FOOTNOTES

FOOTNOTES[1]I did not mean to exclude the supposition that two or more alternatives might under certain circumstances be equally right (1884).[2]This statement now appears to me to require a slight modification (1884).[3]Cf.Mind, No. 2.[4]Among unpublished criticisms I ought especially to mention the valuable suggestions that I have received from Mr. Carveth Read; to whose assistance in revising the present edition many of my corrections are due.[5]I must here acknowledge the advantage that I have received from the remarks and questions of my pupils, and from criticisms privately communicated to me by others; among these latter I ought especially to mention an instructive examination of my fundamental doctrines by the Rev. Hastings Rashdall.[6]Cf. note on p.457, andPrefatory Noteto the Seventh Edition.[7]Kant’sFundamental Principles(Grundlegung zur Metaphysik der Sitten), §§ 1, 2. Mill,Utilitarianism, pp. 5, 6 [7th edition (large print), 1879].[8]Book i. chap.v.ofThe Methods of Ethics.[9]The exact relation of the terms ‘right’ and ‘what ought to be’ is discussed in chap.iii.of this Book. I here assume that they may be used as convertible, for most purposes.[10]I use ‘Politics’ in what I take to be its most ordinary signification, to denote the science or study of Right or Good Legislation and Government. There is a wider possible sense of the term, according to which it would include the greater part of Ethics:i.e.if understood to be the Theory of Right Social Relations. See chap. ii. §2.[11]The relation of the notion of ‘Good’ to that of ‘Right’ or ‘what ought to be’ will be further considered in a subsequent chapter of this Book (ix.)[12]See the Preface to Butler’sSermons on Human Nature.[13]The phrase is Butler’s.[14]See thelast paragraphof chap. iii. of this Book.[15]See chap.ix.of this Book, and Book iii. chap.xiv.[16]For a full discussion of this question, see Book ii. chap.v.and the concludingchapterof the work.[17]Bentham,Memoirs(vol. x. of Bowring’s edition), p. 560.[18]Bentham again,Memoirs, p. 79. Seenoteat the end of Book i. chap. vi. The Utilitarians since Bentham have sometimes adopted one, sometimes the other, of these two principles as paramount.[19]I use the terms ‘Excellence’ and ‘Perfection’ to denote the same ultimate end regarded in somewhat different aspects: meaning by either an ideal complex of mental qualities, of which we admire and approve the manifestation in human life: but using ‘Perfection’ to denote the ideal as such, while ‘Excellence’ denotes such partial realisation of or approximation to the ideal as we actually find in human experience.[20]It may be said that even more divergent views of the reasonable end are possible here than in the case of happiness: for we are not necessarily limited (as in that case) to the consideration of sentient beings: inanimate things also seem to have a perfection and excellence of their own and to be capable of being made better or worse in their kind; and this perfection, or one species of it, appears to be the end of the Fine Arts. But reflection I think shows that neither beauty nor any other quality of inanimate objects can be regarded as good or desirable in itself, out of relation to the perfection or happiness of sentient beings. Cf.post, chap.ix.of this Book.[21]Kant roundly denies that it can be my duty to take the Perfection of others for my end: but his argument is not, I think, valid. Cf.post, Book iii. chap. iv. §1.[22]See Book iii. chap.xiv., where I explain my reasons for only giving a subordinate place to the conception of Perfection as Ultimate End.[23]It may be doubted whether the latter ought properly to be termed a “good citizen,” and not rather a “faithful subject of the Czar of Russia.” But this doubt only illustrates the divergence to which I am drawing attention.[24]Sometimes, as before observed, Politics appears to be used in a wider sense, to denote the theory of ideal social relations, whether conceived to be established through governmental coercion or otherwise.[25]In writing this section I had primarily in view the doctrine set forth in Mr. Spencer’sSocial Statics. As Mr. Spencer has restated his view and replied to my arguments in hisData of Ethics, it is necessary for me to point out that the first paragraph of this section is not directed against such a view of ‘Absolute’ and ‘Relative’ Ethics as is given in the later treatise—which seems to me to differ materially from the doctrine ofSocial Statics. InSocial Staticsit is maintained not merely—as in theData of Ethics—that Absolute Ethics which “formulates normal conduct in an ideal society” ought to “take precedence of Relative Ethics”; but that Absolute Ethics is the only kind of Ethics with which a philosophical moralist can possibly concern himself. To quote Mr. Spencer’s words:—“Any proposed system of morals which recognises existing defects, and countenances acts made needful by them, stands self-condemned.... Moral law ... requires as its postulate that human beings be perfect. The philosophical moralist treats solely of thestraightman ... shows in what relationship he stands to other straight men ... a problem in which acrookedman forms one of the elements, is insoluble by him.”Social Statics(chap. i.). Still more definitely is Relative Ethics excluded in the following passage of the concluding chapter of the same treatise (the italics are mine):—“It will very likely be urged that, whereas the perfect moral code is confessedly beyond the fulfilment of imperfect men, some other code is needful for our present guidance ... to say that the imperfect man requires a moral code which recognises his imperfection and allows for it,seems at first sight reasonable.But it is not really so... a system of morals which shall recognise man’s present imperfections and allow for themcannot be devised; and would be useless if it could be devised.”[26]I omit, for the present, the consideration of the method which takes Perfection as an ultimate end: since, as has been before observed, it is hardly possible to discuss this satisfactorily, in relation to the present question, until it has been somewhat more clearly distinguished from the ordinary Intuitional Method.[27]Some further consideration of this question will be found in a subsequent chapter. Cf. Book iv. chap. iv. §2.[28]The difference between the significations of the two words is discussed later.[29]As, for instance, when Bentham explains (Principles of Morals and Legislation, chap. i. § i. note) that his fundamental principle “states the greatest happiness of all those whose interest is in question as being the right and proper end of human action,” we cannot understand him really tomeanby the word “right” “conducive to the general happiness,” though his language in other passages of the same chapter (§§ ix. and x.) would seem to imply this; for the proposition that it is conducive to general happiness to take general happiness as an end of action, though not exactly a tautology, can hardly serve as the fundamental principle of a moral system.[30]See Book iii. chap. xi. §1.[31]‘Ought’ is here inapplicable, for a reason presently explained.[32]In Chemistry we regard the antecedents (elements) as still existing in and constituting the consequent (compound) because the latter is exactly similar to the former in weight, and because we can generally cause this compound to disappear and obtain the elements in its place. But we find nothing at all like this in the growth of mental phenomena: the psychical consequent is in no respect exactly similar to its antecedents, nor can it be resolved into them. I should explain that I am not here arguing the question whether thevalidityof moral judgments is affected by a discovery of their psychical antecedents. This question I reserve for subsequent discussion. See Book iii. chap. i. §4.[33]I do not even imply that any combination of individuals could completely realise the state of political relations which I conceive ‘ought to’ exist. My conception would be futile if it had no relation to practice: but it may merely delineate a pattern to which no more than an approximation is practically possible.[34]We do not commonly say that particular physical facts are apprehended by the Reason: we consider this faculty to be conversant in its discursive operation with the relation of judgments or propositions: and the intuitive reason (which is here rather in question) we restrict to the apprehension of universal truths, such as the axioms of Logic and Mathematics.[35]By cognition I always mean what some would rather call “apparent cognition”—that is, I do not mean to affirm thevalidityof the cognition, but only its existence as a psychical fact, and its claim to be valid.[36]A further justification for this extended use of the term Reason will be suggested in a subsequent chapter of this Book (chap. viii. §3).[37]This is the sense in which the term will always be used in the present treatise, except where the context makes it quite clear that only the wider meaning—that of the political ‘ought’—is applicable.[38]As will be seen from the next chapter, I do not grant this.[39]Chap.ix.of this Book.[40]The relation of the æsthetic to the moral ideal of conduct will be discussed in a subsequent chapter (ix.) of this Book.[41]I here, as in chap.i., adopt the exact hedonistic interpretation of ‘happiness’ which Bentham has made current. This seems to me the most suitable use of the term; but I afterwards (Book i. chap. vii. §1) take note of other uses.[42]Constitutional Code, Introduction, § 2.[43]Utilitarianism, chap. ii. p. 14.[44]Mr. Leslie Stephen, who holds (Science of Ethics, p. 50) that “pain and pleasure are the sole determining causes of action,” at the same time thinks that it “will be admitted on all hands” that “we are not always determined by a calculation of pleasure to come.”[45]Or, more precisely, ‘greatest surplus of pleasure over pain.’[46]The qualifications and limitations which this proposition requires, before it can be accepted as strictly true, do not seem to me important for the purpose of the present argument. See Book ii. chap. ii. §2.[47]In the present treatise ‘Desire’ is primarily regarded as a felt impulse or stimulus to actions tending to the realisation of what is desired. There are, however, states of feeling, sometimes intense, to which the term ‘desire’ is by usage applicable, in which this impulsive quality seems to be absent or at least latent; because the realisation of the desired result is recognised as hopeless, and has long been so recognised. In such cases the ‘desire’ (so-called) remains in consciousness only as a sense of want of a recognised good, a feeling no more or otherwise impulsive than the regretful memory of past joy. That is, desire in this condition may develop a secondary impulse to voluntary day-dreaming, by which a bitter-sweet imaginary satisfaction of the want is attained; or, so far as it is painful, it may impel to action or thought which will bring about its own extinction: but its primary impulse to acts tending to realise the desired result is no longer perceptible.With this state of mind—“the desire of the moth for the star,Of the night for the morrow”—I am not concerned in the present discussion. I notice it chiefly because some writers (e.g.Dr. Bain) seem to contemplate as the sole or typical case of desire, “where there is a motive and no ability to act upon it”; thus expressly excluding that condition of desire (as I use the term) which seems to me of primary importance from an ethical point of view,i.e.where action tending to bring about the desired result is conceived as at once possible.[48]The confusion occurs in the most singular form in Hobbes, who actually identifies Pleasure and Appetite—“this motion in which consisteth pleasure, is a solicitation to draw near to the thing that pleaseth.”[49]The same argument is put in a more guarded, and, I think, unexceptionable form by Hutcheson. It is perhaps more remarkable that Hume, too, shares Butler’s view which he expresses almost in the language of the famous sermons. “There are,” he says, “bodily wants or appetites, acknowledged by every one, which necessarily precede all sensual enjoyment, and carry us directly to seek possession of the object. Thus hunger and thirst have eating and drinking for their end: and from the gratification of these primary appetites arises a pleasure, which may become the object of another species of inclination that is secondary and interested.” Hence Hume finds that “the hypothesis which allows of a disinterested benevolence, distinct from self-love,” is “conformable to the analogy of nature.” SeeEnquiry concerning the Principles of Morals(Appendix II.).[50]Some further discussion of it will be found in thenoteat the end of the chapter.[51]Professor J. S. Mackenzie, in hisManual of Ethics(3rd edition, Book i. chap. ii. note), arguing for the universal painfulness of desire, urges that the so-called “pleasures of pursuit” are really pleasures of “progressive attainment”; what causes pleasure being the series of partial attainments that precede the final attainment. There seems to me much truth in this view, as regards some forms of pursuit; but in other cases I can find nothing deserving the name in the course of the pursuit: the prominent element of the pleasure seems to be clearly the reflex of eager and hopeful, perhaps consciously skilful, activity.E.g.this is often the case in the pursuit of truth, scientific or historical. I have spent most pleasant hours in hunting for evidence in favour of a conjecture that had occurred to me as a possible solution of a difficult historical question, without any “progressive attainment” at all, as I found no evidence of any importance: but the pleasure had none the less been real, at any rate in the earlier part of the pursuit. Or take the common experience of deer-stalking, or the struggle for victory in an evenly balanced game of chess, or a prolonged race in which no competitor gains on the others till near the end. I find nothing like “progressive attainment” in these cases.But even granting Mr. Mackenzie’s view to be more widely applicable than I think it, the question it deals with seems to me in the main irrelevant to the issue that I am now discussing: since it remains true that the presence of antecedent desire is an essential condition of the pleasures of attainment—whether “progressive” or “catastrophic”—and that the desire is not itself perceptibly painful.[52]Lecky,Hist. of European Morals, Introduction.[53]I must ask the reader to distinguish carefully the question discussed in this chapter, which relates to theobjectsof desires and aversions, from the different question whether thecausesof these impulses are always to be found in antecedent experiences of pleasure and pain. The bearing of this latter question on Ethics, though not unimportant, is manifestly more indirect than that of the question here dealt with: and it will be convenient to postpone it till a later stage of the discussion. Cf.post, Book ii. chap. vi. §2, and Book iv. chap. iv. §1.[54]I have thought it expedient to exclude the Kantian conception of Free Will from the scope of the discussion in this chapter, partly on account of the confusion mentioned in the text; partly because it depends on the conception of a causality not subject to time-conditions, which appears to me altogether untenable, while it does not fall within the plan of the present treatise to discuss it. But considering the widespread influence of Kantian theory on current ethical thought, I have thought it desirable to give a brief discussion of his conception of Free Will in an Appendix (I.).[55]Elements of Morality, Book i. chap. ii. At the same time, it is also true—as I afterwards say—that we sometimes identify ourselves with passion or appetite in conscious conflict with reason: and then the rule of reason is apt to appear an external constraint, and obedience to it a servitude, if not a slavery.[56]The difficulty which Socrates and the Socratic schools had in conceiving a man to choose deliberately what he knows to be bad for him—a difficulty which drives Aristotle into real Determinism in his account of purposed action, even while he is expressly maintaining the “voluntariness” and “responsibility” of vice—seems to be much reduced for the modern mind by the distinction between moral and prudential judgments, and theprima facieconflict between ‘interest’ and ‘duty.’ Being thus familiar with the conception of deliberate choice consciously opposedeitherto interestorto duty, we can without much difficulty conceive of such choice in conscious opposition to both. See chap. ix. §3, of this Book.[57]It is most convenient to regard “intention” as including not only such results of volition as the agentdesiredto realise, but also any that, without desiring, he foresaw as certain or probable. The question how far we are responsible for all the foreseen consequences of our acts, or, in the case of acts prescribed by definite moral rules, only for their results within a certain range, will be considered when we come to examine the Intuitional Method.[58]In a subsequent chapter (chap.ix.of this Book) I shall examine more fully the relation of the antithesis ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ to the vaguer and wider antithesis ‘good’ and ‘bad,’ in our practical reasonings.[59]It is not uncommon for Determinists to conceive of each volition as connected by uniform laws with our past state of consciousness. But any uniformities we might trace among a man’s past consciousnesses, even if we knew them all, would yet give us very imperfect guidance as to his future action: as there would be left out of account—(1) All inborn tendencies and susceptibilities, as yet latent or incompletely exhibited;(2) All past physical influences, of which the effects had not been perfectly represented in consciousness.[60]I do not mean that this is the only view that we take of the conduct of others: I hold (as will presently appear) that in judging of their conduct morally, we ordinarily apply the conception of Free Will. But we do not ordinarily regard it as one kind of causation, limiting and counteracting the other kind.[61]It is not the possibility of merely indeterminate choice, of an “arbitrary freak of unmotived willing,” with which we are concerned from an ethical point of view, but the possibility of choosing between rational and irrational motives.[62]I think that in most cases when a man yields to temptation, judging that it is “no use trying to resist,” he judges in semi-conscious self-sophistication, due to the influence of appetite or passion disturbing the process of reasoning. I do not doubt that this self-sophistication is likely to take a Determinist form in the mind of one who has adopted Determinism as a speculative opinion: but I see no reason for thinking that a Libertarian is not in equal danger of self-sophistication, though in his case it will take a different form.E.g.where a Determinist would reason “I certainly shall take my usual glass of brandy to-night, so there is no use resolving not to take it,” the Libertarian’s reasoning would be “I mean to leave off that brandy, but it will be just as easy to leave it off to-morrow as to-day; I will therefore have one more glass, and leave it off to-morrow.”[63]There is, however, a special case in which this probability may be indirectly a reason for not resolving to do what would otherwise be best;i.e.where this resolution would only be right if followed by subsequent resolutions. The problem thus presented is considered later, pp.75,76.[64]I should admit, indeed, that the ordinary notion of merit becomes inapplicable (see pp.71,72). But I do not see that Perfection becomes less an End to be aimed at, because we cease to regard its attainment as meritorious. The inapplicability of the notion of ‘merit’ to Divine action has never been felt to detract from the Perfection of the Divine Nature.[65]See Book ii. chap.v.and the concludingchapterof the treatise.[66]I ought, however, to point out that an important section of theologians who have held the belief in the moral government of the world in its intensest form have been Determinists.[67]In order to determine this we should require first to settle another disputed question, as to the general reasonableness of our expectation that the future will resemble the past.[68]See Book iii. chap.v.[69]Thus we find it necessary to punish negligence, when its effects were very grave, even when we cannot trace it to wilful disregard of duty; and to punish rebellion and assassination none the less although we know that they were prompted by a sincere desire to serve God or to benefit mankind.[70]It should be observed that the same kind of change is sometimes brought about, without volition, by a powerful emotional shock, due to extraneous causes: and hence it might be inferred that in all cases it is a powerful impression of an emotional kind that produces the effect; and that the will is only concerned in concentrating our attention on the benefits to be gained or evils to be avoided by the change of habit, and so intensifying the impression of these. But though this kind of voluntary contemplation is a useful auxiliary to good resolutions, it does not seem to be this effort of will that constitutes the resolution: we can clearly distinguish the two. Hence this third effect of volition cannot be resolved into the second, but must be stated separately.[71]As I have before said, the applicability of a method for determining right conduct relatively to an ultimate end—whether Happiness or Perfection—does not necessarily depend on the acceptance of the end as prescribed by reason: it only requires that it should be in some way adopted as ultimate and paramount. I have, however, confined my attention in this treatise to ends which are widely accepted as reasonable: and I shall afterwards endeavour to exhibit the self-evident practical axioms which appear to me to be implied in this acceptance. Cf.post, Book iii. chap.xiii.[72]The notion of ‘Self-realisation’ will be more conveniently examined in the following chapter: where I shall distinguish different interpretations of the term ‘Egoism,’ which I have taken to denote one of the three principal species of ethical method.[73]SeeNoteat the end of the chapter.[74]SeeNoteat the end of the chapter.[75]We shall have occasion to consider Mill’s argument on this point in a subsequent chapter. Cf.post, Book iii. chap.xiii.[76]It should be observed that neither Cumberland nor Shaftesbury uses the term “Good” (substantive) in a purely and exclusively hedonistic sense. But Shaftesbury uses it mainly in this sense: and Cumberland’s “Good” includes Happiness as well as Perfection.[77]See Dissertation II.Of the Nature of Virtueappended to theAnalogy. It may be interesting to notice a gradual change in Butler’s view on this important point. In the first of his Sermons on Human Nature, published some years before theAnalogy, he does not notice, any more than Shaftesbury and Hutcheson, any possible want of harmony between Conscience and Benevolence. A note to Sermon XII., however, seems to indicate a stage of transition between the view of the first Sermon and the view of the Dissertation.[78]Thus the end for which an individual is supposed to renounce the unlimited rights of the State of Nature is said (Leviathan, chap. xiv.) to be “nothing else but the security of a man’s person in this life, and the means of preserving life so as not to be weary of it.”[79]Schiller’sWallenstein.[80]I shall afterwards try to explain how it comes about that, in modern thought, the proposition ‘My own Good is my only reasonable ultimate end’ is not a mere tautology, even though we define ‘Good’ as that at which it is ultimately reasonable to aim. Cf.post, chap.ix.and Book iii. chaps.xiii.xiv.[81]Aristotle’s selection of εὐδαιμονία to denote what he elsewhere calls “Human” or “Practicable” good, and the fact that, after all, we have no better rendering for εὐδαιμονία than “Happiness” or “Felicity,” has caused no little misunderstanding of his system. Thus when Stewart (Philosophy of the Active and Moral Powers, Book ii. chap. ii.) says that “by many of the best of the ancient moralists ... the whole of ethics was reduced to this question ... What is most conducive on the whole to our happiness?” the remark, if not exactly false, is certain to mislead his readers; since by Stewart, as by most English writers, “Happiness” is definitely conceived as consisting of “Pleasures” or “Enjoyments.”[82]Thus Green (Prolegomena to Ethics, Book iii. chap. iv. § 228) says, “It is the realisation of those objects in which we are mainly interested,not the succession of enjoyments which we shall experience in realising them, that forms the definite content of our idea of true happiness, so far as it has such content at all.” Cf. also § 238. It is more remarkable to find J. S. Mill (Utilitarianism, chap. iv.) declaring that “money”—no less than “power” or “fame”—comes by association of ideas to be “a part of happiness,” an “ingredient in the individual’s conception of happiness.” But this seems to be a mere looseness of phraseology, venial in a treatise aiming at a popular style; since Mill has expressly said that “by happiness is intended pleasure and the absence of pain,” and he cannot mean that money is either the one or the other. In fact he uses in the same passage—as an alternative phrase for “parts of happiness”—the phrases “sources of happiness” and “sources of pleasure”: and his real meaning is more precisely expressed by these latter terms. That is, the distinction which he is really concerned to emphasise is that between the state of mind in which money is valued solely as a means of buying other things, and the state of mind—such as the miser’s—in which the mere consciousness of possessing it gives pleasure, apart from any idea of spending it.

[1]I did not mean to exclude the supposition that two or more alternatives might under certain circumstances be equally right (1884).

[2]This statement now appears to me to require a slight modification (1884).

[3]Cf.Mind, No. 2.

[4]Among unpublished criticisms I ought especially to mention the valuable suggestions that I have received from Mr. Carveth Read; to whose assistance in revising the present edition many of my corrections are due.

[5]I must here acknowledge the advantage that I have received from the remarks and questions of my pupils, and from criticisms privately communicated to me by others; among these latter I ought especially to mention an instructive examination of my fundamental doctrines by the Rev. Hastings Rashdall.

[6]Cf. note on p.457, andPrefatory Noteto the Seventh Edition.

[7]Kant’sFundamental Principles(Grundlegung zur Metaphysik der Sitten), §§ 1, 2. Mill,Utilitarianism, pp. 5, 6 [7th edition (large print), 1879].

[8]Book i. chap.v.ofThe Methods of Ethics.

[9]The exact relation of the terms ‘right’ and ‘what ought to be’ is discussed in chap.iii.of this Book. I here assume that they may be used as convertible, for most purposes.

[10]I use ‘Politics’ in what I take to be its most ordinary signification, to denote the science or study of Right or Good Legislation and Government. There is a wider possible sense of the term, according to which it would include the greater part of Ethics:i.e.if understood to be the Theory of Right Social Relations. See chap. ii. §2.

[11]The relation of the notion of ‘Good’ to that of ‘Right’ or ‘what ought to be’ will be further considered in a subsequent chapter of this Book (ix.)

[12]See the Preface to Butler’sSermons on Human Nature.

[13]The phrase is Butler’s.

[14]See thelast paragraphof chap. iii. of this Book.

[15]See chap.ix.of this Book, and Book iii. chap.xiv.

[16]For a full discussion of this question, see Book ii. chap.v.and the concludingchapterof the work.

[17]Bentham,Memoirs(vol. x. of Bowring’s edition), p. 560.

[18]Bentham again,Memoirs, p. 79. Seenoteat the end of Book i. chap. vi. The Utilitarians since Bentham have sometimes adopted one, sometimes the other, of these two principles as paramount.

[19]I use the terms ‘Excellence’ and ‘Perfection’ to denote the same ultimate end regarded in somewhat different aspects: meaning by either an ideal complex of mental qualities, of which we admire and approve the manifestation in human life: but using ‘Perfection’ to denote the ideal as such, while ‘Excellence’ denotes such partial realisation of or approximation to the ideal as we actually find in human experience.

[20]It may be said that even more divergent views of the reasonable end are possible here than in the case of happiness: for we are not necessarily limited (as in that case) to the consideration of sentient beings: inanimate things also seem to have a perfection and excellence of their own and to be capable of being made better or worse in their kind; and this perfection, or one species of it, appears to be the end of the Fine Arts. But reflection I think shows that neither beauty nor any other quality of inanimate objects can be regarded as good or desirable in itself, out of relation to the perfection or happiness of sentient beings. Cf.post, chap.ix.of this Book.

[21]Kant roundly denies that it can be my duty to take the Perfection of others for my end: but his argument is not, I think, valid. Cf.post, Book iii. chap. iv. §1.

[22]See Book iii. chap.xiv., where I explain my reasons for only giving a subordinate place to the conception of Perfection as Ultimate End.

[23]It may be doubted whether the latter ought properly to be termed a “good citizen,” and not rather a “faithful subject of the Czar of Russia.” But this doubt only illustrates the divergence to which I am drawing attention.

[24]Sometimes, as before observed, Politics appears to be used in a wider sense, to denote the theory of ideal social relations, whether conceived to be established through governmental coercion or otherwise.

[25]In writing this section I had primarily in view the doctrine set forth in Mr. Spencer’sSocial Statics. As Mr. Spencer has restated his view and replied to my arguments in hisData of Ethics, it is necessary for me to point out that the first paragraph of this section is not directed against such a view of ‘Absolute’ and ‘Relative’ Ethics as is given in the later treatise—which seems to me to differ materially from the doctrine ofSocial Statics. InSocial Staticsit is maintained not merely—as in theData of Ethics—that Absolute Ethics which “formulates normal conduct in an ideal society” ought to “take precedence of Relative Ethics”; but that Absolute Ethics is the only kind of Ethics with which a philosophical moralist can possibly concern himself. To quote Mr. Spencer’s words:—“Any proposed system of morals which recognises existing defects, and countenances acts made needful by them, stands self-condemned.... Moral law ... requires as its postulate that human beings be perfect. The philosophical moralist treats solely of thestraightman ... shows in what relationship he stands to other straight men ... a problem in which acrookedman forms one of the elements, is insoluble by him.”Social Statics(chap. i.). Still more definitely is Relative Ethics excluded in the following passage of the concluding chapter of the same treatise (the italics are mine):—“It will very likely be urged that, whereas the perfect moral code is confessedly beyond the fulfilment of imperfect men, some other code is needful for our present guidance ... to say that the imperfect man requires a moral code which recognises his imperfection and allows for it,seems at first sight reasonable.But it is not really so... a system of morals which shall recognise man’s present imperfections and allow for themcannot be devised; and would be useless if it could be devised.”

[26]I omit, for the present, the consideration of the method which takes Perfection as an ultimate end: since, as has been before observed, it is hardly possible to discuss this satisfactorily, in relation to the present question, until it has been somewhat more clearly distinguished from the ordinary Intuitional Method.

[27]Some further consideration of this question will be found in a subsequent chapter. Cf. Book iv. chap. iv. §2.

[28]The difference between the significations of the two words is discussed later.

[29]As, for instance, when Bentham explains (Principles of Morals and Legislation, chap. i. § i. note) that his fundamental principle “states the greatest happiness of all those whose interest is in question as being the right and proper end of human action,” we cannot understand him really tomeanby the word “right” “conducive to the general happiness,” though his language in other passages of the same chapter (§§ ix. and x.) would seem to imply this; for the proposition that it is conducive to general happiness to take general happiness as an end of action, though not exactly a tautology, can hardly serve as the fundamental principle of a moral system.

[30]See Book iii. chap. xi. §1.

[31]‘Ought’ is here inapplicable, for a reason presently explained.

[32]In Chemistry we regard the antecedents (elements) as still existing in and constituting the consequent (compound) because the latter is exactly similar to the former in weight, and because we can generally cause this compound to disappear and obtain the elements in its place. But we find nothing at all like this in the growth of mental phenomena: the psychical consequent is in no respect exactly similar to its antecedents, nor can it be resolved into them. I should explain that I am not here arguing the question whether thevalidityof moral judgments is affected by a discovery of their psychical antecedents. This question I reserve for subsequent discussion. See Book iii. chap. i. §4.

[33]I do not even imply that any combination of individuals could completely realise the state of political relations which I conceive ‘ought to’ exist. My conception would be futile if it had no relation to practice: but it may merely delineate a pattern to which no more than an approximation is practically possible.

[34]We do not commonly say that particular physical facts are apprehended by the Reason: we consider this faculty to be conversant in its discursive operation with the relation of judgments or propositions: and the intuitive reason (which is here rather in question) we restrict to the apprehension of universal truths, such as the axioms of Logic and Mathematics.

[35]By cognition I always mean what some would rather call “apparent cognition”—that is, I do not mean to affirm thevalidityof the cognition, but only its existence as a psychical fact, and its claim to be valid.

[36]A further justification for this extended use of the term Reason will be suggested in a subsequent chapter of this Book (chap. viii. §3).

[37]This is the sense in which the term will always be used in the present treatise, except where the context makes it quite clear that only the wider meaning—that of the political ‘ought’—is applicable.

[38]As will be seen from the next chapter, I do not grant this.

[39]Chap.ix.of this Book.

[40]The relation of the æsthetic to the moral ideal of conduct will be discussed in a subsequent chapter (ix.) of this Book.

[41]I here, as in chap.i., adopt the exact hedonistic interpretation of ‘happiness’ which Bentham has made current. This seems to me the most suitable use of the term; but I afterwards (Book i. chap. vii. §1) take note of other uses.

[42]Constitutional Code, Introduction, § 2.

[43]Utilitarianism, chap. ii. p. 14.

[44]Mr. Leslie Stephen, who holds (Science of Ethics, p. 50) that “pain and pleasure are the sole determining causes of action,” at the same time thinks that it “will be admitted on all hands” that “we are not always determined by a calculation of pleasure to come.”

[45]Or, more precisely, ‘greatest surplus of pleasure over pain.’

[46]The qualifications and limitations which this proposition requires, before it can be accepted as strictly true, do not seem to me important for the purpose of the present argument. See Book ii. chap. ii. §2.

[47]In the present treatise ‘Desire’ is primarily regarded as a felt impulse or stimulus to actions tending to the realisation of what is desired. There are, however, states of feeling, sometimes intense, to which the term ‘desire’ is by usage applicable, in which this impulsive quality seems to be absent or at least latent; because the realisation of the desired result is recognised as hopeless, and has long been so recognised. In such cases the ‘desire’ (so-called) remains in consciousness only as a sense of want of a recognised good, a feeling no more or otherwise impulsive than the regretful memory of past joy. That is, desire in this condition may develop a secondary impulse to voluntary day-dreaming, by which a bitter-sweet imaginary satisfaction of the want is attained; or, so far as it is painful, it may impel to action or thought which will bring about its own extinction: but its primary impulse to acts tending to realise the desired result is no longer perceptible.With this state of mind—“the desire of the moth for the star,Of the night for the morrow”—I am not concerned in the present discussion. I notice it chiefly because some writers (e.g.Dr. Bain) seem to contemplate as the sole or typical case of desire, “where there is a motive and no ability to act upon it”; thus expressly excluding that condition of desire (as I use the term) which seems to me of primary importance from an ethical point of view,i.e.where action tending to bring about the desired result is conceived as at once possible.

With this state of mind

—“the desire of the moth for the star,Of the night for the morrow”—

I am not concerned in the present discussion. I notice it chiefly because some writers (e.g.Dr. Bain) seem to contemplate as the sole or typical case of desire, “where there is a motive and no ability to act upon it”; thus expressly excluding that condition of desire (as I use the term) which seems to me of primary importance from an ethical point of view,i.e.where action tending to bring about the desired result is conceived as at once possible.

[48]The confusion occurs in the most singular form in Hobbes, who actually identifies Pleasure and Appetite—“this motion in which consisteth pleasure, is a solicitation to draw near to the thing that pleaseth.”

[49]The same argument is put in a more guarded, and, I think, unexceptionable form by Hutcheson. It is perhaps more remarkable that Hume, too, shares Butler’s view which he expresses almost in the language of the famous sermons. “There are,” he says, “bodily wants or appetites, acknowledged by every one, which necessarily precede all sensual enjoyment, and carry us directly to seek possession of the object. Thus hunger and thirst have eating and drinking for their end: and from the gratification of these primary appetites arises a pleasure, which may become the object of another species of inclination that is secondary and interested.” Hence Hume finds that “the hypothesis which allows of a disinterested benevolence, distinct from self-love,” is “conformable to the analogy of nature.” SeeEnquiry concerning the Principles of Morals(Appendix II.).

[50]Some further discussion of it will be found in thenoteat the end of the chapter.

[51]Professor J. S. Mackenzie, in hisManual of Ethics(3rd edition, Book i. chap. ii. note), arguing for the universal painfulness of desire, urges that the so-called “pleasures of pursuit” are really pleasures of “progressive attainment”; what causes pleasure being the series of partial attainments that precede the final attainment. There seems to me much truth in this view, as regards some forms of pursuit; but in other cases I can find nothing deserving the name in the course of the pursuit: the prominent element of the pleasure seems to be clearly the reflex of eager and hopeful, perhaps consciously skilful, activity.E.g.this is often the case in the pursuit of truth, scientific or historical. I have spent most pleasant hours in hunting for evidence in favour of a conjecture that had occurred to me as a possible solution of a difficult historical question, without any “progressive attainment” at all, as I found no evidence of any importance: but the pleasure had none the less been real, at any rate in the earlier part of the pursuit. Or take the common experience of deer-stalking, or the struggle for victory in an evenly balanced game of chess, or a prolonged race in which no competitor gains on the others till near the end. I find nothing like “progressive attainment” in these cases.But even granting Mr. Mackenzie’s view to be more widely applicable than I think it, the question it deals with seems to me in the main irrelevant to the issue that I am now discussing: since it remains true that the presence of antecedent desire is an essential condition of the pleasures of attainment—whether “progressive” or “catastrophic”—and that the desire is not itself perceptibly painful.

But even granting Mr. Mackenzie’s view to be more widely applicable than I think it, the question it deals with seems to me in the main irrelevant to the issue that I am now discussing: since it remains true that the presence of antecedent desire is an essential condition of the pleasures of attainment—whether “progressive” or “catastrophic”—and that the desire is not itself perceptibly painful.

[52]Lecky,Hist. of European Morals, Introduction.

[53]I must ask the reader to distinguish carefully the question discussed in this chapter, which relates to theobjectsof desires and aversions, from the different question whether thecausesof these impulses are always to be found in antecedent experiences of pleasure and pain. The bearing of this latter question on Ethics, though not unimportant, is manifestly more indirect than that of the question here dealt with: and it will be convenient to postpone it till a later stage of the discussion. Cf.post, Book ii. chap. vi. §2, and Book iv. chap. iv. §1.

[54]I have thought it expedient to exclude the Kantian conception of Free Will from the scope of the discussion in this chapter, partly on account of the confusion mentioned in the text; partly because it depends on the conception of a causality not subject to time-conditions, which appears to me altogether untenable, while it does not fall within the plan of the present treatise to discuss it. But considering the widespread influence of Kantian theory on current ethical thought, I have thought it desirable to give a brief discussion of his conception of Free Will in an Appendix (I.).

[55]Elements of Morality, Book i. chap. ii. At the same time, it is also true—as I afterwards say—that we sometimes identify ourselves with passion or appetite in conscious conflict with reason: and then the rule of reason is apt to appear an external constraint, and obedience to it a servitude, if not a slavery.

[56]The difficulty which Socrates and the Socratic schools had in conceiving a man to choose deliberately what he knows to be bad for him—a difficulty which drives Aristotle into real Determinism in his account of purposed action, even while he is expressly maintaining the “voluntariness” and “responsibility” of vice—seems to be much reduced for the modern mind by the distinction between moral and prudential judgments, and theprima facieconflict between ‘interest’ and ‘duty.’ Being thus familiar with the conception of deliberate choice consciously opposedeitherto interestorto duty, we can without much difficulty conceive of such choice in conscious opposition to both. See chap. ix. §3, of this Book.

[57]It is most convenient to regard “intention” as including not only such results of volition as the agentdesiredto realise, but also any that, without desiring, he foresaw as certain or probable. The question how far we are responsible for all the foreseen consequences of our acts, or, in the case of acts prescribed by definite moral rules, only for their results within a certain range, will be considered when we come to examine the Intuitional Method.

[58]In a subsequent chapter (chap.ix.of this Book) I shall examine more fully the relation of the antithesis ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ to the vaguer and wider antithesis ‘good’ and ‘bad,’ in our practical reasonings.

[59]It is not uncommon for Determinists to conceive of each volition as connected by uniform laws with our past state of consciousness. But any uniformities we might trace among a man’s past consciousnesses, even if we knew them all, would yet give us very imperfect guidance as to his future action: as there would be left out of account—(1) All inborn tendencies and susceptibilities, as yet latent or incompletely exhibited;(2) All past physical influences, of which the effects had not been perfectly represented in consciousness.

(1) All inborn tendencies and susceptibilities, as yet latent or incompletely exhibited;

(2) All past physical influences, of which the effects had not been perfectly represented in consciousness.

[60]I do not mean that this is the only view that we take of the conduct of others: I hold (as will presently appear) that in judging of their conduct morally, we ordinarily apply the conception of Free Will. But we do not ordinarily regard it as one kind of causation, limiting and counteracting the other kind.

[61]It is not the possibility of merely indeterminate choice, of an “arbitrary freak of unmotived willing,” with which we are concerned from an ethical point of view, but the possibility of choosing between rational and irrational motives.

[62]I think that in most cases when a man yields to temptation, judging that it is “no use trying to resist,” he judges in semi-conscious self-sophistication, due to the influence of appetite or passion disturbing the process of reasoning. I do not doubt that this self-sophistication is likely to take a Determinist form in the mind of one who has adopted Determinism as a speculative opinion: but I see no reason for thinking that a Libertarian is not in equal danger of self-sophistication, though in his case it will take a different form.E.g.where a Determinist would reason “I certainly shall take my usual glass of brandy to-night, so there is no use resolving not to take it,” the Libertarian’s reasoning would be “I mean to leave off that brandy, but it will be just as easy to leave it off to-morrow as to-day; I will therefore have one more glass, and leave it off to-morrow.”

[63]There is, however, a special case in which this probability may be indirectly a reason for not resolving to do what would otherwise be best;i.e.where this resolution would only be right if followed by subsequent resolutions. The problem thus presented is considered later, pp.75,76.

[64]I should admit, indeed, that the ordinary notion of merit becomes inapplicable (see pp.71,72). But I do not see that Perfection becomes less an End to be aimed at, because we cease to regard its attainment as meritorious. The inapplicability of the notion of ‘merit’ to Divine action has never been felt to detract from the Perfection of the Divine Nature.

[65]See Book ii. chap.v.and the concludingchapterof the treatise.

[66]I ought, however, to point out that an important section of theologians who have held the belief in the moral government of the world in its intensest form have been Determinists.

[67]In order to determine this we should require first to settle another disputed question, as to the general reasonableness of our expectation that the future will resemble the past.

[68]See Book iii. chap.v.

[69]Thus we find it necessary to punish negligence, when its effects were very grave, even when we cannot trace it to wilful disregard of duty; and to punish rebellion and assassination none the less although we know that they were prompted by a sincere desire to serve God or to benefit mankind.

[70]It should be observed that the same kind of change is sometimes brought about, without volition, by a powerful emotional shock, due to extraneous causes: and hence it might be inferred that in all cases it is a powerful impression of an emotional kind that produces the effect; and that the will is only concerned in concentrating our attention on the benefits to be gained or evils to be avoided by the change of habit, and so intensifying the impression of these. But though this kind of voluntary contemplation is a useful auxiliary to good resolutions, it does not seem to be this effort of will that constitutes the resolution: we can clearly distinguish the two. Hence this third effect of volition cannot be resolved into the second, but must be stated separately.

[71]As I have before said, the applicability of a method for determining right conduct relatively to an ultimate end—whether Happiness or Perfection—does not necessarily depend on the acceptance of the end as prescribed by reason: it only requires that it should be in some way adopted as ultimate and paramount. I have, however, confined my attention in this treatise to ends which are widely accepted as reasonable: and I shall afterwards endeavour to exhibit the self-evident practical axioms which appear to me to be implied in this acceptance. Cf.post, Book iii. chap.xiii.

[72]The notion of ‘Self-realisation’ will be more conveniently examined in the following chapter: where I shall distinguish different interpretations of the term ‘Egoism,’ which I have taken to denote one of the three principal species of ethical method.

[73]SeeNoteat the end of the chapter.

[74]SeeNoteat the end of the chapter.

[75]We shall have occasion to consider Mill’s argument on this point in a subsequent chapter. Cf.post, Book iii. chap.xiii.

[76]It should be observed that neither Cumberland nor Shaftesbury uses the term “Good” (substantive) in a purely and exclusively hedonistic sense. But Shaftesbury uses it mainly in this sense: and Cumberland’s “Good” includes Happiness as well as Perfection.

[77]See Dissertation II.Of the Nature of Virtueappended to theAnalogy. It may be interesting to notice a gradual change in Butler’s view on this important point. In the first of his Sermons on Human Nature, published some years before theAnalogy, he does not notice, any more than Shaftesbury and Hutcheson, any possible want of harmony between Conscience and Benevolence. A note to Sermon XII., however, seems to indicate a stage of transition between the view of the first Sermon and the view of the Dissertation.

[78]Thus the end for which an individual is supposed to renounce the unlimited rights of the State of Nature is said (Leviathan, chap. xiv.) to be “nothing else but the security of a man’s person in this life, and the means of preserving life so as not to be weary of it.”

[79]Schiller’sWallenstein.

[80]I shall afterwards try to explain how it comes about that, in modern thought, the proposition ‘My own Good is my only reasonable ultimate end’ is not a mere tautology, even though we define ‘Good’ as that at which it is ultimately reasonable to aim. Cf.post, chap.ix.and Book iii. chaps.xiii.xiv.

[81]Aristotle’s selection of εὐδαιμονία to denote what he elsewhere calls “Human” or “Practicable” good, and the fact that, after all, we have no better rendering for εὐδαιμονία than “Happiness” or “Felicity,” has caused no little misunderstanding of his system. Thus when Stewart (Philosophy of the Active and Moral Powers, Book ii. chap. ii.) says that “by many of the best of the ancient moralists ... the whole of ethics was reduced to this question ... What is most conducive on the whole to our happiness?” the remark, if not exactly false, is certain to mislead his readers; since by Stewart, as by most English writers, “Happiness” is definitely conceived as consisting of “Pleasures” or “Enjoyments.”

[82]Thus Green (Prolegomena to Ethics, Book iii. chap. iv. § 228) says, “It is the realisation of those objects in which we are mainly interested,not the succession of enjoyments which we shall experience in realising them, that forms the definite content of our idea of true happiness, so far as it has such content at all.” Cf. also § 238. It is more remarkable to find J. S. Mill (Utilitarianism, chap. iv.) declaring that “money”—no less than “power” or “fame”—comes by association of ideas to be “a part of happiness,” an “ingredient in the individual’s conception of happiness.” But this seems to be a mere looseness of phraseology, venial in a treatise aiming at a popular style; since Mill has expressly said that “by happiness is intended pleasure and the absence of pain,” and he cannot mean that money is either the one or the other. In fact he uses in the same passage—as an alternative phrase for “parts of happiness”—the phrases “sources of happiness” and “sources of pleasure”: and his real meaning is more precisely expressed by these latter terms. That is, the distinction which he is really concerned to emphasise is that between the state of mind in which money is valued solely as a means of buying other things, and the state of mind—such as the miser’s—in which the mere consciousness of possessing it gives pleasure, apart from any idea of spending it.

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