only to the rich : and, as I have hinted, in the admiration commonly accorded to it there seems to be mingled an element which is not properly moral. For wc arc all apt to admire power, and we recognise Chap. VIIL] OTHER SOCIAL DUTIES AND VIRTUES. 301 the latent power of wealtli gracefully exhibited in a certain degree of careless profusion when the object is to give happi- ness to others. Indeed the vulgar admire the same carelessness as manifested even in selfish luxury. The sphere of Liberality, then, lies generally in the ful- filment of the indefinite duties of Benevolence. But there is a certain bordersrround between Justice and Benevolence where it is especially shewn: i.e. in the full satisfaction of all customary expectations, even when indefinite and uncertain : as (e.g.) in the remuneration of services, in so far as this is governed by custom : and even where it is left entirely to free contract, and therefore naturally determined by haggling and bargaining (as market value generally) it is characteristic of a liberal man to avoid this haggling and to give somewhat higher remuneration than the other party might be induced to take, and similarly to take for his own services a some- what lower payment than he might persuade the other to give. And again, since laws and contracts and promises and especially tacit understandings are sometimes doubtful and am- biguous, a liberal man will unhesitatingly adopt the interpre- tation which is least in his own favour, and pay the most that he can by any reasonable person be thought to owe, and exact the least that can be thought to be due to himself: that is, if the margin be, relatively to his resources, not considerable*. And of a man who does the opposite of all this we predicate Meanness: this being the vice antithetical to Liberality. Here again there seems no place for this particular vice if the amount at stake be considerable : for then we think it not mean to exact one's own rights to the full, and worse than mean to refuse another what he ought to have : in fact in such case we think that any indefiniteness as to rights should be practically removed by the decision of a judge or arbitrator. The vice of meanness then is, we may say, bounded on the side of vice by injustice: meanness itself is not a violation of Justice but of Benevolence: the mean man is blamed as choosing a little gain to himself rather than avoid annoying another. Here, again, an element 1 If the amoimt at stake is such as to constitute a real sacrifice, the conduct seems to be more than liberal, anil (unless blamed as extravagant) is rather praised as generous or highminded. 302 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. not strictly moral is included in the common disapprobation of meanness. For, as we have seen, a certain carelessness of money is admired as a sign of power and superiority : and the opposite habit is a symbol of inferiority. The mean man then is despised not as shewing this symbol (for it is not his poverty but his character that is despised), but because he prefers a little gain to the respect or favourable opinion of others. This preference, however, seems to be in bad taste, rather than WTons: : and so our dislike of it is rather aesthetic than moral. Meanness, however, has a wider sphere than Liberality, and refers not merely to the taking or refusing of money, but to taking advantages generally : in this wider sense the opposite virtue is Generosity. In so far as the sphere of Generosity coincides with that of Liberality, the former seems partly to transcend the latter, partly to refer more to the internal disposition, and to imply a completer triumph of unselfish over selfish impulses. In the wider sense it is strikingly exhibited in conflict and competi- tion of all kinds. Here it is sometimes called Chivalry. Re- flection shews us that the virtue is Benevolence exhibited under circumstances which make it peculiarly difficult and therefore peculiarly admirable. For Generosity or Chivalry towards adversaries or competitors seems to consist in shewing as much kindness and regard for their well-being as is compatible with the ends and conditions of conflict : one prominent form of this being the endeavour to realize ideal justice in these conditions, not merely by observing all the rules and tacit imderstandings under which the conflict is conducted, but by resigning even accidental advantages. This latter is not of course considered a strict duty : nor is there even agreement as to how far it is right and virtuous : for what some would praise and approve, others would regard as quixotic and extravagant. To sum up, Ave may say that the terms Liberality and Generosity, so far as they are strictly ethical, denote the virtue of Benevolence (including Justice to some extent) as exhibited in special ways and under special conditions. And the exami- nation of the other minor social virtues would evidently lead to similar general results : though it might not always be easy to agree on their exact definitions. CHAPTEE IX. SELF-REGAEDIXG VIRTUES. § 1. In cLap. 3 we noticed that a complete definition of Wisdom was not possible from the point of view adopted in the present treatise : because Wisdom is the faculty and habit of choosing the best means to the best ends, and in different me- thods of Ethics different ends are regarded as absolutely best. As (e, g.) in Egoistic Hedonism (cf Book ill.) the end of Self- love is so regarded : whereas according to the present method Self-interest must alwaj^s give way to Duty. Still, within the limits fixed by other duties, Common Sense considers that Self- love is naturally authoritative over other impulses : and that it is a duty to seek our own happiness, except in so far as Ave are prohibited by strict ndes of morality, or can promote the welfare of others by sacrificing it. There are no doubt some Intuitive Moralists (such as Kant) who deny that this can properly be a duty : but their argument seems to proceed on the assumption that our own [greatest^] happiness is what we always naturally seek and indeed cannot help seeking. Against this psychological doctrine I have argued at some length in a previous chapter*: and the ethical conclusion thus drawn from it is certainly at variance with Common Sense : for we commonly hold that men can and do sacrifice their own happiness both to lower and to higher impulses, ^ The notion "gi-eatest" is necessary to make the argument that I am noticing complete: but it is not expressed by Kant or others: if it were perhaps the fallacy of the argument would be obvious. ■ Bk. I. c. 4, § 1. 304 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book Ill- There is then a Duty of seeking one's own happiness ; commonly kno"\vn as the Duty of Prudence. We may observe a certain divergence in the accounts com- monly given of this notion, which is not, however, difficult to explain. The Duty of Prudence is, as we have said, the Duty of aiming at one's own greatest happiness. But, since it is com- monly thought that most persons equally desii'e their own good, though their efforts are not equally well directed to its attain- ment: in conceiviug Prudence as a Virtue or Excellence, attention is often fixed almost exclusively on its intellectual side. Thus regarded. Prudence may be said to be merely Wisdom special- ized by the definite acceptance of Self-interest as its sole ulti- mate end^ The two views, as was said, are easily harmonized : for in so far as it is our duty to seek our own interest, it is obviously our duty to do so Wisely; calculating carefully the best means to its attainment, and resisting all irrational impulses which may tend to perturb our calculations or pre- vent us from acting on them. How these calculations may best be pursued, and what value is to be attached to their results, are questions which we need not here consider further, as they have already been discussed at some length in Book II. § 2. There are, however, current notions of particular virtues, which woiild commonly be called Self-regarding : but yet with regard to which it is not quite clear whether they are merely particular applications of Prudence, or whether they have independent maxims. Of these Temperance, one of the four cardinal virtues anciently recognised, seems the most prominent. In its ordinary use. Temperance is the habit of controlling the principal appetites (or desires which have an immediate corporeal cause). The habit of moderating and controlling our desires generally is recognised by Common Sense as useful and desirable, but with less distinctness and emphasis. All are agreed that our appetites need control : but in order to establish a maxim of Temperance, we have to determine 1 The term is also used to denote a purely intellectual excellence : either as vaguely equivalent to Wisdom, or (as by Wliewell) for the faculty of choosing the best means to any ends. Chap. IX. J SELF-REGARDING VIRTUES. 305 ■within what limits, on what principle, and to what end they ought to be controlled. Now in the case of the appetites for food, drink, sleep, stimulants, &c., no one doubts that bodily health and vigour is the end naturally subserved by their grati- fication, and that the latter ought to be checked whenever it tends to defeat this end (including in the notion of health the most perfect condition of the mental faculties, so far as this appears to depend upon the general state of the body). And, further, all would agree that bodily appetite ought never to be indulged, if the indulgence involves the loss of any greater gratification of whatever kind. So far Temperance is merely a special application of Prudence, or of the fundamental maxim of Egoistic Hedonism. Again, Common Sense undoubtedly holds that the gratification of appetite must not be allowed to interfere with the performance of duties : though it is perhaps doubtful how far this is recognised in the ordinary notion of Temperance. But here the distinction betw^een strict duties and virtuous acts seems important : for, as we saW' , when we come to consider the indefinite duties of Benevolence and Pity, it is scarcely admitted that we are bound always to postpone the gratification of our own appetites, if we can thereby render any service to others. At least it cannot be said that Common Sense definitely prescribes so much self-sacrifice as this : though it seems always to praise it, except in so far as it has a vague dread that the self-sacrifice may fail of its end. Some, however, deduce from the obvious truth, that the maintenance of bodily health is the chief natural end of the appetites, a more rigid rule of restraint, and one that goes beyond prudence. They say that this end ought to fix not only the negative but the positive limit of indulgence : that the pleasure derived from the gratification of appetite should never be sought per se (even when it does not impair health, or inter- fere with duty, or with a greater pleasure of a different kind) : but only in so far as such gratification is positively conducive to health. When we consider to what a marked divergence from the usual habits of the moral rich this principle would lead, we might be disposed to say that it is clearly at variance with Common Sense : but it is undeniable that it often meets with verbal assent. s. E. 20 30G THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. There is, again, a third and intermediate view which accepts the principle that the gratification of appetite is not to be sought for its own sake, but admits other ends as legitimate besides the mere maintenance of health. E.g. WhewelP sa^'s, "The appetites... are to be indulged as subservient to the sup- port of life, strength, and cheerfulness, and the cultivation of the social affections." We see that this rule need not be prac- tically very austere, as there --is scarcely any sensual pleasure that may not promote cheerfulness. And I think that some such principle is more or less consciously held by many. We certainly find that solitary indulgence in the pleasures of the table is very frequently regarded with quasi-moral aversion. And the banquets which are given and enjoyed by moral per- sons, are vaguely supposed to have for their end not the common indulgence of sensual appetites, but the promotion of conviviality and conversational entertainment. For it is generally believed that the enjoyment in common of a luxurious meal developes social emotions, and also stimulates the faculties of wit and humour and lively colloquy in general : and feasts which are obviously not contrived with a view to such convivial and col- loquial gratifications seem to be condemned by refined persons. Still it would be going too far to state it as a maxim supported by Common Sense in respect of sensual pleasures generally, that they are never to be sought except they positively promote those of a higher kind. § 3. In the last section we have spoken chiefly of tlie appetites for food and drink. It is, however, in the case of the appetite of sex that the regulation morally prescribed most clearly and definitely transcends that of mere prudence : which is indicated by the special notion of Purity or Chastity '^. At first sight it may perhaps appear that the regulation of the sexual appetite prescribed by the received moral code merely confines its indulgence within the limits of the union sanctioned by law : only that here, as the natural impulse is peculiarly powerful and easily excited, it is especially necessary to prohibit any acts, internal as well as external, that tend even ' Elements of Morality, Bk. ii. c. 10. ^ The notion of Chastity is nearly eijuivalent to that of Purity, only some- what more external and superficial. Chap. IX.] SELF-REGARDING VIRTUES. 307 indirectly to the transgression of these limits. And this is to a great extent true : still on reflection it will appear, I think, that our common notion of purity implies a standard independent of law : for, first, conformity to this does not necessarily secure purity: and secondly, all illegitimate sexual intercourse is not thought to be impure \ and it is only by inadvertence that the two notions are sometimes confounded. But it is not very clear what this standard is. For when we interrogate the moral con- sciousness of mankind, we seem to find two views, a stricter and a laxer, analogous to the two interpretations of Temperance last noticed. It is agreed that the sexual appetite ought never to be indulged for the sake of the sensual gratification merely, but as a means to some higher end : but some say that the propaga- tion of the species is the only legitimate, as it is obviously the primary natural, end : while others regard the development of mutual affection in a union designed to be permanent as an end perfectly admissible and right. I need not point out that the practical difference between the two views is considerable : so that this question is one which it is necessary to raise and decide. But it may be observed that any attempt to lay down minute and detailed rules on this subject seems to be condemned by Common Sense as tending to defeat the end of purity : as such minuteness of moral legislation invites men in general to exercise their thoughts on this subject to an extent which is practically dangerous ^ I ought to point out that the Virtue of Purity is certainly not merely self-regarding, and is therefore properly out of j^lace in this chapter : but the convenience of discussing it along with Temperance has led me to take it out of its natural order. Some, however, would go further, and say that it ought to be treated as a distinctly social virtue : for the propagation and rearing of children is one of the most important of social interests : and they would maintain that Purity merely 1 In so far as mere illegitimacy of union is conceived to be directly and specially prohibited, and not merely from considerations of Prudence and Benevolence, it is regarded as a violation of Order rather than Parity. ^ It was partly o^ving to the serious oversight of not perceiving that Purity itself forbids too minute a system of rules for the observance of purity that the mediaeval Casuistry fell into extreme, and on the whole undeserved, disrepute. 20—2 308 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. connotes a sentiment protective of these important functions, supporting the rules which we consider necessary to sectire their proper performance. But it seems clear that, though Common Sense undoubtedly recognises this tendency of the sentiment of Purity to maintain the best possible provision for the con- tinuance of the human race, it still does not regard that as the fundamental point in the definition of this rule of duty, and the sole criterion in deciding whether acts do or do Hot violate the rule. For there are certain kinds of conduct which do not, at first sight, appear incompatible with the attainment of this end, though further investigation may shew them to be so; but which we unhesitatingly condemn as contrary to purity, without waiting for any such investigation. There seem to be no similar difficulties or questions with respect to other desires. We recognise, no doubt, a general duty of self-control : but this is merely as a means to the end of acting rationally (whatever our interpretation of rational action may be): it only prescribes that we should yield to no impulse which prompts us to act in antagonism to ends or rules deliberately accepted. The view that the gratification of im- pulse is in itself objectionable seems not to be taken by Com- mon Sense in respect even of all sensual impulses. We do not (e.g.) commonly condemn the most intense enjoyment of muscular exercise, or warmth, or coldness, or bathing, which are all purely sensual gratifications. Indeed, the only other case, besides that of the appetites above discussed, in which the Common Sense of our age and country seems even tempted to admire the Stoical or ascetical attitude towards natural im- pulses, is that of the promptings of pain and danger. We shall have occasion to discuss this in the next chapter. CHAPTER X. COURAGE, HUMILITY, &C. § 1. Besides tlie Virtue of Purity, which we found it con- venient to discuss in the last chapter, there remain one or two prominent excellences of character which do not seem to be commonly admired and inculcated with any distinct reference either to individual or general happiness : and which, though in most cases obviously conducive to one or other of these ends, sometimes seem to influence conduct in a direction at variance with them. For example, Courage is a quality which excites general admiration, whether it is shewn in self-defence, or in aiding others, or even when we do not see any benefit resulting from the particular exhibition of it. Again, in Christian societies, Humility (if believed sincere) often obtains unqualified praise, in spite of the loss that may evidently result from a man's underrating his own abilities. It will be well, therefore, to examine how far in either case we can elicit a clear and independent maxim defining the conduct commended under each of these notions. To begin with Courage. For clearness' sake it seems con- venient to denote by " Courage " a disposition to face danger of any kind without shrinking. We sometimes also call those who bear pain unfiinchingly courageous : but this quality of character we more commonly distinguish as Fortitude. Now it seems plain that if we seek for a definition of strict duty under the head either of Courage or of Fortitude, we can find none that does not involve a reference to other maxims and ends. For no one would say that it is our datij to face danger or to 310 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. bear avoidable pain generally, but only if it meets us in the course of duty\ And even this needs further qualification. For all determinate duties are to be fulfilled under all circum- stances : and therefore, of course, in spite of pain or danger. But as regards such indeterminate duties as those of general Benevolence, it would be commonly allowed that pain and danger are to be taken into account in practically determining them : e.g. one is not bound to attempt to save even the life of another if the risk of losing one's own is very great : and simi- larly for smaller services. Therefore the maxim can only be that we are to face pain and danger in the performance of strict duty and for an ade- quate end of Prudence or Benevolence : the difficulty of deter- mining what ends are adequate depending (1) on the uncer- tainty of hedonistic comparison, and (2) on the difficulty which was before noticed of defining exactly how much is prescribed under the notion of Benevolence. If we might identify the fundamental precept of Benevolence, as recognised by Common Sense, with the Utilitarian principle that w^e ought to aim at promoting the greatest hapjDiness of mankind generally; it would follow that we are bound to run any risk, if the chance of additional benefit to be gained for any one outweighs the chance of loss to ourselves if we fail. But it did not seem clear that the common estimate of the duty of Benevolence could be said to amount quite to this". When, however, we consider Courage as an Excellence rather than a Duty, it seems to hold a more independent position in our moral estimation. And this view corresponds more completely than the other to the common application of the notion : as there are many acts of courage, which are not altogether within the control of the Will, and therefore cannot be regarded as strict duties. For (1) danger is frequently sudden and needs to be met without deliberation, and under such cir- cumstances our acts seem to depend entirely on our inherited and formed character. And (2) though naturally timid persons 1 In the case of pain wliich cannot be avoided we consider that Fortitude will BupproBS outcries and lamenLations: tliougli in so far as these reUevc the sufferer without annoying others, the duty seems doubtful. 2 Cf. antCy c. 4, § 4. CiiAP. X.j COURAGE, HUMILITY, S:c. 311 can perhaps with effort control fear as they can anger or appe- tite, if time be allowed for deliberation, and can prevent it from taking effect in dereliction of duty : still this result is not all that is required for the performance of courageous acts, as these need more than ordinary energy — whereas the energy of the timid virtuous man is liable to be exhausted in the effort to control his fear: e.g. in battle he can perhaps stand still to be killed as well as the courageous man, but not charge with the same impetuosity or strike with the same vigour and precision. Here then what has been called the -Esthetic view of morality, which considers moral qualities as objects of admira- tion rather than approbation, is in place: for we only approve of the voluntary, but we admire much besides the voluntary. And when we thus consider the matter, there seems no doubt that we naturally and immediately admire courage without reference to any end served by it, and when the dangers which call it forth might be avoided without any dereliction of duty. There is, however, a limit here : for we call a man foolhardy Avho runs unnecessaril}' into dangers beyond a certain degree. Where then is the limit to be fixed ? On utilitarian principles we should endeavour to strike as exact a balance as possible between the amount of danger incurred in any case and the probable benefit of cultivating and developing by practice a habit so frequently necessary for the due performance of im- portant duties. This will obviously give a different result for different states of society and different callings and professions: as most people need this instinctive courage less in civilized societies than in semi-barbarous ones, and civilians less than soldiers. Perhaps the instinctive admiration of mankind for acts of daring does not altogether observe this limit : but we may say, I think, that in so far as it attempts to justify itself on reflection, it is commonly in some such way as this : and Common Sense does not seem to point to any limit depending on a different principle. § 2. As the Virtue of Courage is prominent in Pagan ethics, and in the Code of Honour which may be regarded as a sort of survival of the pagan view of morality : so Humility especially belongs to the ideal set before mankind by Chris- tianity, The common -account, however, of this virtue is 312 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. somewhat paradoxical. For it is generally said that Humility prescribes a low opinion of our own merits : but if our merits are comparatively high, it seems strange to direct us to have a low opinion of them. It may be replied, that though our merits may be high when compared Avith those of ordinary men, there are always some to be found superior, and we can compare our- selves with these, and in the extreme case with ideal excellence, of which all fall far short : and that we ought to make this kind of comparison and not the other kind, and contemplate our faults — of which we shall assuredly find a sufficiency — and not our merits. But si\rely in the most important deliberations which human life offers, in determining what kind of work we shall undertake and to what social functions we shall aspire, we must necessarily compare our qualifications carefully with those of other men, if we are to decide rightly. And it would seem just as irrational to underrate ourselves as to overrate : and though most men are more prone to the latter mistake, there are certainly some rather inclined to the former. It seems, then, that the common account of Humility is erroneous : and perhaps we . may say that it is the result of imperfect reflection on the common judgments in which this notion is used. For it would appear, when we look closer at the quality commonly praised under this name (which is not always used eulogistically), that Humility is regulative of two different impulses, one entirely self-regarding and internal, the other relating to others and partly taking effect in social behaviour. The internal duty relates, strictly speaking, not to the opinions we form of ourselves (for here as in other opinions we ought to aim at nothing but Truth), btit to the emotion of self-admiration, which springs naturally from the contempla- tion of our own merits, and as it is highly agreeable, prompts to such contemplation. Now this admiring self-complacency is condemned : but not, I think, by an intuition that claims to be ultimate, as it is commonly justified by the reason that such self-admiration, even if well-grounded, tends to check our pro- gi'ess towards higher virtue. The mere fact of oiu- feeling this admiration is thought to be evidence that we have not suf- ficiently compared ourselves with our ideal, or that our ideal is not sufficiently high : and it is thought to be indispensable to Chap. X.] COURAGE, HUMILITY, dc 313 moral progress that we should have a high ideal and should continually contemplate it. At the same time, we obviously need some care in the application of this maxim. For all admit that self-respect is an important auxiliary to right conduct: and moralists continually point to the satisfactions of a good con- science as part of the natural reward which Providence has attached to virtue. Yet it is difficult to distiuguish the glow of self-approbation which attends the performance of a virtuous action from the complacent self-consciousness which Humility seems to exclude. Perhaps we may say that the feeling itself is natural and a legitimate pleasure, but that if prolonged and fostered it soon impedes moral progress : and that this part of the duty of Humility needs enforcing because most of us have a tendency to indulge this feeling overmuch. On this view the maxim is clearly a dependent one. The end to which it is subordinate is progress in Virtue generally : and Humility prescribes such repression of self-satisfaction as will tend to promote this end. As for such pride and self-satisfaction as are based not on our own conduct and its results, but on external and accidental advanta^jes, these are condemned as involvincf a false and absurd view as to the nature of real merit. But we not only take pleasure in our own respect and admiration, but still more, generally speaking, in the respect and admiration of others. The desire for this, again, is held to be to some extent legitimate, and even a valuable aid to morality : but as it is a dangerously seductive impulse, and frequently acts in opposition to duty, it is felt to stand in special need of self-control. Humility, however, does not so n)uch prescribe the repression of this desire, as of the claim for its satisfaction which we are naturally disposed to make upon others. We are inclined to demand from others " tokens of respect," some external symbol of their recognition of our ele- vated place in the scale of human beings ; and to complain if our demands are not granted. Such claims and demands Humility bids us repress. It is thought to be our duty not to allow ourselves even to formulate them. We are not to exact, generally speaking, even the expression of reverence which others are strictly bound to pay. And yet here, again, there is a limit, in the view of Common 314 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. Sense, at which this species of behaviour passes over into a fault: for the omission of marks of respect is sometimes an insult which impulses commonly regarded as legitimate and even virtuous (sense of Dignity, Self-respect, Proper Pride, &c.) prompt us to repel. But the ascertainment of this limit in- volves complex difficulties, and I think it is quite impossible to claim a consensus for any mode of determining it. For there is, first, the difficulty (discussed in ch. 4) of ascertaining the debt of reverence in any case : and when this is settled there remains the further doubt as to the duty of claiming it. And this doubt is peculiarly insoluble by the method of reflection on Common Sense, which we are now pursuing : for the present seems to be one of the few cases in which Christian teaching has not com- pletely penetrated and become identified with the morality of Common Sense in modern Europe. I do not mean that ordi- nary persons distinctly recognise this discrepancy : that would be impossible, as Christian "Morality is commonly considered to be completely true : but still this is a case in which the type of character that Christian tradition seems to recommend does not quite correspond to the moral ideal of the mass of reflective per- sons even in Christian countries. CHAPTER XL REVIEW OF THE MORALITY OF COMMON SENSE. § 1. We have now concluded such detailed examination of the morality of Common Sense as, on the plan laid down in chap. 1, it seemed desirable to undertake. We have not dis- cussed all the terms of our common moral vocabulary : but I believe that we have omitted none that are important either in themselves or relatively to our present inc[uiry. For of those that remain we may fairly say, not only that they denote minor duties, but that they manifestly will not furnish independent maxims : for a slight reflection shews that the conduct desig- nated by them is either prescribed merely as a means to the performance of duties already discussed ; or is really identical with the whole or part of some of these, viewed in some special aspect, or perhaps specialized by the addition of some peculiar circumstance or condition. Let us now pause and survey briefly the process in which we have been engaged, and the results which we have elicited. We started with admitting the point upon the proof of which Intuitional Moralists usually concentrate their efforts, the existence of apparently independent moral intuitions. We avoided the paradox of denying that men judge acts to be right and wront; in themselves, without consideration of their tendency to produce the agent's happiness or that of others : and indeed without taking their consequences into account at all, except in so far as these are included in the common notion of the act. We saw, however, that in so far as these judgments are passed on particular cases, they seem to involve (at least for the more reflective part of mankind) a 31 G THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. reference of the case to some general rule of duty : and that when the judgments of different individuals conflict, the conflict takes the form of a dispute whether an act is or is not included in a certain class. Now if ethical science exists, or can be con- stituted, it must prove its existence by substituting, to some extent at least, the clearness and harmony that are character- istic of science, for the vagueness, confusion, and conflict which are incident to mere unscientific opinion in all departments of thought. To this end it was necessary to obtain exact definitions of the commonly recognised classes of right actions : and the natural method of obtaining these seemed to be re- flection upon the usage of the terms by the aid of which our common moral thought proceeds. Here, again, we did not lay stress on the preliminary ob- jections in which some writers have found a short and summary refutation of Intuitionism. Because a moral judg-ment is com- monly attended with (and frequently warped by) emotions more or less strong, we did not therefore argue that such a judgment must necessarily be no more than the expression of a subjective sentiment, and that the objectivity implied in its form must be illusory. Because the moral opinions of ordinary men are in many points loose, shifting, and mutually contra- dictory, it does not follow that we may not obtain by reflection, from this fluid mass of opinion, a deposit of clear and precise principles commanding universal acceptance. For truths may be intrinsically self-evident which are yet not commonly seen to be so: indeed the fundamental notions of science, as they exist in ordinary minds, are so vague that men often accept as true or probable theories of which the impossibility can be demonstrated d prioriK Nor, again, do the discrepancies shewn by an impartial comparison of the moral codes of different ages and countries, militate decidedly against the possibility of ethical science. They certainly warn us that the subject is one upon which the human mind is prone to error: but they do not necessarily prove that truth is unattainable. For in all depart- ments of tliought people in other times and countries have held other opinions than ours : but this does not impair our con- Nov is this only true of ordiuary men. Even Galileo's first hypotlicsis as to the law of accelerating^ force involved a mathematical contradiction. CiiAP. XL] REVIEW OF COMMON i^ENSE. 317 viction that we liave in some departments at length found the true method by which scientific knowledge may be substituted for mere opinion. It appears, in short, that no summary general argument can dispense us from the task of carefully examining the notions and principles ivhich we commonly use in our moral reason- ings. The question, whether we can frame with these notions a set of general propositions which shall have the character- istics of scientific truth, is one which can and should be put to the test of experiment. It is in order to prepare materials for this experiment that the survey in the preceding eight chapters has been conducted. In our common moral discourse it is assumed that there are certain principles prescribing, under cer- tain common names and notions, the different kinds of conduct which are thought right and reasonable in different depart- ments of life. I have endeavoured to ascertain impartially, by mere reflection on common opinion, what these principles are. I wish it to be particularly observed, that I have in no case introduced my own views, in so far as I am conscious of their being at all peculiar to myself. My sole object has been to make explicit the implied basis of our common moral reason- ing : to formulate and tabulate the ultimate enunciations of that Conscience or Moral Faculty which is thought to be a possession of ordinary men no less than of philosophers. I now wish to subject the results of this survey to a rigorous examination, in order to ascertain whether these rules or principles possess the characteristics by which we distinguish knowledge from opinion. § 2. The truths of science are known to us in two ways, by direct intuition, or by processes of inference in which the ultimate premises must, of course, be intuitively or perceptively known. For our present purposes we need only examine the characteristics of the former, intuitively known, truths. There seem to be four conditions, the complete fulfilment of which would establish a proposition in the highest degree of certainty attainable : while in proportion as they are approxi- mately realized by the premises of our reasoning in any depart- ment, that reasoning (if formally sound) seems to deserve the name of Scientific. 318 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. I. The terms with which the principles are constructed must be clear and precise. The rival originators of modem Methodology, Descartes and Bacon, vie with each other in the stress that they lay on this point : and the latter's warning against the " notiones male terminatas" of ordinary thought is peculiarly needed in ethical discussion. In fact my chief busi- ness in the preceding survey has been to free the fundamental notions of Ethics, as far as possible, from objection on this score. II. The principles must be really self-evident. It may seem idle to state this ; as of course an Intuitive Truth, as such, claims to be self-evident. But, in fact, most persons are liable to confound intuitions, on the one hand with mere impressions or impulses, which to careful observation do not present them- selves as claiming objective validity; and on the other hand, with mere opinions, to which the familiarity that comes from frequent hearing and repetition often gives an illusory air of self-evidence which attentive reflection disperses. In such cases the Cartesian test of intuitions may be of real use ; if applied with the rigour which Descartes certainly intended, and not with the laxity which impairs the value of the important work of Keid. A rigorous demand for self-evidence in our pre- mises is a protection against the misleading internal influence of our own irrational impulses : while at the same time it not only distinguishes as inadequate the mere external support of authority and tradition, but also excludes the more subtle and latent effect of these in fashioning our minds to a facile and unquestioning admission of common but unwarranted as- sumjytions. And we may observe that the application of this test is especially needed in Ethics. For, on the one hand, it cannot be denied that any strong sentiment, however purely subjective, is apt to transform itself into the semblance of an objective intui- tion ; and it requires careful contemplation to detect the illusion. Whatever we desire we are apt to pronounce de- sirable : and we are strongly tempted to approve of whatever conduct gives us keen plcasure\ And on the other hand, among the rules of conduct to which we customarily conform, there are 1 Hence the practical importance of the Formal test of Eightness, on which Kant insists : cf. ante, c. 1, § 3. Chap. XL] HE VIE IV OF COMMON SENSE. 319 many which reflection shews to be really derived from some external authority : so that even if their obligation be un- questionable, it cannot be intuitively ascertained. This is of course the case with the Positive Law of the community to which we belong. There is no doubt that we ought, — at least generally speaking, — to obey this : but what it is we cannot of course ascertain by any process of abstract reflection, but only by consulting Reports and Statutes. Here, however, the sources of knowledge are so definite and conspicuous, that we are in no danger of confounding the knowledge gained from studying them with the results of abstract contemplation. The case is somewhat different with the traditional and customary rules of behaviour which exist in every society, supplementing the regula- tive operation of Law proper. A great part of these are of course conceived to be merely applications to special circum- stances of the principles of abstract morality : so that, though they may actually have become known to us by tradition, they are still supposed capable of a rational deduction. But along with, and often rather perplexingly blended with, these we all habitually obey rules which no one would maintain to be intrinsically reasonable : though they have not been issued by any definite authority, or embodied in any express formulae, they yet appear to the reflective mind as external as positive laws. We may take for illustration two systems of rules which have often been compared with Morality : the Law of Honour, and the Law of Fashion or Etiquette. The former case, no doubt, is not unambiguous : for the Honourable in conduct is commonly thought to be a species of the Beautiful — or perhaps we should rather say that the Dishonourable is a species of the Ugly — and it is not generally admitted that there is no absolute standard of Beauty and its opposite. Still, when we speak of the Code of Honour we seem to mean rules of which the exact nature is to be finally determined by an appeal to the general opinion of well-bred persons : we admit that a man is in a sense " dishonoured " when this opinion condemns him, even though we may think his conduct unobjectionable or even intrinsically beautiful\ Similarly, when we consider from the point of view 1 Take, for example, the case of a Frencliman at the present day, who having received an insult, declines on religions grounds to challenge his insulter. 320 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. of reason the rules of Fashion or Etiquette, some may seem useful and commendable, some indifferent and arbitrary, some perhaps absurd and burdensome : but nevertheless we recognise that the final authority on matters of Etiquette is the custom of polite society : which feels itself under no obligation of reducing its rules to rational principles. Yet it must be observed that each individual in any society commonly finds in himself a knowledge not obviously incomplete of the rules of Honour and Etiquette, and an impulse to conform to them without requiring any further reason for doing so. Each often seems to see at a glance what is honourable and fashionable just as clearly as he sees what is right : and it requires some consideration to discover that in the former cases custom and opinion are the final authority from which there is no appeal. And even in the case of rules regarded as distinctly moral, we can generally find an element that seems to us as clearly conventional as the codes just mentioned, when we contemplate the morality of other men, even in our own age and country. Hence we may reasonably suspect a similar element in our own moral code : and must admit the great importance of testing rigorously any rule which we find that we have a habitual impulse to obey; to see whether it really expresses or can be referred to a clear intuition of Tightness. III. The propositions accepted as self-evident must be mu- tually consistent. Here, again, it is obvious that any collision between two intuitions is a proof that there is error in one or other, or in both. Still, we frequently find ethical writers treating this point very lightly. They appear to regard a con- flict of ultimate rules as a difficulty that may be ignored or put aside for future solution, without any slur being thrown on the scientific character of the conflicting formulae. Whereas such a collision is absolute proof that at least one of the formute needs qualification : and suggests a doubt whether the correctly quali- fied proposition will present itself with the same self-evidence as the simpler but inadequate one : and whether we have not mistaken for an ultimate and independent axiom one that is really derivative and subordinate. IV. Since it is implied in the very notion of Truth that it is intrinsically the same for all minds, any defect in the universal Chap. XL] REVIEW OF COMMON SENSE. 321 acceptance of a proposition must jjro tanto impair our confidence in its validity. And in fact "universal consent" lias often been held to constitute by itself a sufficient proof of the most impor- tant behefs: and is practically the only one upon -which the greater part of mankind can rely. But a proposition accepted as true upon this ground alone is not scientifically known to the mind that so accepts it : scientific knowledge (strictly speaking) we only possess in the case of truths of which we can ourselves see the evidence. Still this does not impair, it rather exhibits and explains, the importance of the criterion of universal ac- ceptance : for the persons who have thus seen the evidence for themselves are just those whose agreement constitutes the most (if not the only) valuable portion of the consensus of mankind in general. And it will be easily seen that this agreement must remain an indispensable negative condition of the certainty of our beliefs. For if I find any of my intuitions in direct conflict with an intuition of some other mind, there must be error somewhere : and if I have no more reason to suspect error in the other mind than in my own, reflective comparison between the two intuitions necessarily reduces me temporarily to a state of neutrality. And though the total result in my mind is not exactly suspense of judgment, but an alternation and conflict between the positive affirmation of one act of thought and the neutrality that is the result of another : it is obviously something \ery different from scientific certainty. Now if the account given of the Morality of Common Sense in the preceding chapters be in the main correct, it seems clear that, generally speaking, its principles do not fulfil the conditions just laid down. So long as they are left in the state of somewhat vague generalities, as we meet them in ordinary discourse, we are disposed to yield them unquestioning assent, and it may be fairly claimed that the assent is approximately universal. But as soon as we attempt to give them the definiteuess which science requires, we find that we cannot do this without aban- doning the universality of acceptance. We find, in some cases, that alternatives present themselves, between v.-hich it is necessary that we should decide ; but between which we cannot pretend that Common Sense does decide, and wliich often seem equally or nearly equally plausible. In other cases the moral S. E. 21 322 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. notion seems to resist all efforts to obtain from it a definite rule: in others it is found to comprehend elements which we have no means of reducing to a common standard. Even where we seem able to educe from Common Sense a more or less clear reply to the questions raised in the process of definition, the principle that results is qualified in so complicated a way that its self- evidence becomes dubious or vanishes altogether. And thus in each case what at first seemed like an intuition turns out to be either the mere expression of a vague impulse, needing regu- lation and limitation which it cannot itself supply, but which must be drawn from some other source : or a current opinion, the reasonableness of which has still to be shewn by a reference to some other principle. In order that this result may be adequately exhibited, I must ask the reader to travel with me again through the series of principles elicited from Common Sense in the previous chap- ters, and to examine them from a different point of view. Before, we were trying to ascertain impartially what the deliver- ances of Common Sense actually are : we have now to ask how far these enunciations can claim to be classed as Intuitive Truths. § 3. If we begin by considering the duty of acting wisely, discussed in ch. 3, we may seem perhaps to have before us an axiom of undoubted self-evidence. For acting wisely appeared to mean taking the right means to the best ends : i.e. taking the means which Keason indicates to the ends which Reason prescribes. And it is evident that it must be right to act reasonably. Equally undeniable is the immediate inference from, or negative aspect of, this principle : that it is wrong to act irrationally. This, taken in connexion with the empirical fact of impulses in owe minds conflicting with Reason, gives — as another self-evident principle — the maxim of Temperance or Self-control in its widest interpretation : i.e. 'That Reason should never give way to Appetite or Passion \' And these ^ In c. 9, Tcmporanco was regarded as subordinate to, or a special application of, Prudence or Rational Egoism : because this seemed to be on the whole the view of Common Sense, which in the preceding chapters I have been endeavour- ing to follow as closely as possible, both in stating the principles educed, and in tlio order of tlieir exposition. Chap. XL] REVIEW OF COMMON SENSE. 323 principles have sometimes been enounced with no little so- lemnity as answering the fundamental question of Ethics and supplying the basis or summary of a doctrine of Practice. But this statement of principles turns out to be one of those stages, so provokiugly frequent in the course of ethical reflection, which, as far as practical guidance is concerned, are really brief circuits, leading us back to the point from which we started. Or rather, to prevent misapprehension, it should be observed that the maxims just given may be understood in two senses : in one sense they are certainly self-evident, because they are really identical propositions, slightly veiled : in another sense they include more or less distinctly a direction to an important practical duty, but as so understood they lose their self- evidence. For if the rules of Wisdom and Self-control mean (1) that we ought always to do what we see to be reasonable, and (2) that we are not to yield to any impulse urging us in an opposite direction : they simply affirm that it is our duty (1) generally and (2) under special temptations, to do what we see to be our duty : and do not even tend to remove our perplexities as to the method and principles by which duty is to be determined. But if they are further understood (as they sometimes are understood) to prescribe the cultivation of a habit of acting rationally ; that is, of referring each act to definitely conceived principles and ends, instead of allowing it to be determined by instinctive impulses : then I cannot consider the affirmation of this as an universal and absolute rule of duty to be self-evidently true. For when Keason is considered not in the present as actually commanding, but as an End of which a fuller realiza- tion has to be sought in the future ; the point of view from which its sovereignty has to be judged is entirely changed. The question is no longer whether the dictates of Reason ought always to be obeyed, but whether the dictation of Reason is always a Good : whether any degree of predominance of Reason over Impulse must necessarily tend to the perfection of the conscious self of which both are elements. And it is certainly not self-evident that this predominance cannot be carried too far : and that Reason is not rather self-limiting, perceiving that her ends are sometimes better attained by those who do not directly aim at them. 21—2 324 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. We have seen^ that Hedonists frequently recognise the necessity of such a limitation in the conscious pursuit of that Happiness which they regard as the ultimate end of rational action. And the contrary view, though it is one that orthodox moralists have always had a certain tendency to adopt, is certainly not supported by Common Sense : which is inclined to hold that in many matters instinct is a better spring of action than reason^. For example, it is commonly said that a healthy appetite is a better guide to diet than a doctor's prescription : and, again, that marriage is better undertaken as a consequence of falling in love than in execution of a tranquil and deliberate design : and again we saw (ch. 4) that there is a certain excellence in services springing from spon- taneous affection which does not attach to similar acts done from pure sense of duty. And more generally, it may be at least plausibly maintained of many acts requiring promptitude and vigour that they will be more energetic and effective, and of many requiring tact and delicacy that they will be more graceful and pleasant to others, if they are done from other motives than the conscious impulse to do what is reasonable and right. It is not necessary here to inquire how far this view is true : it suffices to say that we cannot affirm a j^riori that it is not true to some extent : that there may not be — to use Plato's analogy — over -government in the individual soul no less than in the state. The residuum, then, of clear intuition which we have so far obtained, is the tautological proposition that it is our duty to do our duty. § 4. Let us pass now to what I have called the duties of the Affections, the rules that prescribe either love itself in some degree, or the services that naturally spring from it in those relations where it is expected and desired. Here, in the first place, the question how far we are bound to render these services when we do not feel the affection, is answered differently in many cases by different persons, and no definite answer seems self-evident without further proof. And similarly if we ask whether affection itself is a duty : for on the one hand it is at least only partially within the control of the will, and in so far ' Cf. ante, c. 1, § 2: aud Bk. ii. c. 3, § 5. 2 Cf. ante, Bk. ii. c. 6, § 2. CflAP. XL] EEFIEJV OF COMMON SENSE. 325 as it can be produced by voluntary effort, there is thought to be something unsatisfactory and unattractive in the result : and on the other hand, in certain relations it seems to be commonly re- garded as a duty. On those points the doctrine of Common Sense is rather a rough compromise between conflicting lines of thought than capable of being evolved into a clear and universally accepted axiom. And if we confine ourselves to the special relations where Common Sense admits no doubt as to the duty of at least rendering the services to which affection naturally prompts, still the formulae that express those duties are, in the first place, not sufficiently precise and definite : and secondl}^, they do not, when rigorously examined, appear to have the character of pri- mary and independent intuitions. Let us take, for example, the duty of parents to childi'en. We have no doubt about this duty as a part of the general order of society, by which the due growth and training of the rising generation is distributed amoncj the adults. But when we reflect on this arrano^ement itself, we cannot say intuitively that it is the best possible. It may be plausibly maintained that children would be better trained, physically and mentally, if they were brought up under the supervision of physicians and philosophers, in large institu- tions maintained out of the general taxes. We cannot decide a priori which of these alternatives is. preferable : we have to refer to psychological and sociological generalizations, obtained by empirical study of human nature in actual societies. If, how- ever, we consider the duty of parents by itself, out of connexion with this social order, is it self evident that we owe more to our own children than to others who will manifestly starve if we neglect them ? To get the question clear, suppose that I am thrown with my family upon a desert island, where I find an abandoned orphan. Is it evident that I am less bound to pro- vide this child, as far as lies in my power, with the means of subsistence, than I am to provide for my own children ? No doubt I have a stronger natural prompting to take care of the latter : but that in itself is quite distinct from a prior duty. And if it be said that I owe more to my own children because I have brought them into being, the argument when closely scrutinized seems to carry us to singular conclusions. For it may be surely urged that just on this ground I have a right to 326 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. diminish their happiness, provided I do not turn it into a nega- tive quantity. As without me they would not have existed at all, they can, as my children, have no claim upon me for more than an existence on the whole above zero in respect of happi- ness : an existence of which the pleasure just more than counter- balances the pain. Nay, I might even go further and assert a right (so far as any special claim of theirs is concerned) to extinguish them painlessly at any point of their existence, if only their life up to that point has been on the whole worth having : for persons who would have had no life at all but for me cannot fairly complain that they are not allowed more than a certain quantity \ I do not mean to assert that these doctrines are even implicitly held by Common Sense : but merely to shew that here, as elsewhere, the pursuit of an irrefragable intuition may lead us unaware into a nest of paradoxes. It seems, then, that we cannot, after all, say that the special duty of parents to children, considered by itself, possesses clear self-evidence : and it was easy to shew (cf. ch. 4) that as recog- nised by Common Sense its limits were indeterminate. The rule prescribing the duty of children to parents need not detain us : for even to Common Sense it seemed doubtful whether this was not merely a particular case of gratitude : and we certainly have no clear intuition of what is due to parents who do not deserve gratitude. Again, the moral relation of husband and wife seems to depend chiefly upon contract and definite understanding. Still, it is usually thought that Mo- rahty prescribes certain conditions for all connubial contracts : and in our own age and country it is held that they should be (1) monogamic and (2) permanent. But neither of these opi- nions appears to be a primary intuition. As to the latter, all would no doubt admit that we admire fidelity in all affections, and especially in so close and intimate a relation as the con- jugal : but we cannot tell dj priori how far it is possible to pre- vent decay of love in all cases : and we certainly do not discern intuitively that the conjugal relation ought to be maintained when love has ceased : nor that if the parties have separated ' It may be noticed tliat a view very similar to this has often beou main- tained in considering what God is in justice bound to do for human beings in consequence of the quasi-parental relation in which he stands to them. Chap. XL] REVIEW OF COMMON SENSE. 327 by mutual consent, they ought to be prohibited from forming fresh unions. In so far as we are convinced of the rightucss of this regulation, it is always, I think, from a consideration of the pernicious consequences that would ensue if it were relaxed. Monogamy, again, is clearly the most obvious and natural ar- rangement : but we do not seem to apprehend intuitively, as a first principle, that all but monogamic unions ought to be pro- hibited. Nor does this seem to be generally maintained : but the moral necessity of prohibiting polygamy is sometimes put forward as an immediate inference from the equality of the numbers of the two sexes. But this argument assumes that all men and women ought to marry : this, however, scarcely any one is prepared to maintain : and actually considerable num- bers remain unmarried, and there is no reason to believe that in countries where polygamy is allowed, paucity of supply has ever made it practically difficult for any one to find a mate. We shall have to consider presently, under another head, the basis of the moral rules that govern the relations between the sexes. Meanwhile it is not irrelevant to notice the oreat variety and strange divergence of the regulations respecting marriage, to which reflective minds seem to be led when they are once set loose from the trammels of tradition and custom : as exhibited in the speculations of philosophers in all ages — especially of those (as e. g. Plato) to whom we cannot at- tribute any sensual or licentious bias. A.nd as for such conjugal duties as are not prescribed by Law, probably no one at the present day would maintain that there is any such general agreement as to what these are, as would support the theory that they may be known a priori. If, then, in these domestic relations, where the duties of affection are commonly recognised as so imperative and im- portant, we can find no really intuitive and primary principles for determining them : I need not perhaps spend time in shew- ing that the same is the case in respect of the less intimate ties (of kindred, neighbourhood, &c.) that bind us to other human beings. Indeed, this was made sufficiently manifest in our previous discussion of those other duties. No doubt there arc certain obligations towards human 328 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. beings generally which have an axiomatic appearance : as, for example, the negative duty of abstaining from causing pain to others, except by way of deserved punishment (whether this is to be placed under the head of Justice or Benevolence) : to which we may add the immediate corollary that we ought to make reparation for any pain which we may have caused. Still, when we try to define the limit of these duties, we see that it cannot be done in the abstract with any precision, in such a manner as to command general assent. There is cer- tainly little doubt that we ought not to cause pain to any one except as a means of obtaining some happiness for the sufferer or for some one else : though perhaps those who consider Free- dom as an absolute end ought scarcely to accept even this statement without qualification. But what we want practically to know is, how far we may legitimately cause pain to other men (or other sentient beings) in order to obtain happiness for ourselves or third persons; or even to confer a greater good on the sufferer himself, if the pain be inflicted against his will. And for deciding this point we do not seem able to obtain any clear and generally accepted principle, unless the Utilitarian formula be admitted as such. Again, as regards Eeparation, there is, as we have seen, a fundamental doubt how far this is for harm that has been involuntarily caused. Similarly, all admit the general duty of rendering services to our fellow-men and especially to those who are in special need, and that we are bound to make sacrifices for them, when the benefit that we thereby confer very decidedly outweighs the loss to ourselves ; but when we ask how far we are bound to give up our own happiness in order to promote that of others. Common Sense is not prepared with any definite answer. And even the principle of Gratitude, though its stringency is perhaps more immediately and universally felt than that of any other moral rule, seems yet incurably indefinite : owing to the fundamental difficulty of determining whether the requital of a benefit ought to be proportionate to what it cost the benefactor, or what it is worth to the recipient. § 5. When we pass to consider that element of Justice under which, as it seemed, the duty of Gratitude might be sub- sumed, the same difficulty" recurs in a more comiDlicated form. CiiAP. XL] REVIEW OF COMMON SENSE. 329 For here, too, we have to ask whether the Requital of Desert ought to be proportioned to the benefit rendered, or to the effort made to render it. Here, however, we seem distinctly to accept the latter as the true standard, so far as we are consider- ing what is ideally or abstractly just. For when we scrutinize closely the notion of personal merit, it appears, strictly taken, to imply the metaphysical doctrine of Free Will : since every excellence in any one's actions or productions seems referable ultimately to causes other than himself, except the original energy of the soul put forth in the effort to realize freely chosen Good or Right : and it does not seem strictly just that a man should be rewarded for the qualities which he has by nature or education, any more than for the wealth or power Avhich may come to him by inheritance. Still, for men at least to attempt to reward Free Will alone is obviously chimerical : and, indeed, we may say on the other hand, that it would be paradoxical in estimating Desert to omit the moral excellences derived from nature and education : or even intellectual excellences, since good intention without fore- sight is commonly felt to constitute a very imperfect merit. But even if we cut through this speculative difficulty by leaving the ultimate reward of real Desert to Divine Justice ; and if we dispose similarly of the partial discrepancy that exists, on the Intuitional view, between the goodness and the utility of actions, settling as our practical rule that men must reward bene- fits rendered to men: we still seem unable to find any clear prin- ciples for framing a scale of services arranged according to their value. And much the same may be said of the scale of Demerit which Criminal Justice seems to require. And even if these difficulties were overcome, we should still be only at the com- mencement of the perplexities in which the determination of Justice is involved.. For the examination of the contents of this notion, which we conducted in ch. 5, furnished us not with a single definite principle, but with a whole swarm of principles, which are unfortunately liable to come into conflict with each other; and of which even those, that, when singly contemplated, have the air of being self-evident truths, do not certainly carry with them any intuitively ascertainable definition of their mu- tual boundaries and relations. Thus, for example, in construct- 330 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. ing an ideally perfect distribution of the means of happiness, it seemed necessary to take into account the notion (as I called it) of Fitness, which, though often confounded with Desert, seems essentially distinct from it. For the social " distribuend " in- cludes not merely the means of obtaining pleasurable passive feelings, but also functions and instruments, which are im- portant sources of happiness, but which it is obviously reason- able to give to those who can perform and use them. And even as regards the material means of comfort and luxury — wealth, in short — we do not find that the same amount produces the same result of happiness in every case : and it seems reasonable that the means of refined and varied pleasure should be allotted to those who have the corresponding capacities for enjoyment \ And yet these may not be the most deserving, so that this principle may clearly conflict with that of requiting Desert. And either principle, as we saw, is liable to come into col- lision with the widely-accepted doctrine that the proper ulti- mate end of Law is to secure the greatest possible Freedom of action to all members of the community : and that all that any individual, strictly speaking, owes to any other is non-inter- ference, except so far as he has further bound himself by free contract. But further, when we come to examine this principle in its turn, we find that, in order to be at all capable of affording a practicable basis for social construction, it needs limitations and qualifications which make it look less like an independent principle than a medium axioma of Utilitarianism : and that it cannot without a palpable strain be made to cover the most important rights which positive law secures. For example, the justification of permanent appropriation is surely rather that it supplies the only adequate motive for labour than that it, strictly speaking, realizes Freedom : nor can the questions that arise in determining the limits of the right of property — such as whether it includes the right of bequest — be settled by any deductions from this supposed fundamental principle. Nor, again, can even the enforcement of contracts be fairly said to ^ For example, many hold that wealth is, roughly speaking, rightly distri- buted when cultivated persons have abundance and the luicultivated a bare subsistence, and that raising wages of unskilled labourers will not make them really happier, or not to any important degree. Chap. XL] REVIEW OF COMMON SENSE. 331 be a realization of Freedom : for a man seems, strictly speaking, freer when no one of liis volitions is allowed to control any other. And if we disregard this as a paradoxical subtlety, we are rnet on the opposite side by the perplexity that if abstract Freedom is consistent with any engagement of future services it must on the same grounds be consistent with such as are perpetual and unqualified, and so even with actual slavery. And this question becomes especially important when we con- sider that the duty of obeying positive laws has by many been reconciled with the abstract right of Freedom, by supposing a 'tacit compact' or understanding between each individual and the rest of his community. This Compact, however, seems on examination too clearly fictitious to be put forward as a basis of moral duty : as is further evident from the indefinitely various qualifications and reservations with which the 'under- standing ' has by different thinkers been supposed to be ' under- stood.' Hence many who maintain the 'Birthright of Free- dom ' consider that the only abstractly justifiable social order is one in which no laws are imposed without the express consent of those who are to obey them. But we found it impossible really to construct society upon this basis: and such Repre- sentative Governments as have actually been established only appear to realize this idea by means of rather sweeping limita- tions and rather transparent fictions. It was manifest, too, that the maximum of what is called Constitutional Freedom, i.e. the most perfect conformity between the action of a government and the wishes of the majority of its subjects, need by no means result in the maximum of Civil Freedom being established in the society so governed. But even if we could delineate to our satisfaction an ideal social order, including an ideal form of government, we have still to reconcile the duty of realizing this with the con- formity due to the actual order of society. For we have a strong conviction that positive laws ought, generally speaking, to be obeyed : and, again, our notion of Justice seemed to include a general duty of satisfying the expectations generated by custom and precedent. Yet if the actual order of society deviates very much from what we think ought to exist, the duty of conform- ing to it seems to become obscure and doubtful. And apart 332 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. from this we can liardly say that Common Sense regards it as an axiom that Laws ought to be obeyed. Indeed, all are agreed that they ought to be disobeyed when they command what is wrong : though we do not seem able to elicit any clear view as to what remains wrong after it has been commanded by the sovereign. And, again, the positive laws that ought to be obeyed as such, must be the commands issued by a (morally) rightful authority : and though these will generally coincide with the commands legally enforced, we cannot say that this is always the case : for the courts maj'- be temporarily subservient to a usurper; or, again, the sovereign hitherto habitually obeyed may be one against whom it has become right to rebel (since it is generally admitted that this is sometimes right). We require, then, princijoles for determining when usuri^ation becomes legi- timate and when rebellion is justifiable : and we do not seem able to elicit these from Common Sense — except so far as it may be fairly said that on this whole subject Common Sense inclines more to the Utilitarian method than it does in matters of private morality. Still less can Ave state the general duty of satisfying "natural expectations" — i.e. such expectations as au average man would form under given circumstances — in the form of a moral axiom. No doubt a just man will generally do this: but it can hardly be maintained that the mere existence of a custom renders it clearly obligatory that any one should conform to it who has not already promised to do so : especially since bad customs can only be abolished by individuals venturing to disregard them. § G. We have still to examine (whether as a branch of Justice or under a separate head) the duty of fulfilling express promises and distinct understandings. The peculiar confidence which moralists have generally felt in this principle is strikingly illustrated by those endeavours to extend its scope which we have just had occasion to notice : and it certainly seems to sur- pass in simplicity, certainty, and definiteness the moral rules that we have hitherto discussed. Here, then, if anywhere, we seem likely to find one of those ethical axioms of which we are in search. Now we saw that the notion of a Promise requires several qualifications not commonly noticed to make it precise: Chap. XI.] REVIEW OF COM 31 ON SENSE. 333 but tliis is no reason why we may not construct with it an intuitive principle, such as when enunciated and understood will obtain universal acceptance. For similarly the uninsti'ucted majority of mankind could not define a circle as a figure bounded by a line of which every point is equidistant from the centre : but nevertheless, when the definition is explained to them, they will accept it as expressing the j)erfect type of that notion of roundness which they have long had in their minds. And the same potential universality of acceptance may, I think, be fairly claimed for the propositions that the promise which the Common Sense of mankind recognises as binding must be understood by promiser and promisee in the same sense at the time of promising, and that it is relative to the promisee and capable of being annulled by him, and that it cannot override prior obligations \ But the case is different with the other qualifications which we had to discuss. When once the question of introducing these has been raised, we see that Common Sense is clearly divided as to the answer : and we can no longer claim even the implicit consent of mankind for our principle, however we define it. If we ask (e.g.) how far a promise is binding if it was made in consequence of false statements, on which, how- ever, it was not understood to be conditional ? or if important circumstances were concealed, or the promiser was in any way led to believe that the consequences of keeping the promise would be different from what they turn out to be ? or if the pro- mise was given under comjDulsion ? or if circumstances have ma- terially altered since it was given, and we find that the results of fulfilling it will be different from what we foresaw when we promised ? or even if it be only our knowledge of consequences which has altered, and we now see that fulfilment will entail on us a sacrifice out of proportion to the benefit received by the pro- misee ? or perhaps that they will be injurious to him though he may not think so? different conscientious persons would answer these and other^ questions (both generally and in particular 1 There was some cTifEculty (cf. c. 6) about such prior obligations as are not strictly determinate : but it is not worth while to dwell on this here. ^ I have omitted as less important the special questions connected with promises to the dead or to the absent, or where a form of words is prescribed, M hich were discussed in c. G. 33 4 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. cases) in different ways : and though we could perhaps obtain a decided majority for some of these qualifications and against others, there would not in any case be a clear consensus either way. And, moreover, the mere discussion of these points seems to make it plain that the confidence with which the " unsophis- ticated conscience" asserts unreservedly 'that promises ought to be kept,' is the result of inadvertence : and that when the qua- lifications to which we referred are fairly considered, this con- fidence inevitably changes into hesitation and perplexity. It should be added, that some of these qualifications themselves suggest a reference to the more comprehensive principle of Utilitarianism, as one to which this particular rule is naturally subordinate. Again, reflection upon the ordinary classification of this duty tends to confirm our distrust of the original deliverance of Common Sense in respect of it. For, as was seen. Fidelity to promises is very commonly ranked with Veracity : as though the mere fact of my having said that I would do a thing were the ground of my duty to do it. But the least reflection shews that this view is superficial and due to inadvertence, and does not express our real thought. We perceive that the obligation must be regarded as contincrent on the reliance that another has placed on my assertion : that, in fact, the breach of duty is con- stituted by the disappointment of expectations voluntarily raised. And when we see this we become less disposed to maintain the absoluteness of the duty : it seems now to depend upon the amount of harm done by disappointing expectations : and we shrink from saying that the promise ought to be kept, if the keeping it would involve an amount of harm that seems de- cidedly to outweigh this. The case of Veracity we may dismiss somewhat more briefly, as here it was still more easy to shew that the common enuncia- tion of the unquahfied duty of Truth-speaking is made Avithout full consideration, and cannot approve itself to the reflective mind as an absolute first principle. For, in the first place, we found no clear agreement as to the fundamental nature of the obligation ; or as to its exact scope, i.e. whether it is our actual afilrmation as understood by the recipient which we are bound to make correspondent to fact (ns far as we can), or whatever Chap. XL] REVIEW OF COMMON SENSE. 335 inferences we foresee that lie is likely to draw from this, or both. To realize perfect Candour and Sincerity, we must aim at both : and we no doubt admire the exhibition of these virtues : but no one seems to think that they ought to be exhibited under all circumstances. And, secondly, it seems to be admitted by Common Sense, though vaguely and reluctantly, that the principle, however defined, is not of universal application : as we do not think that truth ought always to be told to children, or madmen, or invalids, or by barristers : and we are not sure that we are bound to tell it to enemies or robbers, or even to persons who ask questions which they know they have no right to ask (if a mere refusal to answer would practically reveal an important secret). And when we consider the limitations generally admitted, it seems still more plain than in the last case, that they depend upon and are determined by utilitarian reasonings, implicit or explicit. § 7. If, then, the prescriptions of Justice, Good Faith, and Veracity, as laid down by Common Sense, appear so little capa- ble of being converted into first principles of scientific Ethics, it seems scarcely necessary to inquire whether such axioms can be extracted from the minor maxims of social behaviour, such as the maxim of Liberality or the rules restraining the Malevolent Affections : or, again, from such virtues as Courage and Humility, which we found it difficult to class as either social or self- regarding. Indeed, it was made plain in ch. 9, that as regards the proper regulation of resentment. Common Sense can only be saved from inconsistency or hopeless vagueness by adopting the "interest of Society" as the ultimate standard: and in the same way we cannot definitely distinguish Courage from Fool- hardiness except by a reference to the jjrobable tendency of the daring act to promote the well-being of the agent or of others, or to some definite rule of duty prescribed under some other notion. Similarly the duties of Temperance, Self-control, and other cognate virtues, are only clear and definite in so far as they are conceived as subordinate either to Prudence (as is ordinarily the case), or to Benevolence or some definite nile of social duty, or at least to some end of which the conception involves the notion of duty supposed already determinate, as 336 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Cook III. "-furtherance of moral progress'." Certainly the authority of Common Sense cannot be fairly claimed for any more strict or ascetic regulation even of the bodily appetites for food and d.rink. In the case, however, of the sexual appetite, a special regu- lation certainly seems to be prescribed on some independent principle under the notion of Purity or Chastity. In ch. 9, where we examined this notion, we were met by the fact that Com- mon Sense is not only not explicit, but actually averse to expli- citness, on this subject. As my aim in the preceding chapters was to give, above all things, a faithful exposition of the morality of Common Sense, I allowed my inquiry to be checked by this (as it seemed) clearly recognisable sentiment. But when it becomes our primary object to test the intuitive evidence of the moral principles commonly accepted, it seems necessary to override this aversion : for we can hardly ascertain whether we have what can properly be called knowledge as to the acts allowed and forbidden under this notion and its opposite, with- out subjecting it to the same close scrutiny that we have endea- voured to give to the other leading notions of Ethics. Here the briefest account of such a scrutiny will be sufficient. I am aware that in giving even this I cannot but cause a certain diso-ust in the mind of a reader trained in good moral habits : but I trust I may claiin the same indulgence as is commonly granted to the physiologist, who also has to direct the student's attention to objects which a healthy mind is naturally dis- inclined to contemplate. What, then, is the conduct which Purity forbids (for the principle is more easily discussed in its negative aspect) ? As the normal and obvious end of sexual intercourse is the pro- pagation of the species, some have thought that all indulgence of appetite, except as a means to this end, should be prohibited. But this doctrine would lead to a restriction of conjugal inter- course far too severe for Common Sense. Shall we say, then, that Purity forbids such indulgence except under the conditions of conjugal union defined by Law ? But this answer, again, further reflection shews to be unsatisfactory. For, first, we ^ It -was this conception that seemed to give the true standard of Humility, considered as a purely internal duty. Chap. XL] REVIEW OF COMMON SENSE. 337 should not, on consideration, call a conjugal union impure, merely because the parties had wilfully omitted to fulfil legal conditions, and had made a contract which the law declined to enforce. We might condemn their conduct, but we should not apply to it this notion. And, secondly, we feel that positive law may be unfavourable to Purity, and that in fact Purity, like Justice, is something which the law ought to maintain, but does not always. What kind of sexual relations, then, are we to call essentially impure, whether countenanced or not by Law and Custom ? On what principle is the line to be drawn ? Are we (e. g.) to apply the term to Polygyny, legalised as it is among so large a portion of the human race? Few, perhaps, would stigmatize a legal polygynous connexion as impure, however they might disapprove of the law and of the state of society in which such a law was established. But if legal Polygyny is not impure, is Polyandry, when legal and customary, as it not unfre- quently is among the lower races of man, to be so characterized? And, again, where divorce by mutual consent, with subsequent marriage, is legalized, we do not call this an offence against Purity : and yet if the principle of free change be once ad- mitted, it seems paradoxical to distinguish purity from impurity merely by less rapidity of transition'; and to condemn as im- pure even " Free Love," in so far as it is earnestly advocated as a means to a completer harmony of sentiment between men and women, and not to mere sensual license ? Or again, how shall we judge of such institutions as those of Plato's Commonwealth, establishing community of women and children, but at the same time regulating sexual indul- gence with the strictest reference to social ends ? Our habitual standards seem inapplicable to such novel circumstances. Shall we, then, fall back upon the presence of mutual affec- tion (as distinguished from mere appetite) as constituting the essence of pure sexual relations ? But this, again, while too lax from one point of view, seems from another too severe for Com- mon Sense : as we do not condemn marriages without affection as impure, although we disapprove of them as productive of ^ It should be observed that this is not the old fallacy of AceiTUS : as I am not asking for an exact quantitative decision, but whether we can really think that the decision depends upon considerations of this kind. S. E. 22 338 ^^^ METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. unhappiness. Such marriages, indeed, are sometimes stigma- tized as "legalized prostitution," but the phrase is felt to be extravagant and paradoxical : and it is even doubtful whether we do disapprove of them under all circumstances : as (e. g.) in the case of royal alliances. The truth seems to be, that reflection on the current sexual morality discovers to us two distinct grounds for it, which we may distinguish as external and internal : first and chiefly, the maintenance of a certain social order, believed to be most con- ducive to the prosperous continuance of the human race : and, secondly, the protection of habits of feeling in individuals believed to be generally most important to their perfection or their happiness. We commonly conceive that both these ends are to be attained by the same regulations : and in an ideal state of society this would perhaps be the case : but in actual life there is frequently a partial separation and incom- patibility between them. But further, if the repression of sexual license is prescribed merely as a means to these ends, it does not, after all, seem that we can affirm d priori that it is always a necessary means in either case. Such a belief seems to be a mere "anticipatio mentis," invalid without empirical con- firmation. We cannot be certain, without induction from ex- tensive and careful sociological observation, that a certain amount of sexual license will be incompatible with the main- tenance of population in sufficient numbers and good condition. And if we consider the matter in its relation to the individual's perfection, it is certainly clear that he misses the highest and best development of his emotional nature, if his sexual relations are of a purely sensual kind : but we can hardly know d priori that this lower kind of relation interferes with the development of the higher (nor indeed does experience seem to shew that this is universally the case). And this latter line of argument has a further difficulty. For the common opinion that we have to justify does not merely condemn the lower kind of develop- ment in comparison with the higher, but in comparison with none at all. Since we do not positively blame a man for re- maining celibate (though we perhaps despise him somewhat uidess the celibacy is adopted as a means to a noble end) ; it is difficult to shew why we should condemn — in its bearing Chap. XI.] REVIEW OF COMMON SENSE. 339 on the individual's emotional perfection solely — the impci'fect development afforded by merely sensual relations. Much more might be said to exhibit the perplexities in •which the attempt to define the rule of Purity or Chastity involves us. But I do not desire to extend the discussion beyond what is necessary for the completion of my argument. It seems to me that the conclusion announced in § 2 of this chapter has now been sufficiently justified. We have examined the moral notions that present themselves with a ^3ri7?ia/acie claim to furnish independent and absolute rules of morality : and we have in each case found that from such regulation of conduct as the Common Sense of mankind really supports, no proposition can be elicited which, when fairly contemplated, even appears to have the characteristics of a scientific axiom. It is therefore scarcely needful to proceed to a systematic exa- mination of the manner in which Common Sense provides for the co-ordination of these principles. In fact, this question seems to have been already discussed as far as is profitable : for the attempt to define each principle singly has inevitably led us to consider their mutual relations : and it was in the cases where two moral principles came into collision that we most clearly saw the vagueness and inconsistency with which the boundaries of each are determined by Common Sense. It only remains to guard my argument from being under- . stood in a more sweeping sense than it has been intended or is properly able to bear. Nothing that I have said even tends to shew that we have not distinct moral impulses, claiming authority over all others, and prescribing or forbidding kinds of cond«uct as to which there is a rough general agreement, at least among educated persons of the same age and country. It is only maintained that, the objects of these impulses do not admit of being scientifically determined by any reflective analy- sis of common sense. The notions of Benevolence, Justice, Good Faith, Veracity, Purity, &c. are not emptied of significance for us, because we have found it impossible to define them with precision. The main part of the conduct prescribed under each notion is sufficiently clear : and the general rule prescribing it does not lose its force because there is in each case a margin of conduct involved in obscurity and perplexity, or because the 99 9 340 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. rule does not on examination appear to be absolute and inde- pendent. In short, the Morality of Common Sense remains perfectly adequate to give practical guidance to common people in common circumstances : but the attempt to elevate it into a system of scientific Ethics brings its inevitable imperfections into prominence without helping us to remove them\ ^ It should be observed that the more positive treatment of Common-sense Morality, in its relation to Utilitarianism, to which we shall proceed in ch. 3 of the following book, is intended as an indispensable supplement of the negative criticism which has just been completed. CHAPTEE XII. MOTIVES OR SPRINGS OF ACTION CONSIDERED AS SUBJECTS OF MORAL JUDGMENT. § 1. We saw in cli. 1, that motives as well as actions are commonly regarded as matter of moral intuition : and indeed that mode or process of the Moral Faculty which we call Conscience is commonly thought to judge primarily of the motive rather than the outward act. Perhaps, however, the distinction between Intuition and Motive is not always dis- cerned in the common view. For we should explain " acting up to our conscience" to be "acting with the intention to do right" or "in the belief that what we are doing is right:" where the belief or judgment of rightness applies primarily to the act, and not to the motive that prompts us to it. At the same time, we generally include in our notion of "con- scientiousness " the habit of reflecting on motives, and judging them to be good or bad. And this kind of judgment does not exactly correspond to our judgment of the acts to which they prompt : for we think that a good act may be done from a bad motive and vice versa. It is necessary, therefore, in order to complete our examination of the Intuitional Method, to consider this comparison of motives, and ascertain how far it can be made systematic, and pursued to conclusions of scientific value. And this seems a convenient place for treating of this part of the subject. For it has been maintained by an im- portant school of English moralists that Desires and Affections rather than Acts are the proper subjects of the ethical judg- ment : and it is natural to fall back upon this view when systematic reflection on the morality of Common Sense has 342 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. shewn us the difficulty of obtaining a precise and satisfactory determination of rightness and wronsrness in external conduct. To avoid confusion, it should be remembered that the term " motive " is commonly used in two senses. It is sometimes applied to the end aimed at in an action, especially if that end be pleasure of some kind : and sometimes to the conscious impulse or siDring of action (whether called Appetite, Desire, or Affection) which precedes Volition. The two meanings are in a manner correspondent, as, where impulses are different, there must always be some sort of difference in their respec- tive ends. But for oar present purpose we should take the latter meaning : as it is our own imj)ulsive nature that we have practically to deal with, in the way of controlling, resisting, indulging the different impulses : and therefore it is the ethical value of these that we are primarily concerned to estimate. And we often find that two impulses, wdiich would be placed very wide apart in any psychological list, are directed towards an end materially identical, though regarded from a different point of view in each case. As (e.g.) both appetite and Rational self-love may impel a man to seek a particular sensual gratification : though in the latter case it is regarded under the general notion of pleasure, and as forming part of a sum called Happiness. In this chapter then I shall use the term Motive to denote the kind of consciousness which precedes and — at least partially — determines volition. The first point to notice in considering the ethical result of a comprehensive comparison of motives is, that the issue in any internal conflict is not usually thought to be between positively good and bad, but between better and less good, more or less estimable or elevated motives. The only kind of motive which we commonly judge to be intrinsically bad, apart from the circumstances under which it operates, is malevolent affection : that is, the desire, however aroused, to inflict pain on some other sentient being. And it is perhaps doubtful, (as we saw in ch. 8,) whether even this impulse ought to be pronounced absolutely bad. Butler allows it to be legitimate in the forms of Instinctive Resentment : and even a more sustained and deliberate malevolence is commonly approved as Righteous Indignation: and if it be said that Chap. XII.] MORAL JUDGMENT OF MOTIVES. 343 this Indignation ought to be directed against the act and not the agent, it may be fairly questioned whether it is within the capacity of human nature to maintain this distinction clearly ^ At any rate there is no other motive except delibe- rate malevolence which Common Sense condemns as absolutely bad. The other motives that are commonly spoken of in " d3^s- logistic" terms seem to be more properly called (in Bentham's language) " Seductive " rather than bad. That is, they prompt to forbidden conduct with conspicuous force and frequency : but when we consider them in themselves we find that there are certain limits, however narrow, within which their operation is legitimate. If then all kinds of motives, with one doubtful exception, are, considered abstractly, at least indifferent and allowable, it remains for the moralist to determine their comparative goodness or rank in the scale of impulses. A distinguished living writer^ maintains that whenever two different springs of action come into conflict, their com- parative goodness is recognised by immediate intuition : and that such intuitions are the ultimate premises upon which all valid moral reasoning depends. I will give in his own words his very clear and complete exposition of this doctrine. " We think that, in common with the inferior animals, we are created with certain determinate propensities to particular ends, or with provisions for the development of such propen- sities : that in the lower animals, these operate singly and successively, each taking its turn for the command and guid- ance of the creature, and none of them becoming objects of reflection ; that in us also this instinctive impulse is the original type of activity, and would perhaps become perma- nent in a solitary human being, or in a mind with only one propension at a time : but that with us the same occasion calls up simultaneously two or more springs of action; that im- mediately on their juxta-position we intuitively discern the higher quality of one than another, giving it a divme and ^ Perhaps we ought to distinguish the impulse to inflict pain from the desire of the antipathetic pleasure which the agent will reap from this infliction, and approve the former in certain circumstances, but condemn the latter absolutely. ^ The Eev. J. Martineau: in a review of Whewell's Elements of MoraliUj. 344 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. authoritative right of preference ; that when the whole series of springs of action has been experienced, the feehng or ' know- ledge with ourselves' of their relative rank constitutes the individual conscience : that all human beings, when their con- sciousness is faithfully interpreted, as infallibly arrive at the same series of moral estimates as at the same set of rational truths : that it is no less correct therefore to speak of a uni- versal conscience than of a universal reason in mankind : and that on this community of nature alone rests the possibility of ethical science." If then a table of springs of action be drawn up in the order of their natural ranks, "the obligatory value of every action is found by the following rule : ' every action is rigid which, in the presence of a lower principle, follows a higher ; every action is wrong which, in the presence of a higher principle, follows a lower.' " Mr Martineau has not, as far as I am aware, anywhere put forward such a table or scale of motives. But the English moralists of the last century who adopted the Emotional (as distinct from the Rational) form of Intuitionism were naturally led to arrangement of impulses on a principle similar to his. A rudimentary classification of this sort was attempted by Shaftesbury : and his disciple, Hutcheson, developed this into a more complete and elaborate system, to which I shall pre- sently refer. First, however, I must repeat what was before said, that it seems to me a distinct divergence from Common Sense to take this judgment on motives as the primary and paramount exercise of the moral faculty. I must think that we all more commonly pass judgment upon acts, presuming them of course to be intended, and no doubt including motives to a certain extent in the object judged. It may be admitted tliat in many instances our judgment, though ostensibly re- ferring to the acts, is really determined by our representation of certain motives that prompted the acts : but yet this is not tlie case always nor entirely, for we certainly think that bad acts may be done from a good motive, and right acts from a wrong one. Nor docs it seem to me probable that in the development of the individual mind, this reflective comparison of impulses was historically the first form in which the moral iiitiiiiidii appeared: on the contrary, the introspective attitude CuAP. XII.] MORAL JUDGMENT OF MOTIVES. 345 of mind, iu which attention is concentrated on motives, seems comparatively rare in childhood, and only becomes easy and familiar at a later period. § 2. At the same time, this comparison of motives, though neither the earlier nor the more ordinary form of the moral judgment, might still give the true and final method: and might approve itself as such by the systematic clearness and mutual consistency of the results to which it led, when pur- sued by different thinkers independently: and by its freedom from the puzzles and difficulties to which other forms of the Intuitional Method seem to be exposed. But on examination it appears, on the one hand, that many (if not all) of the difficulties which have emerged in our in- vestigation of the commonly received principles of conduct are reproduced in a different form when we try to arrange Motives in order of excellence : and on the other hand, such a con- struction presents difficulties peculiar to itself, and the attempt to solve these exhibits greater and more fundamental differences among Intuitive moralists, as regards Rank of Motive, than we found to exist as regards Rightness of Conduct. In the first place, it has to be decided whether we are to include in our list the Moral Sentiments, or impulses towards different kinds of virtuous conduct. Hutcheson certainly gives some of these a place in his scale, as (e.g.) Candour, Veracity, Fortitude : and it is prima facie necessary to include them, as such sentiments are observable as distinct and independent impulses in most well-trained minds, and we sometimes recog- nise their existence in considerable intensity, as when we speak of a man being "enthusiastically brave," or "intensely vera- cious," or " having a passion for Justice." At the same time their admission places us in the following dilemma. Either the objects of these impulses are represented by the very notions that we have been examining — in which case, after we have decided that the impulse is better than its rival, all the per- plexities set forth in the previous chapters will recur, before we can act on our decision : for what avails it to recognise the superiority of the impulse to do justice, if we do not know what it is just to do? — or if in any case the object which a moral sentiment prompts us to realize is conceived more simply, with- 346 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. out the qualifications which a complete reflection on Common , Sense forced us to recognise — then, as the previous investiga- tion shews, we shall certainly not find agreement as to the relation between this and other impulses. For example a dis- pute, whether the impulse to speak the truth ought or ought not to be followed, will inevitably arise when Veracity seems op- posed either to the general good, or to the interests of some particular person; that is, when it conflicts with "particular" or "universal" benevolence. Now, we find that Hutcheson places these latter impulses in a higher rank than Veracity and the others above mentioned. But as this view coincides prac- tically with Utilitarianism \ it will of course be repudiated by Intuitional moralists generally. Mr Martineau seems disposed to escape all perplexity of this kind by denying the independent existence of the moral impulses proper. He says that "when we have run over in fancy all the sorts of natural good appropriate to the appetites, the understanding, the imaginations, the affections, we come to a stop, and can form no notion of an extrinsic lot of good, over and above these, under the name of moral good. Between Virtue and a good dinner, or virtue and a full purse, we never experienced a rivalry," «fec. But this only brings out more impressively the extreme divergence of the resvilts to which his method leads as used by different thinkers. For moralists of a Stoical cast (such as Kant) regard all actions as bad — or not good — which are not done from pure Regard for the Moral Law, Desire to do Right as Right. And Hutcheson, who represents the opposite pole of Intuitional Ethics, still distinguishes this impulse ; and treats it as at once coordinate in rank and coinci- dent in its effects with Benevolence. How are we to deal with these disagreements? Again, in estimating the ethical value of the impulse which Butler, and English moralists after him, have ca,lled Self-love, we find similar fundamental differences. For Butler seems to regard it as one of two superior and naturally authoritative impulses, the other being Conscience: nay, in a passage before quoted, he even concedes that it would be ' The difference between such a system as Hutcheson's and modern Utili- tarianism is chiefly that the latter valaes the result attained, and the former the feeling tliat prompts to its attainmout. Chap. XII.] MORAL JUDGMENT OF MOTIVES. 347 reasonable for Conscience to yield to it, if the two could possibly conflict. Others seem to place this among virtuous im- pulses under the name of Prudence: though perhaps among these they always rank it rather low, and would have it yield, in case of conflict, to nobler virtues. Others, again, exclude it from Virtue altogether: e.g. Kant says that the end of Self-love, our own happiness, cannot be an end for the Moral Reason ; that the force of the reasonable Will, in which Virtue consists, is always exhibited in resistance to natural egoistic impulses. How, then, shall we settle these controversies ? For it is scarcely open to us to evade them in Mr Martineau's way by denying the existence of moral impulses, as distinct from the natural desires between which comparison is made in the moral judgment. Certainly, I and other moralists distinguish the former as independent impulses in our nature as it is at present formed : both the central desire to do Eight as such, and the love and admiration of special virtues, as . Veracity, Courage, Justice, spurring us to realize these in conduct. Nor does it seem relevant to urge that the moral impulses are posterior in time to, and derivative from, more elementary im- pulses : for even if this be true, still, when once a derivative impulse has become so far independent of its antecedents that conflict between them is possible, there is the same practical need of estimating the ethical value of the former relatively to the latter, as there is of determining the mutual relations of the latter. And, as we have seen, the assumption that "original" impulses, as such, have any prior claim to consideration in morals, is not only arbitrary but opposed to our general view of development : not to say that the ascertainment of the " ori- ginal" or "elementary" character of any impulse is a very difficult matter, and belongs to a very obscure and hypothetical region of psychology. § 3. But even if we put out of sight the Moral sentiments and Self-love, it is still scarcely possible to frame a scale of motives arranered in order of merit, for which we could claim anything like a clear consent, even of cultivated and thoughtful persons. On one or two points, indeed, we seem to be generally agreed ; such as the inferiority of the bodily appetites to the 348 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. benevolent affections and the intellectual desires ; and perhaps of all the impulses that tend primarily to the well-being of the individual as compared with those which we class as extra- regarding or disinterested. But beyond a few general state- ments of this kind, it is very difficult to proceed. For example, when we compare personal affections with the love of know- ledge or of beauty, or the passion for the ideal in any form, much doubt and divergence of opinion become manifest. In- deed, we should hardly agree on the relative rank of the benevolent affections taken by themselves; for some would prefer the more intense, though narrower, while others would place the calmer and wider feelings in the highest rank. Or again, since Love, as we sawV is a complex emotion, and com- monly includes, besides the desire of the good or happiness of the beloved, a desire for union or intimacy of some kind ; some would consider an affection more elevated in proportion as the former element predominated, while others would regard the latter as at least equally essential to the highest kind of Affection. And, in fact, in the love of God, which many consider to be the most elevated of all emotions, the former element can hardly be in- cluded at all : for we can scarcely wish to make God better or happier. Again, we may notice the love of Fame and the love of Power as important and widely operative motives, which would be ranked very differently bj different persons : for some would place the former " spur that the clear spirit doth raise " among the most elevated impulses after the moral sentiments ; while others think it degrading to depend for one's happiness on the breath of popular favour. And similarly as regards the love of Power : for the effects of this impulse are of nearly all degrees of goodness and badness, and we seem inclined to praise or blame it accordingly. Hitherto I have assumed it to be a simple matter to ascer- tain by what motives one's actions are determined. But a consideration of the last-mentioned impulse, as treated by different writers, shews that this is sometimes very difficult. For while some scarcely recognise the love of Power at all, as distinct from the desire of Fame or of Superiority, others trace 1 Cf. ante, c. IV. § 2. Chap. XII.] MORAL JUDGMENT OF MOTIVES. 349 its operation in almost every exercise of choice. Hobbes, for example, regards the benevolent impulse as being really the love of power in disguise : and Dugald Stewart considers that Avarice is a particular manifestation of it, and that the love of knowledge, of property, and of liberty, may be at least partly resolved into it. And reflection seems to shew that Stew- art's view is sound, and that we must even admit a partial truth in the paradox of Hobbes : though in all these cases we can trace other elements in combination with the love of power, and it is often difficult to say how many such there are and which predominates. For the more we contemplate the actual promptings that precede any volition, the more we seem to find complexity of motive the rule rather than the exception, at least in the case of educated persons. And this much increases the difficulties of determining right conduct by comparison of motives. In the first place, in the obscurity of introspective analysis, we may easily miss some element, or mistake the pre- dominant motive. But, secondly, from this composition of impulses there results a fundamental perplexity as to the prin- ciples on which our decision is to be made, even supposing that we have a clear view of the relative worth of the elementary impulses. For the compound will generally contain nobler and baser elements, and we can hardly get rid of the latter: for though we may frequently suppress and expel a motive by firmly resisting it, we seem powerless to exclude it if we do the act to which it prompts. Suppose, then, that we are impelled in one direction by a combination of high and low motives, and in another by an impulse that ranks between the two in the scale, how shall we decide which course to follow ? Such a case is by no means uncommon : e.g. an injured man may be moved by an impulse of pity to spare- his injurer, while a regard for justice and a desire of revenge combined impel him to inflict punishment. Or, again, a Jew of liberal views might bo restrained from eating pork by a desire not to shock the feel- ings of his friends, and might be moved to eat it by the desire to vindicate true religious liberty combined with a liking for pork. How are we to deal with such a case as this ? For it will hardly be suggested that we should estimate the relative pro- portions of the different motives and decide accordingly ; even if 350 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. the values of the different motives could be reduced to a com- mon standard. And if it be said that the highest motive present, however feeble compared with others, should always prevail, and that we need only attend to that : then this mode of deter- mining right conduct seems practically to pass over and resolve itself into some more objective method. For if the virtuous impulses proper — desires to realize some particular external rule or ideal — are admitted as independent, these will naturally occupy the highest rank : and if not, then Kational Benevo- lence, or some similar princijole, within the range of which all actions may be comprehended. And thus, when a conflict occurs between motives inferior to these, the inferior will naturally carry up the case, so to say, into the court of the higher motive ; so that the practical issue will, after all, depend upon the determination of the object of the higher motive, Avhether it be conformity to moral rales or universal happiness and the means to this. And, in fact, such a reference seems continually to occur in our psychical experience : our lower impulses, bodily appetites, &c., when they conflict with some higher principle, continually impel us to justify them by con- siderations of their tendency to promote individual or general good. And thus our estimate of the value of all motives below the highest turns out to have little practical application, as the final decision as to the rightness of conduct will depend, after all, upon the consideration of its external effects. But finally, even if we could satisfactorily arrange the relative rank of all concrete motives, it would still seem op- posed to Common Sense to hold that the higher ought always to prevail over the lower : since it would lead to the conclu- sion that we ought to substitute the higher for the lower wherever this is possible, and so to that suppression of natural impulses in favour of Keason, which we commonly regard as a Stoical extravagance. For (as we saw in the last chapter^) there are many cases in which Common Sense seems to prefer that a lower motive should operate rather than a higher : and it shrinks from expelling any normal impulse — except perhaps malevolence — from human nature altogether, holding that the operation of each within due limits is necessary to the perfec- 1 s o Chap. XII.] MORAL JUDGMENT OF MOTIVES. 351 tion of human life. And these limits, within which the higher motive ought not to supplant the lower, can only be determined by comparing the respective effects of different combinations and harmonies of motives : and thus we are brought back to that judgment of actions in their external aspect as right and wrong (or good and bad), for which this comparison of motives was proposed as a substitute. CHAPTER XIII. PHILOSOPHICAL INTUITIONISM. § 1. Is there, then, no possibility of attaining, by a more profound and discriminating examination of our common moral thought, to real ethical axioms — intuitive propositions of real clearness and certainty ? This question leads us to the examination of that third phase of the intuitive method, which was called Philosophical Intuitionism'. For we conceive it as the aim of a philosopher, as such, to do somewhat more than define and formulate the common moral opinions of mankind. His function is to tell men what they ought to think, rather than what they do think : he is expected to transcend Common Sense in his premises, and is allowed a certain divergence from Common Sense in his con- clusions. It is true that the limits of this deviation are firmly, though indefinitely, fixed : the truth of a philosopher's pre- mises will always be tested by the acceptability of his con- clusions : if in any important point he be found in flagrant conflict with common opinion, his method will be declared invalid. Still, though he is expected to establish and concate- nate at least the main part of the commonly accepted moral rules, he is not necessarily bound to take them as the basis on which his own system is constructed. We should expect, there- fore, that the history of Moral Philosophy — so far at least as those whom we may call orthodox thinkers are concerned — would be a history of attempts to enunciate, in full breadth and clear- ness, those primary intuitions of Reason, which the common moral thought of mankind exhibits confusedly and incompletel}', restricted to special applications, or latent in derivative rules. ^ Cf. anfe, B. i. ch. viii. § i. Chap. XIII. PHILOSOPHICAL INTUITION ISM. 353 And this is to some extent the case. But it would be so much more, if moral philosophers (especially in modern times) had not been occupied with so many other questions, distract- ing their attention from the theory of right conduct : such as the innateness of our notions of duty, the nature of the faculty that furnishes them, the ultimate answer to the question why we should do our duty, the harmony of duty and interest, and the mode of demonstrating it, &c. At the same time they have been hampered by the fear (not, as we have seen, unfounded) of losing the support given by " ge- neral assent " if they set before themselves and their readers too rigid a standard of scientific precision. And this has been especially the case since the reaction, led by Reid, against the manner of philosophising which culminated in Hume. For there is certainly some truth in the charge commonly made against E-eid and his followers, though it has been urged, perhaps, too sweepingly and superciliously : that under their auspices Philo- sophy has abandoned its proper function of raising and developing Common Opinion into the higher state of knowledge, and con- descended to flatter it into the belief that it is knowledge already. Still, in spite of all these drawbacks, we find that phi- losophers have provided us with a considerable stock of compre- hensive moral propositions, put forward as certain and self- evident, and such as at first sight seem well adapted to serve as first principles in an ethical system. § 2. But here a word of caution seems required, which has been somewhat anticipated in earlier chapters, but on which it is particularly needful to lay stress at this point of our discussion : against a certain class of sham-axioms, which are very apt to offer themselves to the mind that is earnestly seek- ing for a philosophical synthesis of practical rules, and to delude the unwary with a tempting aspect of clear self-evi- dence. These are principles which appear certain and self- evident because they are substantially tautological : because, when examined, they are found to affirm no more than that it is right to do that which is, in a certain department of life, under certain circumstances and conditions — right to be done. No one who has not studied the history of, moral philosophy can easily conceive the extent to which thinkers of repute have s. E. 23 354 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. acquiesced in tautologies of this kind, sometimes expanded into circular reasonings, sometimes hidden in the recesses of an obscure notion, often really lying so near the surface that, when once they have been pointed out, the solemn air with which they presented themselves becomes somewhat laughable. Let us turn, for illustration's sake, to the time-honoured Cardinal Virtues. If we are told that the dictates of Wisdom and Temperance may be summed up in clear and certain prin- ciples, and that these are respectively, (1) It is right to act rationally : (2) It is right that the Lower parts of our nature should be governed by the Higher, we do not at first feel that we are not obtaining valuable inform- ation. Bat when we find (cf, ante, ch. 11, § 2) that "acting rationally " is merely another phrase for " doing what we see to be right," and, again, that the "higher part" of our nature to which the rest are to submit is explained to be Reason, so that " acting temperately " is only " acting rationally " under the special condition of non-rational impulses needing to be re- sisted : the tautology of our " principles " is obvious. Similarly when we are gravely asked to accept as the principle of Justice "that we ought to give every man his own," the de- finition seems plausible — until it apjDears that we cannot define "his own " except as equivalent to " that which it is right he should have." The definitions quoted may be found in modern writers : but it seems worthy of remark that almost all the ethical speculation of Greece (though in many respects of unsurpassed interest and value) is stricken with this incurable defect : such univers5,l affirmations as it delivers concerning Right or Good conduct seem always to be propositions which can only be defended from the charge of tautology, if they are understood as definitions of the problem to be solved, and not as attempts at its solution. For example, we come to the study of Plato and Aristotle, expecting to find them great constructive moral- ists. They seem to tell us that they have supplied the scien- tific knowledge on ethical matters of which Socrates proclaimed the absence : knowledge, that is, of the Good and Bad in human life. And as to what this is, they seem to be in the main Chap. XIII.] PHILOSOPHICAL INTUITIONISM. 355 agreed. It is true that Plato wishes us to understand that he has attained a knowledge of absolute abstract Good, of which the good that can be realized in the concrete life of men and com- munities is but an imperfect copy : and so far he is at issue with Aristotle. Still it is only with this latter, the good in human life, that we are now concerned : and both philosophers are agreed that this is chiefly Virtue, or (as Aristotle more pre- cisely puts it) the exercise of Virtue. Therefore at least the practical part of ethical science must consist in the knowledge of Virtue. How, then, can we ascertain the kind of conduct which is properly to be called Virtuous ? It seems that Plato can tell us no more of each virtue in turn than that it consists in the knowledge of what is Good in certain circumstances and relations, and such a harmony of the different elements of man's appetitive nature, that their resultant impulse may be always in accordance with this knowledge. But it is just this knowledge (or at least its principles and method) that we are expecting him to give us : and to explain to us instead the dif- ferent exigencies under which we need it, in no way satisfies our expectation. Nor, again, does Aristotle bring us much nearer such knowledge by telling us that the Good in conduct is to be found somewhere between different kinds of Bad. This at best only indicates the whereabouts of Virtue: it does not give us a method for finding it. On the Stoic system, as constructed by Zeno and Chrysip- pus, it is perhaps unfair to pronounce decisivel}^ from the accounts given of it by adversaries like Plutarch, and such semi-intelligent expositors as Cicero, Diogenes Laertius, and Stobseus. But, as far as we can judge of it, we must pronounce the exposition of its general principles a complicated enchain- ment of circular reasonings, by which the inquirer is continually deluded with an apparent approach to practical conclusions, and continually led back to the point from which he set out. The fundamental formula of Stoicism, the primary intuition upon which the system was based, seems to have been that declaring " Life according to Nature " to be the ultimate end of action. The spring of the motion that sustained this life was in the vegetable creation a mere unfelt impulse : in animals it was impulse accompanied with sensation : in man it was the 23—2 356 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III, direction of Reason, which in him was naturally supreme over all merely blind irrational impulses. What then does Reason direct? "To live according to Nature" is one answer: and thus we get the circular exposition of ethical doctrine in its simplest form. Sometimes, however, we are told that it is 'Life according to Virtue:' which leads us into the circle al- ready noticed in the Platonic-Aristotelian philosophy, as Virtue, by the Stoics also, is only defined as knowledge of Good and Bad in different circumstances and relations. Indeed, this latter circle is given by the Stoics more neatly and perfectly : for with Plato and Aristotle Virtue was not the sole, but only the chief content of the notion Good, in its application to human life: but in the view of Stoicism the two notions are absolutely coinci- dent. The result, then, is that Virtue is knowledge of what is good and ought to be sought or chosen, and of what is bad and ought to be shunned or rejected : while at the same time there is nothing good or properly choice-worthy, nothing bad or truly formidable, except Virtue and Vice respectively. But if Virtue is thus declared to be a science that has no object except itself, the notion is inevitably emptied of all practical content. In order, therefore, to avoid this result and to reconcile their sys- tem with common sense, the Stoics explain that there were other things in human life which were in a manner preferable, though not strictly good, including in this class the primary objects of men's natural desires. On what principle then are we to select these objects when our impulses are conflicting or ambiguous ? If we can get an answer to this question, we shall at length have come to something practical. But here again the Stoic could find no other general answer except either that we were to choose what was Reasonable, or that we were to act in accordance with Nature : each of which answers brinsfs us back into the original circle at a different point\ In Butler's use of the Stoic formula, this circular reasoninsf seems to be avoided : but it is so only so long as the intrinsic reasonableness of right conduct is ignored or suppressed. Butler 1 I must again observe that the above remarks would be of course grossly unfair, if offered as a complete estimate of the value of ancient systems of Ethics. But I am here only considering the value of the general principles that they profess to supply for determining what ought to be done. Chap. XIII.] PHILOSOPHICAL INTUITIONISM. 357 assumes with his opponents that it is reasonable to live accord- ing to Nature, and argues that Conscience or the faculty that imposes moral rules is naturally supreme in man. It is there- fore reasonable to obey Conscience. But are the rules that Conscience lays down merely known to us as the dictates of arbitrary authority, and not as in themselves reasonable ? This •would give a surely dangerous absoluteness of authority to the possibly unenlightened conscience of any individual : and Butler is much too cautious to do this : in fact, in more than one pas- sage of the Analogy^ he expressly adopts the doctrine of Clarke,, that the true rules of morality are intrinsically reasonable. But if Conscience is, after all. Reason applied to Practice, then ■Butler's argument seems to bend itself into the old circle : ' it is reasonable to live according to Nature, and it is natural to live according to Reason,' I might go on to shew that the notion of Perfection, as treated in the Wolfian system, leads inevitably to similar tautologies, more or less disguised : but the demonstration would have little interest for most of ray readers ; and I have already given, perhaps, more than sufficient illustration of one of the most important dangers that beset the student of Ethics. In the laudable attempt to escape from the doubtfulness, dis- putableness, and apparent arbitrariness of current moral opi- nions, he is liable to take refuge in principles that are incontro- vertible but insignificant. § 3. Is there, then, any way between this Scylla and Charybdis of ethical inquiry, by which, avoiding on the one hand doctrines that merely bring us back to common opinion with all its imperfections, and on the other hand doctrines that lead us round in a circle, we may attain clear intuitive truths of substantial value ? I believe that there is such a way : though we must be careful not to exas^crerate the amount of the moral knowledge to which it conducts us. And I think we may find it by following the two thinkers who in modern times have most earnestly maintained the strictly scientific character of ethical principles : viz. Clarke in England, and Kant in Germany. In studying Clarke, it is scarcely worth while to dwell much upon his statement of his general theory. It is soon manifest 1 Anal. Ft. ii. c. 1, and c. 8. 358 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Dook III. that his anxiety to exhibit the parallelism between ethical and mathematical truth, on which Locke before him had insisted, has too much influence upon his terminology, and leads him into extravagancies and absurdities. We will not therefore discuss whether " relations and proportions," " fitnesses and un- fitnesses of things " are suitable designations for the content of moral intuition : or whether a man who " wilfully acts contrary to Justice " can be said to " will things to be what they are not and cannot be." Let us consider rather his exposition of the reasonableness of the particular ethical principles which he lays down. Clarke holds that there are, in respect of our behaviour towards our fellow-men, two fundamental " rules of righteous- ness : " the first of which he terms Equity, and the second Love or Benevolence. The Rule of Equity he states in two or three slightly differ- ent forms, of which the clearest and most unexceptionable seems to be this : " Whatever I judge reasonable or unreasonable that another should do for me : that by the same judgment I declare reasonable or unreasonable that I should in the like case do for him\" This is a special application (restricted by the condition that our conduct is to affect others) of the principle laid down in oh. 1. It was there said that ' if we assert any action to be right, we imply that it would be right for all persons in precisely similar circumstances.' This principle was there treated as self-evident : and it certainly seems to me as much so as the axioms of mathematics, whether or not it be desirable to classify it with them. If an action that is right for me is not ridit for some one else, it must be on the ground of some diff"erence between the two cases, other than the mere fact that I and he are diff'erent individuals. Clarke's principle is, of course, sub- stantially the same as what is called the Golden Rule — "Do to others as you would they should do to you." It has to be observed, however, that this latter formula is inaccurate in statement : for we may easily wish for another's cooperation in sin and be willing to reciprocate it : but we cannot, as reason- able beings, judge it right for A to treat 5 in a manner in 1 Evidences, &c. pp. 86, 87 (Edition of 1700). Chap. XIII.] PHILOSOPHICAL INTUITIONISM. 359 which, under precisely similar circumstances, it would be wrong for B to treat A. At the same time it must be allowed (what Clarke scarcely sees) that this principle li^, prima facie insufficient for the com- plete determination of just or equitable conduct. As was pointed out in ch. 5, it excludes a particular kind of injustice, that which springs from conscious selfishness or 'respect of per- sons,' and secures an impartial ajiplication of all laws and rules: but it does not help us to decide what kind of rules should be thus impartially applied : what differences in the nature and circumstances of human beings are reasonable grounds of differ- ence in the treatment of them. And the same may be said of the more general principle given in ch. 1, The prohibition against indulging any impulse which we should condemn other persons in similar circumstances for indulging, is valuable and important : but it does not seem to furnish a complete criterion of duty. The assumption that it is such leads, in fact, to the paradoxical conclusion, that all thoroughly conscientious persons must always act rightly. Let us now turn to Clarke's " second branch of the Rule of Righteousness" with respect to our fellow-creatures, "universal Love or Benevolence." This he explains to be "a constant endeavouring to promote in general, to the utmost of our power, the welfare and happiness of all men." The obligation to this he exhibits as follows : — " If there be a natural and necessary difference between Good and Evil : and that which is Good is fit and reasonable, and that which is Evil is unreasonable, to be done : and that which is the Greatest Good is always the most fit and reasonable to be chosen : then as the Goodness of God extends itself uni- versally over all His works through the whole creation, by doing always what is absolutely best in the whole : so eveiy rational creature ought in its sphere and station, according to its respec- tive powers and faculties, to do all the Good it can to its fellow- creatures : to which end, universal Love and Benevolence is plainly the most certain, direct, and effectual means\" Here again the reasoning of Clarke seems to me substanti- ally sound : but in order to exhibit it as clear and cogent, con- 1 p. 92. 360 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. siderable modification in form is needed. It must be distinctly explained that here, as in the case of Equity, we must start with some ethical judgment, in order that the rule may be proved : and, in fact, the process of reasoning is precisely similar in the two cases. There, an individual was supposed to judge that a certain kind of conduct was right and fit to be pursued by others towards him : and it was then shewn that he must necessarily conceive the same conduct to be right for all other persons in precisely similar circumstances : and therefore judge it right for himself, in like case, to adopt it towards any other person. Similarly here we are supposed to judge that there is something intrinsically desirable — some result which it would be reasonable for each individual to seek for himself, if he con- sidered himself alone. Let us call this the individual's Good or Welfare : then what Clarke urges is, that the Good of any one individual cannot be more intrinsically desirable, because it is his, than the equal Good of any other individual. So that our notion of Ultimate Good, at the realization of which it is evidently reasonable to aim, must include the Good of every one on the same ground that it includes that of any one. This seems to be as much a self-evident truth as the prin- ciple of Equity. The proposition, however, that Universal Benevolence is the right means to the attainment of universal good, requires the qualification given in ch. 5, that the end may not always be best attained by directly aiming at it. Rational Benevolence, like Rational Self-love, may be self-limiting : may direct its own partial suppression in favour of other impulses. With this qualification, Clarke's proposition can scarcely be denied ^ § 4. When we turn to Kant's system, we find that two propositions, substantially identical with those just examined, are propounded as the chief ultimate principles of conduct. The 1 Clarke's statement of the " Eule of Eighteousness with respect to our- selves" I pass over, because it is, as he states it, a derivative and subordinate rule. It is that we should preserve our being, be temperate, industrious, &c., uith a view to the jycrformnnce of Duty: which of course supposes Duty (i.e. the ultimate and absolute rules of Duty) already determined. It is no doubt a defect of Clarke's explanation that he treats this third rule as though it were coordinate with the other two. But I am not defending his system as a whole: only the substantial validity of his two principal axioms. Chap. XIII.] PIIILOSOPIIIGAL INTUITIONISM. 3GI forms of Kant's philosophical thought are, however, very imhke those of Clarke's : and his view of the relation of the two principles differs from that above given : and, in fact, is not very easy to expound, as it does not appear quite the same in different passages of his writings. The second principle, of Universal Benevolence, is always exhibited as a deduction from the first (not, that is, in the narrower application in which Clarke gives it as a Rule of Equity, but in the more compre- hensive form in which it was propounded in ch. 1): but the deduction is not always made in the same way. The one fundamental princijjle of Duty, according to Kant, is that whatever is right for any one person is right for all persons in similar circumstances. This he calls a " formal " principle, meaning that it is implied in the very notion of (objective) Tightness. He throws it into an imperative form : "So act that the maxim of thy action shall be fit for Law Uni- versal." Here we observe that the word " fit " is ambiguous : it may either mean that the maxim might conceivably be adopted by all persons in similar circumstances, or that one can sincerely desire its adoption. Kant himself notices the two phases or degrees in which his principle may be applied, and makes it the basis of a classification of duties. And in some places he obtains the rule of universal Benevolence by com- bining this principle in its second and more exclusive form with the desire for the kind services of others which (as he assumes) the exigencies of life will inevitably arouse in each individual. The maxim, he says, " that each should be left to take care of himself without either aid or interference," is one that we might conceive existing as a universal law : but it would be impossible for us to luill it to be such. " A will that resolved this would be inconsistent with itself, for many cases may arise in which the individual thus willing needs the benevolence and sym- pathy of others \" Similarly elsewhere^ he explains at more length that the Self-love which necessarily exists in every one involves the desire of being loved by others and receiving aid from them in case of need. We thus necessarily constitute ourselves an end for others [we think iliey ought to promote 1 Griindlcgung, p. 50 (Rosenkrantz). 2 Tugcndlehrc, Eiuleit. § 8. 862 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. our Good]: and so, according to the fundamental principle that ' to moralize our actions we must universalize our maxim,' we must recognise the duty of making their happiness our end \ Now I cannot regard this reasoning as strictly cogent. In the first place, that every man in need wishes for the aid of others is an empirical proposition which Kant cannot know a priori. We can certainly conceive a man in whom the spirit of independence and the distaste for incurring obliga- tions should be so strong that he would choose to endure any privations rather than receive aid from others. But even grant- ing that every one, in the actual moment of distress, must necessarily wish for the assistance of others : still a strong man, after balancing the chances of life, may easily think that he and such as he have more to gain, on the whole, by the general adoption of the egoistic maxim; benevolence being likely to bring them more trouble than profit. In other passages, however, Kant reaches the same conclu- sion by a different line of argument. He lays down that, as all action of rational beings is done for some end, there must be some absolute end, corresponding to the absolute rule before «iven — that our maxims should be " such as we could will to be law universal." This absolute end, prescribed by Reason necessarily and a priori, which is for all rational beings as such, can be nothing but Reason itself, or the Universe of Rationals: for Avhat the rule inculcates is, in fact, that we should act as rational units in a universe of rational beings (and therefore on principles conceived and embraced as at least potentially universal). Or again, we may reach the same result negatively. For all particular ends at which men aim are constituted such by the existence of some particular need, appetite, or desire, impelling them to the particular object. Now we cannot tell a priori that any of these special impulses forms part of the constitution of all men : and therefore we cannot state it as an absolute dictate of Reason that we should aim at any such special object. If, then, we thus exclude all particular empirical ends, there remains only the principle that "all Rational beings as such are ends to each:" or, as Kant sometimes puts it, that " humanity exists as an end in itself." 1 Cf. also Tugendl. § 80. Chap. XII L] PHILOSOPHICAL INTUITIONISM. 303 Now, says Kant, so long as I confine myself to mere non- interference with others, 1 do not positively make Humanity my end : my aims remain selfish, though restricted by this condition of non-interference with others. My action, there- fore, is not truly virtuous : for Virtue is exhibited and consists in the effort to realize the end of Reason in opposition to mere selfish impulses. Therefore "the ends of the subject, which is itself an end, must of necessity be my ends, if the representa- tion of Humanity as an end in itself is to have its full weight with me V' and my action is to be truly rational and virtuous. Now this reasoning appears to me substantially identical with that which I gave above, as a development of Clarke's proof of Benevolence. That a rational being as such must be impelled by Reason to aim at all ends intrinsically good and desirable : and that he cannot regard the satisfaction of his own personal desires as intrinsically more desirable (as being his own) than the satisfaction of the desires of any other per- son : these were the main points of that proof, and appear also to constitute the substance of Kant's. At the same time we cannot, I think, accept the form of Kant's argument. In the first place, the conception of " hu- manity as an end in itself" is perplexing: because by an End we commonly mean something to be realized, whereas "hu- manity" is, as Kant says, "a self-subsistent end." Indeed, there seems to be a sort of paralogism in the deduction of the principle of Benevolence by means of this conception. For the humanity which Kant maintains to be an end in itself is Man (or the aggregate of men) in so far as rational. But the sub- jective ends of other men, which Benevolence directs us to take as our own ends, depend upon and correspond to their non-rational impulses (as Kant, of all moralists, most earnestly maintains). And it is hard to see why, if man as a rational being is an absolute end to other rational beings, they must therefore adopt his subjective aims as determined by his non- rational impulses. Nor, indeed, does it seem that Reason prescribes that we should assist a man in realizing all his desires, if only they do not clash with the desires of others : for they may not tend towards what is best for himself. 1 Grundlegung, p. 59. 364 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. § 5. There are other points which it would be necessary to notice in criticizing the Kantian system generally. But I am now only concerned to dwell on the substantial validity of these two cardinal points in it : first, that nothing can be right for me which is not right for all persons in similar circumstances : and secondly, that I cannot regard the fulfilment of my desires, or my own happiness, as intrinsically more desirable (or more to be regarded by me as a rational end) than the equal happiness of any one else. But now, of these two propositions, the first is a necessary postulate of all ethical systems, being an expression of what is involved in the mere conception of objective rightness and Avrongness in conduct : while the second is the fundamental principle of that particular system which (in Book i.) we called Utilitarianism. In Book I, the common antithesis between Utilitarianism and Intuitionism was seen to be somewhat unsatisfactory : since in any system of Ethics whatsoever there must be at least one ultimate principle: which, therefore, we concluded, must be known by Intuition : and in the case of Utilitarianism, the statement of " general happiness " as the ultimate standard of morality seemed to be of this nature. And it now turns out that we have been unexpectedly led to this intuition by a road very different from that by which Utilitarianism is commonly supposed to be attained : we have found it as the final outcome of philosophical Intuitionism, the final result of inquiry after really clear and self-evident ethical axioms, as conducted by philosophers who are commonly regarded as eminent examples of the Intuitional mode of thought. It must be admitted that the thinkers who in recent times have taught the utilitarian system, have not usually exhibited the self-evidence of their first principle by means of the reason- ing above given. Still, whenever they do offer a proof of this principle, it seems to involve some such reasoning, or at least to be logically incomplete without it. To illustrate this, let us consider the proof that Mill gives of the " principle of utility" in ch. 4 of his Utilitarianism. " The only proof capable of being given that an object is visible, is that people actually see it. The only proof that Chap. XIII.] PHILOSOPHICAL INTUITIONISM. 3G5 a sound is audible, is that people hear it : and so of the other sources of our experience. In like manner, I apprehend, the sole evidence it is possible to produce that anything is desira- ble, is that people do actually desire it No reason can be given why the general happiness is desirable, except that each person, so far as he believes it to be attainable, desires his own happiness. This, however, being a fact, we have not only all the proof which the case admits of, but all which it is possible to require, that happiness is a good : that each person's happi- ness is a good to that person, and the general happiness, there- fore, a good to the aggregate of persons." He then goes on to shew that pleasure, and pleasure alone, is what all men actu- ally do desire. Now it must be borne in mind that it is as a " standard of right and wrong," or " directive rule of conduct," that the utilitarian principle is put forward by Mill. Hence, in giving as a statement of this principle that " the general happiness is desirable,'' he must be understood to mean (and his whole trea- tise shews that he does mean) that it is what each individual ought to desire, or at least to aim at realizing in action. The proof he offers of this is, that each one actually does desire his own happiness. But it may surely be objected that the natural immediate conclusion from this, on Mill's own method, is that Own Happiness, not Universal Happiness, is what each one ought to desire : the argument leads primarily to the principle of Egoistic instead of XJniversalistic Hedonism. And I can conceive no possible way of meeting this objection, except by exhibiting (in substantially the same manner as Clarke and Kant exhibit it) the necessary universality of the ultimate end, as recognised by Reason : by shewing that the fact " that I am I " cannot make iny happiness intrinsically more desirable, more fit to be accepted by my reason as the standard of right and wrong in conduct, than the happiness of any other person. Thus Utilitarianism appears as the final form into which a really scientific Intuitionism tends to pass. This view, however, requires one qualification of fundamental importance. In Mill's argument just noticed there were three steps, of which the first given is logically the last. In order that the greatest Happi- ness (in the strict hedonistic sense of " Maximum of Pleasure 366 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. minus Pain") of all taken together, may be seen to be the only rational ultimate end of conduct, he had to shew, first, that each man, naturally and normally, desires his own Happiness and nothing else. Next, the inference is made from the universal desiredness to the desirability of Happiness. Then, last of all, comes the proof that my own Happiness is not intrinsically more desirable than that of any one else. But in Book I. ch. 4 of this treatise it was argued that Happiness or Pleasure is not the only object that each for himself either actually desires or judges desirable. Therefore the hedonistic inter- pretation which Mill and his school give to the principle of Universal Benevolence, seems inadmissible when the principle is enunciated as a self-evident axiom. In thus enunciatiuo- it, we must use, as Clarke does, the wider terms "Welfare" or " Good," and say that each individual man, as a rational being, is bound to aim at the Good of all other men. This brings us naturally to the question. What is " Good " ? which, it seems, still remains to be determined. And here, perhaps, I may seem to have laboriously exe- cuted one of those circles in reasoning before noticed. For this question, as we saw in ch. 9 of Book i., is the fundamental pro- blem of Ethics stated in its vaguest and widest form : in the form in which we find it raised at the very outset of the history of moral philosophy, when the speculative force of the Greek mind first concentrated itself on Practice. And here when, at the end of a long and carefid examination of the apparent intuitions with which Common Sense furnishes us, we collect the residuum of clear and definite moral knowledge which the operation has left, we find the same problem facing us. We seem to have done nothing : and in fact we have only evolved the sup- pression of Egoism, the necessary universality of view, which is implied in the mere form of the objective judgment ' that an end is good,' just as it is in the judgment 'that an action is right.' Whatever I judge to be Good, I cannot reasonably think that it is abstractly and primarily right that I should have it more than another. CHAPTER XIV. THE SUMMUM BONUM. § 1. Let us, then, examine once more this notion of intrinsic or ultimate Good — Good per se, and not as means to any further end — as we find it in our common thought and discourse : and make a final attempt to ascertain its content. Whatever it is, Reason seems to declare that it cannot be moj-e good or intrinsically desirable, as possessed by or realized in any individual, than as possessed by or realized in any other : and hence that it is its universal realization "which we must state as the ultimate end of rational conduct (however much it may be practically right that each one should chiefly seek to realize it in his own case). But what is it ? A large part, perhaps the majority, of mankind would reply that it is Happiness, or Pleasure without pain. And yet Com- mon Sense certainly seems to judge things and actions to be good independently of — or at least out of proportion to — the pleasure actually derived from them : and many would unhe- sitatingly maintain the validity of some such judgments : (e.g.) we should commonly agree with Aristotle (and the pre-Christian world generally) that a heroic act of self-devotion is good, in some sense, for the individual agent, and what he for his OAvn sake would reasonably desire to do, even though it involve a painful death in which any moral satisfaction accompanying the act is balanced by pain of greater intensity : and we should pass this judgment independently of any belief in a future state in which the agent will be compensated for such self-sacrifice : indeed, the excellence of the act seems to be tarnished if we conceive it to be done in view of a future reward. Similarly 368 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. many would judge a base act to be bad for the agent, apart from the pain of shame and other evils resulting from disgrace -. indeed, they would say it was worse for him if he was insensible to disgrace. And, setting aside the notions of duty or honour, we seem often to judge one kind of existence to be intrinsically better than another, without reference to happiness. For, as Kant says ^ it may be plausibly doubted whether the cultiva- tion of the intellect really tends to increase happiness: or the question may be raised more generally, whether the civilized man be really happier than the savage. Many persons feel themselves unable to decide these questions, and yet have no doubt that intellectual cultivation and civilization generally are goods, and that men are the better for having them. What then is the content of this notion of Absolute or In- trinsic Good, in so far as it is not identified with happiness ? This question, though usually passed over in the common treatment of morality, still has to be answered in some way, before the account which we have given of the Morality of Common Sense can be considered complete. For what is most commonly offered as moral teaching, and what in the preceding chapters we have been employed in examining, is chiefly a doctrine of restraints and prohibitions : it tells us what we are to avoid, and within what limits we are to seek whatever is worthy to be sought : but what this latter is, it does not syste- matically instruct us, assuming rather that we know it already. For instance, in the common exposition of Prudence and Be- nevolence, as the duties of seeking our own good and that of others, it is implied that we know what this "good " is. But if, as appears, we are not all agreed as to what it is, and do not all assent to the prevalent opinion that it is Happiness, or the sum of such feelings as, at the time that they are felt, are immediately known to be intrinsically desirable : then we clearly require a doctrine of the Good, or of Rational Ends, to supplement the doctrine of Rational Rules which current morality offers. A Stoic, indeed, might say that the True Good is Virtue, or Perfect fulfilment of Duty, and nothing else : and such a statement seems often to win a hasty assent from many who are not Stoics : but when steadily contemplated it must appear a paradox which ^ Grundlegung, § 1. CiiAP. XIV.] THE SUMMUM BONUM. '?,^<:) Common Sense would certainly repudiate. For thouch the majority of moral persons would probably declare that Virtue is the chief good : very few would maintain that the onli/ thing in life intrinsically desirable is the habit of obeying moral rules : and it would seem absurd to say that this is the sole good which the precept of Benevolence, as commonly recognised, bids us confer upon others. But if it is not Happiness, nor merely Morality, what then is it? This question was discussed to some extent in c. 9 of Book i. It there appeared that we could not, on reflection, maintain anything to be intrinsically and ultimately good, except in so far as it entered into relation to consciousness of some kind and rendered that good and desirable : and thus that the only ulti- mate Good, or End in itself, must be Goodness or Excellence of Conscious Life. All external material things which are com- monly judged to be good are clearly thought to be so, either because they are useful to man, or as objects of contemplation by him : and the same is true even of excellences of the human body : and it seems true also of ideal goods, such as Truth, Beauty, &c. : what appears to us, on reflection, to be really good is the existence of conscious minds apprehending Truth and Beauty. And similarly the Virtue that we conceive as an End in itself must be Virtue in act. Virtue realized in Conduct : and not virtues only but all graces and gifts, talents and skills, all the permanent qualities of mind which we commonly admire and recognise as excellent, turn out to be really only potentiali- ties to which conscious action and feelings are the correspondent actualities. But now, when we have so far limited the application of the notion Good to conscious life, it may seem that our result is really identical with what w^e call Happiness. For Hapjsiness was explained to be preferable or desirable feeling or conscious- ness : and if we say that all other things called good are only means to the end of making conscious life intrinsically better or more desirable, is not this saying that they are means to the end of happiness ? On the other hand it seems clear that i)i ordinary thought consciousness, active and passive, is conceived to be preferable on other grounds than its pleasantness. This s. E. 24 370 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. point was briefly discussed in Book ii. c. 2, § 2. It was there explained that when we judge one kind of consciousness to be more pleasant than another, we judge it to be preferable con- sidered merely as feeling, without taking into account the con- ditions under which it is felt ; but when we judge it to be better though less pleasant, what we really prefer is no longer the feeling itself, but something in its conditions, concomitants or consequences. Thus in the case of actions, we may prefer the external results of one action to those of another, although, if we considered merely the effects of the two on our own feelings, our choice v/ould be reversed : and similarly, in comparing two kinds of passive feeling we may take into account the different relations to other persons or things or permanent objects of thought from which they are respectively inseparable, and our preference may be modified accordingly. Let us take as illustrations some of these ideal objects, for the sake of which it is at least not obviously unworthy of a rational being to sacrifice human happiness. We may prefer the mental state of apprehending truth to the state of half- reliance on generally accredited fictions^, although, if the fiction be pleasant, the former state may be more painful than the latter : and such preference may be independent of any effect which we expect either state to have upon our subsequent consciousness. Here, on my view, the real object of preference is not the consciousness of knowing truth, considered merely as feeling, because the element of pleasure or satisfaction in this is more than outweighed by the concomitant pain : but the rela- tion between the mind and something else, which is whatever it is independently of our cognition of it. This may become more clear if we imagine ourselves learning afterwards that what we took for truth is not really so : for in this case we should certainly feel that our preference had been mistaken : whereas if our choice had really been between two kinds of feeling, its reasonableness could not be affected by any subse- quent change of belief. Similarly, a man may prefer freedom and penury to a life of luxurious servitude, not because the pleasant feeling of being free outweighs in prospect all the comforts and securities that ' Cf. Lccky, Introduction, pp. 52 f;eqq. Chap. XIV.] THE SUMMUM DONUM. 371 the other life would afford, but because he has a predominant aversion to that relation between his will and the will of another which we call slavery. Here, too, he may perhaps be led to regard his preference as mistaken, if he be afterwards persuaded that there is no such thing as Freedom : that we are all slaves of circumstances, destiny, &c. Again, one may believe that what pleases one most among works of art is not really the most beautiful, and may prefer the contemplation of the latter to that of the former, as a more elevated exercise of taste. Other examples might be taken without introducing the common antithesis between Duty and Pleasure. But this is of course the most obvious case of the preference of one mental state as better though less pleasant than another. And here again what the virtuous agent prefers seems to be the relation of his conscious act to some law or ideal represented as ob- jective : and not the emotion that accompanies his cognition of this relation. § 2. If such objects, then, as Truth, Freedom, Beauty, Vir- tue, &c., or, strictly speaking, the objective relations of conscious minds which we call cognition of Truth, contemplation of Beauty, Independence of action. Realization of Virtue, &c., are Good, independently of the pleasure that we derive from them, it must be reasonable to aim at these for mankind generally and not at happiness only : and so the principle of Rational Bene- volence, which was stated in the last chapter as an indubitable intuition of the practical Reason, does not seem to direct us to a mere pursuit of universal happiness. But can this, on reflection, be maintained ? It seems to me that it certainly cannot. Here I can only appeal to the intuitive judgment of each reader, when the question is fairly placed before it. For my own part, if I have any intuition at all respecting the ultimate ends of action, it seems to me that I can see this : that these objective relations of the conscious subject, when distinguished in reflective analysis from the consciousness accompanying and resulting from them, are not ultimately and intrinsically desirable : any more than material or other objects are, Avhen considered out of relation to conscious existence altogethei-. Admitting that we have actual experience of such 21—2 372 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. preferences as have just been described, of which the ultimate object is something that is not Feeling : it still seems to me that when such objects are conceived to come, not apparently or transiently, but really and finally, into competition with Happiness, we cannot maintain the rationality of such prefer- ences. At the same time it must be allowed that we find in Com- mon Sense an aversion to admit Happiness (when explained to mean a sum of pleasures) to be the sole ultimate end and standard of right conduct. But this, I think, can be fully ac- counted for by the following considerations. I. The term Pleasure is not commonly used so as to in- clude clearly all feelings which we desire to retain or repro- duce : in ordinary usage it suggests too prominently the coarser and commoner kinds of such feelings : and it is difficult even for those who are trying to use it scientifically to free their minds altogether from the associations of ordinary usage, and to mean by Pleasure only Preferable or Desirable Feeling of whatever kind. Again, our knowledge of human life con- tinually suggests to us instances of pleasures which will inevi- tably involve as concomitant or consequent either a greater amount of pain or a loss of more important pleasures : and we naturally shrink from including even hypothetically in our conception of ultimate good these — in Bentham's phrase — "impure" pleasures, especially since we have, in many cases, moral or sesthetic instincts warning us against such pleasures. II. We have seen^ that many important pleasures can only be felt on condition of our experiencing desires for other things than pleasure. Thus the very acceptance of Pleasure as the ultimate end of conduct involves the practical rule that it is not always to be made the conscious end. Hence, even if we are considering merely the good of one human being taken alone, excluding from our view all effects of his conduct on others, still the reluctance of Common Sense to regard pleasure as the sole thing ultimately desirable may be justified by the consideration tliat we shall be less happy if Ave are exclusively occupied with the desire of happiness. E.g. (as was before Rhewn) wo shall miss the valuable pleasures which attend the ' Book I. c. 1, of. Book ii. c. ."5. Cn.vp. XIV.] THE SUMMUM BONUM. 373 exercise of the benevolent affections if we do not experience genuinely disinterested impulses to procure happiness for otliers (which are, in fact, implied in the notion of " benevolent affections"). III. But again, as was expounded in the preceding chapter, disinterested benevolence is not only thus generally in harmony with rational Self-love, but also in another sense and inde- pendently rational : that is, Reason shews me that if my hap- piness is desirable and a good, the equal happiness of any other person must be equally desirable. Now, when Happiness is spoken of as the sole ultimate good, the idea that is perhaps most commonly suggested is that each individual is to seek his own happiness at the expense (if necessary) or, at any rate, to the neglect of that of others : and this offends both our sympa- thetic and our rational regards for others' happiness. It is, in fact, rather the end of Egoistic than of Universalistic Hedonism, to which Common Sense feels an aversion. And certainly one's individual happiness is, in many respects, an unsatisfac- tory mark for one's supreme aim, apart from any direct collision into which the exclusive pursuit of it may bring us with rational or sympathetic Benevolence. It does not possess the characteristics which, as Aristotle saj^s, we "divine " to belong to the Highest Good : being (so far, at least, as it can be em- pirically foreseen) so narrow and limited, of such necessarily brief duration, and so shifting and insecure while it lasts. But Universal Happiness, desirable conscious life for the innumerable multitude of living beings, present and to come, seems an End that satisfies our imagination by its vastness, and sustains our resolution by its comparative permanence and security. And we certainly, in the great majority of cases in which we naturally judge an act to be good though painful to the agent, believe that it will be productive of liappiness to human beings generally: and even when its "felicific^" ten- dency is not at first apparent, it may be made clear on further consideration : and even when no proof of this is possible, reflection will often discover a latent conviction that the act 1 It will be convenient to use the terms ' felicific ' and ' infclicific ' for ' pro- ductive of happiness ' and the reverse. 374 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. has such a tendency, so that we are not really judging the act to be good although we think it infelicific. It may perhaps be objected that this still does not explain why we should judge conduct to be good for an individual which is infelicific 7'ela- tlvely to him. But if it is felicific on the whole, it is a means to the ultimate end of Reason, or Absolute Good (on the theory that identifies this with happiness), and therefore it must be, in a sense, reasonable for him to aim at it : although from another point of view his own happiness seems to be a rational ultimate end. Thus the judgment, that such conduct on his ■ part as conduces to general good must be good /or liim, may be attributed partly to a certain confusion of thought between these two points of view, and partly to a faith deeply rooted in the moral consciousness of mankind, that there cannot be really and ultimately any conflict between the tw^o kinds of reason - ableness\ But if we simplify the question by supposing only a single sentient conscious being in the universe, it then is surely evident that nothing can be ultimately ' good ' for such a being except his own happiness. IV. But lastly, from the universal point of view no less than from that of the individual, it seems true that Happiness is likely to be better attained if the extent to which we set our- selves consciously to aim at it be carefully restricted. And this not only because action is likely to be more effective if our effort is temporarily concentrated on the realization of more limited ends — though this is no doubt an important reason : — but also because the fullest development of happy life for each individual seems to require that he should have other external objects of interest besides- the happin-ess of other conscious beings. And thus we may conclnde that the pursuit of the ideal objects before mentioned. Truth, Freedom, Beauty, &c., for their own sakes, is indirectly and secondarily, though not primarily and absolutely, rational : on account not only of the happiness that will result from their attainment, but also of 1 We may illustrate this double explanation by a reference to some of Plato's dialogues, such as the Gorgias, where the ethical argument has a singularly mixed effect on the mind, ' Tartly, it seems to us more or less dexterous liophibtry, playing on a confusion of thought latent in the common notion of good : partly a noble and stirring expression of a profound moral faith. Chap. XIV.] THE SUMMUM BONUM. 375 that which springs from their disinterested pursuit. Though none the less when (to use Butler's phrase) " we sit down in a cool moment," we can only justify to ourselves the importance that we attach to any of these objects by considering its con- duciveness, in one way or another, to the happiness of conscious beino-s. And if I ask for a final criterion of the comparative value of the different objects of men's enthusiastic pursuit, and of the limits within which each may legitimately engross the attention of mankind, I cannot but conceive it to depend upon the degree in which they respectively possess this "felicific" quality. And thus we are finally led to the conclusion (which at the close of the last chapter seemed to be premature) that the Intuitional method rigorously applied yields as its final result the doctrine of pure Universalistic Hedonism, § 8. If, however, this view be rejected, it remains to con- sider whether we can frame any other consistent account of the contents of the notion of Good. If there be some objective con- stitution of the relations of conscious beings to each other and to the universe generally, which is desirable in itself and not ■ merely as a means to the end of happiness, and which we may conceive, under the notion of Perfection, as something distinct from happiness — how shall we ascertain what it is ? On what principle shall we harmonize or select among the different opi- nions that are current respecting it ? It is clear that this question reproduces all the difficulties which were exhibited in the earlier chapters of this book, and adds a host of fresh ones. For, as we have seen, among these objective relations commonly judged to be good, Virtue, or the relation of Conscious agents to the moral Law or Ideal, always occupies a prominent place. And thus we are forced to take up again that attempt to interpret with precision the commonly accepted notions of Virtue, which led us into so long a scries of perplexities. It is true that there i^ not the same obvious need of ilc- finiteness and exactness in our view of any virtue, when we consider it as a Good to be attained, and not as the source of a primary maxim of strict duty. For though Common Sense recognises a general duty of seeking to realize all kinds of 37G THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. excellence, still the degree to wliicli each is to be sought is left vague and indeterminate : and so when two virtues — such as Veracity and Benevolence — come into apparent conflict, we may attain a kind of Good by conforming our conduct to either. Still, when we introduce the notion of quantity and aim at realizing the 'greatest good,' we require to know in any case which alternative is to be preferred. And thus all the per- plexities of the previous discussion return upon us, increased by our having to consider in each case the wider and more indefinite scope of an Excellence as distinct from a Duty. We have to observe, too, that further difficulties emerge at this point ; of which we caught a glimpse in the previous discussion, where, however, it was not necessary to give them prominence. Far example, what was prescribed under the head of Benevolence was primarily to " do good " to persons in various circumstances and relations. Now it seemed in accordance with Common Sense to interpret ' Good,' in this connexion, as equi- Vcxlent to Happiness. But if we finally decide that Ultimate Good includes many things distinct from Happiness, and among these Virtue, then our explanation of Benevolence has involved a notion which in its turn involves that which it has been used to explain. Again, we noticed that a reference to ' utilitarian considerations ' was in many cases suggested by Common Sense as the only mode of removing the ambiguities of current moral formulas : but it must be allowed that as made by Common Sense the reference is rather to the " general good " than to the "general happiness;" so that if Good is to include Virtue as distinct from happiness, the explanation is again entangled in a vicious circle. And it is to be observed, that in the present inquiry we need an especially clear and precise conception of Virtue : for we have not only to compare virtues among themselves, and to find a criterion for deciding which of two virtues is to be pre- ferred when their maxims appear to conflict : but we have also to compare Virtue with other cono.monly recognised goods, such as Truth, Beauty, &c. Are we to seek Virtue first and everything else only in so far as it is a means to, or at least not incompatible with, the greatest possible realization of Virtue ? Or may we hold with Aristotle that pure speculation Ghap. XIV.] THE SUMMUM BONUM. 377 ■is the noblest life, aud that though ^Ye must be vh'tuous in so far as we are practical, it is yet best to reduce the practical side of our life to a minimum ? And so as regards devotion to Beauty, and the artist's life. Is art to be prosecuted for its own sake, or only as a means of developing virtue ? And if for its own sake, how far ? and to what extent is it reasonable that devotion to Beauty should draw us away from the service of Virtue? And similarly of the religious life: for though Com- mon Sense holds that this is to some extent desirable for all, still the attitude of worship and religious contemplation may be maintained to a degree incompatible with practical activity: we have then to consider how far it is a good in itself, and how far practical virtue is to be sacrificed to it. These difficulties are sometimes evaded by saying that each man has his own special gifts and capabilities, and must cul- tivate and develope these. But it has been already seen^ that there is, as far as we can ascertain, no such definite original constitution in each human being as this seems to imply. If, however, we admit that the conception of excellent or perfect life has properly a different meaning for each individual, our difficulties are only multiplied. We cannot say that that is best which appears to each best : for we saw it to be character- istic of our judgments respecting Perfection or Excellence (as contrasted with those respecting Happiness), that we do not regard the judgment of each individual as final so far as his own state is concerned. Such judgments we commonly pass on others as well as ourselves, and accuse each other of error when we disagree. Hence in so far as the ideal of life varies for each individual, it is thought to vary on grounds intrinsically uni- versal, so that all the various results are deducible from some universal principles that all ought to accept. We are thus led back to the question. What are these principles? Finally, if we could obtain a clear and consistent notion of Objective Good, we should still have to solve the problem of deciding jits relation to Subjective Good or Happiness. For Common Sense does not doubt that Happiness is a Good, and indeed most moral codes command us to seek it both for our- selves and for others. If, then, it is sometimes to be sacrificed 1 B. II. c. 5. 378 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book III. for other sublimer goods, we want to be told clearly how far this sacrifice is to be carried. I have failed to find any serious and systematic attempt to answer these questions : and hence I am forced to leave the ethical method which takes Perfection, as distinct from Happi- ness, to be the whole or chief part of ultimate Good, in a rudi- mentary condition. But if, on the one hand, we can get rid of this swarm of perplexities by interpreting Universal Good to mean Universal Happiness; if, as I have said, when we imagine a conscious being alone in the universe, it seems clear that only its own happiness could be to it an ultimate good ; and if the impulse which has led moralists to reject the Hedonistic End can be satisfactorily explained by the considerations adduced in the preceding section ; we may perhaps conclude that Common Sense will admit, as its most certain moral intuition most precisely stated, the First Principle of Utili- tarianism. BOOK IV. UTILITARIANISM. BOOK IV. CHAPTER I. THE MEANING OF UTILITARIANISM. § 1. The term Utilitarianism is, at the present day, in common use, and is supposed to designate a doctrine or method with which we are all familiar. But on closer examination, it appears to be applied to several distinct theories, having no necessary connexion with one another, and not even referring to the same subject-matter. It will be well, therefore, to define, as carefully as possible, the doctrine that is to be denoted by the term in the present book : at the same time distinguishing this from other doctrines to which usage would allow the name to be applied, and indicating, so far as seems necessary, its relation to these. By Utilitarianism is here meant the ethical theory, first distinctly formulated by Bentham, that the conduct which, under any given circumstances, is externally or objectively right, is that which will produce the greatest amount of happi- ness to all whose interests are affected : or more precisely (as under any given circumstances the interests of one or more may have to be sacrificed in order to secure the greatest happi- ness on the whole) the conduct which will produce the "greatest possible happiness to the greatest possible number." It would tend to clearness if we might call this principle, and the method based upon it, by some such name as " Universalistic Hedon- ism : " and I have therefore sometimes ventured to use this term, in spite of its cumbronsness. 382 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. The first doctrine from which it seems necessary to dis- tinguish this, is that of Egoistic Hedonism, expounded and discussed in Book ii. of this treatise. The difference, however, between the propositions (1) that each ought to seek his own happiness, and (2) that each ought to seek the happiness of all, is so obvious and glaring, that instead of dwelling upon it we seem rather called upon to explain how the two ever came to be confounded, or in any way included under one notion. This question, and the general relation between the two doctrines, were briefly discussed in a former cliapter\ Among other points it was there noticed that the confusion between these two ethical theories was partly assisted by the confusion with both of the psychological theory that in voluntary actions every agent does, universally or normally, seek his own individual happiness or pleasure. Now there seems to be no necessary connexion be- tween this latter proposition and any ethical theory : and in so far as this is a natural tendency to pass from psychological to ethical Hedonism, the transition must be — at least primarily — to the Egoistic phase of the latter. For clearly, from the fact that every one actually does seek his own happiness we cannot conclude, as an immediate and obvious inference, that he ousfht to seek the happiness of other people^ Nor, again, is Utilitarianism, as a doctrine of Duty and Virtue, necessarily connected with the theory (belonging to what may be called ethical psychology) that the moral senti- ments are derived, by " association of ideas " or otherwise, from, experiences of the non-moral pleasures and pains resulting to ^ B. I. c. 6. It may bo worth ■while to notice, that in Mill's well-known treatise on Utilitarianism this confusion, though expressly deprecated, is to some extent encouraged by the author's treatment of the subject. On p. 9, we find stated as the first principle of Utilitarianism " that actions are right and wrong in proportion as they tend to promote happiness." Now this statement does not distinguish Egoistic from Universalistic Hedonism : and the argument as continued for several pages would apply equally well to either system. It is not till we come to p. 16, that we are informed that " the standard is not the agent's own happiness, but the greatest amount of happiness altogether." Hence it is not surprising, though it is much to be regretted, that the most thoughtful opponents of Utilitarianism (as e.g. Mr Leclcy) fail to distinguish properly between the two doctrines. - I have already criticised (B. in. c. 13) the mode in which Mill attempts to exhibit this inference. CnAP.L] THE MEANING OF UTILITARIANISM. 383 the agent or to others from different kinds of conduct. For, as was before observed \ the question as to the authority of a moral principle cannot properly be settled by any investigation of its origin. These moral sentiments, however they may have been derived, are found in our jaresent consciousness as independent impulses, and claiming authority over the more primary desires and aversions from which tliey are thought to have sprung : and one may admit to the fullest extent any theory of their derivation, and still hold with Butler that this natural (however derivative) claim is also reasonable, even when it apparently conflicts with the conclusions of the Utilitarian Calculus. While, on the other hand, the mere recognition and explanation of these sentiments, as facts of consciousness, does not necessarily affirm the ultimate and supreme authority either of the senti- ments themselves or of the principle of Utilitarianism as above given. For it may still be held that these and all other im- pulses (including even Rational Benevolence) are properly under the rule of Rational self-love : and that it is really only reasonable to gratify them in so far as we may expect to find our private happiness in such gratification. It appears, in short, that what is commonly called the Utilitarian theory of the origin of the moral sentiments, whe- ther in the form in which it was held in the earlier school of associatioual psychologists, or as modified by the more recent doctrine of Evolution, is, strictly speaking, compatible with any of the three methods of determining right conduct, which it is the object of this treatise to investigate. At the same time, I do not mean to deny that this psychological theory has a place in the proof of Ethical Utilitarianism, though its importance in this relation seems to me to have been much exaggerated. What this place exactly is, I shall presently try to shew. Finally, the doctrine that Universal Happiness is the ulti- mate standard must not be understood to imply that Universal Benevolence is the only right or best motive of action. For, as we have before observed, it is not necessary that the end which gives the criterion of rightness should always be the end at which we consciously aim : and if experience shews that the general happiness will be more satisfoctorily attained if men 1 B. m. e. 1, § -1. 384 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. frequently act from other motives than pure universal philan- thropy — it is obvious that these other motives are reasonably to be preferred on Utilitarian principles. § 2. Let us now examine the principle itself somewhat closer. The ultimate end of action, as defined by it, is " the greatest possible happiness " of " the greatest possible number.'' The first of these notions. Maximum Happiness, we have already attempted (B. ii. c. 1) to render as clear and definite as possible: and the results there obtained are of course as applicable to the discussion of Universalistic as to that of Egoistic Hedonism. We shall understand, then, that by Greatest Happiness is meant the greatest possible surplus of pleasure over pain, the pain being conceived as balanced against an equal amount of plea- sure, so that the two mutually annihilate each other for pur- poses of ethical calculation. And of course, here as before, the assumption is involved that all pleasures are capable of being compared quantitatively with one another and with all pains : that every feeling has a certain intensive quantity, positive or negative (or, perhaps, zero), in respect of preferableness or de- sirableness, and that this quantity may be known : so that each may be weighed in ideal scales against any other. This assump- tion is involved in the very notion of Maximum Happiness : as the attempt to make " as great as possible " a sum of elements not quantitatively commensurable would be a mathematical absurdity. Therefore whatever weight is to be attached to the objections brought against this assumption (which was discussed in c. 3 of Book il.) must of course tell against the present method. We have next to consider the notion of " greatest number," which also needs some further determination and explanation to render it sufficiently precise for scientific use. The first question which it suggests is. Number of what ? Are we to include in our consideration all the beings capable of pleasure and pain whose feelings are affected by our conduct ? or are we to confine our view to human happiness ? The former view is the one adopted by Bentham and Mill, and (I believe) by the Utilitarian school generally : and seems obviously most in ac- cordance with the universality that is characteristic of their principle. It is the Good Vniversal, interpreted and defined as Chap. I.] THE MEANING OF UTILITARIANISM. 385 " happiness " or " pleasure," at which a Utilitarian considers it his duty to aim : and it seems arbitrary and unreasonable to exclude from the end, as so conceived, any pleasure of any sen- tient being. It must, however, be admitted that by giving this extension to the notion, we considerably increase the scientific difficulties of the hedonistic comparison, which have already been pointed out (B, II. c. 3). For if it be difficult to compare the pleasures and pains of other tnen accurately with our own, a comparison of either with the pleasures and pains of the inferior animals is obviously still more obscure. Practically, Utilitarians have always concerned themselves almost entirely with huvian hap- piness : apparently assuming the comparative inferiority in intensity of the pleasure of other sentient beings. But even if we limit our attention to human beings, the notion of "greatest number" is not yet quite determinate. In the first place, it may be asked, How far we are to consider the interests of pos- terity when they seem to conflict with those of existing human beings? Perhaps, however, it is clear that the time at which a man exists cannot affect the value of his happiness from a uni- versal point of view : and that the interests of posterity must concern a Utilitarian as much as those of his contemporaries, except in so far as the effect of his actions on the former must necessarily be more uncertain. But a further question arises when we consider that we can to some extent influence the number of future human (or sentient) beings. We have to ask how, on Utilitarian principles, this influence is to be exercised. Here, again, it seems clear that, supposing the average happi- ness enjoyed to remain the same, Utilitarianism directs us to make th,e number enjoying it as great as possible. But if we foresee as possible that an increase in numbers will be accompa- nied by a decrease in average happiness, or vice versa, a difficulty arises which has not only never been formally noticed, but which seems to have been substantially overlooked by many Utilitarians. For example, political economists of the school of Malthus often appear to assume that no increase of numbers can be right which involves any decrease in average happiness. But if we take Utilitarianism to prescribe, as the ultimate end of action, happiness on the whole, and not any individual's s. E. 25 386 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. happiness, unless considered as an element of the whole, it would follow that, if the additional population enjoy on the whole positive happiness, we ought to weigh the amount of happiness gained by the extra number against the amount lost by the remainder. So that, strictly conceived, the point up to which, on Utilitarian principles, population ought to be allowed to increase, is not that at which average happiness is the greatest possible, but that at which the product formed by multiplying the number of persons living into the amount of average happiness reaches its maximum. It may be well here to make a remark which has a wide application in Utilitarian discussion. The conclusion just given wears a certain air of absurdity to the view of Common Sense : because its show of exactness is grotesquely incongruous with our consciousness of the inevitable inexactness of all such cal- culations in actual practice. But, that our practical Utilitarian reasonings must necessarily be rough, is no reason for not making them as accurate as the case admits : and we shall be more likely to succeed in this if we keep before our mind as distinctly as possible the strict type of the calculation that we should have to make, if all the relevant considerations could be estimated with mathematical precision. If, now, the statement of the Utilitarian principle may be regarded as sufiiciently definite, we may proceed to consider how it is proved to be the true principle. One more point, however, remains to be noticed. It is evi- dent that there are many possible ways of distributing the same quantum of happiness among the same number of persons: in order, therefore, that the Utilitarian criterion of right con- duct may be as complete as possible, we ought to know which of these ways is to be preferred. This question is often ignored in expositions of Utilitarianism. It has perhaps seemed some- what idle, as suggesting a purely abstract and theoretical per- plexity, that could have no practical exemplification : and no doubt, if all the consequences of actions were capable of being estimated and summed up with mathematical precision, we should probably never find the excess of pleasure over pain exactly equal in the case of two competing alternatives of con- duct. But the very indefiniteness of all hedonistic calculations, Chap. I.] THE MEANING OF UTILITARIANISM. 387 which was sufficiently shewn in Book ii., renders it by no means unlikely that there may be no cognizable difference be- tween the quantities of happiness involved in two sets of con- sequences respectively : the more rough our estimates neces- sarily are, the less likely we shall be to come to any clear decision between our alternatives. In all such cases, therefore, it becomes practically important to ask whether any mode of distributing happiness is better than any other. Now that the Utilitarian formula supplies no answer to this question has been already pointed out in our discussion of Justice (B. ill. c, 5). In fact, in such cases there seems a need of supplementing the principle of seeking the greatest happiness of the greatest number by some principle of Just or Right distribution of the happiness among the number. The principle which most Utili- tarians have either tacitly or expressly adopted is that of pure Equality : as given in Bentham's formula, " everybody to count for one, and nobody for more than one." And this principle seems the simplest, and the only one which does not need a special justification : for it seems reasonable to treat any one man in the same way as any other, if there be no reason ap- parent for treating him differently. 2."; — 2 CHAPTER 11. THE PROOF OF UTILITARIANISM. § 1. In Book II., where we discussed the method of Ego- istic Hedonism, we did not take occasion to examine any proof of its first principle : nor, in fact, is it commonly thought neces- sary to offer any such proof. And, again, in examining the Intuitional Method, we did not exactly demand demonstration of the principles put forward as intuitively known : but only inquired whether they possessed the characteristics which are found in other scientific axioms, and were really clear, self- evident, coherent and universally admitted. It may therefore be fairly asked why we should raise the question of Proof with respect to this third method alone. Here, however, it seems sufficient to reply that Common Sense insists upon raising it. It is a fact that while the principle of Egoism is unquestion- ingly accepted by the great majority of minds, and that of Intuitionism is at least openly challenged by few ; Utilitarianism is generally felt to require some proof, or at least (as Mill puts it) some "considerations determining the mind to accept it." Few minds are prepared to admit as self-evident that one ought to aim at the greatest happiness of the greatest number ; while the propositions " that it is reasonable for each individual to seek his own happiness," and " that it is reasonable to do what one sees to be one's duty," are scarcely questioned when they present themselves singly: and even when they are put side by side, and the possible conflict between them has become manifest, it is more common to attempt a settlement of the conflict by reconciling the two, than by subordinating or quali- fying either. No doubt plausible objections may be brought against each Chap. II.] THE PROOF OF UTILITARIANISM. 389 of these principles. Why, it may be asked, should I aim at making my total of pleasure as great as possible? It has already been noticed that many minds have a certain aversion to this as a base and despicable aim : and this aversion cannot be entirely attributed to a confusion between the ordinary use of the term Pleasure and its scientific meaning : it remains even if Pleasure is made to include the highest and most refined kinds of preferable or desirable consciousness. It is felt that while to benefit mankind, to discover Truth, to realize Beauty in work or Virtue in conduct, is noble and sublime, the mere feeling of self-complacency which attends these achievements has nothing sublime in it. Thus many minds cling eagerly to that state of choice in which they prefer something else to their own feelings, and refuse to acquiesce in any other attitude \ And again it may be asked, from a quite different point of view, * Why should I sacrifice a present pleasure for a greater one in the future ? Why should I concern myself about my own future feelings any more than about the feelings of other persons?' And this question, we may observe, lies especially obvious to those who adopt the views of the extreme em- pirical school of psychologists, although these views are com- monly supposed to have a close affinity with Egoistic Hedonism. If the unity of the Ego is really illusory, if the permanent iden- tical ' I ' is not a fact but a fiction, as Hume and his followers maintain : why should one part of the series of feelings into which the Ego is resolved be concerned with another part of the same series, any more than with any other series ? However, it undoubtedly seems to Common Sense paradox- ical and absurd to ask for a reason why one should seek one's own happiness. It is an almost universal assumption that Self-love (or the desire for one's own happiness) has a legitimate authority over all particular appetites and passions, which as rea- sonable beings we are bound to recognise. That Conscience, or the faculty which discerns duty and prompts to its performance, has equally absolute authority is not so clear: we have seen that the superior validity of the dictates of Self-love, in case of irreconcileable conflict between the two impulses, is conceded ^ I have before suggested a Utilitarian explanation of this. Cf. B. iii. c, 14, §3. 390 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. even by Butler. Still, thougli we cannot say that the question * Why am I to do my duty V is exactly paradoxical — as in fact it is a question which religious teachers and moralizers generally suppose to be asked, and to which it is the special claim of the great positive religions to supply an answer — yet, on the other hand, neither is Common Sense startled by the repudiation of the question as improper. When (e.g.) Dugald Stewart says' that " it is absurd to ask why Ave are bound to practise virtue," since " the very notion of virtue implies the notion of obhga- tion," he is not thought to have uttered a paradox : and cer- tainly, as a professed exponent of Common Sense, he was as far as possible from intending to utter one. § 2. But, however this may be, a similar position is not allowed to Utilitarians. Common Sense will not admit that the mere notion of Universal Happiness carries with it the recognition of an obligation to take this as an ultimate end of conduct. This obligation, accordingly, Utilitarians must submit to the necessity of proving. It may be said, perhaps, that it is impossible to "prove" a first principle ; and this is of course true, if by proof we mean a process which exhibits the principle in question as an" inference from premises upon which it remains dependent for its cer- tainty : for these premises, and not the inference drawn from them, would then be the real first princijDles. Nay, if Utili- tarianism is to be proved to a man who already holds some other moral principles, whether he be an Intuitional or Common Sense moralist, who regards as final the principles of Truth, Justice, Obedience to authority, Purity, &c. ; or an Egoist who regards his own interest as the ultimately reasonable end of his conduct : the process must be one which establishes a conclusion actually superior in validity to the premises from which it starts. For the Utilitarian prescriptions of duty are prima facie in conflict, at certain points and under certain circumstances, both with Intuitional rules, and with the dictates of Rational Egoism : so that Utilitarianism, if accepted at all, must be accepted as overruling Intuitionism and Egoism. At the same time, if the other principles are not throughout taken as valid, the so-called proof does not seem to be addressed to the Intui- ^ Active and Moral Powers, B. ii. c. 6. Chap. II.] THE PROOF OF UTILirARIANLSM. 391 tionist or Egoist at all. How shall we deal with this dilemma ? and how is such a process (certainly very different from ordinary proof) possible or conceivable ? It seems that what is needed is a line of argument which on the one hand allows the validity, to a certain extent, of the principles already accepted, and on the other hand shews them to be imperfect, — not absolutely and independently valid, but needing qualification and com- pletion. Such a line of argument, addressed to Egoism, was given in ch. 13 of the foreofoincp book. It should be observed that the applicability of this argument depends on the manner in which the Egoistic first principle is formulated. If the Egoist strictly confines himself to stating his conviction that he ought to take his own happiness or pleasure as his ultimate end, there seems no opening for any line of reasoning to lead him to Universal- istic Hedonism as a first principle. In this case all that the Utilitarian can do is to effect as far as possible a reconciliation between the two principles : by expounding to the Egoist the sanctions (as they are usually called) of rules deduced from the Universalistic principle : that is, the pleasures and pains that will accrue to himself from their observance and violation respectively. It is obvious that such an exposition has no ten- dency to make him accept the greatest happiness of the greatest number as his ultimate end : but only as a means to the end of his own happiness. It is therefore totally different from a proof (as above explained) of Universalistic Hedonism. When, however, the Egoist offers, either as a reason for his Ego- istic principle, or as another form of stating it, the proposition that his happiness or pleasure is objectively desirable or Good ; he gives the ground needed for such a proof. For we can then point out to him that his happiness cannot be 'more objectively desirable or more a good than the similar happiness of any other person : the mere fact (if I may so put it) that he is lie can have nothing to do with its objective desirability or goodness. Hence, starting with his own principle, he must accept the wider notion of Universal happiness or pleasure as representing the real end of Reason, the absolutely Good or Desirable : as the end, therefore, to which the action of a reasonable agent as such ought to be directed. 392 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. But this line of argument is addressed to the Intuitionist also: in fact it was presented in ch. 13 of the preceding book as one of the few products of the Intuitional method which stood the test of rigorous criticism, and it was shewn that it occupied a prominent place in the exposition of Ethics by the most unqualified and confident advocates of this- m.ethod\ Still, as addressed to the Intuitionist, this argument only exhibits the Utilitarian first principle as one moral axiom : it does not prove that it is sole or supreme. The premises with which the Intuitionist starts commonly include other formulae held as independent and self-evident. Utilitarianism has therefore to exhibit itself in the twofold relation above described, at once positive and negative, to these formuloe. The Utilitarian must endeavour to shew to the Intuitionist that the principles of Truth, Justice, &c. have only, a dependent and subordinate validity : arguing either that the principle is really only af- firmed by Common Sense as a general rule admitting of exceptions and qualifications, as in the case of Truth, and that we require some further piiuciple for systematizing these ex- ceptions and qualifications : or that the fundamental notion is vague and needs further determination, as in the case of Jus- tice ; and further, that the different rules are liable to conflict with each other, and that we require some higher principle to decide the issue thus raised ; and again, that the rules are dif- ferently formulated by different persons, and that these differ- ences admit of no Intuitional solution, v;hile they shew the vagueness and ambiguity of the common moral notions to which the Intuitionist appeals. This part of the argument I have perhaps sufficiently deve- loped, aliud agens, in the preceding book. But this line of reasoning taken by itself is, though effective, incomplete and scarcely adapted to produce perfect conviction. It has to be supplemented by developing the positive relation that exists between Utilitarianism and the Morality of Common Sense : ' I ought to remind the reader that the argument in ch. 13 only leads to the first principle of Utilitarianism, if it be admitted that Happiness would be the only thing ultimatcry and ihtrinsicalTy Good or desirable for a conscious indi- vidual conceived as existing by itself. I afterwards in ch. 14 endeavoured to bring Common Sense to this admission. Chap. II.] THE PROOF OF UTILITARIANISM. 393 by shewing how Utilitarianism sustains the general validity of the current moral judgments, and thus gives them a further justification, besides the intuitive recognition of their strin- gency : and at the same time affords a principle of synthesis, and a method for binding the unconnected and occasionally conflicting principles of common moral reasoning into a com- plete and harmonious system. If systematic reflection upon the morality of Common Sense thus exhibits the Utilitarian principle as that to which Common Sense naturally appeals for that further development of its system Avhich this same reflection shews to be neces.sary; the proof of Utilitarianism will be as complete as it can be made. CHAPTEE III. PROOF OF UTILITARIANISM {continued). § 1. It has been before observed (B. I. c. 6) that the two sides of the double relation in which Utilitarianism stands to the Morality of Common Sense have been respectively pro- minent at two different periods in the history of English ethical thought. Since Bentham we have been chiefly familiar with the negative or aggressive aspect of the former method. But as introduced by Cumberland, Utilitarianism was jDurely conservative. Cumberland is entirely occupied with shewing the general tendency of the received moral rules to promote the "common Good of all Rationals:" it never occurs to him to consider whether these rules as commonly formulated are in any way imperfect, and whether there are any discrepancies between such common moral opinions and the calculations of scientific Utilitarianism. So in Shaftesbury's system the " Moral " or " Reflex Sense " is supposed to be always pleased with that " Ballance " of the affections which tends to the good or happiness of the whole, and displeased with the opposite. In Hume's treatise this coincidence is drawn out more in detail, and with a more definite assertion that the percejition of utility (or the reverse) is in each case the source of the moral liking (or aversion) which are excited in us by different quali- ties of human character and conduct. And we may observe that the most penetrating among Hume's contemporary critics, Adam Smith, admits unreservedly the objective coincidence of llightness or Approvedness and Utility : though he maintains, in opposition to Humo, that "it is not the view of this utility Chap. III.] PROOF OF UTILITARIANISM {CONTINUED). 395 or hurtfulness, -whicli is either the first or the principal source of our approbation or disapprobation." After stating Hume's theory that " no qualities of the mind are approved of as vir- tuous, but such as are useful or agreeable either to the person himself or to others, and no qualities are disapproved of as vicious but such as have a contrary tendency:" he remarks that "Nature seems indeed to have so happily adjusted our sentiments of approbation and disapprobation to the conveni- ency both of the individual and of the society, that after the strictest examination it will be found, I believe, that this is uni- versally the case." And no one can read the Inquiry into the First Principles of Morals (the best, as it seemed to himself, of Hume's philo- sophical compositions) without being at least convinced that if a list Avere drawn up of the qualities of character and conduct that are directly or indirectly productive of pleasure to our- selves or to others, it would include all that are commonly known as virtues. Whatever be the origin of our notion of moral goodness or excellence, there is no doubt that " Utility " is a universal cha- racteristic of the dispositions to which Ave apply it : and that, so far, the Morality of Common Sense may be truly represented as unconscious Utilitarianism. But it may still be objected, that this coincidence is merely general and qualitative, and that it breaks doAvn when we attempt to draw it out in detail, with the quantitative precision Avhich Bentham introduced into the discussion. And no doubt there is a great difference be- tween the assertion that virtue is always productive of hap- piness, and the assertion that the right action is under all circumstances that which will produce the greatest possible happiness to the greatest possible number. But it must be borne in mind that our present argument for Utilitarianism does not aim at proving the absolute coincidence in results of the Intuitional and Utilitarian methods. Indeed, if it could succeed in proving as much as this, its success would seem, to be suicidal, as it would then be practically indifferent whe- ther we did or did not adopt the Utilitarian principle. Its aim is rather to shew a natural transition from the Morality of Common Sense to Utilitarianism, somewhat like the transi- 396 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. tion in special branches of practice from trained instinct and empirical rules to the technical method that embodies and applies the conclusions of science : so that Utilitarianism may appear only as the scientifically complete and systematically reflective form of that regulation of conduct, which through the whole course of human history has always tended substantially in the same direction. For this purpose we do not need to prove that existing moral rules are more conducive to the ge- neral happiness than any others : but only to point out in each case some manifest felicific tendency which they possess. Hume's dissertation, however, incidentally exhibits much more than a simple and general harmony between the moral sentiments with which we commonly regard actions and their foreseen pleasurable and painful consequences. And, in fact, the Utilitarian argument cannot be fairly judged unless we take fully into account the cumulative force which it derives from the complex character of the coincidence between Utilitarianism and Common Sense. It may be shewn, I think, that the Utilitarian estimate of consequences not only supports broadly the current moral rules, but also sustains their generally received limitations and quali- fications : that, again, it explains anomalies in the Morality of Common Sense, which fi'om any other point of view must seem unsatisfactory to the reflective intellect : and moreover, where the current formula is not sufficiently precise for the guidance of conduct, while at the same time difficulties and perplexities arise in the attempt to give it additional precision, the Utilitarian method solves these difficulties and perplexities in general accordance with the vague instincts of Common Sense, and is naturally appealed to for such solution in common moral discussions. It may be shewn further, that it not only supports the generally received view of the relative importance of different duties, but also is naturally called in as arbiter, where rules commonly regarded as co-ordinate come into con- flict: that, again, when the same rule is interpreted somewhat differently by different persons, each naturally supports his view by urging its Utility, however strongly he may maintain the rule to be self-evident and known ci priori: that where we meet with marked diversity of moral opinion on any point, in the CnAP.III.J PROOF OF UTILITARIANISM {CONTINUED]. 397 same age and countiy, we commonly find manifest and impres- sive Utilitarian reasons on both sides : and that finally the remarkable discrepancies found in comparing the moral codes of different ages and countries are for the most part strikingly correlated to differences either in the actual consequences of actions, or in men's foresight of, or concern for, such conse- quences. Most of these points are noticed by Hume, though in a somewhat casual and fragmentary way: and many of them have been incidentally illustrated in the course of the exa- mination of Common Sense Morality, with which we were occu- pied in the preceding book. But considering the importance of the present question, it may be well to exhibit in systematic detail the cumulative argument which has just been summed up, even at the risk of repeating to some extent the results pre- viously given. § 2. We may begin by replying to an objection which is frequently urged against Utilitarianism. How, it is asked, if the true groimd of the moral goodness or badness of actions lies in their utility or the reverse, can we explain "the broad dis- tinction, both in kind and degree, drawn by Common Sense between the moral and other parts of our nature? If the excellence of Virtue consists solely in its tendency to promote the happiness of men, a machine, a fertile field, or a navigable river, would all possess in a veiy high degree the element of virtue'." It might be answered, in the first place, that as the natural (non-moral) feelings excited in us by human beings are generally very different from those caused by inanimate objects, it is to be expected that our judgment of goodness or badness should be accompanied by different sentiinents in the two cases; just as the beauty of a woman affects one quite differently from the beauty of a landscape. But in the case of qualities on which we pass strictly moral judgments there is a further difference of a fundamental kind. As we saw (B. ill. c. 8) actions that are, in the strictest sense of the term, Virtuous, are always voluntary: that is, they are actions which may always be done if the motives for doing them are only sufficiently strong. Hence we expect that the judgments of moral goodness or badness, passed either by the agent himself or by others, will have an immediate ' Lecky, Hist, of Eur. Mor. c. 1, p. 33. 398 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IY. practical effect iu causing actions to be virtuous : and the habitual consciousness of this will account for almost any differ- ence between moral sentiments and the pleasure and pain that we derive from the contemplation of extra-human utilities and inutilities. To this it is replied, that among the tendencies to strictly voluntary actions there are many not commonly re- garded as virtuous, which are yet not only useful but on the whole more useful than many virtues. "The selfish instinct that leads men to accumulate confers ultimately more advantage on the world than the generous instinct that leads men to give. It is scarcely doubtful that a modest, diffident, and retiring nature, distrustful of its own abilities, and shrinking with humility from conflict, produces on the whole less benefit to the world than the self-assertion of an audacious and arrogant nature, which is impelled to every struggle, and developes every capacity. Gratitude has no doubt done much to soften and sweeten the intercourse of life, but the corresponding feeling of revenge was for centuries the one bulwark against Social an- archy, and is even now one of the chief restraints to crime. On the great theatre of public life, especially in periods of great convulsions where passions are fiercely roused, it is neither the man of delicate scrupulosity and sincere impartiality, nor yet the single-minded religious enthusiast, incapable of dissimulation or procrastination, who confers most benefit on the world. It is much rather the astute statesman, earnest about his ends, but ■unscrupulous about his means, equally free from the trammels of conscience and from the blindness of zeal, who governs be- cause he partly yields to the passions and the prejudices of his time. But it has scarcely yet been contended that the delicate conscience which in these cases impairs utility consti- tutes vice\" These objections are forcibly urged ; but they are not very difficult to answer, it being always borne in mind that the present argument does not aim at proving an exact coincidence between Utilitarian inferences and the intuitions of Common Sense, but rather seeks to represent the latter as inchoately and imperfectly Utilitarian. In the first place, we must carefully distinguish between 1 Lecky, c. 3, pp. 38, 41 seiq. Chap.IIL] proof of utilitarianism {CONTINUED). 399 admiration and approbation : the recognition of excellence in dispositions, and the recognition of rightness in conduct. An act that a Utilitarian must condemn as likely to do more harm than good may yet shew a disposition or tendency that will on the whole produce more good than harm. This is eminently the case with scrupulously conscientious acts. However true it may be that unenlightened conscientiousness has impelled men to fanatical cruelty, mistaken asceticism, and other infelicific con- duct : I suppose no Intuitionist would maintain that carefulness in conforming to the received moral rules has not, on the whole, a tendency to promote happiness. It may be observed, however, that when we perceive the effects of a disposition generally felicific to be in any particular case adverse to happiness, we often apply to it, as so operating, some term of condemnation : thus we speak, in the case above noticed, of " over-scrupulous- ness " or " fanaticism." But in so far as we perceive that the same disposition would generally produce good results, it is natural still to regard it, abstracting from the particular case, as a good element of character. Secondly, although, in the view of a Utilitarian, only the useful is admirable, he is not bound to maintain that it is necessarily admirable in proportion as it is useful. Indeed Utility itself distinctly prescribes that our praise of human qualities should not be distributed in proportion to Utility ; because it is obviously not expedient to encourage by praise qualities which are liable to be found in excess rather than in defect. Hence (e.g.) however necessary self-love or resentment may be to society, it is quite in harmony with Utilitarianism that they should not be recognised as virtues by Common Sense, in so far as it is commonly thought that they will always be found operating with at least sufficient intensity. We find, however, that when self-love comes into conflict with impulses seen to be on the whole pernicious, it is praised as Prudence : and that when a man seems clearly deficient in re- sentment, he is censured for tameness : though as malevolent impulses are much more obviously productive of pain than pleasure, it is not unnatural that their occasional utility should be somewhat overlooked. The case of Humility and Diffidence may be treated in a somewhat similar way. As we saw\ it is ' B. III. c. 10. 400 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. only inadvertently that Common Sense praises the tendency to underrate one's own powers : on reflection every one admits that it cannot be good to be in error on this or any other point. But the desires of Superiority and Esteem are so strong in most men, that arrogance and self-assertion are both much commoner than the opposite defects, and at the same time are faults peculiarly disagreeable to others : so that humility gives us an agreeable surprise, and hence Common Sense may naturally overlook its more latent and remote bad consequences. In order, however, to estimate fairly the latest Utilitarianism of Common Sense, it seems best to examine the more definite judgments of right and wrong in conduct, rather than the vaguer awards of praise and admiration to dispositions. But before we proceed, with this object, to discuss notions of virtue and duty, it should be observed that there are some among these notions, the examination 'of which cannot yield positive support to the present argument for Utilitarianism, though it certainly gives no adverse .results : as their definitions inevitably involve, in some way or other, the notion of "good" or "right" supposed already determinate : and so they can neither help to determine this notion, nor yet stand in the way of our giving it a Utilitarian interpretation. For example, we saw this to be the case with the chief of the intellectual excellences discussed in B. III. c. 3. Wisdom, as commonly conceived, is not exactly the faculty of choosing the right means to the end of universal happiness ; rather, as we saw, its notion involves an uncritical synthesis of the different ends and principles that are dis- tinguished and separately examined in the present treatise. But if its import is not distinctly Utilitarian, it is certainly not anything else as distinct from Utilitarian : if we can only define it as the faculty or habit of choosing the right or best means to the right or best end, for that very reason our definition leaves it quite open to us to give the notions "good" or "right" a Utilitarian content. Again, there is another large class of virtues, which, as com- monly formulated, do not seem to refer explicitly to any higher principle : but in which, nevertheless, reflection forces us to suppose such a reference, if we would make their maxims sufficiently precise to guide conduct. Chap. III.] PROOF OF UTILITARIANISM ^CONTINUED). 401 For example, we do not scorn able to draw the line between Liberality and Profusion, Frugality and Meanness, Courage and Foolhardiness, Courtesy and Obsequiousness ; nor to decide when Pride ceases to be proper, and when Placability becomes a weakness : without referring to some standard not obtainable by mere reflection on the notions themselves. In many of these cases it is evident that, when the necessity of this reference is seen, the standard to which Common Sense has recourse is more or less definitely Utilitarian. It is recog- nised broadly that the disposition commonly praised as vir- tuous passes over into a vice when its consequences are more harmful than beneficial. No doubt, we cannot say that the line is commonly drawn with a sale reference to " the greatest happiness of the greatest number:" as appeal is also made to other rules of duty, taken as absolute : for example. Courtesy is limited by the duty of Veracity, and Placability by the duty of enforcing law and requiting ill-desert, and Liberality by the duty of providing for one's family, &c. But if these more apparently definite and ultimate notions of duty can be ex- hibited as latently TJtilitariaja, it seems evident that a similar result may be taken as admitted for all derivative and less definite rules and maxims. § 3. Let us then consider first the grotip <>f virtues and duties discussed in Book iii. c. 4, under the head of Benevo- lence. Here we naturally begin by noticing the obvious point of coincidence between the Intuitional and Utilitarian systems. For it is a fair description of Utilitarianism to say that it resolves all other duties and virtues into Rational Benevolence. It is true that Benevolence would perhaps be more commonly defined as a disposition to promote the Good of one's fellow- creatures, than their Happiness (as definitely understood by Utilitarians). Still, as w-e saw\ certain thinkers of the Intui- tional school are as definite as Utilitarians in -stating Happiness (and not Perfection) as that which it is our dtity to promote in the case of others : and Common Sense seems, ^on the whole, to incline to this view. And again, the chief element in the com- mon notion of good (besides happiness) is moral good or Virtue : therefore if we can shew that the other virtues are all qualities 1 B. in. c. 4, § 1. s. E. 26 402 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. conducive to the happiness of the agent himself or of others, it is evident that Benevolence, whether it prompts us to promote the virtue of others or their happiness, will aim directly or indirectly at the Utilitarian end*. Nor, further, does the comprehensive range which Utili- tarians give to Benevolence, in stating as their ultimate end the greatest happiness of all sentient beings, seem to be really opposed to Common Sense : for in so far as certain Intuitional moralists restrict the scope of the direct duty of Benevolence to human beings, and regard our duties to brute animals as merely indirect and derived "from the duty of Self-culture," they and not their Utilitarian opponents appear paradoxical. And if, in laying down that each agent is to consider all other happiness as equally important with his own. Utilitarianism goes decidedly beyond the standard of duty commonly prescribed under the head of Benevolence, it yet can scarcely be said to conflict with Common Sense on this point. For, as Mill urges ^ it here only coincides with the ethical teaching of Christianity, Avhich has commonly been accepted as true in modern Europe, no less by those who disbelieve its miraculous revelation than by professed Christians. It is to be observed, moreover, that this theoretical impartiality of Utilitarianism has to be im- portantly modified in its practical application. It would clearly not promote the universal happiness for each one practically to concern himself with the happiness of others as much as with his own. For in the first place, generally speaking, each man is far better able to provide for his own happiness than for that of any other person, from his more intimate knowledge of his own desires and needs, and his greater opportunities of grati- fying them. And besides, it is under the stimulus of self- interest that the active energies of most men are most easily and thoroughly drawn out : and if this were removed, general happiness would be diminished by a serious loss of those means of happiness which are obtained by labour; and also, to some extent, by the diminution of the labour itself. If, however, in order to test the abstract principle, we take a hypothetical case, and suppose that in any particular instance I know that my own ^ It will be seen that I do not here assume the conclusions of ch. 14 of the preceding hook. 2 Utilitarianism, c. 2, p. 24. Chap. III.] PROOF OF UTILITARIANISM {CONTINUED). 403 hai^pincss can only be obtained at the expense of some more important liajipiness to some one else — even if he be Rousseau's "Mandarin in China" — then even Common-Sense morality- seems clearly to forbid me to gratify my egoistic impulse. It might indeed be objected, on the other hand, that under the notions of Generosity, Self-sacrifice, &c., Common Sense praises (though it does not prescribe as obligatory) a sup- pression of egoism beyond -vN'hat Utilitarianism approves : for we perhaps admire as virtuous a man who gives up his own happiness for another's sake, even when the happiness that he confers is less than that which he resigns, so that there is a diminution of happiness on the whole. But (1) it seems very doubtful whether we do altogether approve such conduct when the disproportion between the sacrifice and the benefit is ob- vious and striking : and (2) a spectator can hardly tell whether happiness is lost on the whole, as he cannot tell whether he who makes the sacrifice is not compensated by sympathetic and moral pleasure : and (3) even if there be a loss in the particular case, still our admiration of self-sacrifice will admit of a Utilitarian justification, because such conduct shews a dis- position far above the average in its general tendency to pro- mote happiness, and it is this disposition that we admire rather than the particular act. It has been said^ however, that the special claims and duties belonging to special relations, by which each man is connected with a few out of the whole number of human beings, are expressly ignored by the rigid impartiality of the Utilitarian formula : and hence that, though Utilitarianism and Common Sense may agree in the proposition that all right action is conducive to the happiness of some one or other, and so far beneficent, still they are irreconcileably divergent on the radical question of the distribution of beneficence. Here, however, it seems that even fair-minded opponents have scarcely treated the Utilitarian argument fairly. They have attacked Bentham's well-known formula, " every man to count for one, nobody for more than one," on the ground that the general happiness will be best attained by inequality in the distribution of each one's services. But it is just be- 1 Cf. J. Grote, Utilitarianism, c. 5. 2G— 2 404 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. cause it will be best attained in this way that Utilitarianism necessarily prescribes this way of aiming at it. And the reasons why it is, generally speaking, conducive to the general happiness that each individual should distribute his beneficence in the channels marked out by commonly recognised ties and claims, are tolerably obvious. For first, in the chief relations discussed in ch. 4 of Book iii. — the domestic, and those constituted by consanguinity, friend- ship, previous kindnesses and special needs, — the services which Common Sense prescribes as duties are commonly prompted by natural affection, while at the same time they tend to develope and sustain such affection. Now, the subsistence of benevolent affections among human beings is itself an important means to the Utilitarian end, because (as Shaftesbury and his followers forcibly urged) the most intense and highly valued of our pleasures are derived from such affections: for both the emo- tion itself is highly pleasurable, and it imparts this quality to the activities which it prompts and sustains, and the happiness thus produced is continually enhanced by the symj^athetic echo of the pleasures conferred on others. And again, where genuine affection subsists, the practical objections to spontaneous bene- ficence, which were before noticed, are much diminished in force. For such affection tends to be reciprocated, and the kindnesses which are its outcome and expression commonly win a requital ' of affection : and in so far as this is the case, they have less tendency to weaken the springs of activity in the person benefited; and may even strengthen them by exciting other sources of energy than the egoistic — personal affection, and gratitude, and the desire to deserve love, and the desire to imitate beneficence. And hence it has been often observed that the injurious effects of almsgiving are at least much diminished if the alms are bestowed with unaffected sympathy and kindliness, and in such a way as to elicit a genuine re- sponse of gratitude. And further, the beneficence that springs from affection is less likely to be frustrated from defect of knowledge : for not only are we powerfully stimulated to study the real conditions of the happiness of those whom we love, but also such study is rendered more effective from the sympathy which naturally accompanies affection. Chap. III.] PROOF OF UTILITARIANISM {CONTINUED). 405 On these grounds the Utilitarian will evidently approve of the cultivation of affection and the performance of affectionate services. It may be said, however, that what we ought to approve is not so much affection for special individuals, but rather a feeling more universal in its scope — charity, philanthropy, or (as it has been called) the " Enthusiasm of Humanity." And certainly all special affections tend occasionally to come into conflict with the principle of promoting the general good : and Utilitarianism must therefore prescribe such a culture of the feelings as will, as far as possible, counteract this ten- dency. And no doubt some have thought the existing relations of human beings highly unfavourable to this culture : and have desired instead some approximation to Plato's ideal of a " com- munion of wives and children and property, in which the private and the individual should be altogether banished from life." But this view is opposed to the results of psychological experi- ence as commonly interpreted : for it seems rather that most persons are only capable of strong affections towards a few human beings in certain close relations, especially the domestic : and that if these are suppressed, what they will feel towards their fellow-creatures generally will be, as Aristotle says, " but a watery kindliness" and a very feeble counterpoise to self-love : and thus that such specialized affections as the present organi- zation of society normally produces afford the best means of developing in most persons a more extended benevolence, to the degree to which they are capable of feeling it. Besides, as each person is for the most part, from limitation either of power or of knowledge, not in a position to do much good to more than a very small number of persons : it seems, on this ground alone, desirable that his chief benevolent impulses should be corre- spondingly limited. And this leads us to consider, secondl}^, the reasons why, affection apart, it is conducive to the general happiness that prior claims should be comn;ionly recognised as attaching to special relations : so as to modify that impartial universality in the distribution of beneficence which Utilitarianism j^^imd facie inculcates. For clearness' sake it seems best to take this argu- ment separately, though it cannot easily be divided from the former one, because the services in question are often such as 406 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. cannot so well be rendered without affection. In such cases, as we sawS Common Sense regards the affection itself as a duty, in so far as it is capable of being cultivated : but still prescribes the performance of the services even if the affection be unhappily- absent. Indeed we may properly consider the services to which we are commonly promjDted by the domestic affections, and also those to which we are moved by gratitude and pity, as an inteo-ral part of the general system of mutual co-operation by which the well-being of society is maintained, on its present basis of free contract : as being an indispensable supplement to the still more essential services which are definitely prescribed by Law, or rendered on commercial terms as a part of an express bargain. As the plutologists have explained, the means of happiness are immensely increased by that complex system of mutual co-operation which has been gradually organized among civilised men : and it is commonly thought that under such a system the general happiness will be generally best promoted by letting each individual exchange such services as he is disposed to render for such return as he can obtain for them by free contract. But to this general principle there are many large exceptions. Of these the most important is constituted by the case of children. It is necessary for the well-being of mankind that in each generation children should be produced in adequate numbers, neither too many nor too few ; and that, as they cannot be left to provide for themselves, they should be adequately nourished and protected during the period of infancy : and further, that they should be carefully trained in good habits, intellectual, moral and physical : and it is commonly believed that the best or even the only known means of attain- ing these ends in even a tolerable degree is afforded by the existing institution of the Family, resting as it does on a basis of le^al and moral rules combined. For Law fixes a minimum of mutual services and draws the broad outlines of behaviour for the different members of the family, imposing^ on the parents lifelong union and comj)lete mutual fidelity and the duty of 1 B. ni. c. 4, g 1. '^ Strictly Bpcakiuf^, of course, Law docs not impose this, but only refuses to recognise and enforce connubial contracts of any otlicr liiud : but the social effect is substantially the same. Chap. III.] PROOF OF UTILITA RIA NISM ( CONTINUED). 407 providing for tlieir children the necessaries of life up to a certain age ; in return for which it gives them the control of their children for the same j)eriod, and sometimes lays on the latter the burden of supporting their parents when aged and destitute : so that Morality, in inculcating a completer harmony of interests and an ampler interchange of kindnesses, is merely filling in the outlines drawn by Law. We found, however, in attempting to formulate the different domestic duties as recog- nised by Common Sense, that there seemed to be in most cases a large vague margin with respect to which consensus could not be affirmed, and which, in fact, forms an arena for continual disputes. But we have now to observe that it is just this margin which furnishes the most striking evidence of the unconscious Utilitarianism of common moral opinion : for when the question is once raised as to the precise mutual duties of husbands and wives, or of parents and children, each disputant commonly supports his view by a forecast of the effects on human happiness to be expected from the general establishment of any proposed rule : this seems to be the standard to which the matter is, by common consent, referred. Similarly the claim to services that arises out of special need (which natural sympathy moves us to recognise) rests on an obvious Utilitarian basis : indeed its proper fulfilment seems so important to the well-being of society, that this duty also has sometimes been partly taken within the sphere of Law, and converted into a legal obligation. We noticed that the main Utilitarian reason why it is not right (for example) for every rich man to distribute his superfluous wealth among the poor, is that the happiness of all is thought on the whole to be most promoted by maintaining in all male adults the expectation that each will be thrown on his own resources for the supply of his own wants. But if I am made aware that, owing to a sudden calamitv that could not have been foreseen, another's resources are manifestly inadequate to protect him from pain or seri- ous discomfort, the case is altered : my theoretical obligation to consider his happiness as much as my own becomes at once practical : and I am bound to make as much effort to relieve him as will not entail a greater loss of happiness to myself or others. If, however, the calamity is one which might have 408 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. been foreseen and averted by proper care, my duty be- comes more doubtful : for then by relieving him I seem to be in danger of encouraging improvidence in others. In such a case a Utilitarian has to weigh this indirect evil against the direct good of removing jDain and distress : and it is now more and more generally recognised that the question of providing for the destitute has to be treated as a Utilitarian problem of which these are the elements; whether we are con- sidering the minimum that should be secured to them by law, or the proper supplementary action of private charity. Poverty, however, is not the only ease in which it is condu- cive to the general happiness that one man sheuld render unbought services to another. In any condition or calling a man may find himself unable to ward off some evil or to realize some legitimate or worthy end without assistance of such kind as he cannot purchase on the ordinary commercial terms : assistance which, on the one hand, will have no bad effect on the receiver, from the exceptional nature of the emergency, while at the same time it may not be burdensome to the giver. Here, again, some jurists have thought that where the service to be rendered is great, and the burden of rendering it very slight, it might properly be made matter of legal obligation : so that (e.g.) if I could save a man from drowning by merely holding out a hand, I should be legally punishable if I omitted the act. But, however this may be, the moral rule condemning the refusal of aid in emergencies is obviously conducive to the general happiness. Further, besides these, so to say, accidentallf/ unbought services, there are some for which there is normally no market- price: such as counsel and assistance in the intimate perplexities of life, which one is only willing to receive from genuine friends. It much promotes the general happiness that such services should be generally rendered. On this ground, as well as that of the emotional pleasures which directly sj^ring from it, we perceive Friendship to be an important means to the Utilitarian end. At the same time we feel that the charm of Friendship is lost if the flow of emotion is not spontaneous and unforced. The combination of these two views seems to be exactly represented by the sympathy that is not quite admiration with which CiiAP. III.] PROOF OF UTILITARIANISM {CONTINUED). 409 Common Sense regards all close and strong affections ; and the regret that is not quite disapproval with which it contemplates their decay. In all cases where it is conducive to the general happiness that unbought services should be rendered, Gratitude (if we mean by this a settled disposition to repay the benefit in what- ever way one can on a fitting opportunity) is enjoined by Utili- tarianism no less than by Common Sense ; for one can hardly expect that the rendering of any kind of services will be com- mon, unless there is a general disposition to requite them. In fact we may say that a general understanding that all services which it is expedient that A should render to B will be repaid by B, is a natural supplement of the more definite contracts by which the main part of the great social interchange of services is arranged. Indeed the one kind of requital merges in the other, and no sharp line can be drawn between the two : we cannot always say distinctly whether the requital of a benefit is a pure act of gratitude or the fulfilment of a tacit understand- ing\ There is, however, a certain difficulty in this view of gra- titude as analogous to the fulfilment of a bargain. For it may be said that of the services peculiar to friendship, disinterested- ness is an indispensable characteristic : and that in all cases bene- fits conferred without expectation of reward have a peculiar ex- cellence, and are indeed peculiarly adapted to arouse gratitude : but if they are conferred in expectation of such gratitude, they lose this excellence : and yet, again, it would be very difficult to treat as a friend one from whom gratitude was not expected. This seems, at first sight, an inextricable entanglement :" but here, as elsewhere, what appeared logical contradiction turns out to be merely psychological complexity. For most of our actions are done from several different motives, either coexist- ing or succeeding one another in rapid alternation: thus a man may have a perfectly disinterested desire to benefit another, and one which might possibly prevail over all conflicting mo- tives if all hope of requital were cut off, and yet it may be well that this generous impulse should be sustained by a trust that ^ Sometimes such unbargaiued requital is even legally obligatory : as wlicu children are bound to repay the care spent on them by supporting their parents in decrepitude. 410 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. requital will not be withheld. And in fact the apparent puzzle really affords striking support to our present argument. For, on the one hand, Utilitarianism prescribes that we should render services whenever it is conducive to the general happiness to do so, which may often be the case without taking into account the gain to oneself which would result from their requital : and on the other, since we must conclude from the actual selfish- ness of average men that such services would not be adequately rendered without expectation of requital, it is also conducive to the general happiness that men should recognise a moral obligation to repay them. We have discussed only the most conspicuous of the duties of affection : but it is jDcrhaps obvious that similar reasonings would apply in the case of the others. In all cases there are three distinct lines of argument which tend to shew that the commonly received view of special claims and duties arising out of special relations, though prima facie opposed to the impartial universality of the Utilitarian prin- ciple, is really maintained by a well-considered application of the latter. For, first, morality is here in a manner protecting the normal channels and courses of natural benevolent affec- tions : and the development of such affections seems of the highest importance to human happiness, both as a direct source of pleasure, and as an indispensable preparation for a more enlarged "altruism." And again, the mere fact that such affec- tions are normal, causes an expectation of the services that are their natural expression : and the disappointment of such ex- pectations is inevitably painful. While finally, apart from these considerations, Ave can shew in each case strong Utilitarian reasons why, generally speaking, services should be rendered to the persons in whom these claims are vested rather than to others. We may add, in conclusion, that all the difficulties of deter- mining the limits of these duties, and their relative importance, which the Intuitional method raised and failed to overcome, are removed, in theory at least, by the Utilitarian synthesis. For each of the preceding arguments has shewn us different kinds of pleasures gained and pains averted by the fulfilment of the claims in question. There are, first, those in the causing or Chap. III.] PROOF OF UTILITARIANISM {CONTINUED). 411 averting of which the service consists : secondly, it prevents the pain and secondary harm of disappointed expectation : thirdly, we have to reckon the various pleasures connected with the exercise of natural benevolent affections, especially when reci- procated, including the indirect advantages of maintaining such affections, as a means of keeping the agent's character in a state conducive to general happiness. All these different plea- sures and pains combine differently, and with almost infinite variation as circumstances vary, into Utilitarian reasons for each of these claims : none of these reasons being absolute and conclusive, but each having its own weight, while liable to be outweighed by others. § 4, I pass to consider another group of duties, often con- trasted with those of Benevolence, under the comprehensive notion of Justice. " That Justice is useful to society," says Hume, " it would be a superfluous undertaking to prove:" what he endeavours to shew at some length is, " that public utility is the sole origin of Justice:" and it is the same question of origin which has chiefly occupied the attention of Mill'. Here, however, we are not so much concerned with the growth of the sentiment of Justice from experiences of utility, as with the Utilitarian basis of the mature notion : while at the same time if the analysis previously given be correct, the Justice that is commonly de- manded and inculcated is something more complex than these writers have recognised. What Hume (e. g.) means by Justice is rather what I have called Order, understood in its widest sense : the observance of the actual system of rules, whether strictly legal or customary, which bind together the different members of any society into an organic whole, checking male- volent or otherwise injurious impulses, distributing the different objects of men's clashing desires, and exacting such positive services, customary or contractual, as are commonly recognised as matters of debt. Probably no system of Law has ever had a continuous existence, in the working of which these beneficent tendencies have not been clearly predominant : though it may be said that these have always been combined with other less satisfactory effects : for example, there have rarely been want- ^ Utilitarianism, c. 5. 412 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. ing plausible empirical arguments for the revolutionary para- dox quoted by Plato, that " laws are imposed in the interest of rulers." Still that it is generally conducive to the general happiness that each individual should obey the laws of his society, is a proposition, as Hume says, that scarcely needs proof: indeed the orderly, law-abiding habit is of such para- mount importance to a community, that even where particular laws are clearly injurious, it is almost always more expedient to observe them, apart from any penalty which their breach might entail on the individual. AVe saw, however, that Com- mon Sense sometimes bids us refuse obedience to bad laws, because " w^e ought to obey God rather than men" (though there seems to be no clear intuition as to the kind or degree of bad- ness that justifies resistance): and further allows us, in special emergencies, to violate rules generally good, for " necessity has no law," and " salus populi suprema lex." In this latter phrase the Utilitarian basis, of the duty seems to be implicitly recognised : for it is illogical to admit it to be limited and to determine its limits by Utilitarian considerations, and yet to maintain that within these limits the duty is abso- lute and independent. The Utilitarian view, again, gets rid of the difficulties in which the attempt to define intuitively the truly legitimate source of legislative authority involved us ^: at the same time that it justifies to some extent each of the different views cur- rent as to the intrinsic legitimacy of governments. For, on the one hand, it finds the moral basis of law-observance in the effects rather than the causes of the laws that exist : so that, generally speaking, obedience will seem due to any de facto government that is not legislating very badly. On the other hand, in so far as laws originating in a particular way are likely to be (1) bet- ter, or (2) more readily observed, it is a Utilitarian duty to aim at introducinsf this mode of oiigination : and thus in a certain stage of social development it may be right that a " representa- tive system" should be popularly demanded, or (in extreme cases) even violently introduced : while, again, there is expedi- ency in maintaining an ancient system of legislation, because men readily obey such : and loyalty to a dispossessed govern- 1 Cf. B. III. c. 6, §§ 2, 0. Chap. III.] PROOF OF UTILITARIANISM {CONTINUED). 413 ment may be on the whole expedient, even at the cost of some temporary suffering and disorder, in order that ambitiovis men may not find usurpation too easy. Here, as elsewhere, Utilita- rianism at once supports the different reasons commonly put forward as absolute, and also brings them theoretically to a common measure, so that in any particular case we have a prin- ciple of decision between conflicting political reasons. As was before said, this Law-observance, in so far at least as it affects the interests of other individuals, is what we fre- quently mean by Justice. It seems, however^ that the notion of Justice, exhaustively analysed, includes several distinct ele- ments combined in a somewhat complex manner : we have to inquire, therefore, what latent utilities are represented by each of these elements. Now, first, a constant part of the notion, which appears in it even when the Just is not distinguished from the Legal, is Equality : or perhaps we should rather say, the negation of arbitrary inequality. This presents itself most obviously as Equality in the execution of laws, excluding all partiality and "respect of persons" on the part of judges and administrators. Still, as was said, we demand under the notion of Justice the same kind of equality in making laws : for the legislator who gives an arbitrary preference to the interests of any one class of persons is clearly unjust. Indeed, so far as this element goes, the principle of Justice is no more than a special application of the more fundamental maxim that the rightness of any conduct must be determined on some universal ground : it cannot be reasonable to treat two persons differently if their cases are similar in all material circumstances. And this maxim obvi- ously belongs to Utilitarianism no less than to all other systems of Ethics. At the same time this negative criterion is clearly inadequate for the complete determination of what is just in laws, or in conduct generally : when we have admitted this, it still remains to ask, " What are the inequalities in laws, and in the distribution of pleasures and pains outside the sphere of law, which are not arbitrary and unreasonable ? and to what general principles can they be reduced ? " One such principle, which we found to be latent in the com- 1 Cf. Bk. ni. c. 3. 414 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. inon notion of Justice, is that of " conformity to normal expecta- tions:" wliicli seems obligatory in different degrees, according as the expectations are based upon definite engagement, or on some vague mutual understanding, or are merely such as an average man would form from past experience of the conduct of other men. In these latter cases Common Sense appeared to be somewhat perplexed as to the validity of the claims. But for the Utilitarian the difficulty has ceased to exist. He will hold any disappointment of expectations to be pro tanto an evil, but a greater evil in proportion to the previous security of the expectant individual, from the greater shock thus given to his reliance on the conduct of his fellow-men generally : and many times greater in proportion as the expectation is generally re- cognised as normal and reasonable, as in this case the shock extends to all who are in any way cognisant of his disappoint- ment. The importance to mankind of being able to rely on each other's actions is so great, that in the case of absolutely definite engagements there is scarcely any advantage that can counterbalance the harm done by violatiog them. Still, we found ^ that several exceptions and cjualifications to the rule of Good Faith were more or less distinctly recognised by Common Sense : and most of these have a Utilitarian basis, w^hich it does not need much penetration to discern. To begin, we may notice that the superficial view of the obligation of a. promise which makes it depend on the assertion of the promisor, and not, as Utilitarians hold, on the expectations produced in the promisee, cannot fairly be attributed to Common Sense : for we all con- demn a breach of promise much more strongly when others have acted in reliance on it, that when its observance did not directly concern others, and its breach only causes the indirect evil of a bad precedent : as when a man breaks a pledge of total absti- nence. We see, again, how a material change of circumstances'^ diminishes the Utilitarian reason for keeping a promise: for whatever expectations may be disappointed in that case, they are at least not those which the promise originally created. It is obvious, too, that it is not advantageous to the community that men should be able to rely on the performance of promises procured by fraud or unlawful force : indeed the chief Utilita- 1 Bk. III. c. G. ^ Cf. ante, Bk. in. c. 6, § 7. CiiAP. III.] PROOF OF UTILITARIANISM {CONTINUED). 415 rian ground for not repudiating such promises is, that persons cognisant of the repudiation might not know or miglit insuf- ficiently consider the special moral circumstances of the case, and so might be demoralised by the example \ We saw, again ^, that when the performance would be injurious to the promisee, Common Sense is disposed to admit that its obligation is super- seded, and is so far purely Utilitarian. And even when it is only the promiser who would be injured, still, if the harm be extreme, Common Sense is at least doubtful whether the pro- mise should be kept. And so for the other qualifications and exceptions : they all turn out to be as clearly Utilitarian, as the general utility of keeping one's word is plain and manifest. But further, the expediency of satisfying natural and normal expectations, even when they are not based upon a definite contract, is obvious : it will clearly conduce to the tranquillity of social existence, and to the settled and well-adjusted activity on which social happiness greatly depends, that such expectations should be as little as possible baulked. And here Utilitarianism relieves us of the difficulties which beset the common view of just conduct as something absolutely precise and definite. For in this vaguer region we cannot draw a sharp line between valid and invalid claims : " injustice" shades gradually off into mere " hardship." Hence the Utilitarian view that the disappoint- ment of natural expectations is an evil, but an evil which must sometimes be incurred for the sake of a greater good, is that to which Common Sense is practically forced, though unable to reconcile it with the theoretical absoluteness of Intuitive Morality. The gain of recognising the relativity of this obligation will be still more felt, when we take into account the other element which we found in the common notion of Justice — Ideal Justice, as I called it. We saw that there were two competing views of this ideal, or perhaps we may say two extreme types between 1 Bk. III. c. 6, § 9. 2 There is another reason of a different kind in the case where the law- breaker is too strong to be piit down, so that the law-abiding part of society has to reckon with him as a permanent hostile power, and establish (as diplomatists say) a modus vivendi with him. 416 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV, which the looser notions of ordinary men seem to fluctuate : which I called respectively the Individualistic and the Social- istic. According to the former view an ideal system of Law ought to aim at Freedom, or perfect mutual non-interference of all the members of the community, as an absolute end. Now the general Utilitarian reasons for leaving each rational being free to seek happiness in his own way are obvious and striking : for, generally speaking, each is best qualified to provide for his own interests, since even when he does not know best what they are and how to attain them, he is at any rate most keenly concerned for them : and again, the consciousness of freedom and concomitant responsibility increases the average effective activity of men : and besides, the discomfort of constraint is directly an evil and 'pro tanto to be avoided. Still, there are important exceptional cases in which complete freedom would certainly or probably produce a balance of uuhappiness : and we find these actually recognised in the laws and customs of the freest societies, and the practical realization of freedom limited accordingly. Indeed we saw^ that the attempt to construct a consistent code of laws, taking Maximum Freedom (instead of Happiness) as an absolute end, must lead to insoluble puzzles and startling paradoxes. So that we may fairly say that in so far as Common Sense has adopted the Individualistic ideal, it has always been as subordinate to and limited by the Utilitarian first principle. It seems, however, that what we commonly demand or long for, under the name of Ideal Justice, is not so much the realiza- tion of Freedom, as the distribution of good and evil according to Desert: indeed it is as a means to this latter end that Freedom is often advocated : for it is said that if we protect men com- pletely from mutual interference, each will reap the good and bad consequences of his own conduct, and so be happy or unhappy in proportion to his deserts. However this may be, it is clear that the principle of Justice so understood is quite in harmony with Utilitarianism, if only we give the notions of "good" and "ill" desert a Utilitarian interpretation: to which (as in the former case of Benevolence) Common Sense at least offers no obstacle. For it is obviously the best encouragement 1 Bk. Ill, c, 5, § 4. Chap. III.] PROOF OF UTILITA RIANISM {CONTINUED). 417 to the production of general happiness that we should reward and punisli men in proportion as their conduct is felicific or the revei'se : only the utilitarian scale of rewards will not be deter- mined entirely by the magnitude of the services performed, but partly also by the difficulty of inducing men to perform them. But this latter element seems to be always taken into account (though perhaps unconsciously) by Common Sense : for, as we have been led to notice \ we do not recognise merit in right actions, if they are such as men are naturally inclined to perform rather too much than too little. Again, in spite of the opposition between the Intuitional principle that ill-desert lies in wrong intention and the Utili- tarian view of punishment as purely preventive, we find that in the actual administration of criminal justice. Common Sense is forced, however reluctantly, into practical Utilitarianism. After a civil war it demands the execution of the most purely patriotic rebels : and after a railway accident it clamours for the severe punishment of unintentional neglects, which, excejot for their consequences, would have been regarded as very venial. And it is often curious in such cases to observe the sophistries by which Common Sense tries to persuade itself that there has been wilful wronfj-doinsf. If, however, in any distribution of pleasures and privileges, or of pains and burdens, considerations of desert do not properly come in (i.e. if the good or evil to be distributed have no relation to any conduct on the part of the persons who are to receive it) : or if it is practically impossible to take them into account : then Common Sense seems to fall back on simple equality as the principle of just apportionment. Now we saw that the Utilitarian formula does not strictly include any principle for distributing the happiness which it directs us to make as great as possible. Still, in the case supposed. Equality is the only mode of distribution that is not arbitrary and so unreasonable : and thus this mode of apportioning the means of happiness is likely to produce more happiness on the whole : partly because men have a disinterested aversion to unreason : but still more because they have an aversion to any kind of in- feriority to others, which is much intensified when the inferiority 1 Cf. ante, § 2 and B. m. c. 2, § 1. S. E. 27 418 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book I Y. seems unreasonable. This latter feeling is so strong that it often prevails in spite of obvious claims of desert : and it may even be expedient that it should so prevail within limits. For, finally, it must be observed that Utilitarianism fur- nishes us with a common standard to which the different elements included in the notion of Justice may be reduced. Such a standard is imperatively required : as these different elements are continually liable to conflict with each other. The issue, for example, in practical politics between Conser- vatives and Reformers often represents such a conflict : the question is, whether we ought to do a certain violence to expec- tations arising naturally out of the existing social order, with the view of bringing about a distribution of the means of happiness more in accordance with ideal justice. Here, if my analysis of the common notion of Justice be sound, the attempt to extract from it a clear decision of such an issue must neces- sarily fail : as the conflict is, so to say, permanently latent in the very core of Common Sense. But the Utilitarian will merely use this notion of Justice as a guide to different kinds of utilities : and in so far as these are incompatible, he will balance one set of advantages against the other, and decide according to the preponderance. § 5. The duty of Truth-speaking is often taken as a clear and striking instance of an independent moral intuition. But a careful study of the qualifications with which the common opinion of mankind actually inculcates this duty seems to lead us to an opposite result : for not only is the general utility of truth-speaking so manifest as to need no proof, but wherever this utility seems to be absent, or outweighed by particular bad consequences, we find that Common Sense at least half admits ah exception to the rule. For example, if a man be pursuing criminal ends, it is iwhnd facie injurious to the commimity that he should be aided in his pursuit by being able to rely on the assertions of others. So far deception seems legitimate as a protection against crime : but when we consider the bad effects on habit, and in the way of example, of even a single act of vm veracity, the case is seen to be, on Utilitarian principles, doubtful : and tin's is just the view of Common Sense. Again, tlidiigli it is generally a iiian's interest to know the Chap. III.] PROOF OF UTILITARIANISM {CONTINUED). 419 truth, there are exceptional cases in which it is injurious to him ; as when an invalid liears bad news : and here, too. Common Sense is disposed to suspend the rule. Again, we found it difficult to define exactly wherein Veracity consists : for we may either require tliat the spoken words shall be true, or the inferences which the speaker foresees will be drawn from them, or both. Perfect Candour, no doubt, would require both : but in the various circumstances where this seems inexpedient, we often find Common Sense at least half-willing to dispense with one or other part of the double obligation, though not with both. Thus we found a respectable school of thinkers maintaining that a religious truth may properly be communi- cated by means of a historical fiction : and, on the other hand, the unsuitability of perfect frankness to our existing social relations is recognised in the common rules of politeness, which impose on us not unfrequently the necessity of suppressing truths and suggesting falsehoods. I would not say that in any of these cases Common Sense pronounces quite decidedly in favour of unveracity: but -then neither is Utilitarianism de- cided, as the importance of maintaining a general habit of truth- speaking is so great, that it is not easy to say positively that it is outweighed by even strong special reasons for violating the rule. When we pass to consider the different views as to the legitimacy of the Malevolent impulse, out of which we found it hard to frame a consistent doctrine for Common Sense, we find them exactly correspondent to different forecasts of the consequences of gratifying such impulses. Prima facie, the desire to injure any one in particular is inconsistent with a deliberate purpose of benefiting as much as possible people in general : accordingly, we find that what I may call Superficial Common Sense passes a sweeping condemnation on these impulses. But a study of the actual facts of society shews that resentment plays an important part in that repression of injuries which is necessary to social well-being: accordingly, the reflective moralist shrinks from excluding it altogether. It is evident, however, that personal ill-will is a very dangerous means to the general happiness : for its direct end is the exact reverse of happiness ; and though the realization of this may in certain cases be the least of two evils, still the impulse if encou- 27—2 420 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. raged Is likely to prompt to the infliction of pain beyond the limits of just punishment, and to have an injurious reaction on the character of the angry person, and even, through sympathy, upon others. Accordingly, the moralist is disposed to prescribe that indignation be directed always against acts, and not against persons : and it seems clear that if indignation so restricted would be efficient in repressing punishment, this is the state of mind most conducive to the general happiness. But it is doubtful whether human nature is capable of maintaining this distinction, or whether, if it could be maintained, the more refined and abstract feeling would by itself be sufficiently effi- cacious: accordingly, Common Sense is reluctant to condemn personal ill-will if directed against wrong-doers. It would be tedious — and seems unnecessary for the reasons before given — to go through a similar argument for the minor social virtues with their vaguer maxims. Nor is it needful to shew that Temperance, Self-control, and what are called the Self-regarding virtues generally, are " useful " to the individual who possesses them. If it is not quite clear, in the view of Common Sense, to what end that regulation and government of appetites and passions, which moralists have so much incul- cated and admired, is to be directed : at least there seems no obstacle in the way of our defining this end as Happiness. And even in the ascetic extreme of Self-control, which has sometimes led to the repudiation of sensual pleasures as radi- cally bad, we may trace an unconscious Utilitarianism. For the ascetic condemnation has always been chiefly directed against those pleasures, in respect of which men are especially liable to commit excesses dangerous to health : and free indulgence in which, even when it keeps clear of injury to health, is thought to interfere with the development of other faculties and suscep- tibilities which are important sources of happiness. § 6. An apparent exception to this statement may seem to be constituted in the case of the sexual appetite, by the regula- tion prescribed under the notion of Purity or Chastity. And there is no doubt that under this head we find condemned, with special vehemence and severity, acts of which the imme- diate effect is pleasure not obviously outweighed by subsequent pain. But a closer examination of this exception transforms CiiAi'. IIl.J PROOF OF UTILITARIANISM {CONTINUED). 42 1 it into an important contribution to the present proof: as it shews a peculiarly complex and delicate correspondence be- tween moral sentiments and social utilities. In the first place, the peculiar intensity and delicacy of the moral sentiments that govern the relations of the sexes are thoroughly justified by the vast importance to society of the end to which they are obviously a means : the maintenance, namely, of the permanent unions which are thought to be necessary for the proper rearing and training of children. Hence the first and fundamental rule in, this department is that which directly secures conjugal fidelity. But, secondly, the utility of protecting marriage indirectly, by condemning all extra-nuptial intercourse of the sexes, is easy to expovfnd : for otherwise men would not have adequate motives to incur the restraints and burdens which marriage entails : and the youth of both sexes would form habits of feeling and conduct tending to unfit them for marriage : and, again, if such intercourse were fertile, it would be attended with those bad effects on the succeeding generation, which it seems the object of permanent unions to prevent : while if it were sterile, the future of the human race would, as far as we can see, be still more pro- foundly imperilled. But, further, it is only on Utilitarian principles that we can account for the anomalous difference which the morality of Com- mon Sense has always made between the two sexes as regards the simple offence of unchastity. For the natural incitements to commit the offence exist equally in both cases: and it is commonly more deliberate in the man, who has the additional guilt of soliciting and persuading the woman : so that, according to the ordinary canons of Intuitional Morality, it ought to be more severely condemned in him. The actual inversion of this result can only be justified by taking into account the greater interest that society has in maintaining a high standard of female chastity. For the degradation of this standard must strike at the root of family life, by impairing men's security in the exercise of their parental affections : but there is no cor- responding consequence of male unchastity, which may there- fore prevail to a considerable extent without imperilling the very existence of the family, though it impairs its well-being. 422 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. At the same time tlie condemnation of uncliastity in men, by the common moral sense of Christian countries at the pre- sent day, is sufficiently clear and explicit : though we recognise the existence of a laxer code — the morality, as it is called, of "the world" — which treats it as indifferent, or very venial. But the very difference between the two codes gives a kind of support to the present argument : as it corresponds to easily explained differences of insight into the consequences of main- taining certain moral sanctions. For partly it is thought by " men of the world " that men cannot practically be restrained from sexual indulgence, at least at the period of life when the passions are strongest : and hence that it is eccpedient to tolerate such kind and degree of illicit sexual intercourse as is not directly dangerous to the well-being of families. Partly, again, it is maintained by some, in bolder antagonism to Com- mon Sense, that the existence of a certain limited amount of such intercourse (with a special class of women, carefully sepa- rated, as at present, from the rest of society) is scarcely a real evil, and may even be a positive gain in respect of general happiness : for continence is perhaps somewhat dangerous to health, and in any case involves a loss of pleasure considerable in intensity : while at the same time the maintenance of as nu- merous a population as is desirable in an old society does not require that more than a certain proportion of the women in each generation should become mothers of families : and if some of the surplus thus left make it their profession to enter into casual and temporary sexual relations with men, there is no reason why their lives should compare unfavourably in respect of happiness with those of other women in the less favoured classes of society. This view has certainly a superficial plausibility: but it ignores the essential fact that it is only by the present severe enforcement of the social sanction against fornication that this is restrained within such limits as not to interfere materially with the due development of the race, and the class of courte- zans is kept sufficiently separate from the rest of female society to prevent the contagion of uncliastity from spreading. Hence a Utilitarian must maintain this sanction generally, and so must condemn any particular violation of the rule of chastity, even Chap. III.] PROOF OF UTILITARIANISM {CONTINUED). 423 when, taken by itself, this might not seem to be on the whole infelicific. Though even this latter supposition seems highly improbable : since as long as the social sanction is enforced, the lives of the women against whom society thus issues its ban must, generally sj)eaking, be unhappy from remorse and shame, and the source of unhappiness to others : besides that the breach of any moral rule is pro tanto infelicific, from its inju- rious effects on moral habits generally. And again, the "man of the world " ignores the vast importance to the human race of maintaining that higher type of sexual relations which is not, generally speaking, possible, except where a high value is set upon chastity in both sexes. From this point of view the Virtue of Purity may be regarded as providing a necessary shelter under which that intense and elevated affection between the sexes, which is most conducive both to the happiness of the individual and to the well-being of the family, may grow and flourish. And in this way we are able to explain what must have perplexed many reflective minds in contemplating the common- sense regulation of conduct under the head of Purity: viz. that on the one hand the sentiment that supports these rules is very intense, so that the subjective difference between right and wrong in this department is marked with peculiar strength : while on the other hand it is found impossible to give a clear definition of the conduct condemned under this notion. For the impulse to be restrained is so powerful and so sensitive to stimulants of all kinds, that in order that the sentiment of purity may adequately perform its protective function, it is necessary that it should be very keen and vivid ; and that the aversion to impurity should extend far beyond the acts that primarily need to be prohibited, and include in its scope every- thing (in dress, language, social customs, &c.) which may tend to excite lascivious ideas. But it is not necessary that a clear and precise theoretical line should be drawn between right and wrong in this matter. Here, as in other cases, it is sufficient for practical purposes if the main central portion of the region of duty be strongl}^ illuminated, while the margin is left some- what obscure. And, in fact, the detailed regulations which it is important to society to maintain, depend so much upon habit 424 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. and association of ideas, that they must vary to a great extent from age to age and from country to country. § 7. Here I may conclude the examination of the more important and definite part of the morality of Common Sense, which was undertaken with the view of exhibiting its corre- spondence, partly obvious and partly latent, with the results of utilitarian reasoning. This survey has supplied us with several illustrations of the manner in which Utilitarianism is naturally introduced as a method for deciding between different conflicting claims, where the Intuitional Method leaves their relative importance obscure : as between the different duties of the affections, and the different kinds of considerations that are elements of the complex notion of Justice : and we have also noticed how, when a dispute is raised as to the precise scope and definition of any current maxim, the felicific or infelicific consequences of formulating the rule in one way or the other, are commonly regarded by the disputants as the ultimate ratio definiendi. In fact, these two arguments practically ran into one : for it is generally in consequence of a conflict between maxims that we are impressed with the need of giving either a precise definition. We may now observe, further, that the hypothesis of " Unconscious Utilitarianism " explains the dif- ferent relative importance attached to particular virtues by different classes of human beings, and the different emphasis with which the same virtue is inculcated on these different classes by mankind generally. For such differences ordinarily correspond to variations either real or apparent in the Utili- tarian importance of the virtues under different circumstances. Thus we have noticed the greater stress laid on chastity in women than in men : courage, on the other hand, is more valued in the latter, as they are more called upon to cope energetically with sudden and severe dangers. And for similar reasons a soldier is expected to shew a higher degree of courage than (e.g.) a priest. Again, we esteem candour and scrujDulous veracity in most persons, but we scarcely look for them in a diplomatist who has to conceal secrets, or in a tradesman de- scribing his goods (for purchasers can find out the defects of what they buy). And we take a more lenient view of bad faith in international than in private relations, because the mutual Chap. III.] PROOF OF UTILITARIANISM {CONTINUED). 425 confidence already established is so inferior that the breach of a contract gives much less shock to expectation. Finally, when we compare the different moral codes of dif- ferent ages and countries, we see that the discrepancies between any two correspond, at least to a great extent, to differences in either the actual consequences of actions, or in the consequences as apprehended in the general view of the society in which the code is maintained. Several instances of this have already been noticed : and the point has been much dwelt upon by Utilitarian writers. But, instead of referring to any of these, I will quote the statements made on this subject by a well-known advocate of the Morality of Common Sense, as his testimony, in so far as it is in favour of Utilitarianism, will be more impressive as being (|uite involuntary. In considering, says Dugald Stewart^ "the historical facts which have been adduced to prove that the moral judgments of mankind are entirely factitious, it is necessary to make proper allowances (1) for the different situa- tions in which mankind are placed, partly by the diversity in their physical circumstances and partly by the unequal degrees of civilization which they have attained ; and (2) for the diversity of their speculative opinions, arising from their unequal measures of knowledge or of capacity." Thus, to use his illustrations, theft is regarded as a very venial offence in the South Sea Islanders, because little or no labour is there required to support life. Again, we find the lending of money for interest very commonly reprehended in societies where com- merce is imperfectly developed, because the "usurer" in such communities is commonly a man who is in the odious position of wrino-ing a gain out of the hard necessities of his fellows. Again, where the legal arrangements for punishing crime are imperfect, private murder is either justified or regarded very leniently. Many other examples might be added to these if it were needful. But I conceive that few persons who have studied the subject will deny that there is a general correlation between the variations in the moral code from age to age, and the variations in the real or apprehended effects on general happiness of actions prescribed or forbidden by the code. And in proportion as the apprehension of consequences becomes 1 Active and Moral Powers, B. ii. c. 3* 426 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. more comprehensive and exact, we may trace not only change but progress in the moral code handed down from age to age : progress which consists in a gradually closer approximation to a perfectly enlightened Utilitarianism. Only we must notice another imj)ortant factor in the progress, which Stewart has left out of account : the extension, namely, of the capacity for sympathy in an average number of the community. The imperfection of earlier moral codes is at least as much due to defectiveness of sympathy as of intelligence: often, no doubt, the ruder man did not perceive the effects of his conduct on others : but still more often he perceived them, but felt little or no concern about them. Thus it happens that changes in the conscience of a community often correspond to changes in the extent and degree of the sensitiveness of an average member of it to the feelings of others. Of this it is perhaps needless to give particular examples, as the moral revolution wrought by Christianity is one vast and complex illustration of it. I am not maintaining that this correlation between the development of current morality, and the changes in the conse- quences of conduct as sympathetically aj^prehended, is perfect and exact. On the contrary, the history of morality shews us many striking evidences of what, from a Utilitarian point of view, we should consider partial aberrations of the moral sense. But even in these instances we can often discover a germ of unconscious utilitarianism : the aberration is either an exa"-- geration of an obviously useful sentiment, or the extension of it • by mistaken analogy to cases to which it does not properlv apply, or perhaps the survival of a sentiment which once was useful, but has now ceased to be so. Further, it must be observed that I have carefully abstained from asserting that the perception of the rightness of any kind of conduct has always — or even ordinarily — been derived by conscious inference from a perception of consequent advantages. This is perhaps the hypothesis most naturally suggested by such a survey as the preceding, but the evidence of history does not seem to support it. On the contrary, we seem to find, tliat, as we retrace the stream of ethical thought, the Utilita- rian basis of current morality, Avhich I have endeavoured to exhibit in the present chapter, is less and less distinctly per- Chap. III.] PROOF OF UTILITARIANISM {CONTINUED). 427 ceived. Thus (e.g.) Aristotle sees that the sphere of Courage {dvSpela), lis recognised by the Common Sense of Greece, is restricted to dangers in war. We can now explain this limita- tion by a refereoce to the Utilitarian importance of this kind of courage, at a period of history when the individual's happpiness was bound up more completely than it now is with the welfare of his state, while the very existence of the latter was more frequently imperilled by hostile invasions : but this explanation lies quite beyond the range of Aristotle's own reflection. We can of course obtain no direct historical evidence as to the origin of our moral notions and sentiments : the whole question belongs to those obscure regions of hypothetical history where conjectures roam almost unchecked : but we certainly do not find that, as our retrospect approaches the borders of this realm, Morality begins to shew a greater consciousness of its utilitarian derivation. The admiration felt by a Homeric man for beauties or excellences of character seems to have been as direct and unrefleptive as his admiration of any other beauty: and the stringency of law and custom in primitive times presents itself as sanctioned by divine rather than by human displeasure. It is therefore not as the mode of regulating conduct with which mankind began, but as that to which we can now see that human development has been always tending, as the adult and not the germinal form of Moralit}^ that Rational Utilitarianism must claim the acceptance of Common Sense ^. 1 For tlie sake of strict accuracy, it ought to be admitted that the reference of Common Sense to "Utilitarian considerations," of which I have spol^en in several passages of this chapter, is — as was before observed — perhaps commonly conceived as reference to the general "Good" rather than " Happiness." But this admission is practically unimportant. For first. Happiness will be allowed to be the most prominent element in the common notion of Good as applied in this relation : and secondly, in so far as Virtue is included in it as an element distinct from happiness, the general coincidence which we otherwise establish between Virtue and Felicific Quality may obviously be used to reduce— by a sort of method of approximations — the remaining discrepancy between the notions of Good and Happiness (as used by Common Sense in this reference) to a mini- mum that may be neglected for the pm-poses of the present argument. CHAPTER IV. THE METHOD OF UTILITARIANISM. § 1, If, then, we have been led by the arguments given in the preceding chapters, or by any others, to accept the first princijole of Utilitarianism as the Supreme Rule of our conduct, it remains to consider generally by what method we shall ascertain in any case the conduct that comes under this rule. The obvious method is that of Empirical Hedonism, discussed in Book II. c. 3. According to this we have in each case to compare all the pleasures and pains that can be foreseen as probable results of the different alternatives of conduct pre- sented to us, and to adopt the alternative which seems likely to lead to the greatest happiness on the whole. In Book II., however, it appeared that even the more re- stricted application of this method, which we there had to consider, is involved in much perplexity and uncertainty. Even when an individual is only occupied in forecasting his own pleasures, it seems difficult or impossible for him to avoid errors of considerable magnitude : whether in accurately comparing the pleasantness of his own past feelings, as represented in memory, or in appropriating the experience of others, or in arguing from the past to the future. And these difficulties are obviously much increased when we have to take into account all the effects of our actions, on all the sentient beings who may be affected by them. At the same time, in Book il. we could not find any satisfactory substitute for this method of empirical comparison. It did not appear reasonable to take refuge in the uncriticized beliefs of men in general as to the sources of happiness : indeed, it seemed impossible to extract any clear Chap. IV.] THE METHOD OF UTILITARIANISM. 429 and definite consensus of opinion from the confused and varying utterances of Common Sense on this subject. Nor again could it he shewn that by giving free play to impulse, or making Self- development his end, the individual would be certain to attain the greatest happiness open to him. Still less could we infer on empirical grounds that this result would always be attained by conformity to the accepted principles of morality. But when we consider these latter in relation, not to the happiness of the individual, but to that of human (or sentient) beings generally, it is clear that the question of harmony between Hedonism and Intuitionism presents prima facie an entirely different aspect. In the preceding chapter has been set forth an array of reasons tending to prove that the morality of Common Sense is uncon- sciously or instinctively Utilitarian : and from this it is an easy step to the conclusion that in this morality we have ready to hand a body of Utilitarian doctrine. In short, the principles of Common Sense may be regarded as the "middle axioms" of Utilitarianism : so that the two systems would appear in perfect harmony and mutually supplementary. This, as I have said, was the aspect in which Utilitarianism first made its appearance in the development of ethical thought in England. And even our latest expositor of Utilitarian ethics ^ writing after Ben- tham's breach with Common Sense, seems to hold that the "rules of morality for the multitude" are to be regarded as "positive beliefs of mankind as to the effects of actions on their happiness," and as such are to be provisionally accepted even by •' the philosopher." On this view, indeed, we shall still have occasion for direct reference to utilitarian considerations, in order to settle all points upon which the verdict of Common Sense is found to be obscure and conflicting: and in this way, according to the results of the examination conducted in the preceding book, a considerable province will be practically left for the method of Empirical Hedonism : but the long controversy between the advocates of Virtue and the advocates of Happiness will have been finally settled. Such a reconciliation of methods is attractive and plausible : but reflection will, I think, shew that the assumption on which it depends is unwarranted. The 1 J. S. Mill, Utilitarianism, c. 2, p. 35 (3rd Ed.). 430 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. "rules of morality" recognised by "the multitude" are cer- tainly not recognised as involving beliefs as to the effect of actions on happiness. They present themselves as the expres- sion of an immediate preference for certain kinds of conduct : and we have no more right to interpret the moral preferences of any society into current opinions as to what promotes general happiness, than we have to identify the appetites, tastes, and inclinations of an individual with his opinions as to what is best for his health. Indeed, the analogy between the two cases seems very close. For the natural and normal end of these instincts is the preservation and well-being of the individual : and undoubtedly the human frame is so constituted that the instinctive desires which any one feels for food, drink, &c., and the habits into which he spontaneously falls in respect of clothing, dress, exercise, &c., have a continual tendency to adapt themselves to his conditions of life : and in so far as they vary in different individuals of different age, sex, employment, &c., or living in different climates, such variation has at least a rough and general correspondence to a variation in the real sanitary needs of such persons. At the same time no one would maintain this correspondence to be more than rough and general, or that individuals are not liable to misleading instincts, and do not fall into unhealthy habits. Similarly, we may hold the conclusion of the preceding chapter, that the normal tendency of our distinctively moral impulses is the preservation and happiness not of ourselves only, but of our fellow-creatures also : we may admit that the ensemble of moral habits in any society, the whole system of rules supported in it "by common opinion and sentiment, have a continual tendency to adjust themselves to its conditions of social existence, so that they rarely deviate very widely from the habits, rules and sentiments which a perfectly enlightened Utilitarianism would support : and still be led by mere analogy to suppose that this correspondence is only rough and imperfect, and admits of much divergence in detail. For even if we grant — what is at least highly probable — that this adjustment is brought about by experience, both direct and sympathetic, of the good and bad consequences of actions con- tinually operating to produce secondary likings and aversions for the actions themselves: it still seems hasty to regard the CiiAP. IV.] THE METHOD OF UTILITARIANISM. 431 moral sense as derived entirely from the relics of such experi- ences. In the theory of its derivation put forward by one of the most penetrating and ingenious of English moralists \ con- siderable prominence is given to another element, which has to be carefully distinguished from the one just mentioned : our sympathy, namely, not with the feelings that result from actions, but with the impulses that prompt them. Indeed, Adam Smith assigns to this operation of sympathy, — the echo (as it were) of each agent's passion in the breast of unconcerned spectators, — the first place in determining our approval and disapproval of actions : sympathy with the effect of his conduct on others he treats as a secondary element, correcting and q^^alifying the more immediate and primary feeling. However this may be, there are certainly many cases where the resulting moral con- sciousness seems to indicate a balance or compromise between the two kinds of sympathy : and if the active impulse is ma- levolent or otherwise infelicific, the compromise may be many degrees removed from the rule which Utilitarianism would prescribed But even if we accept unreservedly the hypothesis of the derivation of the moral sense from memory and imagination of pleasures and pains ; we find when we examine this hypo- thesis more closely that (besides the general analogical argu- ment above noticed) there are many special grounds for suspecting that traditional morality will afford but imperfect guidance to the attainment of the Utilitarian end. The hy- pothesis, in its completest form, would seem to be this : that the experience of each member of the human community impresses itself on the consciousness of others, partly by their 1 Adam Smith. ^ This is strikingly illustrated in the penal codes of primitive communities, both by the mildness of the iiunishments inflicted for homicide, and by the startling differences between the penalties allotted to the same crime according as the criminal was taken in the act or not. "It is curious to observe," says Sir H. Maine {Ancient Laiv, c. x), " how completely the men of primitive times were persuaded that the impulses of the injured person were the proper measure of the vengeance he was entitled to exact, and how literally they imitated the probable rise and fall of his passions in fixing the scale of punishment." And even in more civilised societies thei'e is a very common feeling of uncertainty as to the propriety of inflicting piuiishmeut for crimes committed long ago, which seems traceable to the same source. 432 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. direct sympathy with his pleasures and pains, and partly through their regard for his gratitude and resentment, good- will and hatred, and their consequences; that these impres- sions are retained and accumulated, and confirmed and kept from divergence by the mutual sympathy of all : that their effects are transmitted from generation to generation, partly by physical inheritance, and partly by tradition from parents to children, and imitation of adults by the young : and that thus common likings or (aversions) for conduct that affects pleasurably (or paiufully) the community generally or some part of it, are gradually developed, till they become what we now know as the moral sentiments. Now it is obvious that the accuracy with which impulses thus produced will guide us to the general happiness must depend upon the accuracy with which the whole sum of pleasurable and painful consequences to sentient beings, resulting from any course of action, has been represented in the consciousness of an average member of the community. And it is seen at a glance that this repre- sentation has been always liable to errors of great magnitude, from causes that were partly noticed in the previous chapter, when we were considering the progress of morality. We have to allow, first, for limitation of sympathy ; since in every age and country tlie sympathy of an average man with other sen- tient beings, and even his egoistic regard for their likings and aversions, has been much more limited than the influence of his actions on the feelings of others. We must allow fur- ther for limitation of intelligence : for in all ages men have had a very inadequate knowledge of natural sequences : so that such indirect consequences of conduct as have been felt have been frequently traced to wrong causes, and been met by wrong moral remedies, owing to imperfect apprehen- sion of the relation of means to ends. We must allow again for the influences of false religions : for whenever the fictitious pleasures and displeasures of deities have constituted an im- portant part of the represented consequences of conduct, the resulting moral sentiments are liable to have been perverted to a corresponding extent. This suggests a further deflection, due to the sensibilities of rehgious teachers influencing the code of duty accepted by their followers, in points where these Chap. IV.] THE METHOD OF UTILITARIANISM. 433 sensibilities were not normal and representative, but excep- tional and idiosyncratic \ Again, analogy would lead us to expect that bowever com- pletely adapted the moral instincts of a community may be at some particular time to a certain set of circumstances and conditions, any rapid change of circumstances would tend to derange the adaptation, from survival of instincts formerly useful, which thus suddenly become useless or pernicious. And indeed, apart from any changes in external circumstances, and merely from the operation of some internal law of de- velopmentj it might happen that the most completely organized experience of human happiness in the past would guide us but imperfectly to the right means of making it a maximum in the future. And if, when we turn from these abstract considerations to history and examine the actual morality of other ages and countries, we find that, considered as an instru- ment for producing general happiness, it continually exhibits imperfections arising from these or other causes ; there is surely a strong j)resumption that there are similar imperfec- tions to be discovered in our own moral code, though habit and familiarity prevent them from being obvious. Finally we have to obsei've that the discrepancies which we find when we compare the moralities of different ages and countries, exist to some extent side by side in the mo- rality of any one society at any given time. We discover on ex- amination that there is scarcely any department of conduct in reference to which some respectable section of the community is not found to diverge from the received moral code, both in a positive and a negative direction. Now in the preceding chapters it has been observed that Utilitarianism is neces- sarily appealed to for decision, whenever such divergent opi- nions are entertained by a minority so large, that we cannot fairly regard the dogma of the majority as the plain utter- ^ No doubt this influence is confined within strict limits : no authority can permanently impose on men regulations flagi-antly infeUcific : and the most practically originative of religious teachers have produced their effect chiefly by giving new force and vividness to sentiments already existing (and recognised as properly authoritative) in the society upon which they acted. Still, it would have made a gi-eat difference to the human race if (e.g.) Mohammed had been fond of wine, and indifferent to women. S. E. 28 434 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. ance of Common Sense. But a smaller minority than this, particularly if composed of persons of enlightenment and special acquaintance with the effects of the conduct judged, may reasonably inspire us with distrust of Common Sense : just as in the more technical parts of practice we prefer the judg- ment of a few trained experts to the instincts of the vulgar. And so we are forced back on the method of pure empirical Utilitarianism, which thus must practically tend to submerge the Intuitional method, however we may still maintain the general harmony between the two. Yet again, a contempla- tion of these divergent codes and their relation to the dif- ferent circumstances in which men live, suggests a conclusion profoundly opposed to the convictions of Common-Sense, and yet quite in harmony with the general reasoning by which it is proposed to reconcile Intuitional and Utilitarian Ethics : namely that Common-Sense morality is really only adapted for ordinary men in ordinary circumstances — although it may still be expedient that these ordinary persons should regard it as absolutely and universally prescribed, since any other view of it may dangerously weaken its hold over their minds. In this case we must use the Utilitarian method to ascertain how far persons in special circumstances require a morality more specially adapted to them than Common Sense is willing to concede : and also how far men of peculiar physical or mental constitution ought to be exempted from ordinary rules, as has sometimes been claimed for men of genius, or men of intensely emotional nature, or men gifted with more than usual prudence and self-control. Lastly, it is important to notice, that besides the large amount of divergence that exists between the moral instincts of different classes and individuals, there is often a discrepancy between the moral instincts of any class or individual, and such Utilitarian reasonings as their untrained intellects are in the habit of conducting. There are many things in conduct which many people think right but not expedient, or at least which they would not think expedient if they had not first judged them to be right : in so far as they reason from experi- ence only, their conclusions as to what conduces to the general happiness are opposed to their moral intuitions. It may be Chap. IV.] THE METHOD OF UTILITARIANISM. 435 said that this results generally from a hasty and superficial consideration of expediency ; and that the discrepancy would disappear after a deeper and completer examination of the con- sequences of actions. And I do not deny that this would often be the case : but this is only a further argument for a comprehen- sive and systematic application of the method of pure empirical Utilitarianism. We must conclude, then, that we cannot take the moral rules of Common Sense as expressing the consensus of com- petent judges, up to the present time, as to the kind of conduct which is likely to produce the greatest amount of happiness on the whole. It would rather seem that it is the unavoidable duty of a systematic Utilitarianism to make a thorough revision of these rules, in order to ascertain how far the causes previously enumerated (and perhaps others) have actually operated to produce a divergence between Common Sense and a perfectly Utilitarian code of morality. § 2. But in thus stating the problem we are assuming that the latter term of this comparison can be satisfactorily defined and sufficiently developed : that we can frame with adequate precision a system of rules, constituting the true moral code for human beings as deduced from Utilitarian principles. And this seems to be commonly assumed by the school whose method we are now examining. But when we set ourselves in earnest to the construction of such a system, we find it beset with serious difficulties. For, passing over the uncertainties in- volved in hedonistic comparison generally, let us suppose that the quantum of happiness that will result from the establish- ment of any plan of behaviour among human beings can be ascertained with sufficient exactness for practical purposes : and that even when the plan is as yet constructed in imagi- nation alone. It still has to be asked. What is the nature of the human being for whom we are to construct this hypothetical scheme of conduct ? For humanity is not something that ex- hibits the same properties always and everywhere : whether we consider the intellect of man or his feelings, or his physical con- dition and circumstances, we find them so different in different ages and countries, that it seems prima facie absurd to lay down a set of ideal Utilitarian rules for mankind generally. It may be 28—2 436 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. said that these differences after all relate chiefly to details : and that there is in any case sufficient uniformity in the nature and circumstances of human life always and everywhere to render possible an outline ideal of behaviour for mankind at large. But it mast be observed, that it is with details that we are now principally concerned : for the previous discussion has suf- ficiently shewn that the conduct approved by Common Sense has a general resemblance to that which Utilitarianism would prescribe : but we wish to ascertain more exactly how far the resemblance extends, and with what delicacy and precision the current moral rules are adapted to the actual needs and con- ditions of human life. Suppose, then, that we contract the scope of the investiga- tion, and only endeavour to ascertain the rules appropriate to man as we know him, in our own age and country. But the man that we know is a being who recognises more or less definitely a certain moral code : and it is obvious that this element of his actual nature must not be included in our conception of him as a being for whom a code is yet to be constructed de novo. But if we take an actual man — or, say, an average Englishman — and abstract his morality, Avliat remains is an entity so purely hypothetical, that it is not clear what practical purpose can be served by constructing a system of moral rules for a community of such beings. No doubt if we might assume that the scien- tific deduction of such a system would ensure its general accept- ance : if we could reasonably expect to convert all mankind at once to Utilitarian principles, or even all educated and reflective mankind, so that all preachers and teachers should take uni- versal happiness as the goal of their efforts as unquestioningly as physicians take the health of the individual body : and if we could be sure that men's moral habits and sentiments would adjust themselves at once and without any waste of force to these changed rules, then perhaps in framing the Utilitarian code we might fairly leave existing morality out of account. But since we are not warranted in making these suppositions : since we have to take the moral habits, impulses, and tastes of men as a material given us to work upon no less than the rest of their nature, and as something which, as it only partly results from reasoning in the past, so can only be partially CiiAP. IV.] THE METHOD OF UTILITARIANISM. 437 modified by any reasoning which we can now apply to it : then surely the solution of the hypothetical Utilitarian problem above stated will not give us the result which we practically require. It will perhaps be said, " No doubt such an ideal Utilitarian morality can only be gradually, and perhaps after all imper- fectly, introduced : but still it will be useful to work it out as a pattern to which we may approximate." But, in the first place, it is not yet proved that we can approximate to it. It is always possible that an existing moral rule, though not the ideally best even for such beings as existing men under the existing circumstances, is yet the best that they can be got to obey : and that it would be futile to propose any other : or even harmful, as it might tend to impair old moral habits without effectively replacing them by new ones. And secondly, we may fairly ask. Why should we try to approximate to just this pat- tern ? for such an attempt only seems to be the best means of promoting human happiness if we make the assumption that man cannot be importantly improved, in his capacities for hap- piness and his power of attaining it, except so far as his morality is concerned : that the other elements of his nature and condition must be taken as substantially imchangeable. But if this is not the case : if, on the contrary, the state of men's knowledge and intellectual faculties, and the range of their sympathies, and the direction and strength of their pre- vailing impulses, and their relations to the external world and to each other, are continually being altered, and such alteration is to some extent under our control : then the endeavour ara- dually to approximate to a morality constructed on the sup- position that the non-moral part of existing human nature is constant, may lead us quite wrong. In short, the Utilitarian is placed in this dilemma: — The nature of man, intellectual and impulsive, and the conditions of his life, are continually being changed, and it seems illegitimate to assume them constant, unless we are confining our attention to the immediate present : but, again, if we are considering them in the immediate pre- sent, we must take into account men's moral habits and senti- ments, as a part of their nature only somewhat more modifiable than the rest. 438 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Cook IV. It seems, therefore, impossible to construct au absolute code of Utilitarian Morality, unless we can shew that there is some final perfect form of society, towards which the process of human history is tending : and it seems unprofitable to contemplate any extensive modification of existing positive morality, except in connexion with other social changes which we foresee as likely to be brought about, whether through the deliberate efforts of enlightened Utilitarians, or from other causes. Now in the present rudimentary condition of sociology it does not appear to me that we have sufficient data for deducing the best rules of mutual behaviour for human communities, as they are to exist at some future period. And, therefore, I should judge, from a strictly Utilitarian point of view, that any attempt, such as Bentham made, to dispense with the morality of instinct and tradition, would be premature and ill-advised. I think that for the present, at any rate, the Utilitarian method must start with the existing social order, and the existing morality as a part of that order : and in deciding the question whether any divergence from this code is to be recommended, must consider chiefly the immediate consequences of such divergence, upon a society in which such a code is conceived generally to subsist. No doubt a thoughtful and well-instructed Utilitarian may see dimly a certain way ahead, and his attitude towards existing morality may be to some extent modified by what he sees. He may discern in the future certain evils impending, which can only be effectually warded off" by the adoption of new and more stringent views of duty in certain departments : while, on the other hand, he may see a prospect of social changes which will render a relaxation of other parts of the moral code expedient or inevitable. But if he keeps within the limits that separate scientific preAdsion from fanciful Utopian conjecture, the form of society to which his practical conclusions relate will be one varying but little from the actual, with its actually established code of moral rules and customary judgments as to Virtue and Vice. CHAPTER V. THE METHOD OF UTILITARIANISM CONTINUED. § 1. If, then, we are to regard the morality of Common Sense as a machinery of rules, habits, and sentiments, roughly and generally but not precisely or completely adapted to the production of the greatest possible happiness for sentient beings generally; and if, on the other hand, we have to accept it as the actually established machinery for attaining this end, which we cannot replace at once by any other, but can only gradually modify ; it remains to consider the practical effects of the complex and balanced relation in which a rational Utilitarian thus seems to stand to the Positive Morality of his age and country. Generally speaking, he will clearly conform to it, and endea- vour to promote its development in others. For, though the imperfection that we find in all the actual conditions of human existence — we may even say in the universe at large as judged from a human point of view — is ultimately found even in Morality itself, in so far as this is contemplated as Positive : still, practically, we are much less concerned with correcting and improving than we are with realizing and enforcing it. The rational Utilitarian must repudiate altogether that temper of rebellion against the established morality, as something purely external and conventional, into which the reflective mind is always apt to fall when it is first convinced that its rules are not intrinsically reasonable. He must, of course, also repudiate as superstitious that awe of it as an absolute or Divine Code which Intuitional moralists inculcated Still, he will naturally con- 1 At the same time this sentiment, which Kant among others has expressed with peculiar force {Kritlk dcr jvakt. Vern. Beschhiss) is in no way incompatible 440 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book -I V. template it with reverence and wonder, as a marvellous product of nature, the result of long centuries of growth, shewing in many parts the same fine adaptation of means to complex exigencies as the most elaborate structures of physical organisms exhibit : he will handle it with respectful delicacy as a mechan- ism, constructed of the fluid element of ophiions and dispositions, by the indispensable aid of which the actual quantum of human happiness is continually being produced : a mechanism which no " politicians or philosophers" could create, yet without which the harder and coarser machinery of Positive Law could not be permanently maintained, and the life of man would become — as Hobbes forcibly expresses it — " solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short." Still, as this actual moral order is admittedly imperfect, it will be the Utilitarian's duty to aid in improving it. The question therefore arises, Under what circumstances and by what method will he attempt to modify or supjolement it ? Here our investigation seems to leave, after all, as the only possible method — until the science of Sociology shall have been really constructed — that of pure empirical Hedonism. The Utilitarian must represent as accurately as possible the total amount of pleasure and pain that may be expected to result respectively from conformity or disobedience to any given rule ; and adopt the alternative which seems to promise the greatest balance of pleasure over pain. That this method is liable to the most serious errors, and this comparison must generally be of the roughest and vaguest kind, we have already seen^; and it is highly important to bear this in mind : but yet we seem unable to find any substitute for it. It is not meant, of course, that each individual is left to his own unassisted judgment : there is a mass of traditional expe- rience, which each individual imbibes orally or from books, as to the effects of conduct upon happiness ; but the general formulse in which this experience is transmitted are, for the most part, so indefinite, the proper range of their application so uncertain, and the observation and induction on which they are founded with Utilitarianism : only it must be reserved for the Utilitarian First Principle — which in fact, as we have seen, is the first principle of Kantism. 1 Cf. B. II. c. n. Chap, v.] THE METHOD OF UTILITARIA2sISM. 441 so uncritical, that they stand iu continual need of further empirical verification ; especially as regards their applicability to any particular case. We may observe that it is by this empirical method that every rational agent is supposed to determine at least a large part of his conduct. For it is always assumed by Common Sense that each individual will try to get as much happiness as he can for himself within the limits which morality lays down, and that a good man will do the same for other human beings, according to the relations in which they stand to him : and that he will do this by combining in some way his own experience with that of other men as to the felicific and infelicific effects of actions. And it is actually in this way that each man usually deliberates (e.g.) what profession to choose for himself, or what mode of education for his children, whether to aim at marriage or remain single, whether to settle in town or country, in England or abroad. No doubt there are, as we saw^\ other ends besides Happiness, such as Knowledge, Beauty, &c., commonly recognised as jter se desirable : but it apj^eared that Common Sense on reflection would only regard them as de- sirable in so far as they were directly or ultimately sources of happiness (although it may be desirable that they should still be sought per se, as the happiness arising from them would be diminished if they were consciously sought as means to it). For though men have devoted their lives (e.g.) to attainment of knowledge, without considering its relation to their own happiness or to that of others : still, w^e do not seem to regard such devotion as rational, except on the ground that human happiness is, on the whole, increased by it. And where the attainment of knowdedge involves an obvious sacrifice of happiness in other ways, as in the physiological researches where it cannot be attained without causing pain, or when it is proposed to support investigators out of the taxes ; the practical question whether the pursuit of knowdedge ought to be allowed or maintained under the circumstances in question, seems always decided by an application, however rough and confused, of the method of pure empirical Hedonism. In so far then as Rational Conduct is conceived to be a pursuit of what our older moralists called "Natural Good," 1 Cf. B. III. c. 11. 442 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. i. e. of all that is intrinsically desirable except Virtue or Mo- rality, within the limits fixed by the latter: there seems to be no fundamental difference between Utilitarianism and Com- mon Sense. The Utilitarian only performs somewhat more consistently and systematically the reasoning processes which all admit to be properly decisive of the questions that this pur- suit raises. His distinctive characteristic, as a Utilitarian, is that he has to apply the same method to the criticism and correction of the limiting morality itself. The particulars of this criticism will obviously be relative to the special changes that are continually occurring in man's nature and circum- stances. We have here only to discuss the general points of view which must be taken in such a criticism, in order that no important class of relevant considerations may be omitted. §2. Let us first recall the distinction previously noticed ^ between the jural and sesthetic aspects of morality. As we saw, the difference between right conduct, duty, that to which a man is bound or obliged, and good, praiseworthy, excellent conduct, is, as often used, purely formal : it indicates two dif- ferent points of view from which all morality may be con- templated. But as employed by Common Sense, the distinction is also partly material, and the two notions are to some ex- tent applied to different kinds of conduct: as there are cer- tain rules which a man is thought to be bound to obey under penalties, and is not praised for obeying, and beyond these again there is an ideal which he is admired for realizing, though he is not blamed for falling short of it. In consider- ing, then, the relation of Utilitarianism to the moral judg- ments of Common Sense, it will be convenient to begin with the foraaer element of current morality, as the more import- ant and indispensable : the ensemble of rules of duty imposed by common opinion in any society. We have here a kind of unwritten legislation, supplementary to Law proper, and enforced by different penalties, the disfavour and contempt of society; penalties which in most cases are actually inflicted only by a limited number of its members, but potentially by the whole or an overwhelming majority or the more esteemed portion of them, whose opinion the limited number is believed 1 Cf. Bk. 1. c. 0, and Bk. iii. c. 2. CuAP. v.] THE METHOD OF UTILITARIANISM. 443 to represent. This legislation, as it does not emanate from a definite body of persons acting in a corporate capacity, obvi- ously cannot be altered by any formal deliberations and reso- lutions of the persons on whose consensus it rests. Any change in it must therefore result from the private action of indi- viduals, whether determined by impulse and sentiment or (as we at present suppose) by Utilitarian considerations. It should be observed that the practical Utilitarian problem is often complicated by the conflict and divergence which is found to a certain extent in all societies between the moral opinions of different sections of the community. This, as we have already noticed, sometimes even results in the distinct establishment of a rival code — as in the case of the Law of Honour, Bat however far this divergence goes there is always a considerable body of moral law common to the diverging codes : and it will be convenient to confine our attention to this in the first instance. Suppose then that after considering the consequences of any such rule, really supported by " Common Consent," a Utili- tarian comes to the conclusion that a different rule would be more conducive to the general happiness, if similarly esta- blished in a society remaining in other respects the same as at present — or in one slightly different (in so far as our fore- cast of social changes can be made sufficiently clear to furnish any basis for practice). And first we will sujDpose that this new rule differs from the old one not only positively but nega- tively: that it does not merely go beyond and include it, but actually conflicts with it. Before he can decide that it is right for him (i.e. conducive to the general happiness) to regulate his conduct by the new rule, he ought to estimate the force of certain disadvantages necessarily attendant upon such in- novations, which may conveniently be arranged under the fol- lowing heads. In the first place, as his own happiness is a part of the universal end at which he aims, he must consider the import- ance to himself of the penalties of social disapprobation which he will incur. But further, in most cases it will not be his own happiness alone that will be thus affected, as all who are closely connected with him will suffer to some extent from 444 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. the disfavour thus falling upon him. And again, he has to take into account, besides the immediate pain of this disap- probation, its indirect effect in diminishing his power of serv- ing society and promoting the general happiness in other ways. It may be said that if the innovation be beneficial, any social persecution which the innovator may have to undergo should not be taken into account ; because this is the regular price that must always be paid for such innovations, and if we stop progress on this ground we stop it altogether. And it must be admitted that some pain of this kind must neces- sarily attend any changes in current morality, in the nega- tive or destructive direction. But here, as in many Utilita- rian calculations, everything depends on the quantity of the effects produced : which in the case supposed may vary very much, from slight distrust and disfavour to severe condemnation and social exclusion. It often seems that by attempting change prematurely an innovator may incur the severest form of the moral penalty, whereas if he had waited a few years he would have been let off with the mildest. For the hold which a moral rule has over the general mind commonly begins to decay from the time that it is seen to be opposed to the cal- culations of expediency : and it may be better for the com- munity as well as for the individual that it should not be openly attacked, until this process of decay has reached a certain point. It is, however, of more importance to consider whether the apparent improvement will really have a beneficial effect on others. For perhaps tlie new rule, though it would be more felicific than the old one, if it could get itself equally esta- blished, may be not so likely to be adopted, or if adopted, not so likely to be obeyed, by the mass of the community in which it is proposed to innovate. It may be too subtle and refined, or too complex and elaborate : it may require a greater intel- lectual development, or a higher degree of self-control, or a dif- ferent quality or balance of feelings, than is to be found in an average member of the community. Nor can it be said in reply, that by the hypothesis the innovator's example must be good to whatever extent it operates, since pro tanto it tends to Chap, v.] THE METHOD OF UTILITARIANISM. 445 substitute a better rule for a worse. For experience seems to shew that an example of this kind is more likely to be potent negatively than positively : that here, as elsewhere in human affiiirs, it is easier to pull down than to build up : easier to weaken or destroy the restraining force that a moral rule, habitually and generally obeyed, has over men's minds, than to substitute for it a new restraining habit, not similarly sustained by tradition and custom. Hence the effect of an example intrinsically good may be on the whole bad, owing to its destructive operation being more vigorous than its constructive. And again, such destructive effect must be considered not only in respect of the particular rule violated, but of all other rules. For just as the breaking of any one Law (proper) has an in- evitable tendency to encourage lawlessness generally, so the violation of any generally recognised moral rule seems to give a certain aid to the forces that are always tending towards moral anarchy in any society. Nor must we neglect the reaction which any breach with customary morality will have on the agent's own mind. For the regulative habits and sentiments which each man has re- ceived by inheritance or training constitute an important force impelling his will, in the main, to conduct such as his reason would dictate : a natural auxiliary, as it were, to Reason in its conflict with seductive passions and appetites : and it may be practically dangerous to impair the strength of these auxiliaries. On the other hand, it would seem that the habit of acting ration- ally is the best of all habits, and that it ought to be the aim of a reasonable being to bring all his impulses and sentiments into more and more perfect harmony with Reason. And indeed wdien a man has earnestly accepted any moral principle, those of his pre-existing regulative habits and sentiments that are not supported by deductions from this principle tend naturally to decay and disappear, and it would perhaps be scarcely worth while to take them into account, except for the support that they derive from the sympathy of others. But this last is a consideration of great importance. For the moral impulses of each individual commonly draw the chief part of their strength from the sympathy of other human beings. This effect must not be confounded — thousrh 44G THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. it is closely connected — with that of the pleasures and pains that each derives from the moral likings and aversions of others : it is the direct sympathetic echo in each man of the judgments and sentiments of others concerning con- duct, sustaining his own similar judgments and sentiments. We have, however, to consider the pleasures and pains just mentioned, not merely as elements of the sum of happiness which constitutes the Utilitarian end, but also as natural forces operating (along with the more direct effects of moral sym- pathy) to keep the conduct of each individual in general har- mony with the interests of society. Through this twofold operation of sympathy it becomes practically much easier for most men to conform to a moral rule established in the society to which they belong than to one made by themselves. And any act by which a man weakens the effect on himself of this general moral sympathy tends 'pro tanto to make the perform- ance of duty more difficult for him. On the other hand, we have to take into account — besides the intrinsic gain of the particular change — the general advan- tage of offering to mankind a striking example of consistent Utilitarianism : since, in this case as in others, a man gives a stronger proof of genuine conviction by conduct in opposition to public opinion than he can by conformity. In order, how- ever, that this effect may be produced, it is almost necessary that the non-conformity should not promote the innovator's personal convenience : for in that case it will almost certainly be attributed to egoistic motives, however plausible the Utili- tarian deduction of its rightness may seem. The exact force of these various considerations will differ indefinitely in different cases : and it does not seem profitable to attempt any general estimate of them. For the practical decision must, it seems, be determined almost entirely by the extent to which the innovator has reason to expect that his example will be followed by others. For the actual benefit of the change depends of course upon the extent to which it is actually carried out : but at the same time its counterbalancing evils will be increased, in so far as the example affects those for whom the new rule is not really suitable : while, again, the undesirable consequences springing from the breach of sym- Chap. V.] THE METHOD OF UTILITARIANISM. 447 patliy between the innovator and other moral persons will be correspondingly decreased. But on the whole it would seem that the o-eneral arofuments which we have noticed constitute an important check upon Utilitarian innovations on Common Sense morality, of the negative or destructive kind. If now we consider such innovations as are merely positive and supplementary, and consist in adding a new rule to those already established by Common Sense ; it will appear that there is really no collision of methods, so far as the Utilitarian's own observance of the new rule is concerned. For, as every such rule is, ex hypotliesi, believed by him to be conducive to the common good, he is merely giving a special and stricter interpretation to the general duty of Universal Benevolence, where Common Sense leaves it loose and indeterminate. Hence the restraining considerations above enumerated do not apply to this case. And whatever it is right for him to do himself, it is obviously right for him to approve in and recommend to other persons in similar circumstances. But it is a different question whether he ought to seek to impose his new rule on others, by express condemnation of all who are not prepared to adopt it : as this involves not only the immediate evil of the annoyance given to others, but also the further danger of weakening the general good effect of his moral example, through the reaction provoked by this aggressive attitude. Here again his decision ought probably to depend on the prospect, as far as he can estimate it, that his innovation has of meeting with support and sympathy from others. It should be observed, however, that a great part of the reform in popular morality, which a consistent Utilitarian will try to introduce, will probably lie not so much in establishing new rules (whether conflicting with the old or merely supple- mentary) as in enforcing old ones. For there is always a considerable part of morality in the condition of receiving formal respect and acceptance, while yet it is not really sustained by any effective force of public opinion : and the difference between the moralities of any two societies is often more strikingly exhibited in the different emphasis attached to various portions of the moral code in each, than in disagreement as to the whole sum of rules which the code should include. 448 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book 17. In the case we are considering, it is chiefly conduct which shews a want of comprehensive sympathy or of public spirit, to which the Utilitarian will desire to attach a severer condemna- tion than is at present directed against it. There is much conduct of this sort, of which the immediate effect is to give obvious pleasure to individuals, while the far greater amount of harm that it more remotely and indirectly causes is but dimly recognised by Common Sense. Such conduct, therefore, even when it is allowed to be wrong, is very mildly treated by common opinion : especially when it is prompted by some im- pulse not self-regarding, and does not violate any express rule, but only a tacit understanding. Still, in all such cases, we do not require the promulgation of any new moral doctrine, but merely a bracing and sharpening of the moral sentiments of society, to bring them into harmony with the greater compre- hensiveness of view and the more impartial concern for human happiness which characterize the Utilitarian system. § .3. We have hitherto supposed that the innovator is endeavouring to introduce a new rule of conduct, not for himself only, but for others also, as more conducive to the general hajDi^iness than the rule recognised by Common Sense. It may perhaps be thought that this is not the issue most commonly raised between Utilitarianism and Common Sense : but rather whether exceptions should be allowed to rules which both sides agree to be generally valid. For no one doubts that it is, generally speaking, conducive to the common happiness that men should be veracious, faithful to promises, obedient to law, disposed to satisfy the normal expectations of others, having their malevolent impulses and their sensual appetites under strict control: but it is thought that an exclusive regard to pleasurable and painful consequences would frequently admit exceptions to rules which Common Sense imposes as absolute. Here, however, we must observe that the admission of an exception on general grounds is merely the establishment of a more complex and delicate rule, instead of one that is broader and simpler: for if it is conducive to the general good that the exception be admitted in one case, it will be equally so in all similar cases. Let us take an illustration of some present interest. Sujipose a Utilitarian is asked how he voted in the Chap. V.] THE METHOD OF UTILITARIANISM. 449 recent election (1874). If he wishes to conceal his vote he may easily think it expedient and right to answer falsely : for the Utilitarian reasons against falsehood generally are, (1) the im- mediate harm done by misleading a particular individual, and (2) the tendency which each falsehood has to diminish the mutual confidence that men ought to have in each other's asser- tions. But in this exceptional case it may be expedient that the questioner should be misled : and, in so far as the falsehood tends to produce a general distrust of all affirmations about voting, it only furthers the end for which voting has been made secret. It is evident, however, that if these reasons are valid for any person, they are valid for all persons : in fact that they establish the expediency of a new general rule in respect of truth and falsehood, more complicated than the old one : a rule which the Utilitarian, as such, desires to be universally obeyed. There are, of coui'se, some kinds of moral innovation which, from the nature of the case, are not likely to occur frequently: as where Utilitarian reasoning leads a man to take part in a political revolution, or to support a public measure in opposition to what Common Sense regards as Justice or Good Faith. Still, in such cases a Utilitaiian usually proceeds on general princi- ples, which he would desire all persons in similar circumstances to carry into effect. There is, however, another kind of exceptions, differing fun- damentally from this, which Utilitarianism seems to admit : where the agent does not think it expedient that the rule on which he himself acts should be universally adopted, and yet maintains that his individual act is right, as producing a greater balance of pleasure over pain than any other conduct open to him would produce. And certainly we cannot argue that because a large aggre- gate of acts would cause more harm than good, therefore any single act of the kind will produce this effect. It may even be a straining of language to say that it has a tendency to produce it : no one (e. g.) would say that because an army walking over a bridge would break it down, therefore the crossing of a single traveller has a tendency to destroy it. And just as a prudent physician in giving rules of diet recom- mends an occasional deviation from them, as more conducive to s. E. 29 450 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. the health of the body than absohite regularity : so there may be rules of social behaviour of which the general observance is necessary to the well-being of the community, while yet a certain amount of non-observance is rather advantageous than otherwise. Here, however, we seem brought into conflict with Kant's fundamental principle, that a right action must be one which the agent could desire to be done by all persons under similar circumstances: and yet it was argued (B. ill. c. 1, and c. .13), that this was a necessary truth involved in the very idea of right conduct. And it certainly seems to me such : only, (as was noticed in B. ill. c. 7, in the particular case of veracity,) we must admit a qualification of this rule, which importantly modifies its practical application : we must include among relevant " circumstances" the belief (supposing it to exist) that the action will not be widely imitated. In short, the Kantian principle means no more than that no act can be right for me " because I am I " : if right for me, it must be right on general grounds and therefore for some class of persons : but there is no reason why this class should not be defined by the above-men- tioned characteristic of believing that the act will remain an exceptional one. Of course if this belief turns out to be erroneous, serious harm may possibly result : but the same may be said of many other Utilitarian deductions : an action that was thought to be conducive to the general happiness may turn out to be very detrimental to it, owing to an erroneous forecast of consequences. This reasoning may seem somewhat sophistical : but in fact it is very easy to find instances of conduct which is commonly thought to be legitimate solely on the ground that we have no fear of its being too widely imitated. Take, for example, the case of Celibacy. A universal refusal to propagate the human species would be the greatest of conceivable crimes from a Utilitarian point of view: that is, according to the commonly accepted belief in the superiority of human happi- ness to that of other animals : and hence the Kantian prin- ciple, applied without the qualification above given, would make it a crime in any one to devote himself to celibacy. But Common Sense (in the present age at least) regards celi- Chap, v.] THE METHOD OF UTILITARIANISM. 451 bacy as within the limits of right conduct : because there is no fear that population will not be sufficiently kept up, as in fact the tendency to propagate is thought to exist rather in excess than otherwise. In this case it is a non-moral impulse — the sexual in- stinct — on the average strength of which we think we may reckon : but there does not appear to be any formal or uni- versal reason w^hy the same procedure should not be applied by Utilitarians to an actually existing moral sentiment. Thus there would be a discrepancy between Utilitarianism and Com- mon-Sense morality of a very curious kind : as it is the very firmness with which the latter is established Avhich becomes the rational ground for relieving the individual of its obliga- tions. A and B are supposed to see that the happiness of the community will be enhanced (just as the excellence of a metrical composition is) by a slight admixture of irregularity along with a general observance of rules : that is, by a little of what is commonly blamed as vice, along with a great deal of what is commonly recommended as virtue : and convinced that others will supply the virtue, A and B think themselves justified, on Utilitarian grounds, in supplying the vice. It does not seem to me that this reasoning can be shewn to be necessarily unsound, and therefore it is important to call attention to this point, as constituting a real peculiarity of the Utilitarian method. It should be observed, however, that it makes a great difference whether the sentiment in man- kind generally, on which one relies to sustain sufficiently a general rule while constituting oneself an exception thereto, is moral or non-moral : because the strength of the former sentiment depends so much more than the latter on a con- sciousness of general sympathy : and is therefore much more sensitive to example, and much more likely to be impaired by any known violation of the general rule. Hence the cases seem at least very rare, in which a really conscientious person could think that his own violation of a rule, of which the general (though not universal) observance is plainly expedient, will not probably do harm on the whole. Especially as all the objections to innovation, noticed in the previous section, apply with increased force to the cases in which the inno- 29—2 452 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. vator does not even claim to be introducing a new and better general rule. It must be admitted, too, that it would be extremely dan- gerous to practical morality to proclaim that any individual may exempt himself from obedience to certain moral rules, if only he is sufficiently convinced that other persons will obey them. But we are not now inquiring what ought to be generally proclaimed, but what it may accord with Utilitarian theory to do, under certain circumstances. And we must now observe this may easily be different from what it is expe- dient to teach : since a man's teaching affects different per- sons from those who are influenced by his example, and in a different way. Similai'ly we shall have to admit that it may in some cases be right to teach one set of persons what it would be wrong to teach others : and thus the Romanist view of the "economy" to be observed in the distribution of truth, seems to be strictly in harmony with Utilitarian prin- ciples. So again, in so far as the harm of an act consists chiefly in its bad example, it may on Utilitarian principles be right if it can be done with perfect secresy, but not other- wise. On both these points Utilitarianism is manifestly at issue with Common Sense : for the very notion of the latter in- volves the repudiation of an esoteric morality, differing from that popularly taught': and an action which would be bad if done openly is not commonly thought to be rendered good by secresy. We may observe however that for this latter opi- nion in its turn a latent Utilitarian basis may be found : for there is an obvious advantage, generally speaking, in acts which it is expedient to repress by social disapprobation be- coming known, as otherwise the disapprobation cannot operate : so that it seems inexpedient to support by any moral encou- ragement the natural disposition of men in general to conceal their wrong doings. Thus the Utilitarian conclusion, carefully stated, would seem to be this i that the opinion that secresy 1 At the same time it must be allowed that the doctrine of " economy" is tacitly recognised by Common Sense to a certain extent. For example, in countries where there is a danger of serious political disturbance it is commonly considered criminal to publish in newspapers opinions which may be published in books without offence. Chap. V.] THE METHOD OF UTILITARIANISM. 453 may render an action right which Avould not otherwise be so should itself be kept comparatively secret : and similarly it seems expedient that the doctrine that esoteric morality is expedient should itself be kept esoteric. Or if this concealment be difficult to maintain, it may be desirable that Common Sense should repudiate the doctrines which it is expedient to confine to an enlightened few. And thus a Utilitarian may reasonably desire, on Utilitarian principles, that some of his conclusions should be rejected by mankind generally : or even that the vulgar should keep aloof from his system as a whole, in so far as the inevitable indefiniteness and complexity of its calculations render it likely to lead to bad results in their hands. Of course in an ideal community of enlightened Utilitarians this swarm of puzzles and paradoxes would vanish : as in such a society no one can have any ground for believing that per- sons in circumstances similar to his own will act in a manner different from that which he adopts. And any enlightened Utilitarian must of course desire this consummation ; as all conflict of moral opinion must pro tanto be regarded as an evil, as tending to impair the force of morality generally in its resistance to seductive impulses. Still such conflict may be a necessary evil in the actual condition of civilised communi- ties, in which there are so many different degrees of intellectual and moral development. And if so, such reasonings as those which we have just gone through must necessarily have a place in the practical consideration of a question discussed in the previous section: viz. how far we ought to attempt — by precept or example — to introduce a new rule of conduct which would be better than that now currently accepted if persons would only act up to it, but which is perhaps less likely to obtain a practical hold over ordinary men. For a Utilitarian may have reason to think that his new rule will, generally speaking, be adopted only by those to whom the change will be beneficial, and repudiated by those who are in a different stage of moral or intellectual development : and in such a case he will have but little hesitation in introducing it. And a similar line of argument may remove his hesitation as to teaching Utilita- rianism generally (in so far as he is persuaded that it is a 454 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. 'dangerous' doctrine) or any other dangerous truth: if there is reason to believe that the bulk of the persons to whom it would do harm will be prompted by a salutary instinct to repu- diate it. But whether this is likely to be the case or not in any particular instance, must of course always be matter for grave and anxious consideration. And thus we have been led inevitably to discuss the ques- tion which we reserved in the last section: viz. how Utilita- rianism should deal with the fact of divergent moral opinions held simultaneously by different members of the same society. For it has become plain that though two different kinds of con- duct cannot both be right under the same circumstances, two contradictory opinions as to the rightness of conduct may pos- sibly both be expedient : it may conduce most to the general happiness that A should do a certain act, and at the same time that B, G, D should blame it. The Utilitarian of course cannot really join in the disapproval, but he may think it expedient to leave it unshaken ; and at the same time may think it right, if placed in the supposed circumstances, to do the act that is generally disapproved. And so generally it may be best on the whole that there should be conflicting codes of morality in a given society at a certain stage of its development. And indeed the same general reasoning — from the probable origin of the moral sense and its flexible adjustment to the varying conditions of human life — which furnished at least a presump- tion that Common-Sense morality is roughly coincident with the code which a perfectly enlightened Utilitarian would lay down for human beings as now constituted, " might be used in favour of these divergent codes : it may be said that these, too, form part of the complex adjustment of man to his circum- stances, and that they are needed to supplement and qualify the morality of Common Sense. However paradoxical this doctrine may appear, we can find cases where it seems to be implicitly accepted by Common Sense : or at least where it is required to make Common Sense consistent with itself. Let us consider, for example, the com- mon moral judgments concerning rebellions. It is commonly thought, on the one hand, that these abrupt breaches of order are sometimes morally necessary; and, on the other hand, that Chap, v.] THE METHOD OF UTILITARIANISM. 455 they ought always to be vigorously resisted, and in case of failure punished by extreme penalties inflicted at least on the ringleaders; for otherwise they would be attempted under circum- stances where there was no sufficient justification for them: but it seems evident that, in the actual condition of men's moral sentiments, this vigorous repression requires the support of a strong body of opinion condemning the rebels as wrong, and not merely as mistaken in their calculations of the chances of success. Similarly it seems expedient that the breaches of Good Faith and Veracity by diplomatists and statesmen — which yet may in extreme cases be the best means of effecting highly beneficial changes in the internal or external relations of states — should yet be condemned by public opinion; lest they should be used in cases not so extreme. And so again it may be best on the whole that some of those special relaxations of certain moral rules, that were before noticed in certain pro- fessions and sections of society, should continue to exist, while at the same time they gliould continue to be disapproved by the rest of the society. The evils, however, which must spring from this permanent conflict of opinion are so grave, that it seems improbable that an enlightened Utilitarian will not in most cases attempt to remove it ; by either openly maintaining the need of a relaxation of the ordinarv moral rule under the special circumstances in question ; or, on the other hand, en- deavouring to get the ordinary rule recognised and enforced by all conscientious persons in that section of society where its breach has become habitual. And of these two courses it seems that he will in most cases adopt the latter : since the rule is most commonly found on examination to have been relaxed rather for the convenience of individuals, than in the interest of the community at large. § 4. Finally, let us consider the general relation of Utilita- rianism to that part of common morality Avhich extends beyond the range of strict dut}'^ : that is, to the Ideal of character and conduct which in any community at any given time is com- monly admired and praised as the sum of Excellences or Per- fections. To begin, it must be allowed that this distinction between Excellence and Strict Duty does not seem properly admissible in Utilitarianism, any more than it is in Stoicism 456 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. or any of the more exacting forms of Intuitional morality ; for a Utilitarian must hold that it is always wrong and irrational for a man to do anything else than what he believes most con- ducive to Universal Happiness ; and it is not possible for him to do more. Still, reflection shews that the antithesis must be admitted on two grounds. In the first place, some excel- lences are only partially and indirectly within the control of the will, and we require to distinguish the realization of these in conduct from the performance of Duty proper, which is always something that can be done at any moment. Secondly, even in the case of strictly voluntary conduct, the distinction between a part that is praiseworthy and admirable and a part that is merely right is — if I may so say — secondarily reasonable on Utilitarian principles, though it is not ?.o primarily : because, as it is natural to us to compare any individual's character or conduct, not with our highest ideal — Utilitarian or otherwise — but with a certain average standard ; so it seems ultimately con- ducive to the general happiness that such natural sentiments of admiration should be allowed free play. For the recognition of excellence in ourselves, and still more in others, is directly an important source of happiness, as it is commonly attended with a peculiar pleasurable emotion of a highly refined kind : and again, the attractive force of the excellence thus exhibited, the desire of imitation which it arouses in others, is a powerful stimulus to right action, which we cannot afford to S2:)are. Fur- ther, these emotions naturally tend to inspire disinterested per- sonal affections of a pure and elevated kind \ which are again directly an important source of happiness and a valuable aid to the fulfilment of duty. Moreover, our nature seems to require the double stimulus of praise and blame from others, in order to the best performance of duty that we can at present attain : so that the " social sanction " would be less effective if it became purely penal. On these grounds a Utilitarian will naturally and reasonably praise any conduct more fclicific in its tendency than what an average man would do under the given circumstances. He will of course be conscious that, on his view, the limit down to which praise worthiness extends must 1 This is the empirical justification for the doctrine of Aristotle and others that Excellence of Character is the "proper object" of Love. Chap. V.] THE METHOD OF UTILITARIANISM. 457 be relative to the particular state of moral progress reached by- mankind generally in his age and country ; and he will make continual efforts to elevate this standard. But any attempt to effect a sudden change in it is likely to fail : as history shews us very few cases in which the average morality of any society appears to have been permanently raised per saltum. Similarly, the utilitarian will praise the Dispositions or permanent qualities of character to which such conduct is referred as its causes, and the Motives that prompt to it: and, as we have seen', he may without inconsistency admire the Disposition or Motive if it is of a kind of which the general effects are more than ordi- narily felicific, even while he disapproves of the conduct to which it has led in any particular case. Passing now to compare the contents of the Utilitarian Ideal of character with the virtues and other excellences recognised by Common Sense, we may observe, first, that general coincidence between the two on which Hume and others have insisted. No quality has ever been praised as excellent by mankind generally which cannot be shewn to have some marked felicific effect, and to be within proper limits obviousl}'' conducive to the general happiness. Still, it does not follow that such qualities are always fostered and encouraged by society in the proportion in which a Utilitarian would desire them to be : in ftict, it is a common observation to make, in contemplating the morality of other societies, that some useful qualities are unduly neg- lected, while others are over-prized and even admired when they exist in such excess as to become, on the whole, infelicific. The consistent Utilitarian may therefore find it necessary to rectify the prevalent moral ideal in important particulars. And here it scarcely seems that he will find any such Utilitarian restric- tions on innovation, as appeared to exist in the case of com- monly received rules of duty. For the Common-Sense notions of the different excellences of conduct (considered as extending beyond the range of strict duty) are generally so vague as to offer at least no definite resistance to a Utilitarian interpreta- tion of their scope : by teaching and acting upon such an inter- pretation a man is in no danger of being brought into infelicific discord with Common Sense : especially since the ideal of moral 1 Cf. ante, c. iii. § 2. 458 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. excellence seems to vary within the limits of the same com- munity to a much greater extent than the code of strict duty. For example, a man who in an age when excessive asceticism is praised, sets an example of enjoying harmless bodily plea- sures, or who in circles where useless daring is admired, prefers to exhibit and commend caution and discretion, at the worst misses some praise that he might otherwise have earned, and is thought a little dull and unaspiring : he does not come into any patent conflict with common opinion. Or, if we may say more generally that an enlightened Utilitarian is likely to lay less stress on the cultivation of those negative virtues, tendencies to restrict and refrain, which are prominent in the Common- Sense ideal of character ; and to set more value in comparison on those qualities of mind which are the direct source of positive pleasure to the agent or to others — some of which Com- mon Sense scarcely recognises as excellences, — he still will not carry this innovation to such a pitch as to incur general con- demnation. For no enlightened Utilitarian can ignore the fundamental importance of these restrictive and regulative dis- positions, or think that they are sufliciently developed in ordi- nary men at the present time, so that they may properly be excluded from moral admiration : though he may hold that they have been too prominent, to the neglect of other valuable quali- ties, in the common conception of moral Perfection. Nay, we may even venture to say that, under most circumstances, a man who earnestly and successfully endeavours to realize the Utili- tarian Ideal, however he may deviate from the commonly- received type of a perfect character, is likely to win sufficient recognition and praise from Common Sense. For, whether it be true or not that the whole of morality has sprung from the root of sympathy, it is certain that self-love and sympathy com- bined are sufficiently strong in average men to dispose them to grateful admiration of any exceptional efforts to promote the common good, even though these efforts may take a somewhat novel form. To any exhibition of more extended sympathy or more fervent public spirit than is ordinarily shewn, and any at- tempt to develope these qualities in others, Common Sense is rarely unresponsive : provided, of course, that these impulses are accompanied with adequate knowledge of actual circumstances Chap, v.] THE METHOD OF UTILITARIANISM. 459 and insight into the relation of means to ends, and that they do not run counter to any recognised rules of duty\ And it seems to be principally in this direction that the recent spread of Utilitarianism has positively modified the ideal of our society, and is likely to modify it further in the future. Hence the stress which Utilitarians are apt to lay on social and political activity of all kinds, and the tendency which Utilitarian ethics have always shewn to pass over into politics. For one who values conduct in proportion to its felicific consequences, will naturally set a higher estimate on effective beneficence in public affairs than on the purest manifestation of virtue in the details of private life : while on the other hand an Intuitionist (though no doubt vaguely recognising that a man ought to do all the good he can in public affairs) still commonly holds that Virtue may be as fully and as admirably exhibited on a small as on a large scale. A sincere Utilitarian, therefore, is likely to be an eager politician: but on what principles his political action ought to be determined, it scarcely lies within the scope of this treatise to investigate. 1 We have seen that a Utilitarian may sometimes have to override these rules ; but then the case falls under the head discussed in the previous section. CHAPTER VI. THE SANCTIONS OF UTILITARIANISM, § 1. We liave now, perhaps, obtained a sufficiently clear outline of the manner in which a consistent Utilitarian will behave. But many persons will still feel that, after all, it has not really been shewn why a man should be a consistent Utilitarian. It may be granted that we seem to have proved in chap. 2, that it is reasonable to take the Greatest Hap- ness of the Greatest Number as the ultimate end of action. But in order that this proof may have any practical effect, a man must have a certain impulse to do what is reasonable as such : and many persons will say — and probably with truth — that if such a wish exists in them at all it is feeble in com- parison with other impulses : and that they require some much stronger inducement to do what is right than this highly abstract and refined desire. And in fact Utilitarians have not usually supposed or appealed to any such desire, at the same time that they have been anxious to persuade men to con- form to Utilitarian rules of conduct: accordingly they have sought to attain this result by dwelling on what they call the Sanctions of these rules ; that is, the pleasures to be gained or pains to be avoided by the individual conforming to them. Again, there are others who will say that though it is undoubtedly reasonable to prefer the general happiness to one's own, when the two are presented as alternatives ; still it remains also clearly reasonable to take one's own greatest happiness as one's ultimate and paramount end. They will Chap. VI.] THE SANCTIONS OF UTILITARIANISM. 461 maintain that the proof offered in ch. 2, does not really con- vert them from Egoistic to Universalistic Hedonism ; but only convinces them that, unless the two can be shewn to co- incide, Practical Reason is divided against itself. They will urge further that, if we are to choose between the two, Egoistic Hedonism has clearly a prior claim on our assent : and that the individual will be right in aiming ultimately at what is ultimately desirable for himself, leaving the realiza- tion of Universal Good to the care of the universe. And this position, however it may offend our sentiments, is cer- tainly very difficult to assail with argument. So that it be- comes of fundamental importance to ascertain how far these two aims admit of being reconciled : and in this way again we are led to examine the Egoistic inducements to conform to Utilitarian rules, in order to see whether an Egoist who remains obstinately impervious to what we have called Proof may be persuaded into practical Utilitarianism by a considera- tion of Sanctions. § 2. Now, in so far as Utilitarian morality coincides with that of Common Sense — as we have seen that it does in the main — this investigation has been already performed in ch. 5 of B. II. It there appeared that while in any tolerable state of society the performance of duties towards others and the exercise of social virtue seem generally likely to coincide with the attain- ment of the greatest possible happiness in the long run for the virtuous agent, still the universality and completeness of this coincidence are at least incapable of empirical proof: and that, indeed, the more carefully we analyse and esti- mate the different sanctions — Legal, Social and Conscientious — considered as operating under the actual conditions of human life, the more nearly certain it seems that they can- not be always adequate to produce this coincidence. The natural effect of this argument upon a convinced Utilitarian is merely to make him anxious to alter the actual conditions of human life : and it would certainly be a most valuable contribution to the actual happiness of mankind, if we could so improve the adjustment of the machine of Law in any society, and so stimulate and direct the common awards of praise and blame, as to render it clearly prudent for every individual to 4G2 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. promote as much as possible the general good. However, we are not now considering what a consistent UtiHtarian will try- to effect for the future, but what a consistent Egoist is to do in the present. And, as things are, whatever difference exists between Utilitarian morality and that of Common Sense is of such a kind as to render the coincidence with Egoism still more improbable in the case of the former. For we have seen that Utilitarianism is more rigid than Common Sense in exacting the sacrifice of the agent's private interests where they are incompatible with the Greatest Happiness of the Greatest Number : and of course in so far as the Utilitarian's princi- ples bring him into conflict with any of the commonly accepted rules of morality, the whole force of the Social Sanction ope- rates to deter him from what he conceives to be his duty. § 3. There are however writers of the Utilitarian school, who seem to maintain or imply, that by due contemplation of the paramount importance of Sympathy as an element of human happiness we shall be led to see the coincidence of the good of each with the good of all. I may refer especially to Mill's treatise on Utilitarianism (ch. 3, passim) : where how- ever the argument is not easy to follow, from a confusion be- tween three different objects of inquiry : (1) the actual effect of sympathy in inducing conformity to the rules of Utilitarian ethics, (2) the effect in this direction which it is likely to have in the future, (3) the value of sympathetic pleasures and pains as estimated by an enlightened Egoist. The first and third of these questions it was not possible for Mill to sepa- rate, owing to his psychological doctrine that men univer- sally aim at what they conceive to be their own greatest happiness. But if my refutation of this doctrine^ is valid, we have carefully to distinguish two ways in which sympathy operates: it no doubt generates sympathetic pleasures and pains, which must of course be taken into account in the calcula- tions of Egoistic Hedonism : but it also causes impulses to "altruistic" action, of which the force is quite out of propor- tion to the sympathetic pleasure (or relief from pain) which such action seems likely to secure to the agent. So that even if the average man ever should reach such a pitch of sym- 1 Cf. c. 4, § 3. Chap. VI.] THE SANCTIONS OF UTILITARIANISM. 463 pathetic development, as never to feel prompted to sacrifice tlie general good to his own, still this Avill not prove that it is egoistically reasonable for him to behave in this way. Though certainly if we could only secure the actual result it w^ould be comparatively unimportant for a Utilitarian to convince an egoist of its reasonableness. And perhaps the hope of realiz- ing this Utilitarian millennium in the future is one in which even a* chastened imagination may legitimately indulge. But no one is likely to maintain that sympathy is now so far de- veloped in most men as actually to produce this result: and if we pass from considering what men actually do, to ask what enlightened self-interest would prompt, it does not seem that Mill's argument affords even a probability that conduct so altruistic would be egoistically reasonable. In saying this, I am as far as possible from any wish to depreciate the value of sympathy as a source of happiness even to human beings as at present constituted. Indeed I am of opinion that its pleasures and pains really constitute a great part of that internal reward of social virtue, and punishment of social misconduct, which in B. II. col roughly set down as due to the moral sentiments. For in truth, I find it very- difficult to distinguish the sympathetic and the properly moral feelings in introspective analysis of my own consciousness : it seems clear that these two elements are continually combined, but it is hard to say precisely in what proportion ; and what others communicate of their experience inclines me to think that the proportion is very different in different individuals. Perhaps we may trace a general law of variation in the relative proportion of these two elements as exhibited in the development of the moral consciousness in the race and also in individuals : for it seems that at a certain stage of this development the mind is more susceptible to emotions connected with abstract moral ideas and rules presented as absolute : while after emerg- ing from this stage and before 'entering it the feelings that belong to personal relations are stronger. Certainly in a Utili- tarian's mind sympathy tends to become a prominent element of all instinctive moral feelings that refer to social conduct : as in his view the rational basis of the moral impulse must ulti- mately lie in some pleasure won or pain saved for others; so that 464 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. he never has to sacrifice himself to an impersonal Law, but always for some being or beings with whom he has at least some degree of fellow-feeling. But besides admitting the actual importance of sympathetic pleasures to the majority of mankind, I should go further and maintain that, on emj)irical grounds alone, enlightened self-in- terest would direct most men to foster and develop their sympa- thetic susceptibilities to a greater extent than is now commonly attained. The effectiveness of Butler's famous arg^ument against the vulgar antithesis between Self-love and Benevolence is un- deniable : and it seems scarcely extravagant to say that, amid all the profuse waste of the means of happiness which men commit, there is no imprudence more flagrant than that of Selfishness in the ordinary sense of the term, — that excessive concentration of attention on the individual's own happiness which renders it impossible for him to feel any strong interest in the pleasures and pains of others. The perpetual pro- minence of self that hence results tends to deprive all enjoy- ments of their keenness and zest, and produce rapid satiety and ennui: the selfish man misses the sense of elevation and enlargement given by wide interests ; he misses the secure and serene satisfaction that attends continually on activities directed towards ends more stable and permanent than one's own happiness can be: he misses the peculiar rich sweetness, depending upon a sort of complex reverberation of sympathy, which is always found in services rendered to those whom we love and who are grateful. He is made to feel in a thousand various ways, according to the degree of refinement which his nature has attained, the discord between the rhythms of his own life and of that larger life of which his own is but an insig- nificant fraction. But allowing^ all this, it yet seems to me to admit of no more doubt than the general uncertainty of hedonistic com- ^ I do not however think that we are justified in stating as universally true what has been admitted in the preceding paragi-aph. Some few thoroughly selfish persons appear at least to be happier than most of the unselfish ; and there are other exceptional natures whose chief happiness seems to be derived from activity, disinterested indeed, but directed towards other ends than human happineBS. Chap. VI.] THE SANCTIONS OF UTILITARIANISM. 4G5 parison necessarily involves, that the utmost development of sympathy, intensive and extensive, which is now possible to any but a very few exceptional persons, would not cause a perfect coincidence between Utilitarian duty and self-interest. Here it seems to me that what was said in B. II. c, 5, § 4, to shew the insufficiency of the Conscientious Sanction, applies equally, mutatis mutandis, to Sympathy. Suppose a man finds that a regard for the general good — Utilitarian Duty — demands from him a sacrifice, or extreme risk, of life. There are per- haps one or two human beings so dear to him that the re- mainder of a life saved by sacrificing their happiness to his own would be worthless to him from an egoistic point of view. But it is doubtful whether many men, " sitting down in a cool moment " to make the estimate, would affirm even this : and of course that particular portion of the general happiness, for which one is called upon to sacrifice one's own, may easily be the happiness of persons not especially dear to one. But again, from this normal limitation of our keenest and strongest sympathy to a very small circle of human beings, it results that the very development of sympathy may operate to increase the weight thrown into the scale against Utilitarian duty. There are very few persons, however strongly and widely sympathetic, who are so constituted as to feel for the pleasures and pains of mankind generally a degree of sympathy at all commen- surate with their concern for wife or children, or lover, or bosom friend : and if any training of the affections is at present possible which would materially alter this proportion in the general distribution of our sympathy, it scarcel}^ seems that such a training is to be recommended as on the whole felicific\ And thus when Utilitarian Duty calls on us to sacrifice not only our own pleasures but the hapjDiness of those we love to the general good, the very Sanction on which Utiliarianism most relies must act powerfully in opposition to its precepts. But even apart from these exceptional cases — which are yet sufficient to decide the abstract question — it seems that the course of conduct by which a man would most fully reap the ^ To effect this we should probably require some such drastic treatment of human relations as that for which even the eloquence of Plato has failed to win approval. Cf. Eepublic, B. v. S. E. 30 4G6 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. rewards of Sympathy (as far as they are empirically ascer- tainable) will ofteu be very different from that to which a sincere desire to promote the general happiness would direct him. For the relief of distress and calamity is an important part of Utilitarian duty : but as the state of the person re- lieved is on the whole painful, it would appear that sympa- thy under these circumstances must be a source of pain rather than pleasure, in proportion to its intensity. It is probably true, as a general rule, that in the relief of distress other ele- ments of the complex Pleasure of Benevolence decidedly out- weigh this sympathetic pain : — for the effusion of pity is itself pleasurable, and we commonly feel more keenly that ameliora- tion of the sufferer's state which is due to our exertions than Ave do his pain otherwise caused, and there is further the pleasure that we derive from his gratitude, and the pleasure that is the normal reflex of activity directed under a strong impulse towards a permanently valued end. Still, when the distress is bitter and continued, and such as we can only par- tially mitigate by all our efforts, the philanthropist's sympa- thetic discomfort must necessarily be cimsiderable : and the work of combating misery, though not devoid of elevated happi- ness, will be much less happy on the whole than many other forms of activity : while yet it may be to just this work that Duty seems to summon us. Or again, a man may find that he can best promote the general happiness by working in com- parative solitude for ends that he never hopes to see realized, or by working chiefly among and for persons for whom he cannot feel much affection, or by doing what must alienate or grieve those whom he loves best, or must make it neces- sary for him to dispense with the most intimate of human ties. In short, there seem to be numberless ways in which the dictates of that Rational Benevolence, which as a Utilita- rian he is bound absolutely to obey, may conflict with that indulgence of kind affections which Shaftesbury and his fol- lowers so persuasively exhibit as its own reward. § 4. It seems then that we must conclude, from the argu- ments given in B. il. c. 5, supplemented by the discussion in the preceding section, that the inseparable connexion be- tween Utilitarian Duty and the greatest ha})piness of the in- Chap. VI.] THE SANCTIONS OF UTILITARIANISM. 4G7 dividual who conforms to it, cannot bo satisfactorily demon- strated on empirical grounds. Hence another section of the Utilitarian school has preferred to throw the weight of Duty on the Religious Sanction : and this procedure has been partly adopted by some of those who have chiefly dwelt on Sym- pathy as a motive. From this point of view the Utilitarian Code is conceived as the Law of God, who is to be under- stood as having commanded men to promote the general hap- piness, and as having announced an intention of rewarding those who obey his commands and punishing the disobedient. It is clear that if we feel convinced that an Omnipotent Being has, in whatever way, signified such commands and announce- ments, a rational egoist can want no further inducement to frame his life on Utilitarian principles. It only remains to consider how this conviction is attained. This is commonly thought to be either by supernatural Revelation, or by the natural exercise of Reason, or in both ways. As regards the former it is to be observed that — with a few exceptions — the moralists who hold that God has disclosed his law either to special individuals in past ages who have left a written record of what was revealed to them, or to a j)ermanent suc- cession of persons appointed in a particular manner, or to religious persons generally in some supernatural way, do not consider that it is the Utilitarian Code that has thus been revealed, but rather the rules of Common-sense morality with some special modifications and additions. Still, as Mill has urged, in so far as Utilitarianism is more rigorous than Com- mon Sense in exacting the sacrifice of the individuaFs hap- piness to that of mankind generally, it is strictly in accordance with the most characteristic teaching of Christianity. It seems, however, unnecessary to discuss the precise relation of dif- ferent Revelational Codes to Utilitarianism, as it would be going beyond our province to investigate' the gi'ounds on which a Divine origin has been attributed to them. In so far, however, as a knowledge of God's law is believed to be attainable by the Reason, Ethics and Theology seem to be so closely connected that we cannot sharply separate their provinces. For, as we saw\ it has been widely maintained, that J B. III. c. 1, §4. 468 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. the relation of moral rules to a Divine Lawgiver is implicitly cognised in the act of thought by which we discern these rules to be binding. And no doubt the terms (such as ' moral obligation'), which we commonly use in speaking of these rules, are naturally suggestive of Legal Sanctions and so of a Sovereign by whom these are announced and enforced. In- deed many thinkers since Locke have refused to admit any other meaning in the terms Right, Duty, &c., except that of a rule imposed by a lawgiver. This view however seems opposed to Common Sense, as may be shewn in various ways^ ; but perhaps most easily by pointing out that the Divine Law- giver is himself conceived as a Moral Agent ; i. e. as prescrib- ing what is intrinsically right, and designing w^hat is intrin- sically good. It is clear that in this conception at least the notions ' right ' and ' good ' are used absolutely : and that they are here used in a sense not essentially different from that which they ordinarily bear seems to be affirmed by the con- sensus of religious persons. Still, though Common Sense does not regard moral rules as being merelij the mandates of an Omnipotent Being who will reward and punish men accord- ing as they obey or violate them : it certainly holds that this is a true though partial view of them, and perhaps that it may be intuitively apprehended. If then reflection leads us to conclude that the particular moral principles of Common Sense are to be systematized as subordinate to that pre-emi- nently certain and irrefragable intuition which stands as the first principle of Utilitarianism; then, of course, it will be the Utilitarian Code to which we shall believe the Divine Sanc- tions to be attached. And this result may be reached in another way. For we must conceive God's end to be Universal Good : and if we have been right in interpreting this as Universal Happiness, it must be that which he designs and aims at: and the recog- nition of this Divine design by us, whether confusedly and implicitly as in the moral intuitions of ordinary men, or clearly and explicitly as the result of ethical reflection, carries with it a command to regard the same end as paramount. Thus if in any case after calculating the consequences of two alternatives 1 Cf. B. III. c. 1, § 1. Chap. VI.] THE SANCTIONS OF UTILITARIANISM . 4G9 of conduct we choose that which seems likely to be less con- ducive to Happiness generally, we shall be deliberately acting in opposition to Avhat we believe to be the Divine design, and so in a manner for which we cannot but expect punishment. To this it has been objected, that observation of the actual world shews us that the happiness of sentient beings is so imperfectly attained in it, and with so large an intermixture of pain and misery, that we cannot really conceive Universal Happiness to be God's end, unless we admit that he is not Omnipotent. And no doubt the assertion that God is omnipo- tent will require to be understood with some limitation; but per- haps with no greater limitation than has always been implicitly admitted by thoughtful theologians. For these seem always to have allowed that some things are impossible to God : as, for example, to change the past. And perhaps if our knowledge of the Universe were complete, we might discern the quantum of happiness ultimately attained in it to be as great as could be attained without the accomplishment of what we should then see to be just as inconceivable and absurd as changing the past. This, however, is a view which it belongs rather to the Theologian to develop. At any rate we may urge that there does not seem to be any otlier interpretation of Good — and we must conceive God's end to be Good — according to which it appears more completely realized in the actual Universe. For the wonderful perfections of work that we admire in the phy- sical world are yet everywhere mingled with imperfection, and subject to destruction and decay: and similarly in the world of human conduct Virtue is at least as much balanced by Vice as Happiness is by Misery. So that, if the ethical reasoning that led us to interpret Ultimate Good as Happiness is sound, there seems no argument from Natural Theology to set against it. § 5. If, then, we may assume the existence of such a Being, as God, by the consensus of Theologians, is conceived to be, it seems that we may infer the existence of Divine — and of course adequate — sanctions to tlie code of social duty as con- structed on a Utilitarian basis. It seems, however, desirable, before we conclude, to examine carefully the validity of this assumption, in so far as it seems to be supported on ethical 470 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. grounds alone. For by the result of such an examination will be determined, as we now see, the very important question whether ethical science can be constructed on an independent basis ; or whether it is forced to borrow a fundamental and indispensable premiss from Theology. In order fairly to perform this examination, let us reflect upon the clearest and most certain of our moral intuitions, such as Clarke's ' Rule of Equity,' or the First Principle of Utilitarianism. I find that I undoubtedly seem to perceive, as clearly and certainly as I see any axiom in Arithmetic or Geometry, that it is " right" and " reasonable," and the " dictate of reason" and " my duty" to treat every man as I should think that I myself ought to be treated in precisely similar circumstances, and to do what I believe to be ultimately con- ducive to universal Good or Happiness. But I cannot find insepa- rably connected with this conviction, and similarly attainable by mere reflective intuition, any cognition that there actually is a Supreme Being who will adequately reward me for obeying this rule of duty, or punish me for violating it. Or, more generally \ I do not find in my moral consciousness any intuition, claiming to be clear and certain, that the performance of duty will be adequately rewarded and its violation punished. I no doubt feel a strong sentiment, apparently inseparable from the strictly moral sentiments, prompting me to hope and long that it may be so : nay more, my moral reason declares that it ought to be so — where, of course, 'ought' is not nsed in a strictly ethical sense, but expresses the need that Practical Reason feels of obtaining this premiss, if it is to be made consistent with itself. For, if we find an ultimate and fundamental contradiction in 1 It is not necessary, if we are simply considering Etliics as a possible independent science, to throw the fundamental premiss of which we are now examining the validity into a Theistic form. Nor does it seem always to have taken that form in the support which Positive Eeligion has given to Morality. In the Buddhist creed this notion of the rewards inseparably attaching to right conduct seems to have been developed in a far more elaborate and systematic manner than it has in any phase of Christianity. But, as conceived by en- lightened Buddhists, these rewards are not distributed by the vohtion of a Supreme Person, but by the natural operation of an impersonal Law. I may observe that Mr Matthew Arnold, in his striking Essay on Literature and Dofpna, appears to have been led by a study of the Hebrew Scriptures to a conclusion substaniially the same as that of enlightened Buddhism. Chap. VI.] THE SANCTIONS OF UTILITARIANISM. 471 our apparent intuitions of what is Reasonable in conduct, we seem forced to the conclusion that they were not really intui- tions after all, and that the apparently intuitive operation of the Practical Reason is essentially illusory. Therefore it is, one may say, a matter of life and death to the Practical Reason that this premiss should be somehow obtained. At the same time, the mere fact that I cannot act rationally without assuming a certain proposition, does not appear to me, — as it does to some minds, — a sufficient ground for believing it to be true. Nor can I fall back on the Kantian resource^ of thinking myself under a moral necessity to regard all my duties a-9 if they were commandments of God, although not entitled to hold specula- tively that any such Supreme Being exists " as Real." I am so far from feeling bound to believe for purposes of practice what I see no ground for holding as a speculative truth, that I cannot even conceive the state of mind which these words seem to de- scribe, except as a momentary half- wilful irrationality, committed in a violent access of philosophic despair. Still it seems plain that in proportion as man has lived in the exercise of the Practical Reason — as he believed — and feels as an actual force the desire to do what is right and reasonable as such, his demand for this premiss will be intense and imperious. Thus we are not sur- prised to find Socrates — the type for all ages of the man in whom this desire is predominant — declaring with simple convic- tion that ' if the Rulers of the Universe do not prefer the just man to the unjust, it is better to die than to live.' And we must observe that in the feeling that prompts to such declara- tion the desire to rationalize one's own conduct is not the sole, nor perhaps always the most prominent, element. For however difficult it may practically be to do one's duty when it comes into conflict with one's haiDpiness, it often does not seem very difficult, when we are considering the question in the abstract, to decide in favour of duty. When a man passionately refuses to believe that the "Wages of Virtue '" can " be dust," it is often less from any private reckoning about his own wages than from a disinterested aversion to a universe so fundamentally irrational 1 Cf. Tugencllehre, Bk. i. c. iii. § 13, The resource, however, is not exactly used by Kant for our present object, as he does not mean to recognise the principle of Egoism as rational. 472 THE METHODS OF ETHICS. [Book IV. that " Good for the Individual " is not ultimately identified with " Universal Good." Still to all this it is fairly and conclusively replied that the existence of these, however elevated, desires, does not furnish a proof of the existence of their object : indeed, it can scarcely afford a strong presumption in favour of this conclusion, considering the large proportion of human desires that experi- ence shews to be destined to disappointment. But it must be urged again that we do not fully conceive the argument in favour of the assumption that we are now considering, if we merely represent this as satisfying certain Desires. We have rather to regard it as an hypothesis logically necessary to avoid a fundamental contradiction in a vast system of Beliefs : a contradiction so fundamental that if it cannot be overcome the whole system must fall to the ground and scepticism be trium- phant over one chief department of our thought. The exact weiofht to be attached to this consideration, I cannot here pretend adequately to estimate. To do so would require a complete discussion of the Theory of Method, and of the ultimate basis of philosophic certainty. I must here content my- self with exhibiting the general force of the argument — or, rather, I can hardly hope to do this, if it has not been already suffi- ciently impressed upon the mind of any reader of the present treatise. For when, after the prolonged maintenance of the analytical attitude, we at length allow ourselves to ask for a synthesis of ethical methods, we cannot but see that such a synthesis has been to a great extent suggested in the course of the analysis. We have found that the original antithesis between Intuitionism and Utilitarianism must be entirely discarded : since the First Principle of Utilitarianism has appeared as the most certain and comprehensive of Intuitions, and most of the others naturally range themselves in subordina- tion to it, and even seem to be most thoroughly understood when considered as partial applications of it unconsciously and imperfectly made. Nor has it appeared very difficult to marshal our common judgments both of Goodness and of Right- ness into a system under this principle without impairing our confidence in the substantial veracity of Common Sense : and all particular moral sentiments and special sympathies fall Chap. VI.] THE SANCTIONS OF UTILITARIANISM. 473 easily into their places as auxiliaries to the two supreme coincident impulses, Universal Benevolence and the desire to do what is Eig^ht as such. In such a reconciliation, though much practical embarrassment may be caused in details by the conflict that will partially continue between what we may noAv call Instinctive and Calculative Morality, all theoretical perplexity as to the general principles of determining Social Duty will have been entirely — or almost entirely — removed. But the fundam.ental opposition between the principle of Rational Egoism and that on which such a system of duty is constructed, only comes out more sharp and clear after the reconciliation between the other methods. The old immoral paradox, " that my performance of Social Duty is good not for me but for others," cannot be completely refuted by empirical arguments : nay, the more we study these arguments the more we are forced to admit, that if we have these alone to rely on, there must be some cases in which the paradox is true. And yet we cannot but admit with Butler, that it is ultimately reasonable to seek one's own happiness. Hence the whole system of our beliefs as to the intrinsic reasonableness of con- duct must fall, without a hypothesis unverifiable by experience reconciling the Individual with the Universal Reason, without a belief, in some form or other, that the moral order which we see imperfectly realized in this actual world is yet actually perfect. If we reject this belief, we may perhaps still find in the non-moral universe an adequate object for the Speculative Reason, capable of being in some sense ultimately understood. But the Cosmos of Duty is thus really reduced to a Chaos : and the prolonged effort of the human intellect to frame a perfect ideal of rational conduct is seen to have been fore- doomed to inevitable failure. THE END. S. E. 31 Cambvitigf ; PEINXED BY C. J. CLAY, II. A. AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS. WORKS ON MENTAL AND MOEAL PHILOSOPHY, AND ALLIED SUBJECTS. FIRST PRINCIPLES OF MORAL SCIENCE; Or, a First Course of Lectures delivered in the University of Cambridge. By the Rev. T. R. BiRKS, Professor of Moral Philosophy. Crown 8vo. 8s, 6c/. AN INVESTIGATION OF THE LAWS OF THOUGHT, ON WHICH ARE FOUNDED THE MATHEMATICAL THEORIES OF LOGIC AND PROBABILITIES. By George Boole, LL.D., Professor of Mathematics in the Queen's University, Ireland, &c. Svo., 14s. LECTURES ON THE HISTORY OF ANCIENT PHILO- SOPHY. By W. Archer Butler, Late Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of Dublin. 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