[83]See Sermon XI. “... the cool principle of self-love or general desire of our own happiness.”[84]Utilitarianism, chap. ii.[85]I use the term “dictates” to include the view afterwards mentioned (§2) in which the ultimately valid moral imperatives are conceived as relating to particular acts.[86]I have explained in theconcluding paragraphof chap. iii. that a different view of hedonistic systems is admissible.[87]The wider of the two meanings of ‘Intuition’ here distinguished is required in treating of Philosophical Intuitionism. See Book iii. chap.xiii.[88]It must, however, be remembered that Aristotle regarded the general proposition obtained by induction as really more certain (and in a higher sense knowledge) than the particulars through which the mind is led up to it.[89]Strictly speaking, the attributes of truth and falsehood only belong formally to Rules when they are changed from the imperative mood (“DoX”) into the indicative (“Xought to be done”).[90]It should be observed that such principles will not necessarily be “intuitional” in the narrower sense that excludes consequences; but only in the wider sense as being self-evident principles relating to ‘what ought to be.’[91]It is, however, necessary to distinguish between the ideas ofMoral GoodnessandBeautyas applied to human actions: although there is much affinity between them, and they have frequently been identified, especially by the Greek thinkers. No doubt both the ideas themselves and the corresponding pleasurable emotions, arising on the contemplation of conduct, are often indistinguishable: a noble action affects us like a scene, a picture, or a strain of music: and the delineation of human virtue is an important part of the means which the artist has at his disposal for producing his peculiar effects. 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 even that certain kinds of crime and wickedness have a splendour and sublimity of their own. For example, such a career as Cæsar Borgia’s, as Renan says, is “beau comme une tempête, comme un abîme.” It is true, I think, that in all such cases the beauty 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 æsthetic effect. And hence I conceive, we have to distinguish the sense of beauty in conduct from the sense of moral goodness.[92]It would seem that, according to the common view of ‘good,’ there are occasions in which an individual’s sacrifice of his own good on the whole, according to the most rational conception of it that he can form, would apparently realise greater good for others. Whether, indeed, such a sacrifice is ever really required, and whether, if so, it is truly reasonable for the individual to sacrifice his own good on the whole, are among the profoundest questions of ethics: and I shall carefully consider them in subsequent chapters (especially Book iii. chap.xiv.). I here only desire to avoid any prejudgment of these questions in my definition of ‘my own good.’[93]As before said (chap. iii. §4), so far as my ‘good on the whole’ is adopted as an end of action, the notion of ‘ought’—implying a dictate or imperative of Reason—becomes applicable to the necessary or fittest means to the attainment of the adopted end.[94]Character is only known to us through its manifestation in conduct; and I conceive that in our common recognition of Virtue as having value in itself, we do not ordinarily distinguish character from conduct: we do not raise the question whether character is to be valued for the sake of the conduct in which it is manifested, or conduct for the sake of the character that it exhibits and develops. How this question should be answered when it is raised will be more conveniently considered at a later stage of the discussion. See Book iii. chap. ii. §2, and chap. xiv. §1.[95]No doubt there is a point of view, sometimes adopted with great earnestness, from which the whole universe and not merely a certain condition of rational or sentient beings is contemplated as ‘very 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. For practical purposes, we require to conceive some parts of the universe as at least less good than they might be. And we do not seem to have any ground for drawing such a distinction between different portions of the non-sentient universe, considered in themselves and out of relation to conscious or sentient beings.[96]See chap. iii. §2, and chap.v.of this Book.[97]Butler, Serm. xi.[98]Boyle Lectures(1705). Prop. i. p. 116.[99]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. These assertions, however, are perhaps consciously hyperbolical, and not intended to be taken as scientific statements: but in the case of pain, it has been deliberately maintained by a thoughtful and subtle writer, with a view to important practical conclusions, that “torture” so extreme as to be “incommensurable with moderate pain” is an actual fact of experience. (See “A Chapter in the Ethics of Pain,” by the late Edmund Gurney, in a volume of essays entitledTertium Quid.) This doctrine, however, does not correspond to my own experience; nor does it appear to me to be supported by the common sense of mankind:—at least I do not find, in the practical forethought of persons noted for caution, any recognition of the danger of agony such that, in order to avoid the smallest extra risk of it, the greatest conceivable amount of moderate pain should reasonably be incurred.[100]Bentham gives four qualities of any pleasure or pain (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 pleasures and pains is not difficult to determine: for we are accustomed to estimate the value of chances numerically, and by this method we can tell exactly (in so far as the degree of uncertainty can be exactly determined) how much the doubtfulness of a pleasure detracts from its value: andproximityis a property which it is reasonable to disregard except in so far as it diminishes uncertainty. 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 therational—as opposed to the merelyimpulsive—pursuit of pleasure.[101]Cf. Cic.de Fin.Book i. chap. xi. § 38.[102]Principles of Psychology, Part ii. chap. ix. § 125.[103]The Emotions and the Will, 3rd Edition, p. 392.[104]Mental and Moral Science, Book iv. chap. iv. § 4.[105]Ibid.Book iv. chap. v. § 4.[106]Ibid.Book iii. chap. i. § 8.[107]It was before observed that by saying that one pleasure is superior inqualityto another we may mean that it is preferable when considered merely as pleasant: in which case difference in kind resolves itself into difference in degree.[108]See chap.v.of this Book, chap.xiv.of Book iii., and the concluding chapter of the treatise.[109]See Green’s Introduction to vol. ii. of Hume’sTreatise on Human Nature, § 7. The statement is substantially repeated in the same writer’sProlegomena to Ethics.[110]Prolegomena to Ethics, § 158.[111]E.g.Butler,Sermonxi. says, “Every man hath a desire for his own happiness ... the object [desired] is our own happiness, enjoyment, satisfaction.”[112]Introduction to Hume,l.c.[113]Prolegomena to Ethics, § 221.[114]Ibid.§ 359.[115]This Green in several passages seems expressly to admite.g.(§ 332) he says that certain measures “needed in order to supply conditions favourable to good character, tend also to make life more pleasant on the whole”: and, elsewhere, that “it is easy to show that an overbalance of pain would result to those capable of being affected by it” from the neglect of certain duties.[116]Prolegomena to Ethics, § 176.[117]Op. cit.§ 232.[118]I cannot state this positively, because—as I have said—Green expressly distinguishes self-satisfaction from pleasure, and does not expressly affirm that its absence is attended by pain.[119]Sully,Pessimism, chap. xi. p. 282.[120]Book i. chap.iv.[121]The consideration of the importance of Morality as a source of happiness is reserved for the next chapter.[122]It is striking to find the author of theWealth of Nations, the founder of a long line of plutologists who are commonly believed to exalt the material means of happiness 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. chap. i.[123]No doubt such a pursuit may be justified to self-love by dwelling on the pleasures of hope and anticipation which attend it. But this is obviously an after-thought. It is not for the sake of these originally that posthumous fame is sought by him whom it spurs“To scorn delights and live laborious days.”[124]In the following chapter I have not entered into any particular consideration of the case in which the individual’s conscience is definitely in conflict with the general moral consciousness of his age and country: because, though it is commonly held to be a man’s duty always to obey the dictates of his own conscience, even at the risk of error, it can hardly be said to be a current opinion that he will always attain the greatest happiness open to him by conforming to the dictates of his conscience even when it conflicts with received morality.[125]Such discussion of the question as seemed desirable in a work like this will be found in theconcluding chapterof the treatise.[126]For a similar reason I shall here treat the notions of ‘Duty’ and ‘Virtuous action’ as practically coincident; reserving for future discussion the divergences between the two which reflection on the common usage of the terms appears to indicate. See Book iii. chap.ii.[127]Whatever modifications of this division may afterwards appear to be necessary (cf. Book iii. chap. ii. §1, and chap. vii. §1) will not, I think, tend to invalidate the conclusions of the present chapter.[128]I do not here consider the case of revolutionists aiming sincerely at the general wellbeing; since the morality of such revolutions will generally be so dubious, that these cases cannot furnish any clear argument on either side of the question here discussed.[129]Under the notion of ‘moral pain’ (or pleasure) I intend to include, in this argument, all pain (or pleasure) that is due to sympathy with the feelings of others. It is not convenient to enter, at this stage of the discussion, into a full discussion of the relation of Sympathy to Moral Sensibility; but I may say that it seems to me certain, on the one hand, that these two emotional susceptibilities are actually distinct in most minds, whatever they may have been originally; and on the other hand that sympathetic and strictly moral feelings are almost inextricably blended in the ordinary moral consciousness: so that, for the purposes of the present argument it is not of fundamental importance to draw a distinction between them. I have, however, thought it desirable to undertake a further examination of sympathy—as the internal sanction on which Utilitarians specially lay stress—in theconcluding chapterof this treatise: to which, accordingly, the reader may refer.[130]A striking confirmation of this is furnished by those Christian writers of the last century who treat themoralunbeliever 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, even under ordinary circumstances, to the sensual and other enjoyments that it excludes. It seems then absurd to suppose that, in the case of persons who have not developed and strengthened by habit their virtuous impulses, the pain that might afterwards result from resisting the call of duty would always be sufficient to neutralise all other sources of pleasure.[131]“It should seem that a due concern about our own interest or happiness, and a reasonable endeavour to secure and promote it, ... is virtue, and the contrary behaviour faulty and blamable.” Butler (in the DissertationOf the Nature of Virtueappended to theAnalogy).[132]This view is suggested by Mr. Herbert Spencer’s statement—in a letter to J. S. Mill, published in Mr. Bain’sMental and Moral Science; and partially reprinted in Mr. Spencer’sData of Ethics, chap. iv. § 21—that “it is the business of moral science to deduce, from the laws of life and the conditions of existence, what kinds of actions necessarily tend to produce happiness, and what kinds to produce unhappiness,” and that when it has done this, “its deductions are to be recognised as laws of conduct; and are to be conformed to irrespective of a direct estimate of happiness or misery.” I ought, however, to say that Mr. Spencer has made it clear in his latest treatise that the only cogent deductions of this kind which he conceives to be possible relate to the behaviour not of men here and now, but of ideal men living in an ideal society, and living under conditions so unlike those of actual humanity that all their actions produce “pleasure unalloyed with pain anywhere” (Data of Ethics, § 101). The laws of conduct in this Utopia constitute, in Mr. Spencer’s view, the subject-matter of “Absolute Ethics”; which he distinguishes from the “Relative Ethics” that concerns itself with the conduct of the imperfect men who live under the present imperfect social conditions, and of which the method is, as he admits, to a great extent “necessarily empirical” (Data of Ethics, § 108). How far such a system as Mr. Spencer calls Absolute Ethics can be rationally constructed, and how far its construction would be practically useful, I shall consider in a later part of this treatise (Book iv. chap.iv.), when I come to deal with the method of Universalistic Hedonism: at present I am only concerned with the question how far any deductive Ethics is capable of furnishing practical guidance to an individual seeking his own greatest happiness here and now.[133]Aristotle’s theory is, briefly, that every normal sense-perception or rational activity has its correspondent pleasure, and that the most perfect is the most pleasant: the most perfect in the case of any faculty being the exercise of the faculty in good condition on the best object. The pleasure follows the activity immediately, giving it a kind of finish, “like the bloom of youth.” Pleasures vary in kind, as the activities that constitute life vary: the best pleasures are those of the philosophic life.[134]See Bouillier,Du plaisir et de la douleur, chap. iii.; L. Dumont,Théorie scientifique de la sensibilité, chap. iii.; as well as Stout,Analytic Psychology, chap. xii.—to which I refer later.[135]Lectures on Metaphysics, vol. ii. Lect. xlii.[136]In Aristotle’s exposition of this theory—which with him is only a theory of pleasure—the ethical motive of exhibiting the philosophic life as preferable to that of the sensualist, in respect of the pleasures it affords, is quite unmistakable.[137]Analytic Psychology, chap. xii. 2.[138]The physiological theory which Mr. Stout puts forward, as at once correspondent and supplementary to his psychological generalisation, will be noticed later.[139]Psychology, chap. ix. § 128.[140]Book i. chap.iv.[141]It may be added that in the case of emotional pains and pleasures, the notion ofquantitativedifference between the cerebral nerve-processes, antecedent respectively to the one and the other, seems altogether unwarrantable: the pains of shame, disappointed ambition, wounded love, do not appear to be distinguishable from the pleasures of fame, success, reciprocated affection, by any difference of intensity in the impressions or ideas accompanied by the pleasures and pains respectively.[142]See Wundt,Grundzüge der physiologischen Psychologie, chap. x.[143]Power of Sound, chap. i. § 2.[144]I say “appreciably” because the controverted psychological question whether there are anystrictlyneutral or indifferent modifications of consciousness seems to me unimportant from a practical point of view. See Sully,Human Mind, chap. xiii. § 2.[145]See Stout,Analytic Psychology,l.c.[146]Physiological Æsthetics, chap. ii.[147]See Stout,Analytic Psychology, chap. xii. § 4.[148]See Book i. chap. iv.Note.[149]Principles of Psychology, § 125, andData of Ethics, § 33.[150]The quotations are from Mr. Spencer’sSocial Statics, chap. iv.: but I should explain that in the passage quoted Mr. Spencer is not writing from the point of view of Egoistic Hedonism.[151]See p.119.[152]It may seem, he admits, that “since interest, one’s own happiness, is a manifest obligation,” in any case in which virtuous action appears to be not conducive to the agent’s interest, he would be “under two contrary obligations,i.e.under none at all. But,” he urges, “the obligation on the side of interest really does not remain. For the natural authority of the principle of reflection or conscience is an obligation ... the most certain and known: whereas the contrary obligation can at the utmost appear no more than probable: since no man can becertainin any circumstances that vice is his interest in the present world, much less can he be certain against another: and thus the certain obligation would entirely supersede and destroy the uncertain one.”—(Preface to Butler’sSermons.)[153]I have before observed (Book i. chap. viii. §1) that in the common notion of an act we include a certain portion of the whole series of changes partly caused by the volition which initiated the so-called act.[154]Some would add “character” and “disposition.” But since characters and disposition not only cannot be known directly but can only be definitely conceived by reference to the volitions and feelings in which they are manifested, it does not seem to me possible to regard them as the primary objects of intuitive moral judgments. See chap. ii. §2of this Book.[155]No doubt we hold a man responsible for unintended bad consequences of his acts or omissions, when they are such as he might with ordinary care have foreseen; still, as I have before said (p.60), we admit on reflection that moral blame only attaches to such careless acts or omissions indirectly, in so far as the carelessness is the result of some previous wilful neglect of duty.[156]I think that common usage, when carefully considered, will be found to admit this definition. Suppose a nihilist blows up a railway train containing an emperor and other persons: it will no doubt be held correct to say simply that his intention was to kill the emperor; but it would be thought absurd to say that he ‘did not intend’ to kill the other persons, though he may have had no desire to kill them and may have regarded their death as a lamentable incident in the execution of his revolutionary plans.[157]A further source of confusion between “intention” and “motive” arises from the different points of view from which either may be judged. Thus an act may be one of a series which the agent purposes to do for the attainment of a certain end: and our moral judgment of it may be very different, according as we judge the intention of the particular act, or the general intention of the series regarded as a whole. Either point of view is legitimate, and both are often required; for we commonly recognise that, of the series of acts which a man does to attain (e.g.) any end of ambition, some may be right or allowable, while others are wrong; while the general intention to attain the end by wrong means, if necessary, as well as right—“Get place and wealth, if possible with grace;If not, by any means get wealth and place”—is clearly a wrong intention. So again, in judging a motive to be good or bad, we may either consider it simply in itself, or in connexion with other balancing and controlling motives—either actually present along with it, or absent when they ought to be present. Thus in the above case we do not commonly think the desire for wealth or rank bad in itself; but we think it bad as the sole motive of a statesman’s public career. It is easy to see that one or other of these different distinctions is apt to blend with and confuse the simple distinction between intention and motive.[158]The view that moral judgments relate primarily or most properly to motives will be more fully discussed in chap.xii.of this Book.[159]I use these alternative terms in order to avoid the Free Will Controversy.[160]Many religious persons would probably say that the motive of obedience or love to God was the highest. But those who take this view would generally say that obedience and love are due to God as a Moral Being, possessing the attributes of Infinite Wisdom and Goodness, and not otherwise: and if so, these religious motives would seem to be substantially identical with regard for duty and love of virtue, though modified and complicated by the addition of emotions belonging to relations between persons.[161]Locke’sEssay,II.c. 28, §§ 5, 6.[162]Ibid.IV.c. 3, § 18.[163]I do not myself usually employ the antithesis of Form and Matter in philosophical exposition, as it appears to me open to the charge of obscurity and ambiguity. In the present case we may interpret “formal rightness” as denoting at once auniversalandessential, and asubjectiveorinternalcondition of the rightness of actions.[164]It is not, I conceive, commonly held to be indispensable, in order to constitute an act completely right, that a belief that it is right should be actually present in the agent’s mind: it might be completely right, although the agent never actually raised the question of its rightness or wrongness. See p.225.[165]The decision would, I think, usually be reached by weighing bad consequences to the agent’s character against bad consequences of a different kind. In extreme cases the latter consideration would certainly prevail in the view of common sense. Thus we should generally approve a statesman who crushed a dangerous rebellion by working on the fear or cupidity of a leading rebel who was rebelling on conscientious grounds. Cf.post, Book iv. chap. iii. §3.[166]The antithesis of ‘subjective’ and ‘objective’ cannot be applied to the condition of right conduct considered in this paragraph: for this formal condition is at once subjective and objective; being, as I argue, involved in our common notion of right conduct, it is, therefore, necessarily judged by us to be of really universal application: and, though it does not secure complete objective rightness, it is an important protection against objective wrongness.[167]Cf. Book i. chap. iii. §3.[168]See theGrundlegung zur Metaphysik der Sitten(pp. 269-273, Hartenstein; Abbott’s transl. [1879] pp. 54-61). Here Kant first says, “There is therefore but one categorical imperative, namely, this:Act only on that maxim whereby thou canst at the same time will that it should become a universal law. Now, if all imperatives of duty can be deduced from this one imperative as from their principle ... we shall at least be able to show what we understand by [duty] and what this notion means.” He then demonstrates the application of the principle to four cases, selected as representative of “the many actual duties”; and continues: “if now we attend to ourselves on occasion of any transgression of duty, we shall find that we in fact do not will that our maxim should be a universal law, for that is impossible for us” ...: then, summing up the conclusion of this part of his argument, he says, “we have exhibited clearly and definitely forevery practical applicationthe content of the categorical imperative which must contain the principle of all duty, if there is such a thing at all.”[169]I do not mean that I am prepared to accept Kant’s fundamental maxim, in the precise form in which he has stated it: but the qualifications which it seems to me to require will be more conveniently explained later.[170]See Book i. chap. iii. p.32.
[83]See Sermon XI. “... the cool principle of self-love or general desire of our own happiness.”
[83]See Sermon XI. “... the cool principle of self-love or general desire of our own happiness.”
[84]Utilitarianism, chap. ii.
[84]Utilitarianism, chap. ii.
[85]I use the term “dictates” to include the view afterwards mentioned (§2) in which the ultimately valid moral imperatives are conceived as relating to particular acts.
[85]I use the term “dictates” to include the view afterwards mentioned (§2) in which the ultimately valid moral imperatives are conceived as relating to particular acts.
[86]I have explained in theconcluding paragraphof chap. iii. that a different view of hedonistic systems is admissible.
[86]I have explained in theconcluding paragraphof chap. iii. that a different view of hedonistic systems is admissible.
[87]The wider of the two meanings of ‘Intuition’ here distinguished is required in treating of Philosophical Intuitionism. See Book iii. chap.xiii.
[87]The wider of the two meanings of ‘Intuition’ here distinguished is required in treating of Philosophical Intuitionism. See Book iii. chap.xiii.
[88]It must, however, be remembered that Aristotle regarded the general proposition obtained by induction as really more certain (and in a higher sense knowledge) than the particulars through which the mind is led up to it.
[88]It must, however, be remembered that Aristotle regarded the general proposition obtained by induction as really more certain (and in a higher sense knowledge) than the particulars through which the mind is led up to it.
[89]Strictly speaking, the attributes of truth and falsehood only belong formally to Rules when they are changed from the imperative mood (“DoX”) into the indicative (“Xought to be done”).
[89]Strictly speaking, the attributes of truth and falsehood only belong formally to Rules when they are changed from the imperative mood (“DoX”) into the indicative (“Xought to be done”).
[90]It should be observed that such principles will not necessarily be “intuitional” in the narrower sense that excludes consequences; but only in the wider sense as being self-evident principles relating to ‘what ought to be.’
[90]It should be observed that such principles will not necessarily be “intuitional” in the narrower sense that excludes consequences; but only in the wider sense as being self-evident principles relating to ‘what ought to be.’
[91]It is, however, necessary to distinguish between the ideas ofMoral GoodnessandBeautyas applied to human actions: although there is much affinity between them, and they have frequently been identified, especially by the Greek thinkers. No doubt both the ideas themselves and the corresponding pleasurable emotions, arising on the contemplation of conduct, are often indistinguishable: a noble action affects us like a scene, a picture, or a strain of music: and the delineation of human virtue is an important part of the means which the artist has at his disposal for producing his peculiar effects. 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 even that certain kinds of crime and wickedness have a splendour and sublimity of their own. For example, such a career as Cæsar Borgia’s, as Renan says, is “beau comme une tempête, comme un abîme.” It is true, I think, that in all such cases the beauty 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 æsthetic effect. And hence I conceive, we have to distinguish the sense of beauty in conduct from the sense of moral goodness.
[91]It is, however, necessary to distinguish between the ideas ofMoral GoodnessandBeautyas applied to human actions: although there is much affinity between them, and they have frequently been identified, especially by the Greek thinkers. No doubt both the ideas themselves and the corresponding pleasurable emotions, arising on the contemplation of conduct, are often indistinguishable: a noble action affects us like a scene, a picture, or a strain of music: and the delineation of human virtue is an important part of the means which the artist has at his disposal for producing his peculiar effects. 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 even that certain kinds of crime and wickedness have a splendour and sublimity of their own. For example, such a career as Cæsar Borgia’s, as Renan says, is “beau comme une tempête, comme un abîme.” It is true, I think, that in all such cases the beauty 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 æsthetic effect. And hence I conceive, we have to distinguish the sense of beauty in conduct from the sense of moral goodness.
[92]It would seem that, according to the common view of ‘good,’ there are occasions in which an individual’s sacrifice of his own good on the whole, according to the most rational conception of it that he can form, would apparently realise greater good for others. Whether, indeed, such a sacrifice is ever really required, and whether, if so, it is truly reasonable for the individual to sacrifice his own good on the whole, are among the profoundest questions of ethics: and I shall carefully consider them in subsequent chapters (especially Book iii. chap.xiv.). I here only desire to avoid any prejudgment of these questions in my definition of ‘my own good.’
[92]It would seem that, according to the common view of ‘good,’ there are occasions in which an individual’s sacrifice of his own good on the whole, according to the most rational conception of it that he can form, would apparently realise greater good for others. Whether, indeed, such a sacrifice is ever really required, and whether, if so, it is truly reasonable for the individual to sacrifice his own good on the whole, are among the profoundest questions of ethics: and I shall carefully consider them in subsequent chapters (especially Book iii. chap.xiv.). I here only desire to avoid any prejudgment of these questions in my definition of ‘my own good.’
[93]As before said (chap. iii. §4), so far as my ‘good on the whole’ is adopted as an end of action, the notion of ‘ought’—implying a dictate or imperative of Reason—becomes applicable to the necessary or fittest means to the attainment of the adopted end.
[93]As before said (chap. iii. §4), so far as my ‘good on the whole’ is adopted as an end of action, the notion of ‘ought’—implying a dictate or imperative of Reason—becomes applicable to the necessary or fittest means to the attainment of the adopted end.
[94]Character is only known to us through its manifestation in conduct; and I conceive that in our common recognition of Virtue as having value in itself, we do not ordinarily distinguish character from conduct: we do not raise the question whether character is to be valued for the sake of the conduct in which it is manifested, or conduct for the sake of the character that it exhibits and develops. How this question should be answered when it is raised will be more conveniently considered at a later stage of the discussion. See Book iii. chap. ii. §2, and chap. xiv. §1.
[94]Character is only known to us through its manifestation in conduct; and I conceive that in our common recognition of Virtue as having value in itself, we do not ordinarily distinguish character from conduct: we do not raise the question whether character is to be valued for the sake of the conduct in which it is manifested, or conduct for the sake of the character that it exhibits and develops. How this question should be answered when it is raised will be more conveniently considered at a later stage of the discussion. See Book iii. chap. ii. §2, and chap. xiv. §1.
[95]No doubt there is a point of view, sometimes adopted with great earnestness, from which the whole universe and not merely a certain condition of rational or sentient beings is contemplated as ‘very 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. For practical purposes, we require to conceive some parts of the universe as at least less good than they might be. And we do not seem to have any ground for drawing such a distinction between different portions of the non-sentient universe, considered in themselves and out of relation to conscious or sentient beings.
[95]No doubt there is a point of view, sometimes adopted with great earnestness, from which the whole universe and not merely a certain condition of rational or sentient beings is contemplated as ‘very 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. For practical purposes, we require to conceive some parts of the universe as at least less good than they might be. And we do not seem to have any ground for drawing such a distinction between different portions of the non-sentient universe, considered in themselves and out of relation to conscious or sentient beings.
[96]See chap. iii. §2, and chap.v.of this Book.
[96]See chap. iii. §2, and chap.v.of this Book.
[97]Butler, Serm. xi.
[97]Butler, Serm. xi.
[98]Boyle Lectures(1705). Prop. i. p. 116.
[98]Boyle Lectures(1705). Prop. i. p. 116.
[99]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. These assertions, however, are perhaps consciously hyperbolical, and not intended to be taken as scientific statements: but in the case of pain, it has been deliberately maintained by a thoughtful and subtle writer, with a view to important practical conclusions, that “torture” so extreme as to be “incommensurable with moderate pain” is an actual fact of experience. (See “A Chapter in the Ethics of Pain,” by the late Edmund Gurney, in a volume of essays entitledTertium Quid.) This doctrine, however, does not correspond to my own experience; nor does it appear to me to be supported by the common sense of mankind:—at least I do not find, in the practical forethought of persons noted for caution, any recognition of the danger of agony such that, in order to avoid the smallest extra risk of it, the greatest conceivable amount of moderate pain should reasonably be incurred.
[99]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. These assertions, however, are perhaps consciously hyperbolical, and not intended to be taken as scientific statements: but in the case of pain, it has been deliberately maintained by a thoughtful and subtle writer, with a view to important practical conclusions, that “torture” so extreme as to be “incommensurable with moderate pain” is an actual fact of experience. (See “A Chapter in the Ethics of Pain,” by the late Edmund Gurney, in a volume of essays entitledTertium Quid.) This doctrine, however, does not correspond to my own experience; nor does it appear to me to be supported by the common sense of mankind:—at least I do not find, in the practical forethought of persons noted for caution, any recognition of the danger of agony such that, in order to avoid the smallest extra risk of it, the greatest conceivable amount of moderate pain should reasonably be incurred.
[100]Bentham gives four qualities of any pleasure or pain (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 pleasures and pains is not difficult to determine: for we are accustomed to estimate the value of chances numerically, and by this method we can tell exactly (in so far as the degree of uncertainty can be exactly determined) how much the doubtfulness of a pleasure detracts from its value: andproximityis a property which it is reasonable to disregard except in so far as it diminishes uncertainty. 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 therational—as opposed to the merelyimpulsive—pursuit of pleasure.
[100]Bentham gives four qualities of any pleasure or pain (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 pleasures and pains is not difficult to determine: for we are accustomed to estimate the value of chances numerically, and by this method we can tell exactly (in so far as the degree of uncertainty can be exactly determined) how much the doubtfulness of a pleasure detracts from its value: andproximityis a property which it is reasonable to disregard except in so far as it diminishes uncertainty. 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 therational—as opposed to the merelyimpulsive—pursuit of pleasure.
[101]Cf. Cic.de Fin.Book i. chap. xi. § 38.
[101]Cf. Cic.de Fin.Book i. chap. xi. § 38.
[102]Principles of Psychology, Part ii. chap. ix. § 125.
[102]Principles of Psychology, Part ii. chap. ix. § 125.
[103]The Emotions and the Will, 3rd Edition, p. 392.
[103]The Emotions and the Will, 3rd Edition, p. 392.
[104]Mental and Moral Science, Book iv. chap. iv. § 4.
[104]Mental and Moral Science, Book iv. chap. iv. § 4.
[105]Ibid.Book iv. chap. v. § 4.
[105]Ibid.Book iv. chap. v. § 4.
[106]Ibid.Book iii. chap. i. § 8.
[106]Ibid.Book iii. chap. i. § 8.
[107]It was before observed that by saying that one pleasure is superior inqualityto another we may mean that it is preferable when considered merely as pleasant: in which case difference in kind resolves itself into difference in degree.
[107]It was before observed that by saying that one pleasure is superior inqualityto another we may mean that it is preferable when considered merely as pleasant: in which case difference in kind resolves itself into difference in degree.
[108]See chap.v.of this Book, chap.xiv.of Book iii., and the concluding chapter of the treatise.
[108]See chap.v.of this Book, chap.xiv.of Book iii., and the concluding chapter of the treatise.
[109]See Green’s Introduction to vol. ii. of Hume’sTreatise on Human Nature, § 7. The statement is substantially repeated in the same writer’sProlegomena to Ethics.
[109]See Green’s Introduction to vol. ii. of Hume’sTreatise on Human Nature, § 7. The statement is substantially repeated in the same writer’sProlegomena to Ethics.
[110]Prolegomena to Ethics, § 158.
[110]Prolegomena to Ethics, § 158.
[111]E.g.Butler,Sermonxi. says, “Every man hath a desire for his own happiness ... the object [desired] is our own happiness, enjoyment, satisfaction.”
[111]E.g.Butler,Sermonxi. says, “Every man hath a desire for his own happiness ... the object [desired] is our own happiness, enjoyment, satisfaction.”
[112]Introduction to Hume,l.c.
[112]Introduction to Hume,l.c.
[113]Prolegomena to Ethics, § 221.
[113]Prolegomena to Ethics, § 221.
[114]Ibid.§ 359.
[114]Ibid.§ 359.
[115]This Green in several passages seems expressly to admite.g.(§ 332) he says that certain measures “needed in order to supply conditions favourable to good character, tend also to make life more pleasant on the whole”: and, elsewhere, that “it is easy to show that an overbalance of pain would result to those capable of being affected by it” from the neglect of certain duties.
[115]This Green in several passages seems expressly to admite.g.(§ 332) he says that certain measures “needed in order to supply conditions favourable to good character, tend also to make life more pleasant on the whole”: and, elsewhere, that “it is easy to show that an overbalance of pain would result to those capable of being affected by it” from the neglect of certain duties.
[116]Prolegomena to Ethics, § 176.
[116]Prolegomena to Ethics, § 176.
[117]Op. cit.§ 232.
[117]Op. cit.§ 232.
[118]I cannot state this positively, because—as I have said—Green expressly distinguishes self-satisfaction from pleasure, and does not expressly affirm that its absence is attended by pain.
[118]I cannot state this positively, because—as I have said—Green expressly distinguishes self-satisfaction from pleasure, and does not expressly affirm that its absence is attended by pain.
[119]Sully,Pessimism, chap. xi. p. 282.
[119]Sully,Pessimism, chap. xi. p. 282.
[120]Book i. chap.iv.
[120]Book i. chap.iv.
[121]The consideration of the importance of Morality as a source of happiness is reserved for the next chapter.
[121]The consideration of the importance of Morality as a source of happiness is reserved for the next chapter.
[122]It is striking to find the author of theWealth of Nations, the founder of a long line of plutologists who are commonly believed to exalt the material means of happiness 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. chap. i.
[122]It is striking to find the author of theWealth of Nations, the founder of a long line of plutologists who are commonly believed to exalt the material means of happiness 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. chap. i.
[123]No doubt such a pursuit may be justified to self-love by dwelling on the pleasures of hope and anticipation which attend it. But this is obviously an after-thought. It is not for the sake of these originally that posthumous fame is sought by him whom it spurs“To scorn delights and live laborious days.”
[123]No doubt such a pursuit may be justified to self-love by dwelling on the pleasures of hope and anticipation which attend it. But this is obviously an after-thought. It is not for the sake of these originally that posthumous fame is sought by him whom it spurs
“To scorn delights and live laborious days.”
“To scorn delights and live laborious days.”
[124]In the following chapter I have not entered into any particular consideration of the case in which the individual’s conscience is definitely in conflict with the general moral consciousness of his age and country: because, though it is commonly held to be a man’s duty always to obey the dictates of his own conscience, even at the risk of error, it can hardly be said to be a current opinion that he will always attain the greatest happiness open to him by conforming to the dictates of his conscience even when it conflicts with received morality.
[124]In the following chapter I have not entered into any particular consideration of the case in which the individual’s conscience is definitely in conflict with the general moral consciousness of his age and country: because, though it is commonly held to be a man’s duty always to obey the dictates of his own conscience, even at the risk of error, it can hardly be said to be a current opinion that he will always attain the greatest happiness open to him by conforming to the dictates of his conscience even when it conflicts with received morality.
[125]Such discussion of the question as seemed desirable in a work like this will be found in theconcluding chapterof the treatise.
[125]Such discussion of the question as seemed desirable in a work like this will be found in theconcluding chapterof the treatise.
[126]For a similar reason I shall here treat the notions of ‘Duty’ and ‘Virtuous action’ as practically coincident; reserving for future discussion the divergences between the two which reflection on the common usage of the terms appears to indicate. See Book iii. chap.ii.
[126]For a similar reason I shall here treat the notions of ‘Duty’ and ‘Virtuous action’ as practically coincident; reserving for future discussion the divergences between the two which reflection on the common usage of the terms appears to indicate. See Book iii. chap.ii.
[127]Whatever modifications of this division may afterwards appear to be necessary (cf. Book iii. chap. ii. §1, and chap. vii. §1) will not, I think, tend to invalidate the conclusions of the present chapter.
[127]Whatever modifications of this division may afterwards appear to be necessary (cf. Book iii. chap. ii. §1, and chap. vii. §1) will not, I think, tend to invalidate the conclusions of the present chapter.
[128]I do not here consider the case of revolutionists aiming sincerely at the general wellbeing; since the morality of such revolutions will generally be so dubious, that these cases cannot furnish any clear argument on either side of the question here discussed.
[128]I do not here consider the case of revolutionists aiming sincerely at the general wellbeing; since the morality of such revolutions will generally be so dubious, that these cases cannot furnish any clear argument on either side of the question here discussed.
[129]Under the notion of ‘moral pain’ (or pleasure) I intend to include, in this argument, all pain (or pleasure) that is due to sympathy with the feelings of others. It is not convenient to enter, at this stage of the discussion, into a full discussion of the relation of Sympathy to Moral Sensibility; but I may say that it seems to me certain, on the one hand, that these two emotional susceptibilities are actually distinct in most minds, whatever they may have been originally; and on the other hand that sympathetic and strictly moral feelings are almost inextricably blended in the ordinary moral consciousness: so that, for the purposes of the present argument it is not of fundamental importance to draw a distinction between them. I have, however, thought it desirable to undertake a further examination of sympathy—as the internal sanction on which Utilitarians specially lay stress—in theconcluding chapterof this treatise: to which, accordingly, the reader may refer.
[129]Under the notion of ‘moral pain’ (or pleasure) I intend to include, in this argument, all pain (or pleasure) that is due to sympathy with the feelings of others. It is not convenient to enter, at this stage of the discussion, into a full discussion of the relation of Sympathy to Moral Sensibility; but I may say that it seems to me certain, on the one hand, that these two emotional susceptibilities are actually distinct in most minds, whatever they may have been originally; and on the other hand that sympathetic and strictly moral feelings are almost inextricably blended in the ordinary moral consciousness: so that, for the purposes of the present argument it is not of fundamental importance to draw a distinction between them. I have, however, thought it desirable to undertake a further examination of sympathy—as the internal sanction on which Utilitarians specially lay stress—in theconcluding chapterof this treatise: to which, accordingly, the reader may refer.
[130]A striking confirmation of this is furnished by those Christian writers of the last century who treat themoralunbeliever 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, even under ordinary circumstances, to the sensual and other enjoyments that it excludes. It seems then absurd to suppose that, in the case of persons who have not developed and strengthened by habit their virtuous impulses, the pain that might afterwards result from resisting the call of duty would always be sufficient to neutralise all other sources of pleasure.
[130]A striking confirmation of this is furnished by those Christian writers of the last century who treat themoralunbeliever 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, even under ordinary circumstances, to the sensual and other enjoyments that it excludes. It seems then absurd to suppose that, in the case of persons who have not developed and strengthened by habit their virtuous impulses, the pain that might afterwards result from resisting the call of duty would always be sufficient to neutralise all other sources of pleasure.
[131]“It should seem that a due concern about our own interest or happiness, and a reasonable endeavour to secure and promote it, ... is virtue, and the contrary behaviour faulty and blamable.” Butler (in the DissertationOf the Nature of Virtueappended to theAnalogy).
[131]“It should seem that a due concern about our own interest or happiness, and a reasonable endeavour to secure and promote it, ... is virtue, and the contrary behaviour faulty and blamable.” Butler (in the DissertationOf the Nature of Virtueappended to theAnalogy).
[132]This view is suggested by Mr. Herbert Spencer’s statement—in a letter to J. S. Mill, published in Mr. Bain’sMental and Moral Science; and partially reprinted in Mr. Spencer’sData of Ethics, chap. iv. § 21—that “it is the business of moral science to deduce, from the laws of life and the conditions of existence, what kinds of actions necessarily tend to produce happiness, and what kinds to produce unhappiness,” and that when it has done this, “its deductions are to be recognised as laws of conduct; and are to be conformed to irrespective of a direct estimate of happiness or misery.” I ought, however, to say that Mr. Spencer has made it clear in his latest treatise that the only cogent deductions of this kind which he conceives to be possible relate to the behaviour not of men here and now, but of ideal men living in an ideal society, and living under conditions so unlike those of actual humanity that all their actions produce “pleasure unalloyed with pain anywhere” (Data of Ethics, § 101). The laws of conduct in this Utopia constitute, in Mr. Spencer’s view, the subject-matter of “Absolute Ethics”; which he distinguishes from the “Relative Ethics” that concerns itself with the conduct of the imperfect men who live under the present imperfect social conditions, and of which the method is, as he admits, to a great extent “necessarily empirical” (Data of Ethics, § 108). How far such a system as Mr. Spencer calls Absolute Ethics can be rationally constructed, and how far its construction would be practically useful, I shall consider in a later part of this treatise (Book iv. chap.iv.), when I come to deal with the method of Universalistic Hedonism: at present I am only concerned with the question how far any deductive Ethics is capable of furnishing practical guidance to an individual seeking his own greatest happiness here and now.
[132]This view is suggested by Mr. Herbert Spencer’s statement—in a letter to J. S. Mill, published in Mr. Bain’sMental and Moral Science; and partially reprinted in Mr. Spencer’sData of Ethics, chap. iv. § 21—that “it is the business of moral science to deduce, from the laws of life and the conditions of existence, what kinds of actions necessarily tend to produce happiness, and what kinds to produce unhappiness,” and that when it has done this, “its deductions are to be recognised as laws of conduct; and are to be conformed to irrespective of a direct estimate of happiness or misery.” I ought, however, to say that Mr. Spencer has made it clear in his latest treatise that the only cogent deductions of this kind which he conceives to be possible relate to the behaviour not of men here and now, but of ideal men living in an ideal society, and living under conditions so unlike those of actual humanity that all their actions produce “pleasure unalloyed with pain anywhere” (Data of Ethics, § 101). The laws of conduct in this Utopia constitute, in Mr. Spencer’s view, the subject-matter of “Absolute Ethics”; which he distinguishes from the “Relative Ethics” that concerns itself with the conduct of the imperfect men who live under the present imperfect social conditions, and of which the method is, as he admits, to a great extent “necessarily empirical” (Data of Ethics, § 108). How far such a system as Mr. Spencer calls Absolute Ethics can be rationally constructed, and how far its construction would be practically useful, I shall consider in a later part of this treatise (Book iv. chap.iv.), when I come to deal with the method of Universalistic Hedonism: at present I am only concerned with the question how far any deductive Ethics is capable of furnishing practical guidance to an individual seeking his own greatest happiness here and now.
[133]Aristotle’s theory is, briefly, that every normal sense-perception or rational activity has its correspondent pleasure, and that the most perfect is the most pleasant: the most perfect in the case of any faculty being the exercise of the faculty in good condition on the best object. The pleasure follows the activity immediately, giving it a kind of finish, “like the bloom of youth.” Pleasures vary in kind, as the activities that constitute life vary: the best pleasures are those of the philosophic life.
[133]Aristotle’s theory is, briefly, that every normal sense-perception or rational activity has its correspondent pleasure, and that the most perfect is the most pleasant: the most perfect in the case of any faculty being the exercise of the faculty in good condition on the best object. The pleasure follows the activity immediately, giving it a kind of finish, “like the bloom of youth.” Pleasures vary in kind, as the activities that constitute life vary: the best pleasures are those of the philosophic life.
[134]See Bouillier,Du plaisir et de la douleur, chap. iii.; L. Dumont,Théorie scientifique de la sensibilité, chap. iii.; as well as Stout,Analytic Psychology, chap. xii.—to which I refer later.
[134]See Bouillier,Du plaisir et de la douleur, chap. iii.; L. Dumont,Théorie scientifique de la sensibilité, chap. iii.; as well as Stout,Analytic Psychology, chap. xii.—to which I refer later.
[135]Lectures on Metaphysics, vol. ii. Lect. xlii.
[135]Lectures on Metaphysics, vol. ii. Lect. xlii.
[136]In Aristotle’s exposition of this theory—which with him is only a theory of pleasure—the ethical motive of exhibiting the philosophic life as preferable to that of the sensualist, in respect of the pleasures it affords, is quite unmistakable.
[136]In Aristotle’s exposition of this theory—which with him is only a theory of pleasure—the ethical motive of exhibiting the philosophic life as preferable to that of the sensualist, in respect of the pleasures it affords, is quite unmistakable.
[137]Analytic Psychology, chap. xii. 2.
[137]Analytic Psychology, chap. xii. 2.
[138]The physiological theory which Mr. Stout puts forward, as at once correspondent and supplementary to his psychological generalisation, will be noticed later.
[138]The physiological theory which Mr. Stout puts forward, as at once correspondent and supplementary to his psychological generalisation, will be noticed later.
[139]Psychology, chap. ix. § 128.
[139]Psychology, chap. ix. § 128.
[140]Book i. chap.iv.
[140]Book i. chap.iv.
[141]It may be added that in the case of emotional pains and pleasures, the notion ofquantitativedifference between the cerebral nerve-processes, antecedent respectively to the one and the other, seems altogether unwarrantable: the pains of shame, disappointed ambition, wounded love, do not appear to be distinguishable from the pleasures of fame, success, reciprocated affection, by any difference of intensity in the impressions or ideas accompanied by the pleasures and pains respectively.
[141]It may be added that in the case of emotional pains and pleasures, the notion ofquantitativedifference between the cerebral nerve-processes, antecedent respectively to the one and the other, seems altogether unwarrantable: the pains of shame, disappointed ambition, wounded love, do not appear to be distinguishable from the pleasures of fame, success, reciprocated affection, by any difference of intensity in the impressions or ideas accompanied by the pleasures and pains respectively.
[142]See Wundt,Grundzüge der physiologischen Psychologie, chap. x.
[142]See Wundt,Grundzüge der physiologischen Psychologie, chap. x.
[143]Power of Sound, chap. i. § 2.
[143]Power of Sound, chap. i. § 2.
[144]I say “appreciably” because the controverted psychological question whether there are anystrictlyneutral or indifferent modifications of consciousness seems to me unimportant from a practical point of view. See Sully,Human Mind, chap. xiii. § 2.
[144]I say “appreciably” because the controverted psychological question whether there are anystrictlyneutral or indifferent modifications of consciousness seems to me unimportant from a practical point of view. See Sully,Human Mind, chap. xiii. § 2.
[145]See Stout,Analytic Psychology,l.c.
[145]See Stout,Analytic Psychology,l.c.
[146]Physiological Æsthetics, chap. ii.
[146]Physiological Æsthetics, chap. ii.
[147]See Stout,Analytic Psychology, chap. xii. § 4.
[147]See Stout,Analytic Psychology, chap. xii. § 4.
[148]See Book i. chap. iv.Note.
[148]See Book i. chap. iv.Note.
[149]Principles of Psychology, § 125, andData of Ethics, § 33.
[149]Principles of Psychology, § 125, andData of Ethics, § 33.
[150]The quotations are from Mr. Spencer’sSocial Statics, chap. iv.: but I should explain that in the passage quoted Mr. Spencer is not writing from the point of view of Egoistic Hedonism.
[150]The quotations are from Mr. Spencer’sSocial Statics, chap. iv.: but I should explain that in the passage quoted Mr. Spencer is not writing from the point of view of Egoistic Hedonism.
[151]See p.119.
[151]See p.119.
[152]It may seem, he admits, that “since interest, one’s own happiness, is a manifest obligation,” in any case in which virtuous action appears to be not conducive to the agent’s interest, he would be “under two contrary obligations,i.e.under none at all. But,” he urges, “the obligation on the side of interest really does not remain. For the natural authority of the principle of reflection or conscience is an obligation ... the most certain and known: whereas the contrary obligation can at the utmost appear no more than probable: since no man can becertainin any circumstances that vice is his interest in the present world, much less can he be certain against another: and thus the certain obligation would entirely supersede and destroy the uncertain one.”—(Preface to Butler’sSermons.)
[152]It may seem, he admits, that “since interest, one’s own happiness, is a manifest obligation,” in any case in which virtuous action appears to be not conducive to the agent’s interest, he would be “under two contrary obligations,i.e.under none at all. But,” he urges, “the obligation on the side of interest really does not remain. For the natural authority of the principle of reflection or conscience is an obligation ... the most certain and known: whereas the contrary obligation can at the utmost appear no more than probable: since no man can becertainin any circumstances that vice is his interest in the present world, much less can he be certain against another: and thus the certain obligation would entirely supersede and destroy the uncertain one.”—(Preface to Butler’sSermons.)
[153]I have before observed (Book i. chap. viii. §1) that in the common notion of an act we include a certain portion of the whole series of changes partly caused by the volition which initiated the so-called act.
[153]I have before observed (Book i. chap. viii. §1) that in the common notion of an act we include a certain portion of the whole series of changes partly caused by the volition which initiated the so-called act.
[154]Some would add “character” and “disposition.” But since characters and disposition not only cannot be known directly but can only be definitely conceived by reference to the volitions and feelings in which they are manifested, it does not seem to me possible to regard them as the primary objects of intuitive moral judgments. See chap. ii. §2of this Book.
[154]Some would add “character” and “disposition.” But since characters and disposition not only cannot be known directly but can only be definitely conceived by reference to the volitions and feelings in which they are manifested, it does not seem to me possible to regard them as the primary objects of intuitive moral judgments. See chap. ii. §2of this Book.
[155]No doubt we hold a man responsible for unintended bad consequences of his acts or omissions, when they are such as he might with ordinary care have foreseen; still, as I have before said (p.60), we admit on reflection that moral blame only attaches to such careless acts or omissions indirectly, in so far as the carelessness is the result of some previous wilful neglect of duty.
[155]No doubt we hold a man responsible for unintended bad consequences of his acts or omissions, when they are such as he might with ordinary care have foreseen; still, as I have before said (p.60), we admit on reflection that moral blame only attaches to such careless acts or omissions indirectly, in so far as the carelessness is the result of some previous wilful neglect of duty.
[156]I think that common usage, when carefully considered, will be found to admit this definition. Suppose a nihilist blows up a railway train containing an emperor and other persons: it will no doubt be held correct to say simply that his intention was to kill the emperor; but it would be thought absurd to say that he ‘did not intend’ to kill the other persons, though he may have had no desire to kill them and may have regarded their death as a lamentable incident in the execution of his revolutionary plans.
[156]I think that common usage, when carefully considered, will be found to admit this definition. Suppose a nihilist blows up a railway train containing an emperor and other persons: it will no doubt be held correct to say simply that his intention was to kill the emperor; but it would be thought absurd to say that he ‘did not intend’ to kill the other persons, though he may have had no desire to kill them and may have regarded their death as a lamentable incident in the execution of his revolutionary plans.
[157]A further source of confusion between “intention” and “motive” arises from the different points of view from which either may be judged. Thus an act may be one of a series which the agent purposes to do for the attainment of a certain end: and our moral judgment of it may be very different, according as we judge the intention of the particular act, or the general intention of the series regarded as a whole. Either point of view is legitimate, and both are often required; for we commonly recognise that, of the series of acts which a man does to attain (e.g.) any end of ambition, some may be right or allowable, while others are wrong; while the general intention to attain the end by wrong means, if necessary, as well as right—“Get place and wealth, if possible with grace;If not, by any means get wealth and place”—is clearly a wrong intention. So again, in judging a motive to be good or bad, we may either consider it simply in itself, or in connexion with other balancing and controlling motives—either actually present along with it, or absent when they ought to be present. Thus in the above case we do not commonly think the desire for wealth or rank bad in itself; but we think it bad as the sole motive of a statesman’s public career. It is easy to see that one or other of these different distinctions is apt to blend with and confuse the simple distinction between intention and motive.
[157]A further source of confusion between “intention” and “motive” arises from the different points of view from which either may be judged. Thus an act may be one of a series which the agent purposes to do for the attainment of a certain end: and our moral judgment of it may be very different, according as we judge the intention of the particular act, or the general intention of the series regarded as a whole. Either point of view is legitimate, and both are often required; for we commonly recognise that, of the series of acts which a man does to attain (e.g.) any end of ambition, some may be right or allowable, while others are wrong; while the general intention to attain the end by wrong means, if necessary, as well as right—
“Get place and wealth, if possible with grace;If not, by any means get wealth and place”—
“Get place and wealth, if possible with grace;If not, by any means get wealth and place”—
is clearly a wrong intention. So again, in judging a motive to be good or bad, we may either consider it simply in itself, or in connexion with other balancing and controlling motives—either actually present along with it, or absent when they ought to be present. Thus in the above case we do not commonly think the desire for wealth or rank bad in itself; but we think it bad as the sole motive of a statesman’s public career. It is easy to see that one or other of these different distinctions is apt to blend with and confuse the simple distinction between intention and motive.
[158]The view that moral judgments relate primarily or most properly to motives will be more fully discussed in chap.xii.of this Book.
[158]The view that moral judgments relate primarily or most properly to motives will be more fully discussed in chap.xii.of this Book.
[159]I use these alternative terms in order to avoid the Free Will Controversy.
[159]I use these alternative terms in order to avoid the Free Will Controversy.
[160]Many religious persons would probably say that the motive of obedience or love to God was the highest. But those who take this view would generally say that obedience and love are due to God as a Moral Being, possessing the attributes of Infinite Wisdom and Goodness, and not otherwise: and if so, these religious motives would seem to be substantially identical with regard for duty and love of virtue, though modified and complicated by the addition of emotions belonging to relations between persons.
[160]Many religious persons would probably say that the motive of obedience or love to God was the highest. But those who take this view would generally say that obedience and love are due to God as a Moral Being, possessing the attributes of Infinite Wisdom and Goodness, and not otherwise: and if so, these religious motives would seem to be substantially identical with regard for duty and love of virtue, though modified and complicated by the addition of emotions belonging to relations between persons.
[161]Locke’sEssay,II.c. 28, §§ 5, 6.
[161]Locke’sEssay,II.c. 28, §§ 5, 6.
[162]Ibid.IV.c. 3, § 18.
[162]Ibid.IV.c. 3, § 18.
[163]I do not myself usually employ the antithesis of Form and Matter in philosophical exposition, as it appears to me open to the charge of obscurity and ambiguity. In the present case we may interpret “formal rightness” as denoting at once auniversalandessential, and asubjectiveorinternalcondition of the rightness of actions.
[163]I do not myself usually employ the antithesis of Form and Matter in philosophical exposition, as it appears to me open to the charge of obscurity and ambiguity. In the present case we may interpret “formal rightness” as denoting at once auniversalandessential, and asubjectiveorinternalcondition of the rightness of actions.
[164]It is not, I conceive, commonly held to be indispensable, in order to constitute an act completely right, that a belief that it is right should be actually present in the agent’s mind: it might be completely right, although the agent never actually raised the question of its rightness or wrongness. See p.225.
[164]It is not, I conceive, commonly held to be indispensable, in order to constitute an act completely right, that a belief that it is right should be actually present in the agent’s mind: it might be completely right, although the agent never actually raised the question of its rightness or wrongness. See p.225.
[165]The decision would, I think, usually be reached by weighing bad consequences to the agent’s character against bad consequences of a different kind. In extreme cases the latter consideration would certainly prevail in the view of common sense. Thus we should generally approve a statesman who crushed a dangerous rebellion by working on the fear or cupidity of a leading rebel who was rebelling on conscientious grounds. Cf.post, Book iv. chap. iii. §3.
[165]The decision would, I think, usually be reached by weighing bad consequences to the agent’s character against bad consequences of a different kind. In extreme cases the latter consideration would certainly prevail in the view of common sense. Thus we should generally approve a statesman who crushed a dangerous rebellion by working on the fear or cupidity of a leading rebel who was rebelling on conscientious grounds. Cf.post, Book iv. chap. iii. §3.
[166]The antithesis of ‘subjective’ and ‘objective’ cannot be applied to the condition of right conduct considered in this paragraph: for this formal condition is at once subjective and objective; being, as I argue, involved in our common notion of right conduct, it is, therefore, necessarily judged by us to be of really universal application: and, though it does not secure complete objective rightness, it is an important protection against objective wrongness.
[166]The antithesis of ‘subjective’ and ‘objective’ cannot be applied to the condition of right conduct considered in this paragraph: for this formal condition is at once subjective and objective; being, as I argue, involved in our common notion of right conduct, it is, therefore, necessarily judged by us to be of really universal application: and, though it does not secure complete objective rightness, it is an important protection against objective wrongness.
[167]Cf. Book i. chap. iii. §3.
[167]Cf. Book i. chap. iii. §3.
[168]See theGrundlegung zur Metaphysik der Sitten(pp. 269-273, Hartenstein; Abbott’s transl. [1879] pp. 54-61). Here Kant first says, “There is therefore but one categorical imperative, namely, this:Act only on that maxim whereby thou canst at the same time will that it should become a universal law. Now, if all imperatives of duty can be deduced from this one imperative as from their principle ... we shall at least be able to show what we understand by [duty] and what this notion means.” He then demonstrates the application of the principle to four cases, selected as representative of “the many actual duties”; and continues: “if now we attend to ourselves on occasion of any transgression of duty, we shall find that we in fact do not will that our maxim should be a universal law, for that is impossible for us” ...: then, summing up the conclusion of this part of his argument, he says, “we have exhibited clearly and definitely forevery practical applicationthe content of the categorical imperative which must contain the principle of all duty, if there is such a thing at all.”
[168]See theGrundlegung zur Metaphysik der Sitten(pp. 269-273, Hartenstein; Abbott’s transl. [1879] pp. 54-61). Here Kant first says, “There is therefore but one categorical imperative, namely, this:Act only on that maxim whereby thou canst at the same time will that it should become a universal law. Now, if all imperatives of duty can be deduced from this one imperative as from their principle ... we shall at least be able to show what we understand by [duty] and what this notion means.” He then demonstrates the application of the principle to four cases, selected as representative of “the many actual duties”; and continues: “if now we attend to ourselves on occasion of any transgression of duty, we shall find that we in fact do not will that our maxim should be a universal law, for that is impossible for us” ...: then, summing up the conclusion of this part of his argument, he says, “we have exhibited clearly and definitely forevery practical applicationthe content of the categorical imperative which must contain the principle of all duty, if there is such a thing at all.”
[169]I do not mean that I am prepared to accept Kant’s fundamental maxim, in the precise form in which he has stated it: but the qualifications which it seems to me to require will be more conveniently explained later.
[169]I do not mean that I am prepared to accept Kant’s fundamental maxim, in the precise form in which he has stated it: but the qualifications which it seems to me to require will be more conveniently explained later.
[170]See Book i. chap. iii. p.32.
[170]See Book i. chap. iii. p.32.