[354]This operation of sympathy is strikingly illustrated in the penal codes of primitive communities, both by the mildness of the punishments 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 Law, chap. 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 there is a very common feeling of uncertainty as to the propriety of inflicting punishment for crimes committed long ago, which seems traceable to the same source.[355]No doubt this influence is confined within strict limits: no authority can permanently impose on men regulations flagrantly infelicific: 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 authoritive) in the society upon which they acted. Still, it might have made a great difference to the human race if (e.g.) Mohammed had been fond of wine, and indifferent to women.[356]On this point I shall have occasion to speak further in the next section.[357]I refer especially to the views put forward by Mr. Spencer in the concluding chapters of hisData of Ethics.[358]This definition, however, does not seem to me admissible, from a utilitarian point of view: since a society in this sense perfect might not realise the maximum of possible happiness; it might still be capable of a material increase of happiness through pleasures involving a slight alloy of pain, such as Mr. Spencer’s view of perfection would exclude.[359]See especially chap. ix. Pars. 12-15.[360]It is obvious that if ‘desirability,’ in the above definition, were interpreted hedonistically, the term “health” would merely give us a new name for the general problem of utilitarian morality; not a new suggestion for its solution. I ought to say that the notions of “social welfare” or “wellbeing” are elsewhere used by Mr. Stephen, in the place of those here quoted, but I do not think that he means by them any more than what I understand him to mean by “health” or “efficiency”—i.e.that state of the social organism which tends to its preservation under the conditions of its existence.[361]Book ii. chap. vi. §3.[362]I do not mean to assert that ‘play’ in some form is not necessary for physical health: but there is a long step from the encouragement of play, so far as salutary, to the promotion of social culture.[363]It may be observed that the increased heterogeneity which the development of modern industry has brought with it, in the form of a specialisation of industrial functions which tends to render the lives of individual workers narrow and monotonous, has usually been regarded by philanthropists as seriously infelicific; and as needing to be counteracted by a general diffusion of the intellectual culture now enjoyed by the few—which, if realised, would tendpro tantoto make the lives of different classes in the communitylessheterogeneous.[364]I do not mean that this sentiment is in my view incompatible with Utilitarianism; I mean that it must not attach itself to any subordinate rules of conduct, but only to the supreme principle of acting with impartial concern for all elements of general happiness.[365]For example, Mr. Bain inMind(Jan. 1883, pp. 48, 49).[366]This sentence is not an exact quotation, but a summary of the doctrine set forth by J. S. Mill in his treatiseOn Liberty(Introduction).[367]See MillOn Liberty, chap. iv. It may be observed that Mill’s doctrine is certainly opposed to common sense: since (e.g.) it would exclude from censure almost all forms of sexual immorality committed by unmarried and independent adults.[368]Cf. Book iii. chap.xiv.[369]Cf. especially Book iii. chap.ii.[370]Cf. Book iii. chap.i.and chap.xiii.[371]Book iii. chap. vii. §3.[372]In particular cases, however, they seem to be admitted by Common Sense to a certain extent. For example, it would be commonly thought wrong to express in public speeches disturbing religious or political opinions which may be legitimately published in books.[373]Cf. chap. iii. §2of this Book.[374]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.[375]See J. S. Mill’s treatise on Utilitarianism (chap. iii. passim): where, however, the argument is not easy to follow, from a confusion between 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 Mill did not clearly separate, owing to his psychological doctrine that each one’s own pleasure is the sole object of his desires. But if my refutation of this doctrine (Book i. chap. iv. §3) is valid, we have to distinguish two ways in which sympathy operates: it generates sympathetic pleasures and pains, which have to be taken into account in the calculations of Egoistic Hedonism; but it also may cause impulses to altruistic action, of which the force is quite out of proportion 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 sympathetic development, as never to feel prompted to sacrifice the general good to his own, still this will not prove that it is egoistically reasonable for him to behave in this way.[376]I do not mean to imply that the process of change is merely circular. In the earlier period sympathy is narrower, simpler, and more presentative; in the later it is more extensive, complex, and representative.[377]I do not, however, think that we are justified in stating asuniversallytrue what has been admitted in the preceding paragraph. 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 happiness.[378]See chap. iii. § 3 of this Book, pp.432-33.[379]See Book iii. chap. i. §2: also Book iii. chap. ii. §1.[380]Cf. Book i. chap. iii. §2.[381]It may perhaps be said that this comparison has no force for Libertarians, who consider the essence of Virtue to lie in free choice. But to say thatanyfree choice is virtuous would be a paradox from which most Libertarians—admitting that Evil may be freely chosen no less than Good—would recoil. It must therefore be Free choice of good that is conceived to realise the divine end: and if so, the arguments for the utilitarian interpretation of Good—thus freely chosen—would still be applicablemutatis mutandis: and if so, the arguments for regarding rules of utilitarian duty as divinely sanctioned would be similarly applicable.[382]It is not necessary, if we are simply considering Ethics 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 Religion 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 enlightened Buddhists, these rewards are not distributed by the volition of a Supreme Person, but by the natural operation of an impersonal Law.[383]It may be well to remind the reader that by ‘adequate’ is here meant ‘sufficient to make it the agent’s interest to promote universal good’; not necessarily ‘proportional to Desert.’[384]I cannot fall back on the resource of thinking myself under a moral necessity to regard all my dutiesas if theywere commandments of God, although not entitled to hold speculatively that any such Supreme Being really exists. 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 describe, except as a momentary half-wilful irrationality, committed in a violent access of philosophic despair.[385]The terms ‘rational’ and ‘moral’ seem to me most appropriate when I wish to suggest the affinity between the two notions: the terms ‘good’ and ‘neutral’ seem preferable when I wish to lay stress on the difference.[386]Werke, v. pp. 100-104 (Hartenstein).[387]Werke, v. p. 30.[388]Ibid.p. 83.[389]Ibid.p. 46.[390]Werke, iv. p. 294.[391]Werke, iv. p. 260 (Hartenstein).[392]Werke, v. p. 58. See an acute discussion of Kant’s perplexing use of the term “Will” in Prof. Schurman’sKantian Ethics, which has anticipated me in the above quotations.[393]E.g.Werke, iv. p. 296.[394]E.g.Werke, v. p. 35.
[354]This operation of sympathy is strikingly illustrated in the penal codes of primitive communities, both by the mildness of the punishments 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 Law, chap. 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 there is a very common feeling of uncertainty as to the propriety of inflicting punishment for crimes committed long ago, which seems traceable to the same source.
[354]This operation of sympathy is strikingly illustrated in the penal codes of primitive communities, both by the mildness of the punishments 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 Law, chap. 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 there is a very common feeling of uncertainty as to the propriety of inflicting punishment for crimes committed long ago, which seems traceable to the same source.
[355]No doubt this influence is confined within strict limits: no authority can permanently impose on men regulations flagrantly infelicific: 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 authoritive) in the society upon which they acted. Still, it might have made a great difference to the human race if (e.g.) Mohammed had been fond of wine, and indifferent to women.
[355]No doubt this influence is confined within strict limits: no authority can permanently impose on men regulations flagrantly infelicific: 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 authoritive) in the society upon which they acted. Still, it might have made a great difference to the human race if (e.g.) Mohammed had been fond of wine, and indifferent to women.
[356]On this point I shall have occasion to speak further in the next section.
[356]On this point I shall have occasion to speak further in the next section.
[357]I refer especially to the views put forward by Mr. Spencer in the concluding chapters of hisData of Ethics.
[357]I refer especially to the views put forward by Mr. Spencer in the concluding chapters of hisData of Ethics.
[358]This definition, however, does not seem to me admissible, from a utilitarian point of view: since a society in this sense perfect might not realise the maximum of possible happiness; it might still be capable of a material increase of happiness through pleasures involving a slight alloy of pain, such as Mr. Spencer’s view of perfection would exclude.
[358]This definition, however, does not seem to me admissible, from a utilitarian point of view: since a society in this sense perfect might not realise the maximum of possible happiness; it might still be capable of a material increase of happiness through pleasures involving a slight alloy of pain, such as Mr. Spencer’s view of perfection would exclude.
[359]See especially chap. ix. Pars. 12-15.
[359]See especially chap. ix. Pars. 12-15.
[360]It is obvious that if ‘desirability,’ in the above definition, were interpreted hedonistically, the term “health” would merely give us a new name for the general problem of utilitarian morality; not a new suggestion for its solution. I ought to say that the notions of “social welfare” or “wellbeing” are elsewhere used by Mr. Stephen, in the place of those here quoted, but I do not think that he means by them any more than what I understand him to mean by “health” or “efficiency”—i.e.that state of the social organism which tends to its preservation under the conditions of its existence.
[360]It is obvious that if ‘desirability,’ in the above definition, were interpreted hedonistically, the term “health” would merely give us a new name for the general problem of utilitarian morality; not a new suggestion for its solution. I ought to say that the notions of “social welfare” or “wellbeing” are elsewhere used by Mr. Stephen, in the place of those here quoted, but I do not think that he means by them any more than what I understand him to mean by “health” or “efficiency”—i.e.that state of the social organism which tends to its preservation under the conditions of its existence.
[361]Book ii. chap. vi. §3.
[361]Book ii. chap. vi. §3.
[362]I do not mean to assert that ‘play’ in some form is not necessary for physical health: but there is a long step from the encouragement of play, so far as salutary, to the promotion of social culture.
[362]I do not mean to assert that ‘play’ in some form is not necessary for physical health: but there is a long step from the encouragement of play, so far as salutary, to the promotion of social culture.
[363]It may be observed that the increased heterogeneity which the development of modern industry has brought with it, in the form of a specialisation of industrial functions which tends to render the lives of individual workers narrow and monotonous, has usually been regarded by philanthropists as seriously infelicific; and as needing to be counteracted by a general diffusion of the intellectual culture now enjoyed by the few—which, if realised, would tendpro tantoto make the lives of different classes in the communitylessheterogeneous.
[363]It may be observed that the increased heterogeneity which the development of modern industry has brought with it, in the form of a specialisation of industrial functions which tends to render the lives of individual workers narrow and monotonous, has usually been regarded by philanthropists as seriously infelicific; and as needing to be counteracted by a general diffusion of the intellectual culture now enjoyed by the few—which, if realised, would tendpro tantoto make the lives of different classes in the communitylessheterogeneous.
[364]I do not mean that this sentiment is in my view incompatible with Utilitarianism; I mean that it must not attach itself to any subordinate rules of conduct, but only to the supreme principle of acting with impartial concern for all elements of general happiness.
[364]I do not mean that this sentiment is in my view incompatible with Utilitarianism; I mean that it must not attach itself to any subordinate rules of conduct, but only to the supreme principle of acting with impartial concern for all elements of general happiness.
[365]For example, Mr. Bain inMind(Jan. 1883, pp. 48, 49).
[365]For example, Mr. Bain inMind(Jan. 1883, pp. 48, 49).
[366]This sentence is not an exact quotation, but a summary of the doctrine set forth by J. S. Mill in his treatiseOn Liberty(Introduction).
[366]This sentence is not an exact quotation, but a summary of the doctrine set forth by J. S. Mill in his treatiseOn Liberty(Introduction).
[367]See MillOn Liberty, chap. iv. It may be observed that Mill’s doctrine is certainly opposed to common sense: since (e.g.) it would exclude from censure almost all forms of sexual immorality committed by unmarried and independent adults.
[367]See MillOn Liberty, chap. iv. It may be observed that Mill’s doctrine is certainly opposed to common sense: since (e.g.) it would exclude from censure almost all forms of sexual immorality committed by unmarried and independent adults.
[368]Cf. Book iii. chap.xiv.
[368]Cf. Book iii. chap.xiv.
[369]Cf. especially Book iii. chap.ii.
[369]Cf. especially Book iii. chap.ii.
[370]Cf. Book iii. chap.i.and chap.xiii.
[370]Cf. Book iii. chap.i.and chap.xiii.
[371]Book iii. chap. vii. §3.
[371]Book iii. chap. vii. §3.
[372]In particular cases, however, they seem to be admitted by Common Sense to a certain extent. For example, it would be commonly thought wrong to express in public speeches disturbing religious or political opinions which may be legitimately published in books.
[372]In particular cases, however, they seem to be admitted by Common Sense to a certain extent. For example, it would be commonly thought wrong to express in public speeches disturbing religious or political opinions which may be legitimately published in books.
[373]Cf. chap. iii. §2of this Book.
[373]Cf. chap. iii. §2of this Book.
[374]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.
[374]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.
[375]See J. S. Mill’s treatise on Utilitarianism (chap. iii. passim): where, however, the argument is not easy to follow, from a confusion between 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 Mill did not clearly separate, owing to his psychological doctrine that each one’s own pleasure is the sole object of his desires. But if my refutation of this doctrine (Book i. chap. iv. §3) is valid, we have to distinguish two ways in which sympathy operates: it generates sympathetic pleasures and pains, which have to be taken into account in the calculations of Egoistic Hedonism; but it also may cause impulses to altruistic action, of which the force is quite out of proportion 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 sympathetic development, as never to feel prompted to sacrifice the general good to his own, still this will not prove that it is egoistically reasonable for him to behave in this way.
[375]See J. S. Mill’s treatise on Utilitarianism (chap. iii. passim): where, however, the argument is not easy to follow, from a confusion between 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 Mill did not clearly separate, owing to his psychological doctrine that each one’s own pleasure is the sole object of his desires. But if my refutation of this doctrine (Book i. chap. iv. §3) is valid, we have to distinguish two ways in which sympathy operates: it generates sympathetic pleasures and pains, which have to be taken into account in the calculations of Egoistic Hedonism; but it also may cause impulses to altruistic action, of which the force is quite out of proportion 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 sympathetic development, as never to feel prompted to sacrifice the general good to his own, still this will not prove that it is egoistically reasonable for him to behave in this way.
[376]I do not mean to imply that the process of change is merely circular. In the earlier period sympathy is narrower, simpler, and more presentative; in the later it is more extensive, complex, and representative.
[376]I do not mean to imply that the process of change is merely circular. In the earlier period sympathy is narrower, simpler, and more presentative; in the later it is more extensive, complex, and representative.
[377]I do not, however, think that we are justified in stating asuniversallytrue what has been admitted in the preceding paragraph. 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 happiness.
[377]I do not, however, think that we are justified in stating asuniversallytrue what has been admitted in the preceding paragraph. 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 happiness.
[378]See chap. iii. § 3 of this Book, pp.432-33.
[378]See chap. iii. § 3 of this Book, pp.432-33.
[379]See Book iii. chap. i. §2: also Book iii. chap. ii. §1.
[379]See Book iii. chap. i. §2: also Book iii. chap. ii. §1.
[380]Cf. Book i. chap. iii. §2.
[380]Cf. Book i. chap. iii. §2.
[381]It may perhaps be said that this comparison has no force for Libertarians, who consider the essence of Virtue to lie in free choice. But to say thatanyfree choice is virtuous would be a paradox from which most Libertarians—admitting that Evil may be freely chosen no less than Good—would recoil. It must therefore be Free choice of good that is conceived to realise the divine end: and if so, the arguments for the utilitarian interpretation of Good—thus freely chosen—would still be applicablemutatis mutandis: and if so, the arguments for regarding rules of utilitarian duty as divinely sanctioned would be similarly applicable.
[381]It may perhaps be said that this comparison has no force for Libertarians, who consider the essence of Virtue to lie in free choice. But to say thatanyfree choice is virtuous would be a paradox from which most Libertarians—admitting that Evil may be freely chosen no less than Good—would recoil. It must therefore be Free choice of good that is conceived to realise the divine end: and if so, the arguments for the utilitarian interpretation of Good—thus freely chosen—would still be applicablemutatis mutandis: and if so, the arguments for regarding rules of utilitarian duty as divinely sanctioned would be similarly applicable.
[382]It is not necessary, if we are simply considering Ethics 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 Religion 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 enlightened Buddhists, these rewards are not distributed by the volition of a Supreme Person, but by the natural operation of an impersonal Law.
[382]It is not necessary, if we are simply considering Ethics 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 Religion 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 enlightened Buddhists, these rewards are not distributed by the volition of a Supreme Person, but by the natural operation of an impersonal Law.
[383]It may be well to remind the reader that by ‘adequate’ is here meant ‘sufficient to make it the agent’s interest to promote universal good’; not necessarily ‘proportional to Desert.’
[383]It may be well to remind the reader that by ‘adequate’ is here meant ‘sufficient to make it the agent’s interest to promote universal good’; not necessarily ‘proportional to Desert.’
[384]I cannot fall back on the resource of thinking myself under a moral necessity to regard all my dutiesas if theywere commandments of God, although not entitled to hold speculatively that any such Supreme Being really exists. 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 describe, except as a momentary half-wilful irrationality, committed in a violent access of philosophic despair.
[384]I cannot fall back on the resource of thinking myself under a moral necessity to regard all my dutiesas if theywere commandments of God, although not entitled to hold speculatively that any such Supreme Being really exists. 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 describe, except as a momentary half-wilful irrationality, committed in a violent access of philosophic despair.
[385]The terms ‘rational’ and ‘moral’ seem to me most appropriate when I wish to suggest the affinity between the two notions: the terms ‘good’ and ‘neutral’ seem preferable when I wish to lay stress on the difference.
[385]The terms ‘rational’ and ‘moral’ seem to me most appropriate when I wish to suggest the affinity between the two notions: the terms ‘good’ and ‘neutral’ seem preferable when I wish to lay stress on the difference.
[386]Werke, v. pp. 100-104 (Hartenstein).
[386]Werke, v. pp. 100-104 (Hartenstein).
[387]Werke, v. p. 30.
[387]Werke, v. p. 30.
[388]Ibid.p. 83.
[388]Ibid.p. 83.
[389]Ibid.p. 46.
[389]Ibid.p. 46.
[390]Werke, iv. p. 294.
[390]Werke, iv. p. 294.
[391]Werke, iv. p. 260 (Hartenstein).
[391]Werke, iv. p. 260 (Hartenstein).
[392]Werke, v. p. 58. See an acute discussion of Kant’s perplexing use of the term “Will” in Prof. Schurman’sKantian Ethics, which has anticipated me in the above quotations.
[392]Werke, v. p. 58. See an acute discussion of Kant’s perplexing use of the term “Will” in Prof. Schurman’sKantian Ethics, which has anticipated me in the above quotations.
[393]E.g.Werke, iv. p. 296.
[393]E.g.Werke, iv. p. 296.
[394]E.g.Werke, v. p. 35.
[394]E.g.Werke, v. p. 35.