>- ( A i\ Gbe TUnfvei'sft? tutorial Sedea. A MANUAL OF ETHICS. iani\>ersit tutorial Series. MANUAL OF ETHICS. BY- JOHN S. MACKENZIE, M.A., PROFESSOR OF LOGIC AND PHILOSOPHY IN THE UNIVERSITY COLLEGE OF SOUTH WALKS AND MONMOUTHSHIRE; FORMERLY FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. FOURTH EDITION. LONDON: W. B. OLIVE, (University Correspondence College Press), 157 UEURY LANE, W.C. ' - OF THE /? PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION. THE chief change in this Edition consists in the addition of a chapter on " The Authority of the Moral Standard " (Book II., chapter VI.). This chapter includes an account of the Sanctions, which formerly appeared as a note to chapter VI. of Book III. I have also added a short note on the classification of the Virtues at the end of chapter IV. of Book III. The- other alterations in this Edition are very slight. June, 1900. . CONTENTS. INTRODUCTION. CHAPTER I. THE SCOPE OF ETHICS. PACK | 1. Definition : The Science of the Ideal in Conduct. 2. The Nature of Ethics. It is a Normative Science. $ 3. Ethics not a Practical Science. \ 4. Ethics not an Art. $ 5. Is there an Art of Conduct ? How Conduct is distinguished from the Arts. ( i ) Virtue Exists only in Activity. ( 2 ) The Essence of Virtue lies in the Will. \ 6. Is there any Science of Conduct ? 7. Summary I Note on Positive and Normative Sciences 20 CHAPTER II. THE RELATION OF ETHICS TO OTHER SCIENCES. 1. General Statement. \ 2. Physical Science and Ethics. \ 3. Biology and Ethics. 4. Psychology and Ethics. 5. IvOgic, ^Esthetics and Ethics. 6. Metaphysics and Ethics. 7. Ethics and Political Philosophy. $ 8. Ethics and Economics. 9. Ethics and Paedagogics. \ 10. Concluding Remarks. 23 CHAPTER III. THE DIVISIONS OF THE SUBJECT. \ 1. General Remarks. \ 2. The Psychological Aspect of Ethics. 3. The Sociological Aspect of Ethics. 4. The Theories of the Moral Standard.? 5. The Concrete Moral Life. ^ 6. Plan of the Present Work 35 xiii Xiv CONTENTS. BOOK I. PROLEGOMENA, CHIEFLY PSYCHOLOGICAL, CHAPTER I. DESIRE AND 1. Introductory Remarks. 2. General Nature of Desire. \ 3. Want and Appetite. 4. Appetite and De- sire.? 5. Universe of Desire. \ 6. Conflict of De- sires. 7. Desire and Wish. \ 8. Wish and Will. \ 9. Will and Act. 10. The Meaning of Pur- pose. 1 1 . Will and Character ................... 43 CHAPTER II. MOTIVE AND INTENTION. 1. Preliminary Remarks. \ 2. The Meaning of Inten- tion. | 3. The Meaning of Motive. \ 4. Relation between Motives and Intentions. \ 5. Is the Motive always Pleasure ? \ 6. Psychologioal Hedonism. 7. The Object of Desire, (i) The Paradox of Hedonism. f 8. The Object of Desire. (2) Wants prior to Satisfactions. 9. The Object of Desire. (3) Pleasures and Pleasure. 10. Can Reason Serve as a Motive ? \ 1 1 . Is Reason the only Motive ? \ 12. How Motives are Constituted ....................... 59 Note on Pleasure and Desire ....................... 79, CHAPTER III. CHARACTER AND CONDUCT. 1. General Remarks. 2. Character. \ 3. Conduct. \ 4. Circumstance. $ 5. Habit. \ 6. The Free- - dom of the Will. \ 7. Freedom Essential to Morals. \ 8. Necessity Essential to Morals. \ 9. The True Sense of Freedom. 10. Animal Spontaneity. g 11. Human Liberty. \ 12. The Highest Free- dom. 13. The Nature of Voluntary Action ....... 83 Note on Responsibility ............. . .............. 101 I.] THE SCOPE OF ETHICS. 3 may be directed, e. g. the building of a house, the writ- ing of a book, the passing of an examination, and so on. But since Ethics is the science of Conduct as a ^ whole, and not of any particular kinds of Conduct, it is not any of these special ends that it sets itself to consider, but the supreme or ultimate end to which our whole lives are directed. This end is commonly referred to as the Summum Bonum or Supreme Good. ' Now it is no doubt open to question at the outset, whether there can be said to be any one supreme end in human life. Men aim at various objects. Some desire wealth ; others, independence ; others, power. Some are eager for fame ; others, for knowledge ; others, for love ; Fand some again find their highest good in loving and serving others. z Some are fond of excitement ; others, of peace. Some fill their lives with many-sided interests art and science, and the development of social and political institutions ; others are tempted to regard all these as vanity, and some- times even, turning from them all in disgust, to believe that the best thing of all would be to die and be at rest ; 2 while others again fix their highest hopes on a life beyond death, to be perfected in a better world than this. But a little consideration serves to show that many of these ends cannot be regarded as ulti- 1 " This is shown by the delight that mothers take in loving ; for some give their children to others to rear, and love them since they know them, but do not look for love in return, if it be impossible to have both, being content to see their children doing well, and loving them, though they receive from them, in their ignorance, nothing of what is due to a mother." Aristotle's Ethics, VIII. viii. 3. 2 See, for instance, Shakespeare's Sonnet LXVI. " Tired with all these, for restful death I cry," &c., and cf. Byron and the modern Pessimists, passim. 4 ETHICS. [INTROD., CH. I. mate. If, for instance, we were to question those who are seeking for wealth or independence or power, we should generally find that they would explain their desire for these objects by enumerating the advantages which the attainment of the desired objects would bring. The possibility of such an explanation proves that these objects are not regarded as ultimate ends by those who pursue them, but are desired for the sake of something else. Still, we hardly seem to be justified in starting with the assumption that there is any one ultimate end in human life. The question whether any such end can be discovered is rather one that must be discussed in the course of our study. What it is necessary for us to assume is simply that there is some ideal \\\ life, i. e. that there is some standard of judgment by reference to which we are able to say that one form of conduct is better than another. What the nature of this ideal or standard is whether it has reference to a single ultimate end, to a set of rules imposed upon us by some authority, to an ideal type of human life which we are somehow enabled to form for ourselves, or in what other possible way it is deter- mined we must endeavour to discover as we go on. In the meantime it seems sufficient to define Ethics as the science of the ideal involved in human life. 1 2. THE NATURE OF ETHICS. // is a Normative Sci- ence. The fact that Ethics is concerned with an end or ideal or standard serves at once to distinguish it from most other sciences. Most sciences are con- 1 On the general nature of the science of Ethics, the reader may consult Sidgwick's History of Ethics, Chap. I. ; Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, Book I.; Dewey's Outlines of Ethics, Introduction ; and Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics, Book I., Chap. I. 2.] THE SCOPE OF ETHICS. 5 cerned with certain uniformities of our experience with the ways in which certain classes of objects (such as rocks or plants) are found to exist, or with the ways in which certain classes of events (such as the phe- nomena of sound or electricity) are found to occur. Such sciences have no direct reference to any end that is to be achieved or to any ideal by reference to which the facts are judged. The knowledge which they com- municate may, indeed, be useful for certain purposes. A knowledge about rocks is useful for those who wish to build houses or to sink mines. A knowledge about electricity is useful for those who wish to protect their buildings or to form telegraphic communications. But the truth of the sciences that deal with such subjects as these is in no way affected by the ends which they may thus be made to subserve. Knowledge about the nebulae is as much a part of the science of astron- omy as knowledge about the solar system, though the latter can be directly turned to account in the art of navigation, while the former has no direct practical utility. The science of Ethics, then, is distinguished from the natural sciences, inasmuch as it has a direct reference to an end that men desire to attain, or a type to which they wish to approximate. It is not by any means the only science, however, which has such a reference. On the contrary, there is a whole class of sciences of this character. These are 'commonly called the normative sciences i. e. the sci- ences that lay down rules or laws or, more strictly, that seek to define a standard or ideal with reference to which rules or laws may be formulated. Of this kind are the science of medicine (i. e. Hygienics), which deals with the nature of the distinction between 6 ETHICS. [INTROD., CH. I. health and disease, and with the rules to be observed for the attainment of health, or for the avoidance and removal of disease ; the science of architecture, which deals with the types to be aimed at and the rules to be observed in the construction of buildings, with a view to their stability, convenience, and beauty ; the sci- ence of navigation, which deals with the aims and principles involved in the management of ships ; the science of rhetoric, which deals with the principles of persuasiveness and beauty of style ; the science of logic, which deals with the conditions of correct think- ing. Most of these sciences are of a mixed character, being partly concerned with the analysis of facts, and partly with the definition of ends or ideals and with the statement of rules to be observed for the at- tainment of them. Thus the science of medicine deals with the facts of disease as well as with the nature and conditions of health, and the science of architecture discusses the ways in which buildings have been constructed at various periods of man's history, as well as the ways in which it is most desir- able that buildings should be constructed. Sometimes, indeed, these two sides of a science are so evenly balanced, that it is difficult to say whether it ought properly to be regarded as a natural or a normative science. This is notably the case with regard to political economy. But in all such cases it is possible to separate the two sides of the science, and to con- sider them as forming in reality two distinct, though closely connected, sciences. In the case of Ethics, the normative side is by far the more important ; but the other side is not entirely absent. There are ethical facts as well as ethical laws 2.] THE SCOPE OF ETHICS. / and ideals. Thus the ideas of the Thugs, who are said to regard murder as a supreme duty, constitute an important fact in the moral life of a certain section of mankind ; but no scientific system of ethics is ever likely to include such a duty in its statement of the moral ideal, any more than a system of medicine is likely to express approval of extensive indulgence in alcohol or tight lacing. This is no doubt a somewhat extreme case ; but there are in every community certain peculiarities of the moral sense which are in reality quite analogous. Thus, much of the conduct which is regarded as fine and noble in a modern Englishman, would probably have seemed almost unintelligible to a cultivated Athenian or to a devout Jew in the ancient world ; and much of the conduct that one of the latter would have praised, would seem to the modern Englishman to lack delicacy or human- ity. Now, some of the differences which occur in the moral codes of different peoples are not without mean- ing even for the student of the moral ideal. A reflective moralist, to whatever school of thought he might belong, would not approve of quite the same conduct under all conditions of life, any more than a thoughtful physician would prescribe the same regimen to an inhabitant of Canada as to an inhabitant of India. Differejit-^tfcttm- stances bring different obligations ; and in the general progress of history, there is a progress in the nature of the duties that are imposed on men. As Lowell says " New occasions teach new duties : Time makes ancient good uncouth.' Even the strictest of moralists, therefore, might admit differences in ethical codes at different times and 8 ETHICS. [INTROD., CH. I. places... But the differences which we actually find are not all of this nature. No system of medicine would commend opium and crushed feet ; and no system of ethics would regard with equal approval the Code of Honour, the Ten Commandments, and the Sermon on the Mount. But all these are ethical facts , and have an equal right to be chronicled as such, though they have not an equal right to be approved. There is a marked difference, therefore, between the science which deals \ with the facts of the moral life and that which deals with the rules and ideals of the moral life. The former science is a part of that wider science which deals with the general structure of societies the science which is usually known as Sociology. The latter science, on the other hand, is that to which the name of Ethics is more strictly appropriated ; and it is with it alone, or at least mainly, that we shall be concerned in the present work. The former is a natural or positive science; the latter is a normative science. ,But, of course, in dealing with the latter, we can scarcely avoid touching on the former. 3. ETHICS NOT A PRACTICAL SCIENCE. There is, however, still another distinction which it is important to draw. It will be observed that the sciences referred to in the foregoing paragraph as normative are not all of quite the same kind. Some of them are definitely concerned with the consideration of the means required for the realisation of certain assignable ends, while others are more directly interested in the elucidation of the ends or ideals involved in certain forms of activity. Perhaps it would be best to confine the term > "normative" to the latter kind of science, while the former might be more appropriately described as ' ' prac- 3-] THE SCOPE OF ETHICS. 9 tical." Medicine (Hygienics) is a practical science, rather than a normative one, since its aim is not so much that of understanding the ideal of health l as that of ascertaining the means by which health may be best produced. Now, the science of Ethics has sometimes been regarded as a practical science in this sense. It is generally so regarded by those writers who think that it is possible to formulate some one simple end at which human beings ought to aim as the summum bonum. Thus, what is commonly known as the Utilitarian school regards the attainment of "the t greatest happiness of the greatest number " as the end to be aimed at, and conceives that it is the business of Ethics to consider the means by which this end may be attained, just as the scientific student of public health may consider the best means for preventing the spread of an infectious disease. The extent to which, if at all, it is possible to treat Ethics in this way, will have to be considered at a later stage, after we have discussed the different views that may be taken of the nature of the moral ideal. We shall then see grounds for thinking that the moral life cannot be regarded as directed towards the attainment of any one simple result, and that consequently the means of attaining the moral ideal cannot be formulated in any definite set of rules. In so far as this is the case, the science of Ethics cannot properly be described as practical. It must content itself with understanding the nature of v the ideal, and must not hope to formulate rules for its \ attainment. Hence most writers on Ethics have pre- ferred to treat it as a purely speculative, rather than as a practical science. This is probably the best view to 1 Perhaps this is more properly the function of Physiology. 10 ETHICS. [INTROD., CH. I. take. At any rate, it is important to observe that the description of Ethics as "normative" does not involve the view that it has any direct bearing on practice. It is the business of a normative science to define an ' ideal, not to lay down rules for its attainment. Esthe- tics, for instance, is a normative science, concerned with the standard of Beauty ; but it is no part of its business to inquire how Beauty is produced. So with Ethics. It discusses the ideal of goodness or Tightness, and is not directly concerned with the means by which this ideal may be realised. Ethics, then, though a normative science, is not to be regarded as a practical science. 1 4. ETHICS NOT AN ART. If Ethics is not strictly to be classed as a practical science, it ought still less to be described as an art. Yet the question has sometimes been raised, with regard both to Logic and to Ethics, whether both these departments of study are not rather of the nature of arts than of sciences, 2 since they have both a certain reference to practice. Logic has some- times been called the Art of Thinking, 3 and though Ethics has perhaps never been described as the Art of Conduct, yet it has often been treated as if it were di- rectly concerned with that art. Now, it may be ques- tioned whether it is quite correct to speak of an art of thinking or of an art of conduct at all. This is a ques- tion to which we shall shortly return. But at any rate it is now generally recognized that it is best to treat 1 The extent to which it may be regarded as bearing on practice is discussed below, Book II., chap. vii. All the statements made in the present chapter must be regarded as provisional. 2 Cf. Welton's Manual of Logic, vol. i. p. 12. 3 This was, in particular, the title of the Port Royal Logic. 4-] THE SCOPE OF ETHICS. 1 1 both Logic and Ethics as having- no direct bearing upon these arts. It may be well, however, to notice the reasons which have led to the view that these sciences are of the nature of arts. In the case of every practical science, the question is apt to present itself, whether we are really concerned with a science at all or rather with an art. And the answer seems to be, that if we insist on drawing an abso- lute distinction between a science and an art, a practical science must be regarded as lying midway between them. A science, it is said, teaches us to know, and an art to do ; l but a practical science teaches us to know how to do. Since, however, such a science is primarily concerned with the communication of knowledge, it is more properly to be described as a science than as an art ; but it is a kind of science that has a very direct relation to a corresponding art. There is scarcely any art that is not indirectly related to a great number of different sciences. The art of painting, for instance, may derive useful lessons from the sciences of optics, anatomy, botany, geology, and a great variety of others. The art of navigation, in like manner, is much aided by the sciences of astronomy, magnetism, acoustics, hydrostatics, and many more. But such relationships are comparatively indirect. The depend- ence of an art upon its corresponding practical science is of a very much closer character. The art of rhetoric is a direct application of the science of rhetoric, so far as there is any such science ; and the art of fencing, of the science of fencing. Indeed, if a practical science could be completely worked out into all its details, the 1 Cf. Jevons's Elementary Logic, p. 7 ; Walton's Manual of Logic, vol. i- p. 12 ; Mill's Logic, Introduction, 12 ETHICS. [INTROD., CH. I. art corresponding to it would contain nothing which is not included in the science. Perhaps this is the case with such an art as that of fencing. Still, even here the science and the art are clearly distinguishable. A man may be quite familiar with the science, and yet not be skilled in the art ; and vice versa. But in most cases the distinction is even more marked than this : for the art usually includes a great deal that we are not able to reduce to science at all. Indeed, some arts are so entirely dependent on the possession of a peculiar/ knack or dexterity, or of a peculiar kind of genius, that they can scarcely be said to have any science corre- sponding to them at all. Thus, for example, there is no science of cookery, there is no science of sleight- of-hand, there is no science of making jokes, and there is no science of poetry. ' Now there is no doubt a sense in which conduct, as well as thinking, may be said to be an art. 2 Both of these are activities presupposing certain natural gifts, proceeding upon certain principles, and made perfect by practice. But such an art as either of these seems clearly to be one that cannot be subjected to exact scientific treatment. Men of moral genius and large experience of life may communicate the fruits of their 1 Poetry used to be known as " the gay science ; " but the word " science" is here used in the sense of "art." The failure to distin- guish between these two terms has given rise to much confusion. Thus, when Carlyle called political economy "the dismal science," he meant to contrast it with poetry. But it is now generally recog- nized that political economy is a science in the stricter sense, though partly a practical science, and is not to be classed with arts like poetry. 2 A recent book by Mr. N. P. Oilman and Mr. E. P. Jackson, is en- titled Conduct as a Fine Art ; but this reminds one somewhat of De Quincey's essay on " Murder regarded as one of the Fine Arts." 5-] THE SCOPE OF ETHICS. 13 experience to mankind, and may thus be said to in- struct them in the art of conduct. But it is certainly not the business of a student of ethical science as such to be a prophet or preacher. Even if Ethics were in the strict sense a practical science, it could still only 1 , deal with the general principles involved in human ac- 1 tion. But action itself is concerned with the particular, which can never be exhausted by general principles. For the communication of the art of conduct "ex- Cample is better than precept," and experience is better than either ; so that even if it were the business of Ethics to lay down precepts (t. e. if it were a practical science), these precepts would still not suffice for in- struction in the art of life. But as Ethics is a norma- tive, rather than a practical, science, it is not even its primary business to lay down precepts at all, but rather to define the ideal involved in life. How far the defini- tion of this ideal may lead on to practical precepts, is a matter for future consideration. 5. Is THERE ANY ART OF CONDUCT ? We may, how- ever, proceed further, and ask whether it is strictly legitimate to speak of an Art of Conduct at all. A little consideration suffices to show that such a con- ception is in the highest degree questionable. No doubt the term Art may be used in somewhat different senses. The Industrial Arts are not quite of the same nature as the Fine Arts. The former are directed to the production of objects useful for some ulterior end ; whereas the objects produced by the latter are rather ends in themselves. But in both cases there is a defi- nite product which it is the object of the Art to bring forth. Now in the case of morality, at least on a prima facie view, this is not true. There is no product 14 ETHICS. [INTROD., CH. I. in this case, but only an activity. Of course it may be said that the activity is valued with reference to a certain ultimate end, i. e. to the summunt bonum. How far this is true, we shall have to consider in the course of our study ; but it would, at any rate, be mislead- ing at the outset to think of conduct as being of the same nature as the Arts, whether Industrial or Ex- pressive. It may be convenient to sum up the dif- ferences in the following way. (i) Virtue exists. _onl%j[n activity. A good painter is one who can paint beautifully : a good man is not one who can, but one who does, act rightly. The good painter is good when he is asleep or on a journey, or when, for any other reason, he is not employed in his art. 1 The good man is not good when asleep or on a journey, unless when it is good to sleep or to go on a journey. Goodness is not a capacity or potentiality, but an activity ; in Aristotelian language, it is not a but an i This is a simple point, and yet it is a point that pre- sented great difficulty to ancient philosophers. By nothing perhaps were they so much misled as by 1 Cf. Aristotle's Ethics, I. viii. 9. Of course, we judge the goodness of a painter by the work that he does ; but the point is that he may cease to act without ceasing to be a skilled artist. A good painter may decide to paint no more ; but a good man cannot decide to re- tire from the life of virtuous activity, or even to take a rest from it. There are no holidays from virtue. Charles Lamb, indeed, has suggested that a leading element in the enjoyment of certain forms of Comedy consists in the fact that they free us from the burden of our habitual moral consciousness. This may be true ; but if any one were to seek for a holiday by actually practising the modes of life depicted in these Comedies, he would, so far, have ceased to be virtuous. 5.] THE SCOPE OF ETHICS. 15 the analogy of virtue to the arts. x Thus in Plato's Republic, Socrates is represented as arguing that if justice consists in keeping property safe, the just man must be a kind of thief ; for the same kind of skill which enables a man to defend property, will also enable him to steal it. 2 The answer to this is, that justice is not a kind of skill, but a kind of activity. The just man is not merely one who can, but one who does, keep pro- perty safe. Now though the capacity of preserving property may be identical with the capacity of appro- priating it, the act of preserving is certainly very dif- ferent from the act of appropriating. The man who knows precisely what the truth about any matter is, would undoubtedly, as a general rule, be the most competent person to invent lies with respect to the same matter. Yet the truth-speaker and the liar are very different persons ; because they are not merely men who possess particular kinds of capacity, but men who act in particular ways. Often, indeed, the most atrocious liars have no special capacity for the art. And so also it is with other vices. "The Devil," it is said, " is an Ass." (2) The Essence of Virtue lies in the Will. The man who is a bungler in any of the particular arts may be a very worthy and well-meaning person ; but the_best intentions in the world will not make him a good Artist. In the case of virtuous action, on the other hanH, as Kant says, 3 "a good will is good not because 1 This does not apply to Aristotle. See the passage referred to in the preceding note. 2 Of course, Plato intended this for a joke ; but it is doubtful whether he knew exactly where the fallacy comes in. 3 Metaphysic of Morals, I. l6 ETHICS. [INTROD., CH. I. of what it performs or effects, not by its aptness for the attainment of some proposed end, but simply by "virtue of the volition." " Even if it should happen that, owing to a special disfavour of fortune, or the niggardly provision of a step-motherly nature, this will should wholly lack power to accomplish its purpose, if with its greatest efforts it should yet achieve nothing, and there should remain only the good will (not, to be sure, a mere wish, but the summoning of all means in our power), then, like a jewel, it would still shine by its own light, as a thing which has its whole value in itself." In like manner, Aristotle says l of a good man living in circumstances in which he cannot find scope for his highest virtues, dtaJ.dfi.Tcet TO zaMv, "his nobility shines through." It is true that even in the fine arts purpose counts for something ; and a stammering utterance may be not without a grace of its own. 2 In conduct also, if a man blunders entirely, we generally assume that there was some flaw in his purpose that he did not reflect sufficiently, or did not will the good with sufficient intensity. Still, the distinction remains, that in art the ultimate appeal is to the work achieved, whereas in morals the ultimate appeal is to the inner aim. Or rather, in morals the achievement 1 Ethics, I. x. 12. 2 Cf. Browning's Andrea del Sarto : " That arm is wrongly put and there again A fault to pardon in the drawing's lines, Its body, so to speak : its soul is right, He means right that, a child may understand." But here Art is being judged almost from an ethical, rather than from a purely aesthetical point of view. " He means right," is not an sesthetical judgment, (though, of course, the distinction between 'body' and 'soul' i.e. technique and expression d>c belong to ^Esthetics). 6.] THE SCOPE OF ETHICS. 17 cannot be distinguished from the inner activity by which it is brought about. l 6, IS THERE ANY SCIENCE OF CONDUCT ? The fact that it is somewhat questionable to speak of an Art of Conduct suggests a doubt whether it is even quite proper to speak of a Science of Conduct. We generally understand by a science the study of some limited portion of our experience. Now in dealing with morals we are concerned rather with the whole of our ex- perience from one particular point of view, viz. , from the point of view of activity i. e. from the point of view of the pursuit of ends or ideals. Matthew Arnold has said that "Conduct is three-fourths of life ;" but of course, from the point of view of purposive activity, conduct is the whole of life. It is common to dis- tinguish the pursuit of truth (science) and the pursuit of beauty (fine art) from the moral life in the narrower sense ; but when truth and beauty are regarded as ends to be attained, the pursuit of them is a kind of conduct ; and the consideration of these ends, as of all others, falls within the scope of the science of morals. In a sense, therefore, Ethics is not a science at all, if by a science we understand the study of some limited department of human experience. It is rather a part of philosophy, i. e. a part of the study of ex- perience as a whole. It is, indeed, only a part of philosophy ; because it considers the experience of life only from the point of view of will or activity. It does not, except indirectly, consider man as knowing or enjoying, but as doing, i. e. pursuing an end. But it considers man's whole activity, the entire nature 1 This point is more fully brought out in Book I., chap. vi. Eth. 2 1 8 ETHICS. [INTROD., CH. I. of the good which he seeks, and the whole significance of his activity in seeking it. For this reason some writers prefer to describe the subject as Moral Philoso- phy or Ethical Philosophy, rather than as the Science of Ethics. For it is the business of Philosophy, rather than of Science, to deal with experience as a whole. Similarly, Logic and ./Esthetics, the two sciences which most closely resemble Ethics, are rather philosophical than scientific. But the term Science may be used in a wide sense to include the philosophical studies as well as those that are called scientific in the narrower sense. In the next chapter we must endeavour to explain more definitely the place of Ethics among the other departments of knowledge. 7. SUMMARY. The statements in this chapter are intended to give a general indication of the nature of ethical science. The student ought to be warned, however, that different writers regard the subject in different ways. Some regard it as having a directly practical aim, while others endeavour to treat it as a purely theoretical science, in the same sense in which chemistry or astronomy is purely theoretical. I have adopted a middle course, by describing it as normative. But the full significance of this difference, as well as the grounds for adopting one or other of these views, can hardly become apparent to the student until he has learned to appreciate the distinction between the lead- ing theories of the moral standard. In fact, in studying Ethics, as in studying most other subjects of any com- plexity, it should always be borne in mind that the defi- nition of the subject and the understanding of its scope and method come rather at the end than at the begin- ning. With these cautions, however, the student may /] THE SCOPE OF ETHICS. 19 perhaps find the remarks made in this chapter of some service as an introduction to the study. The main points may be summed up in this way : (1) Ethics is the science which deals with the Ideal, or with the Standard of Rightness and Wrongness, Good and Evil, involved in Conduct. (2) This science is normative, not one of the ordinary Positive Sciences. (3) It is, however, not properly to be described as a Practical Science, though it has a close bearing upon practical life. (4) Still less is it to be described as an Art. (5) It is hardly correct to speak of an Art of Conduct at all. (6) Some objection may also be taken even to the term Science of Conduct, since the study of the Ideal in Conduct is rather philosophical than scientific. 20 .ETHICS. [INTROD., CH. I. NOTE ON POSITIVE AND NORMATIVE SCIENCES. It may be well to warn the student, more fully than could well be done in the text, that the convenient distinction, here adopted, be- tween positive and normative sciences, is not to be taken as an ab- solute one ; still less, as exhaustive. On reflection, the student will no doubt find that many sciences which are essentially positive have in them elements that are of a normative character. In illustration of this, we might refer to the saying of the astronomer, who was questioned about the way in which the planets move : " I know nothing about the way in which the planets move ; I only know how the planets ought to move if there are any planets ! " This is, of course, a paradox ; but it may serve to bring out the truth that much of what is contained even in the positive sciences depends on the consideration of ideal standards. Again, the student who pursues the study of metaphysics will soon find that there is a sense in which even such principles as the law of causation may be said, as Kant put it, to be prescribed to nature. Further, there is a sense in which even purely normative sciences may be said to deal with what is. Logic is said to be concerned with correct thinking ; but there is a very true sense in which it may be held that incorrect thinking is not thought ; so that, from this point of view, Logic may be said to be concerned with the principles of thought as thought. Similarly, it might perhaps be urged that an object which is not ap- preciated as beautiful is not really appreciated ; and that an action which is not good is not, in the full sense of the word, an action. Hence, the distinction between positive and normative sciences is one that may require, to a large extent, to be thrown aside as the student advances. It is one of those convenient distinctions (like that between sense and thought, knowing and willing, matter and spirit, etc.) which require to be drawn at the outset, but which may be gradually superseded. It remains true, however, that the ordi- nary concrete sciences, like botany or physiology, 1 make it their main aim to co-ordinate particular facts of experience, while logic and ethics deal essentially with standards of judgment. It would ob- viously be far beyond the scope of such a work as this to attempt any i In the case of physiology, this statement is open to some qualifi- cation, in so far as physiology makes it its business to study the normal action of vital functions. THE SCOPE OF ETHICS. 2.1 exhaustive classification of the sciences ; but perhaps the following list may serve, roughly, to indicate the relations in which they stand to one another. (1) The ordinary concrete sciences, e.g. botany, biology, anatomy, geology, &c. Of these it is on the whole true to say that they deal with particular classes of facts, and try to co-ordinate them. (2) The ordinary abstract sciences, such as mathematics, mechan- ics, the more theoretical parts of astronomy, &c. These sciences also aim at the elucidation of facts ; but, in order to elucidate them, they make use of hypothetical constructions, often involving a reference to ideal standards as, in mathematics, the standard of a perfectly straight line, and the like. 1 (3) The normative sciences, such as logic, aesthetics, ethics, which deal definitely rather with standards of judgment than with parti- cular facts. (4) The practical sciences, such as medicine, architecture, rhetoric, &c., which apply standards of judgment to the formulation of prin- ciples of action. All normative sciences are capable of being made practical when they are thus applied. Arts, properly so called, seek to carry out certain forms of activity for the production of certain results. They depend on the principles laid down by the practical sciences, but generally depend on more than one of them. It should also be carefully borne in mind that often what is com- monly regarded as a single science may include elements which, if taken by themselves, would refer it alternately to several, or perhaps all, of the above classes. Thus Political Economy is a positive science in so far as it deals with the facts of commercial life, and seeks to co-ordinate them in so far, that is to say, as it is dealt with historically and concretely. It is, however, an abstract science, in so far as it deals with hypothetical conditions, such as that of perfectly free competition, and seeks to show what would follow from these con- ditions. It is a normative science, in so far as it seeks to establish an 1 It may perhaps be of some assistance to the student to point out that the names of the more purely positive sciences generally end in " logy "geology, biology, anthropology, psychology, sociology, &c. ; while those of the more abstract and normative (/. e. those that are, in some sense, concerned with standards or ideals) generally end in " ic " or " ics " mathematics, mechanics, logic, aesthetics, ethics, &c. But this is only roughly true. Cf. Giddings's Principles of Sociology, p. 50. 22 ETHICS. [INTROD., CH. I. ideal standard, such as that of industrial freedom, to which the facts of the commercial life ought to conform. It is a practical science when it uses this standard to guide the statesman, the man of busi- ness, the workman, or the social reformer. When, finally, these various people make use of it, under the guidance of common sense, it becomes an art ; and the carrying of it into effect in this way in- volves various other forms of knowledge, as well as the knowledge of the particular science in question. 1 It thus appears that sciences cannot be quite so simply arranged as the student might perhaps be led to suppose from the statements in the text. The broad distinction, however, between the positive and the normative between that in which the ultimate reference is to a particular class of facts, and that in which the ultimate reference is to an ideal standard, is all that is of special importance for our pres- ent purpose. If the student will bear in mind the two sciences with which, from his previous study, he is probably most likely to be familiar, Psychology and Logic, he will find in them two very per- fect types of the distinction in question. Psychology deals with the facts of consciousness ; Logic deals with the standard of correctness. i Ci. Keynes's Scope and Method of Political Economy, pp. 34-36. I.] RELATION TO OTHER SCIENCES. 23 CHAPTER II. THE RELATION OF ETHICS TO OTHER SCIENCES. 1. GENERAL STATEMENT. From what has already been stated, it appears that Ethics is to be regarded as belonging to the group of sciences that are called philosophic. Now the question as to the general nature and divisions of philosophic study is to some extent controversial ; and of course it is beyond our present scope to enter on any discussion of this question ; but perhaps the student may find the follow- ing statements helpful and not very misleading. He may correct them for himself, if necessary, as he ad- vances in the study of philosophy. Philosophy is the study of the nature of experience as a wHoTeT^The particular sciences investigate particular portions of the content of our experience ; but philo- sophy seeks to understand the whole in the light of its central principles. In order to do this, it endeavours to analyze the various elements that enter into the con- stitution of the world as we know it. This part of the investigation is perhaps that which is most properly described as Epistemology. Next we may go on to trace the genesis of the various elements that constitute our experience to examine, that is to say, the process by which experience grows up in the consciousness of individuals and races. This is the task of Psychology. Now, when we thus examine our experience and trace 24 ETHICS. [INTROD., CH. II. its growth, it is found that the content which is thus brought to light consists partly of facts presented in various ways before our consciousness and partly of ideals. The study of the particular facts that come before our consciousness has to be handed over to the particular sciences ; or, in so far as philosophy is able to deal with them, they form the content of what is called the Philosophy of Nature. The ideals, again, which emerge in our experience, are found to be three in number, corresponding, it would seem, to the Know- ing, the Feeling, and the Willing sides of our, conscious nature. They are the ideals of Truth, Beauty, and Goodness. The study of these ideals forms the subject- matter of the three sciences of Logic, ^Esthetics, and Ethics. Finally the question arises with respect to the kind and degree of reality possessed by these various elements in our experience. This inquiry is that which is properly known as Ontology. The first and the last of these departments of study Epistemology and Onto- logy tend to coalesce ; and the two together con- stitute what is commonly known as Metaphysics, which thus forms the Alpha and the Omega of the philoso- phical sciences. From this it will be seen that Ethics stands, along with Logic and Esthetics, midway between Psycho- logy and Metaphysics ; and, in fact, whatever may be thought of the foregoing method of stating the relation- ship, it is generally recognized that there is a very close connection between Ethics and each of these two other philosophical sciences. Further consideration, however, reveals a variety of other subjects to which Ethics is closely related. On some it is dependent for materials, to others it supplies 2.] RELATION TO OTHER SCIENCES. 2$ assistance. It may be well to try to bring out a little more in detail some of these relationships, though of course it is only possible to indicate them here very briefly. 2. PHYSICAL SCIENCE AND ETHICS. The relation of Physical Science to Ethics is but slight. It has some- times been supposed that the question of physical causation has an important bearing on Ethics. It has been thought that morality postulates the freedom of the will, and that there is a certain conflict between this postulate and the theory of the universal applica- bility of the law of cause and effect. This point will be referred to in a subsequent chapter. In the mean- time it must suffice to say that the supposition of such a conflict appears to rest upon a misconception. Of course, Ethics is indirectly related to Physical Science, inasmuch as a knowledge of physical laws enables us to predict, more accurately and certainly than we should otherwise be able to do, what the effect of various kinds of conduct will be. But this knowl- edge affects only the details of conduct, not the general principles by which our conduct is guided. A wise man in modern times will be less afraid of the sea and of the stars, and more afraid of foul air and impure water, than a man of similar wisdom in ancient times ; but the general consideration of the question, what kinds of things we ought to fear, and what kinds we ought not to fear, need not be affected by this differ- ence in detail, which is due to the advance of know- ledge. Physical Science in short is chiefly useful to Ethics in the way of helping us to understand the environment within which the moral life is passed, rather than the nature of the moral life itself. 26 ETHICS. [INTROD., CH. II. 3. BIOLOGY AND ETHICS. The relation of Biology to Ethics is much closer than that of Physics or Chemistry, but is essentially of the same indirect character. Many of the most sacred of human obligations rest on physi- ological considerations ; but the general principles on which these obligations rest can be discussed without any direct reference to physiological details, and would not, in their general principles, be affected by any new physiological discoveries. Some recent writers, under the influence of the theory of evolution, 1 have represented the connection of Biology with Ethics as being of a much more fund- amental character than that which has now been in- dicated. It has been thought that the criterion of good or bad conduct is to be found in the tendency to pro- mote the development of life or the reverse ; and that, consequently, we may speak of good or bad conduct in the lowest forms of life in quite the same sense as in man. This is a view to which some reference will have to be made at a later stage. In the meantime it seems sufficient to say that conduct, in the sense in which the term is used in Ethics, has no meaning ex- cept with reference to a being who has a rational will ; and that, in the case of such a being, the development of life is but a subordinate part of the end. Conse- quently, Biology does not appear to have any direct bearing upon Ethics. 2 The study of animal life, how- ever, does throw a good deal of light on the develop- ment of the moral consciousness ; but it does this only 1 See especially Spencer's Principles of Ethics. 2 It is only in so far as we attribute some form of self-conscious- ness to the lower animals that we are entitled to speak of " sub- human" Ethics. Cf. Muirhead's Elements o} Ethics, p. 212, note, and see below, Book I., chap, iii., 3. 4-] RELATION TO OTHER SCIENCES. 27 in so far as animal life is studied from the psychological, not from the purely biological, point of view. 4. PSYCHOLOGY AND ETHICS. The relation of Psy- chology to Ethics is much closer and more important. At the same time, the dependence of the one upon the other ought not to be exaggerated. As Logic deals K with the correctness of thought, so Ethics _deals_w:ith the corre^tnje^_pf_cQBduct. Neither of them is directly concerned with the process by which we come to think or to act correctly. Still, the processes of feeling, de- siring, and willing cannot be ignored by the student of Ethics ; any more than the processes of general- izing, judging, and reasoning can be ignored by the student of Logic ; and the consideration of all these falls within the province of the psychologist. Psycho- logy, in fact, as I have already tried to indicate, leads up_to_eihics, as ^ leads up to Logic and ^Esthetics. In this connection, however, there is another im- portant point to be noticed, to which reference has not yet been made. Human conduct, as we shall find more and more, has a social reference. Most of our actions derive their moral significance very largely from our relations to our fellow-men. Now Psychology, as commonly studied, has but little bearing on this. Psy- chology, as a rule, deals mainly with the growth of the individual consciousness, and only refers indirectly to the facts of social relationship. It is possible, how- ever, to study the process of mental development from a more social point of view. The study of language, for instance, the study of the customs of savage peoples, the study of the growth of institutions, etc., throw light upon the gradual development of the human mind in relation to its social environment. The term 28 ETHICS. [INTROD., CH. II. Sociology has been used to denote, in a comprehensive way, the study of such social phenomena ; and, from the point of view of Ethics, this study of the facts of mind in relation to society has a more direct interest than purely individual Psychology. 5. LOGIC, ESTHETICS, AND ETHICS. These three sciences, as I have already pointed out, are essen- tially cognate. They are all normative, not positive : they are concerned, that is to say, not with the inves- v ligation of facts and relations between facts, but with the discussion of standards. Logic studies the standard of Truth. It is concerned with the validity of various x processes of thought. ^Esthetics and Ethics, again, may be said to be concerned with value or worth. ^Esthetics considers the standard of Beauty, or as we may perhaps say, worth for feeling. Ethics considers the standard of goodness, /. e. value or worth from the point of view of action valour, as we might put it. Validity, Value, Valour, might almost be said to be the subjects of the three sciences ; but this of course is something of a play on words. At any rate they are very closely re- lated to one other. Ethics might almost be described as the Logic of conduct i. e. it considers the condi- tions of the consistency of conduct with the ideal 1 in- 1 As we have had frequent occasion to use this term Ideal, and shall have to use it frequently in the sequel, it may be well to enter a caution at this point against a misconception to which it is liable. An Ideal means a type, model, or standard ; and that which is ideal is that which is normal, that which conforms to its type or standard. The adjective " ideal," however, corresponds to the two nouns " Idea " and " Ideal," and there is a certain ambiguity in its use. As corresponding to "idea" (in the sense made current in English by Locke, Berkeley and Hume) it is apt to be understood as referring to that which is merely fancied, as distinguished from that which exists in fact. (The more correct philosophical use, in this sense, is 5-] RELATION OF OTHER SCIENCES. 29 volved in it, just as Logic considers the conditions of the consistency of thought with the standards that it implies. Again, the study of the Good is also closely related to the study of the Beautiful. Indeed, so close is the connection between the two conceptions that the Greeks used the same word, TO xodov, indifferently to express beauty and moral nobility. The phrase "beauty of holiness " also occurs in Hebrew literature ; and in modern times we sometimes meet with such expressions as "beautiful soul," "a beautiful life," and the like though these expressions generally refer rather to religious piety than to purely moral excellence, and even in that reference strike us perhaps as savour- seen in such phrases as " ideal content," " ideal construction," "ideal synthesis," and the like.) Thus, when Byron speaks of " ideal woe" he means imaginary woe, woe of which the ground is purely fanciful. And indeed this meaning clings even to the noun " Ideal," and to " ideal " as an adjective corresponding to that noun. An artist's Ideal is apt to be understood as meaning a type of beauty which is nowhere to be found existing. The ideal, in fact, comes to be un- derstood in the sense of a poetic vision, " The light that never was on sea or land, The consecration and the poet's dream." In this sense also an Ideal state, like Plato's Republic, is contrasted with actually existing conditions. Now this use of the word is apt to be very misleading in Ethics. In order to avoid such confusion it is well for the student to think of the moral Ideal, not in relation to Ideal States or the artist's Ideal, but rather in relation to the logical Ideal. The Ideal of correct thinking is not something in the air, but is something that is realized every time we think at all ; for to think wrongly is to a certain extent not to think. Similarly the moral ideal may be said to be realized every time we truly act. It is important that we should get rid of the habit of thinking of the Ideal as something " too good to be true," and learn to think of it rather as the determining principle in reality. (See Hegel's Logic, Wallace's Translation, p. n.) The point of this may become more apparent in the sequel. 30 ETHICS. [INTROD., CH. II. ing a little of cant. I have already indicated that the Greek philosophers got into some trouble through their failure to distinguish clearly between moral conduct and art ; and the sharper separation in modern times between the two conceptions marks an advance in scientific clearness. When the moral life is regarded as beautiful, it is looked at from a somewhat external point of view, as if it were a result rather than an act of will ; and it was no doubt partly because the Greeks had not fully reached the inner point of view (for which we are largely indebted to Christianity) that they were tempted to regard the moral life as if it were simply an artistic product. When we regard morality as involv- ing a struggle of the will, it can scarcely impress us as beautiful. In the religious sense also, when we speak of the beauty of holiness, beautiful souls, and beauti- ful lives, we are generally thinking of the persons re- ferred to as if they ''flourished" rather than lived, as if they were passive products rather than active pro- ducers. Still, it cannot be denied that the contempla- tion of a life of eminent virtue yields us a certain aesthetic satisfaction ; and from certain points of view it is tempting, even for a modern writer, to regard virtue as a kind of beauty. The consideration of the relation between the Good and the Beautiful is, how- ever, too difficult a subject to betaken up at this point ;. and we must, at any rate, reserve the discussion of it for the present. 6. METAPHYSICS AND ETHICS. The consideration of validity and value leads inevitably to the problem of reality. In the case of thought we may be satisfied for a time with the mere consideration of its formal self-consistency. But this is soon found to be unsatis- /] RELATION TO OTHER SCIENCES. 31 factory ; and we pass on, as in what is called Inductive Logic, to the question of the conditions of the consist- ency of thought with the facts of nature. This again leads us on to the discussion of the ultimate nature of reality. Similarly, in dealing with the Beautiful, we may at first be content to regard it as the pleasant ; but we are soon led to inquire how far the pleasantness of objects is illusory and how far it rests upon their essential nature. Thus in both these cases we are led on into metaphysical inquiries. So it is in the case of Ethics. When we ask what constitutes the value or active worth of human life we are soon led into the question of the essential nature of human personality and its place in the universe of actual existence. It is possible, no doubt, to proceed a certain length in Logic, Esthetics, and Ethics without insisting upon an answer to the ultimate problems of ontology ; but they all lead us on inevitably into these problems. V 7. ETHICS AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. So far we have been referring to the sciences upon which Ethics may be said to rest. We have now to notice depart- ments of study which rest upon Ethics. These may all be brought under the general heading of political or social Philosophy. As I have already remarked, the study of conduct leads us inevitably into the study of social life. An entirely solitary human being is in- conceivable. A man is always a member of some kind of community. As Aristotle said, he is a poli- tical animal (rcohrixby Z$ov). Hence the science of Ethics is very closely related to that of Politics. We cannot well consider the virtues of the individual with- out considering also the society to which he is related, and the ways in which it may help or hinder the devel- 32 ETHICS. [INTROD., CH. II. opment of his life. The ideal also which we lay down for the individual will necessarily suggest an ideal arrangement of society, which will be best fitted to enable the individual to realize his highest aims. For this reason, Aristotle even went so far as to say that Ethics is essentially a part of Politics. If we accept this statement, however, we must employ the term Politics in a very wide sense. In this wide sense it is perhaps better to use the term Social Philosophy. But even in the narrower sense of the term, it is evident that the relation of Ethics to Politics must be a very intimate one. 1 8. ETHICS AND ECONOMICS. Among the departments of Political Philosophy to which Ethics is thus closely related there is one to which great importance has been attached in recent times the science of Political Econ- omy. Economics, like Ethics, is concerned with goods, i. e. with things having value with reference to certain human ends. But while the goods with which Ethics deals are those acts which are the conditions of the attainment of the highest end of life, economic goods are merely those objects which are the means of sat- isfying any human want. It follows that if we are really to understand the worth of economic goods, we must consider them in close relation to the ethical good. Food, for instance, clothing, house room, and the like, are economic goods ; and they serve a variety of purposes the support of life, the development of life, the prolongation of life, the promotion of enjoy- ment, the attainment of independence, the furtherance of peace, decency, and security, and so on. And the 1 Cf. Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, p. 40 sqq., and see below, Book III., chaps, i. and ii. 9-] RELATION TO OTHER SCIENCES. 33 worth of the goods will depend on the importance of these ends. Now the importance of these ends can be ascertained only by observing their relation to the supreme end of our lives. Hence a certain knowledge of Ethics is presupposed in the intelligent study of Economics. This truth has frequently been overlooked, The study of Economics has too often been conducted in such a way as to suggest that Wealth is an end in itself; and this has had the practical result of retarding social reforms, and encouraging those who are already too much prepared to pursue riches at any price. For this reason some of the leading writers on Political Economy have been severely criticised by Carlyle and Ruskin and other moralists ; and it is now generally recognized that the two sciences of Ethics and Econo- mics must be brought into closer relationship to one another, at least if Economics is to be treated as, in any degree, normative and practical. * 9. ETHICS AND PEDAGOGICS. Ethics ought also to throw an important light on the science of Education. The reader has probably already discovered, from his previous course of philosophic study, that the science of psychology has a good deal to say that bears on Education. Psychology, however, is chiefly con- cerned with the various capacities of the human mind and the method of their development. The light which it throws on mental Education is similar to that which is thrown by physiology on physical Education. The question as to what qualities it is most desirable 1 On this subject, cf. Keynes's Scope and Method of Political Econ- omy, chap. ii. For a more extreme view, see Devas's Political Economy, Book IV., chap. v. Cf. International Journal of Ethics, Vol. III., no. 3, and Vol. VII., no. 2. Eth. , 34 ETHICS. [INTROD., CH. II. to evoke and strengthen must obviously depend on our view of the qualities which the good citizen ought to possess, and generally on our view of the nature of the ethical end. J 10. CONCLUDING REMARK. These notes on the relationship between Ethics and other sciences are necessarily somewhat fragmentary, and perhaps the student may not find them very enlightening, especi- ally at the beginning of his course. They may serve, however, to indicate the wider bearings of the science, and to prepare the way for the consideration of the divisions into which the study of it naturally falls. Possibly also if the student will return upon this chapter, after having gone through the body of the treatise, he may then be better able to appreciate the points to which reference has here been made. i Mrs. Bryant has written a valuable book on Educational Ends which brings out with considerable fulness the bearing of ethical considerations on the subject of Education. Similarly, Milton's Tractate on Education is written throughout with reference to an ethical ideal. Cf. also Bacon's DC Augmentis, Book VII. and many other works of a similar character. The recent book by Professor MacCunn on The Making of Character is now probably the best work we have in English on the ethical aspects of Education. I.] THE DIVISIONS OF THE SUBJECT. 35 CHAPTER III. THE DIVISIONS OF THE SUBJECT. 1. GENERAL REMARKS. If we adhered quite rigidly to the view of Ethics put forward in the first chapter, it would hardly be necessary to introduce any divisions in the treatment of it. It would all be concerned with the definition of the moral ideal, the analysis of what is involved in it, and the consideration of its validity ; and this would practically be but a single inquiry. But it is hardly possible to limit the subject in this rigid way. There are a number of considerations which, on a strict view, might be held not properly to belong to Ethics, but which are so essential to the understanding of it that it is hardly possible to omit them from any book dealing comprehensively with the subject. The nature of these outlying considerations has been partly indicated in the foregoing chapter ; but we have now to notice more precisely the way in which they tend to break up the study of Ethics into different departments. In the first place, it is necessary to give some atten- tion to the psychological aspects of the subject. The consideration of the nature of Feeling, Desire, Will, of the meaning and place of Motives and Intentions in the individual consciousness, of the origin and nature of conscience, of the elements contained in the moral 36 ETHICS. [INTROD., CH. III. judgment, and other problems of a similar character, is an almost indispensable preliminary to the study of the moral ideal. Again, the treatment of these psycho- logical questions naturally leads us on to the more sociological aspects of the subject, i. e. to the study of the way in which the moral consciousness grows up in mankind in relation to the general development of civilization in its various aspects. These genetical in- quiries lead us on to the consideration of the nature and significance of the moral ideal. But even the treat- ment of this is necessarily to some extent historical. It is hardly possible, at the present stage of the develop- ment of ethical study, to lay down the one view that is to be accepted as correct, without reference to the various more or less incorrect opinions that have been current in the course of ethical speculation. Having considered these and formed our view as to the general nature of the doctrine that is to be taken as true, we are then able, finally, to consider the applica- tion of this doctrine to the treatment of the concrete facts of the moral life. In this way there are at least four main divisions of the study : (i) The Psycho- logy of the Moral Consciousness, (2) The Sociology of the Moral Life, (3) The Theories of the Moral Standard, (4) The Application of the Standard to the treatment of the Moral Life. A part dealing with the Metaphysics of Ethics might also be added ; but this could hardly be separated from the discussion of the Theories of the Moral Standard, which, as we shall see, inevitably leads us into metaphysical considerations. A few remarks may now be made on each of these divisions of the subject. 2. THE PSYCHOLOGICAL ASPECTS OF ETHICS. Most 3-] THE DIVISIONS OF THE SUBJECT. 37 of the points that fall under this head are discussed in treatises on Psychology, where they are more strictly in place. But it is found convenient in ethical works to recall some of the more important considerations on the subject of Desire and Will, in particular, and also to deal with the nature of conscience and the moral judgment, which are apt to be passed over somewhat slightly in purely psychological discussions. The bearing of such questions as that of the freedom of the Will on the moral judgment has also to be considered ; and, though this is partly a metaphysical question, yet it is on the whole the psychological aspect of it that more directly concerns Ethics. It is, however, the more social aspects of Psychology with which Ethics is most intimately connected, and we are thus led to the second division of the subject. 3. THE SOCIOLOGICAL ASPECTS OF ETHICS. The sci- ence of Sociology is still in its infancy, and it is perhaps premature to state precisely what it would contain ; but we may say of it generally that it is nothing more than an extension of psychology to the consideration of the more social aspects of life. Such a considera- tion has reference to much that has very little bearing on Ethics. When we study the life of savage peoples, the primitive facts of language, the early religious ideas, the superstitious practices, the beginnings of law and government, our interest is directed to many points that do not much concern the Tightness and wrongness of conduct. All these things, however, are modes of conduct, or tend to affect conduct ; and it is possible to study them from this point of view. Also the tendency to pass judgment upon these and other forms of activity, as being right or wrong, good 38 ETHICS. [INTROD., CH. III. or evil, begins at a very early stage in the development of the human race; and the way in which this judg- ment grows up is one of the most interesting points in the study of Sociology. All this is hardly to be described as Ethics in the stricter sense ; but it is an almost indispensable preparation for the study of ethical problems. 4. THE THEORIES OF THE MORAL STANDARD. The study of Ethics in the stricter sense commences with the consideration of the nature of the Ideal, Standard, or End, by reference to which Conduct is pronounced to be right or wrong, good or evil. Now there are several different theories on this subject ; and, though some of these theories are now generally admitted to have been superseded, yet the leading types of theory can- not well be neglected, the more so as these leading types are seldom wholly erroneous, but nearly always bring out some important aspect of the subject. At the same time, the student should be warned against the common error of supposing that these controver- sies about the definition of the Standard, often rather futile and involving a good deal of misunderstanding on all sides, constitute the whole, or even the main part, of ethical doctrine. In order to guard against such a misconception, it is important to pass on to the consideration of the way in which ethical principles may be used in the treatment of the concrete moral life, even if the discussion of this subject is inevitably of a very summary and incomplete character. 5. THE CONCRETE MORAL LIFE. It will be found that the exact way in which the concrete moral life is to be handled by ethical science depends to a consider- able extent on the nature of the theory which we finally 5-] THE DIVISIONS OF THE SUBJECT. 39 adopt. If, for instance, we were to take the view that the moral standard consists in certain absolute and immutable laws which are intuitively known to every developed consciousness, the study of the concrete moral life could have little more than a historical interest. We should only be able to discover that at certain periods the nature of the moral laws has been obscured, for various reasons, from the consciousness of the majority of the human race ; and that at other times the laws, though fully recognized, have been very commonly disobeyed. These facts would be of sociological and psychological, rather than of strictly ethical interest. On the other hand, if we, should be led to take the view that the moral standard consists in a certain end say, happiness which, though gen- erally pursued by mankind, is not pursued consist- ently or wisely, it would then be possible to point out, at least in general terms, the ways in which improve- ments could be introduced into the concrete moral life of mankind. Rules could be laid down for the more complete and consistent adoption of the right means to the end that we have in view. Or, again, if we accepted the view that the Standard is of the nature of an Ideal that is more or less clearly present through- out the development of the human consciousness, it would then be possible for us to trace the ways in which this Ideal comes into clearness, to point out how it is illustrated in the concrete growth of the moral life, and to indicate to some extent the directions in which we may hope to see it more fully realized. According to the first of these views, the study of the concrete moral life would have hardly any ethical interest. According to the second view, the study of 40 ETHICS. [INTROD., CH. III. Ethics would lead directly to certain practical recom- mendations for the remodelling of the concrete moral life. According to the third view, it would be the main business of Ethics to bring out the significance of the moral life in its concrete development, rather than to aim at its reform. Accordingly, it is not possible to decide on the precise way in which this department of the subject should be dealt with, until we have con- sidered the nature of the moral Standard. This portion of the treatment of Ethics is sometimes called Applied Ethics. 6. PLAN OF THE PRESENT WORK. A complete treatise on the Principles of Ethics would thus, as I conceive, fall naturally into four distinct parts with, possibly, a fifth devoted to the development of the more meta- physical aspects of the subject. The present work, however, is only intended to serve the purpose of an introductory sketch ; and the divisions which are here adopted need not be of quite so elaborate a character. As this book is intended primarily to be read by students who have already pursued a course in Psychology, the psychological aspects of the subject need not be very fully developed. As regards the sociological aspects, again, the whole science of sociology is in so unde- veloped a condition that it would hardly be appropriate in an elementary Text-book to make any confident assertions about it. In a larger work various points might fittingly be discussed which in such a book as this are best omitted. Accordingly, all that is to be said about these two departments of ethical study is here compressed under the general heading of " Pro- legomena, chiefly Psychological. " The various theories of morals must be dealt with somewhat more fully ; 6.] THE DIVISIONS OF THE SUBJECT. 41 but here also we must content ourselves with the broad distinctions, and leave the more minute historical details for future study. In dealing with the concrete moral life, we cannot attempt to do much more than indicate the main points which it would be important to con- sider in a more complete treatise. Finally, the meta- physical implications of ethical theory can only be referred to in a concluding chapter. , I.] DESIRE AND WILL. 43 BOOK I. PROLEGOMENA, CHIEFLY PSYCHOLOGICAL. CHAPTER I. DESIRE AND WILL. 1. INTRODUCTORY REMARK. The questions that con- cern us in this chapter are essentially psychological ; and most of the points on which we have to touch will be found treated, with more or less fulness, in any psychological handbook. But it seems necessary here to bring out their ethical significance. What chiefly concerns us is the nature of those activities which are described by the terms Will, and Conduct, and the relation of these to that general condition of conscious life which is described as Character. But in order to understand these it is necessary also to say something about the relationship between Desire and Will ; and it is to that point that the present chapter is to be de- voted. 2. GENERAL NATURE OF DESIRE. Before we consider the way in which our desires are related to the will, it is necessary to determine precisely what we are to understand by the term desire. We must not, for in- stance, confound human desires with the mere appetites of an animal : and there are also several other minor 44 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. I. distinctions which it is necessary to keep in view. We may say, generally, that nothing is an object of \ desire for a man unless it is consciously regarded as a good : but this remark is perhaps not very enlighten- ing ; for it would be difficult to define a good otherwise than as an object that is consciously desired. 1 The point is, however, that in all real desire there is some object that is consciously taken as an end. Such an object consciously taken as an end in desire is what we call a good. By defining in this way, we seem to be able to avoid going round in a circle. In order to understand this point, however, it is necessary to go more into the details of the distinction between desire and other modes of activity. We may conveniently begin with those forms of activity that are lowest in the scale of life, and pass upwards from these to the highest forms of human desire and will. 3. WANT AND APPETITE. We may begin by distin- guishing the appetite of an animal from the mere pres- ence of an animal want. An animal want is in itself of the same nature as a vegetable want. It is a blind tendency towards particular ends, which are involved in the development of the life of the animal, just as they might be also in the life of a plant. We may say, if we like, that nature wills 2 the realization of these ends; but they are not consciously willed by the animal or plant itself. In the case of an appetite, on the other hand, there is not merely a blind tendency towards a particular end ; but this tendency is to a v l Cf. Aristotle's Ethics, I. i. i. : " The good is that at which all things aim." 2 This conception is due to Aristotle. It is of course partly meta- phorical, but suggests a teleological view of the world. 3-] DESIRE AND WILL. 45 certain extent present to consciousness. This con- sciousness may appear partly in the form of a definite presentation of the kind of object that will satisfy a given want. The hungry lion may be more or less clearly aware of the nature of the object that it seeks. The plant, on the other hand, when it turns to the sunlight, may be said to have a want ; but it can- not be supposed to have any consciousness of the nature of the object that will satisfy it. Even in the case of an animal appetite, however, the conscious- ness of the object is probably in most instances some- what dim and vague. T The most prominent element in the consciousness is rather the feeling of pleasure or pain than any definite presentation of an object. An unsatisfied appetite is in itself 2 painful ; whereas the satisfaction of any appetite brings with it the feeling of pleasure. These feelings form so characteristic and prominent an element in animal appetites that satis- factions of appetite are frequently referred to simply as pleasures, while unsatisfied appetites are called pains. A pleasure-seeker is generally understood to be one who seeks the satisfaction of his animal ap- petites, or of human impulses which are akin to these appetites. A certain confusion is thus apt to arise 1 Some psychologists (of whom I gather that Mr. Stout is one) would deny that this element is present at all. 2 It is necessary to say " in itself " ; because the total effect of a consciousness of unsatisfied want is sometimes rather pleasurable than painful. Thus, moderate hunger in man, and perhaps even in animals, seems often to be rather agreeable than otherwise. The reason is probably in part that the feeling of hunger adds a pleasant stimulus to the vital energies generally, and in part that the antici- pation of satisfaction is easily called up by the consciousness of want See Note I. at the end of chap. ii. 46 ETHICS. [BK. i., en. i. between the satisfaction of an appetite and the agree- able feeling which accompanies it ; since both are called pleasure. But with this confusion we need not at present trouble ourselves. 1 It is enough now to observe that pleasure and pain are the most prominent and characteristic features of animal appetite. 2 4. APPETITE AND DESIRE. In the case of what is strictly called desire, there is not merely the conscious- ness of an object, with an accompanying feeling of pleasure and pain, but also a recognition of the object \ as a good, or as an element in a more or less clearly defined end. 3 The hunger of an animal is different from the mere want of nutriment in a plant ; but de- sire for food in a man is scarcely less different from mere hunger. A man may be hungry and yet not de- sire food. In the desire of food there is involved, in addition to the hunger, the representation of the food as an end which it is worth while to secure. We may express this by saying that desire implies a definite point of view, whereas there is no such implication in a mere appetite. Hunger is to all intents the same phenomenon in the brute and in the sage ; but the de- sires of the sage and the hero are very different from those of the savage, the miser, or the epicure. The desires of different men are determined by the total . nature of the point of view which the men occupy. What they desire depends on what they like ; and what 1 See below, chap, ii., 7 and 8. 2 Appetite is, in the Aristotelian psychology, known as einOvnia. Desire is Spefi?. But Aristotle uses Spe t ? in a wide sense, so as to in- clude firt.8vfi.ia. DC Anima, II., iii. 2. 8 For a full discussion of this point, see Green's Prolegomena to Ethics, Book II., chap. ii. Cf. also Muirhead's Elements oj Ethics, pp. 51-2, and Dewey's Psychology, p. 360 sqq. 5-] DESIRE AND WILL. 47 \they like, as Mr. Ruskin is so fond of insisting, is an exact expression of what they are. Thus, while ordi- nary hunger or thirst tells us nothing about the char- acter of him who feels it, the hunger and thirst after righteousness, or after power, or after fame, is a reve- lation of a whole point of view. 1 The desires of a per- son, therefore, are not an isolated phenomenon, but form an element in the totality, or, as we may say, the universe of his character ; 2 and it is from this point of vfe^Tthat we must regard them, if we are to understand their full significance. 5. UNIVERSE OF DESIRE. What is meant by saying that the desires of a human being form part of a " uni- verse " may be made somewhat clearer by reference to a similar conception in the science of Logic. It has become a familiar thing in Logic to speak of a " uni- verse of discourse," 3 as signifying the sphere of refer- ence within which a particular statement is made. Thus a statement about " the gods " may be true with reference to the world as depicted in the Homeric poems, or to the world of Greek mythology generally, but may be false or meaningless if understood with reference to the world of ordinary fact. So too we may make statements about griffins and unicorns in the universe of heraldry, about fairies in the universe of romance, about Hamlet or King Lear in the universe of Shakespeare's plays, about Heaven and Hell and Pur- gatory in the universe of Dante's Divine Comedy ; and our statements may be true within these several uni- 1 Cf. Muirhead's Elcmets of Ethics, p. 52. 2 Cf. Dewey's Psychology, pp. 363-4. 8 See Keynes's Formal Logic, pp. 137-8, Venn's Empirical Logic, p. 180, Welton's Manual of Logic, vol. i., pp. 59-60. 48 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. I. verses, though they would become false if taken out of the particular universe to which they belong. Now there is something quite analogous in the case of our desires. Each desire also belongs to a particular uni- verse, and loses its meaning if we pass out of that universe into another. This universe to which a desire belongs is the universe that isrconstituted by the totality of what we call a man's character, as that character presents itself at the time at which the desire is felt. It is, in short, the universe of the man's ethical point of view at the moment in question. \ That "there are great differences between such universes, is evident from the judgments that we habitually pass on the representa- tions of human conduct in poems and novels and dramas. We are often aware that a desire which is attributed to a fictitious personage is not such a desire as a man of his general character and situation would feel, or at least not such as he would feel in such a degree as is attributed to him. It is not such a desire, in fact, as belongs to his particular universe. And the particular universe which we thus estimate, and which varies so widely with the characters of different indi- viduals, is not even one that remains constant for the same person. We must all be aware of the different desires that dominate our minds in different moods, in different conditions, in different states of health. These differences constitute what we may call a difference of universe ; and to each such universe a different set of desires, or at least a different arrangement of desires, belongs. This universe may even alter suddenly in the same individual, through some sudden transforma- tion of conditions. It is such a change that is illus- trated in the old fable of the cat which was transformed 5-] DESIRE AND WILL. 49 into a princess, but returned again to its proper shape on the sudden appearance of a mouse. The sudden change of condition caused her to drop at once from the universe of princess to the universe of cat. Of such transformations life is rich in instances. There is a German proverb that what one wishes in youth one has to satiety in age ; but even from year to year and from day to day sometimes even from hour to hour we may find ourselves passing from one universe into another, where what we formerly desired becomes uninteresting, perhaps even disgusting. Any sudden change the news of the death of a friend, the recollec- tion of a promise, the suggestion of a moral principle, and the like may carry us instantaneously from one world into another. This is illustrated in Shakespeare's play of Love's Labour Lost, where the announcement of the death of the King of France brings suddenly to a close the wit and levity of the preceding scenes, and introduces an entirely different tone. Such a change may fairly be referred to as a passage from one uni- verse to another. Or again, such a change may be illustrated by the common transformation from a man's Sunday view of life to that which he takes during the rest of the week. Even a change of clothes suffices with some men to produce a change of universe ; for it is not always entirely true that "the cowl does not make the monk. " x 6. CONFLICT OF DESIRES. In the preceding section we have assumed, for the sake of simplicity, that at 1 On the nature of psychological universes the psychology of Herbart is particularly instructive. Reference may be made to Mr. Stout's Articles in Mind and to the same writer's Analytic Psychology, (especially chaps. VIIL, IX., and X.) Eth. 4 SO ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. I. any given moment an individual occupies a definite point of view, or is, so to speak, an inhabitant of a single universe. In reality, however, the content of an individual's consciousness is not so simple. There \ are nearly always several points of view present to a given individual at a given moment ; or, at any rate, several points of view alternate with one another so rapidly, that they may practically be regarded as pre- sent together. A statesman, for instance, may be in- \ fluenced in his conduct by motives derived from many different universes. He may occupy the universe which is constituted by the consideration of the good of his country ; and from this point of view he may strongly desire to see certain measures carried out. But at the same time he may be not uninfluenced by considerations drawn from very different universes: He may occupy also a universe constituted by his own personal ambition, by the welfare of his family, by the wishes of his constituency, by a view of duty to the world (as distinguished from his own country), per- haps also by religious considerations. He may occupy alternately, and almost simultaneously, all these dif- ferent points of view ; and very various desires may arise in his mind in consequence. It is probable that some of these desires will conflict with others. From one point of view he may desire peace, from another war : from one point of view he may set his heart on liberty, from another on order. It then comes to be a question which of these ends the man will finally choose. Now it is often said that in such cases a man will naturally, or even necessarily, be influenced by the strongest desire or motive. But it must be observed that this mode of statement is misleading. It implies 6 .] DESIRE AND WILL. 5 I that a desire is an isolated thing ; whereas in reality it 1 forms part of a universe or system. Consequently, the real strength of a desire does not depend on its own \ individual liveliness or force, but rather on the force of the universe or system to which it belongs. Thus a man might be strongly desirous of war from a feeling of hatred towards a foreign power. But if the man were of such a character that the sense of duty was more dominant in him than the feeling of personal hatred, he might decide for peace, though the desire for peace in itself did not strongly influence him. The latter desire would conquer, not because it was in itself the stronger, but because it formed a part of a stronger universe or system. l O course a strong de- sire gives strength to the universe to which it belongs ; but the final triumph of a desire depends not on its own individual dominance, but on the dominance of its universe. How in particular individuals one universe comes to be dominant rather than another, is a ques- tion rather for Psychology than for Ethics. In so far as it concerns Ethics, it will be touched upon in some future sections of this book. 2 In the meantime, what it is important to note is merely that a desire is not an isolated phenomenon but a part of a system ; and that consequently a conflict of desires is in reality a conflict between two or more universes of desire. 3 1 Cf. Green's Prolegomena to Ethics, Book II., chap, i., 105, p. 108. 2 See, for instance, Book III., chap. vi. 8 Cf. Dewey's Psychology, pp. 364-5 : " It is important to notice that it is a strife or conflict which goes on in the man himself ; it is a x conflict of himself with himself [i. e., in our language, a conflict of him self as one universe with himself as another universe] ; it is not a con- flict of himself with something external to him, nor of one impulse with another impulse, he meanwhile remaining a passive spectator 52 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. i. 7. DESIRE AND WISH. The terms "desire" and " wish " are frequently used as synonymous ; but there is a slight difference in the usage of the terms, and it seems desirable to employ them in Ethics in distinct senses. We may say briefly that a wish is. an effective desire. The meaning of this will be more apparent when it is considered in relation to what has just been said with regard to universes of desire and the conflict between them. It has been stated that any given desire belongs to a system or universe, and that various such systems may exist simultaneously and come into conflict with one another. When such conflicts occur, certain desires predominate over others ; some are sub- ordinated or sink into abeyance. Now it may be con- venient to limit the term " wish" to those desires that predominate or continue to be effective. A hungry man may be said to have a desire for food ; but this desire may be dominant only within the universe of animal inclination. The desire may be kept in abey- ance by a sense of religious obligation, by devotion to work, or by some overmastering passion. In such . cases we may say that the man no longer wishes for food, though a desire for food continues to exist in his consciousness as an element in a subordinate universe held, as it were, in leash. A desire, then, which awaiting the conclusion of the struggle. What gives the conflict of desires its whole meaning is that it represents the man at strife with himself. He is the opposing contestants as well as the battle-field." This last expression was no doubt suggested to Prof. Dewey by a very striking passage in Hegel's Philosophy of Religion (I. 64), in which he says : " I am not one of the combatants, but rather both of the com- batants and also the combat itself " ; or, as Principal Caird renders it (Philosophv of Religion, chap, ix., p. 262") : " I am at once the combat- ants and the conflict and the field that is torn with the strife." 8.] DESIRE AND WILL. 53 has become ineffective, is not to be described as a wish. l 8. WISH AND WILL. If it is important to distin- guish an effective wish from a mere latent desire, it is still more important to distinguish a wish from a defi- nite act of will. It_might seem at first that if a wish is a dominant desire it must always issue in will. But this is not the case. The reason is that a wish is often of an abstract character, directed towards some single element in a concrete event, without reference to the accompanying circumstances. In order, on the other hand, that an event may be willed, it has to be accepted in its concrete totality. When Lady Anne, in Shake- speare's King Richard III., says to the Duke of Glou- cester, " Though I wish thy death, I will not be the executioner." the contrast between wish and will is well brought out. The wish for the death is a mere abstract wish, since it does not include the means by which the death might be brought about. 2 On the other hand, when a total concrete effect is willed, it may include many elements 1 1 use the term wish, it will be observed, in a sense almost cor- responding to the Aristotelian /SOV'ATJO-I? (as distinguished from 5pei?). See, for instance, De Anima, III., ix. 3, III., x. 3, &c. E. Wallace translates pou'Aijons " settled wish." It should be observed, however, that " wish " is not always understood in this way by Psychologists. Often no distinction is drawn between Desire and Wish ; and when a distinction is drawn, it is frequently drawn in a different way (some- times almost in the opposite way). 2 Often, of course, the means are entirely beyond our power. Thus, we may wish for a change of weather, or to live some part of our past lives over again. Here the wish cannot pass into will, v because, as soon as we think of the means, we see that they are out of reach. 54 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. i. that are not in themselves wished, and even elements to which the agent's wishes are strenuously opposed. This also may be illustrated from Shakespeare. When the apothecary, in Romeo and Juliet, says to Romeo, on agreeing to sell him the poison, " My poverty, but not my will, consents," i what he means is evidently that his wish does not con- sent. He does will the sale of the poison he accepts that concrete act but he wishes it were not necessary for him to do so. The dominant single desire, we may say, is opposed to the sale of the poison (/'. e. if we as- sume that the apothecary was honest in his declara- tion) ; but the dominant universe of desire is that which is constituted by his poverty, and by this he is led to will the sale. Briefly, then, we may say that a wish is a dominant single desire ; whereas the will depends on the dominance of a universe of desire. 2 9. WILL AND ACT. Another important distinction is that between the mere Will (i. e. the mere intention, purpose, or resolution] and the carrying of it into act. A resolution has always reference to something that is more or less future. Sometimes it refers to the im- mediate future, and is carried into effect at once. At other times it refers to the remote future, and remains in abeyance till the proper time arrives. In the latter case the purpose may never be carried into effect at all. An intention or resolution is always something more than a mere wish : it is the definite acceptance of a 1 This passage is discussed in Green's Prolegomena to Ethics, 143, p. 148. "The will," Green says, "is only the strong competing wish which does not suffice to determine action." 2 This use of the term will seems to correspond pretty closely to the Aristotelian 9-] DESIRE AND WILL. 55 concrete event as an object to be aimed at. But if this event is remote, the purpose may lie within one uni- verse and the carrying of it out within another. When the time for action comes, the conditions may have changed. At the lowest there will be this change, that what was formerly presented merely in anticipative imagination is now presented as an actual fact. To resolve to make a confession, for instance, is one thing : actually to make it, in the presence of those to whom it has to be made, is often a very different thing. In the former case the accompanying circumstances are only presented in an imaginative and partly sym- bolic way : in the latter case they are actually present to sense. Now, the actual facts may not correspond to the anticipation. Those to whom the confession was to be made, for instance, may be found to be in a different mood from what was expected. And even if the anticipation proves substantially correct, still, in the actual presentation we may be impressed by ac- cessory circumstances of which we had not taken any particular account. The man who resolves to get up at an early hour may not have thought particularly about the coldness of the morning air, or about the pleasantness of lying in bed ; whereas, when the time comes, these may be among the most impressive circumstances. Or, again, when Lady Macbeth in- tended to murder Duncan, it did not occur to her that he might resemble her father. So, too, when Hamlet resolved to carry out the behests of the Ghost, he did not think of all the doubts that might suggest them- selves to his mind after the Ghost had vanished. Thus "enterprises of great pith and moment," as well as more insignificant designs, may be frustrated by a 56 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. i. change of universe ; and the "best intentions," or the worst, may lead to nothing. 1 This is especially true when the purpose is one that carries great conse- quences in its train, involving perhaps a complete change of the world within which we have been living. In such a case the changed world cannot be with any completeness imagined, and some very small circum- stance may easily give a completely new turn to our thoughts. The "insurrection " 3 by which the universe within which we are living is to be overthrown cannot be at once carried out, and we cannot with any thoroughness think ourselves into the new conditions that are to arise. Thus __a_mfire jgsolutioii--4s^stil] -far from being^an act.* What is commonly called "force of will " means the power of carrying resolutions into act. This power depends largely on the habit of" fixing our attention upon the salient features of an object that is aimed at, and not allowing ourselves to be distracted by subordinate conditions. Hence, narrow-minded or hard-hearted men have often more "force of will," in this sense, than those who take wider views. But a wide-minded man may also acquire " force of will " by taking a clear and decided view of the circumstances 1 Cf. below, Book III., chap, vi., 3. 2 Cf. Shakespeare's Julius Ccesar, Act II., scene i., 11. 63 sqq. " Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream : The Genius and the mortal instruments Are then in council ; and the State of man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection." 8 For an admirable summary of the elements involved in an act of will, see Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, pp. 48-50. 11.] DESIRE AND WILL. 57 that are important, and thus eliminating insignificant details. 10. THE MEANING OF PURPOSE. When Will is regarded in relation to the end at which it aims, it is called Pur- pose. This term, however, is sometimes used also to describe the end itself, rather than the fact of aiming at an end. Purpose should be carefully distinguished from those tendencies to action which accompany appetite, desire, and wish. Action based on appetite is generally described as impulsive ; but this term is sometimes used also with reference to actions that issue from desire. We may use the terms Blind Impulse and Conscious Impulse to mark the distinction. The tendency of a wish, again, to issue in action is most properly de- scribed by the term Inclination. When we are inclined to do anything, we are not merely conscious of an impulse to do it, but we to a certain extent approve the impulse ; though it maybe that, on reflection, we may resolve not to follow it. A Purpose or Resolution is thus distinguished from an Impulse (whether Blind or Conscious) and from an Inclination. 11. WILL AND CHARACTER. "A character," said Novalis, "is a completely fashioned will. " Character may be said, in the language we have just been using, to consist in the continuous dominance of a definite universe. A man of good character is one in whom the universe of duty habitually predominates. A miser is one in whom the dominant universe is that which is constituted by the love of money. A fanatic is one in whom some particular universe is so entirely dominant as to shut out entirely other important points of view. And in like manner all other kinds of character may be described by reference to the nature of the universe that 58 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. i. is dominant in them. When Pope said that "Most women have no characters at all," he meant that the universes of desire in which they live are so continually varying that no one of them can be said to be habit- ually dominant. And certainly it is the case that most men, as well as most women, cannot be ac- counted for by so simple an explanation as the exclu- sive dominance of such ' ' ruling passions " as Pope dealt with. In the case of most actual human beings what we have is not so much any one universe that decidedly predominates as a number of universes that stand to one another in certain definite relations. The different relations in which they stand to one another constitute the differences of character. How it comes that now one, and now another, predominates, is, as we have already remarked, a question rather for Psychology than for Ethics. The habitual modes of action that accompany a formed character are described by the term Conduct. The meaning of this we shall have to discuss almost immediately. ' 1 Mr. Stout's article on ''Voluntary Action" {Mind, New Series, Vol. V., no. 19) will be found in the highest degree instructive on several of the points referred to in this chapter, as well as on some of those that are dealt with in the following chapters. See also the closing chapter of his Manual of Psychology. i.] MOTIVE AND INTENTION. 59 CHAPTER II. MOTIVE AND INTENTION. 1. PRELIMINARY REMARKS. So far we have been considering the general nature of the relationship between Desire and Will. It is now necessary that we should direct our attention to the nature of the end involved in Volition ; and, in particular, that we should consider the important distinction between an Intention and a Motive. This is a point on which a good deal of discussion has turned ; and, owing to the great difficulties that are involved in it, it is a point that requires very careful study. First, then, we must try to understand exactly what Intention and Motive mean. 2. THE MEANING OF INTENTION. TjJie_term Inten- tion corresponds pretty closely to the term Purpose. Indeed, they are sometimes used as synonymous. But Purpose seems to refer rather to the mental activity, and Intention to the end towards which the mental activity is directed. Intention, understood in this sense, means anything which we purpose to bring about. Now what we thus purpose is often a very complicated result. We may aim at some external end, /. e. at the accomplishment of some change in the physical world e. g. the building of a house ; or in the social system within which we live 60 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. II. e. g. the overthrow of a government ; or, again, we may aim at the bringing- about of some state of our own minds, or at the realization of some principle. Some distinctions between different kinds of Intention may help to make this clear. In the first place, we may distinguish between the immediate and the remote intentions of an act. Thus, two men may both have the immediate intention of saving a third from drowning ; but the one may wish to save him from drowning simply in order that his Jife may be preserved, whereas the other may wish to save him from drowning in order that he may be reserved for hanging. ' In this case, while the imme- diate intentions are the same, the remote intentions are very different. The remote intention of an act is sometimes called the motive ; but this use of the term seems to be incorrect. In the second place, we may distinguish between the outer and the inner intention of an act. This may be illustrated by the familiar story of Abraham Lincoln and the pig that he helped out of a ditch. On being praised for this action, Lincoln is said to have replied that he did it, not for the sake of the pig, but rather on his own account, in order to rid his mind of the uncomfortable thought of the animal's distress. Here the outer intention was to rescue the animal, while the inner intention was to remove an uncom- fortable feeling from the mind. The inner intention, in this instance, is evidently only a particular case of the remote intention ; but it is not so in every in- stance. Thus if a man were to endeavour to produce 1 Cf. Mill's Utilitarianism, chap. ii. p. 27, note. 2.] MOTIVE AND INTENTION. 6l a certain feeling in his mind say, of penitence or of faith with the view of securing the favour of Heaven, the immediate intention would be an inner one, while the remote intention would be outer. The inner intention of an act, like the remote intention, is sometimes apt to be confounded with the motive. In the third place, we may distinguish between the direct and the indirect intention of an act. If a Nihilist seeks to blow up a train containing an Emperor and others, 1 his direct intention may be simply the de- struction of the Emperor, but indirectly also he in- tends the destruction of the others who are in the train, since he is aware that their destruction will be necessarily included along with that of the Emperor. In the fourth place, we may distinguish between the conscious and the unconscious intention of an act. To what extent any intention can be unconscious, is a question for psychology. By an unconscious inten- tion is here understood simply an intention which the agent does not definitely avow to himself. A man's conduct is often in reality profoundly influenced by such intentions. Thus the intention which he avows to himself may be that of promoting the well-being of mankind, while in reality he may be much more strongly influenced by that of advancing his own reputation. In the fifth place, we may distinguish between the formal and the material intention of an act. The material intention means the particular result as a realized fact ; the formal intention means the principle embodied in the fact. Two men may both aim at the i Cf Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics, Book III., chap, i., 2 (p. 202, note 2j, 62 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. u. overthrow of a particular government. Their material intentions are in that case the same. But the one may aim at its overthrow because he thinks it too progressive, the other because he thinks it too con- servative. The intentions of the two men are in this case very different formally, though their actions (which may consist simply in the giving of a vote) may be materially the same. These distinctions are given here, not as being an exhaustive list, but simply with the view of bringing out the complications that may be involved in a pur- pose. It is important to bring them out, since, otherwise, the relation between motive and intention can hardly be explained. Summing up, then, we may say, that an intention, in the broadest sense of the term, means any aim that is definitely adopted as an object of will ; and that such intentions may be of various distinct kinds. 3. MEANING OF MOTIVE. The term "motive " is not less ambiguous than " intention." Thejnotive means, of course, what moves us or causes us to act in a par- ticular way. Now there is an ambiguity in the term "cause." A cause may be either efficient or final. The efficient cause of a man's movements, for instance, is the action of certain nerves, muscles, &c. ; the final cause is the desired end, the reaching of a destination or the production of a result. There is a similar ambi- guity in the use of the term "motive." 1 A. motive may be understood to mean either that which impels or that which induces us to act in a particular way. In the former sense, we say that we are moved by Cf. Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, pp. 58-60. 3-] MOTIVE AND INTENTION. 63 feeling or emotion. Thus we say that a man's motive was anger, or jealousy, or fear, or pity, or pleasure, or pain. Some writers I have even maintained that pleasure and pain are the only ultimate motives. This view we shall shortly require to consider. In the meantime we have simply to remark that it is no doubt true that men are sometimes moved to action by feeling. In conduct on which a moral judgment can be passed, however, a man is never solely moved by feeling. If a man is entirely "carried away" by feeling by anger or fear, for instance he cannot properly be said to act at all, any more than a stone acts when a man throws it at an object. We may judge the character of a man who is carried away by feeling or passion : we may say that he ought not to have allowed himself to be so carried away ; but if he is entirely mastered by his passion, we cannot pass a moral judgment on his act, any more than on the act of a madman, or one who is drunk. Moral activity or conduct is purposeful action ; and action with a purpose is not simply moved by feeling : it is moved rather by the thought of some end to be attained. "This leads us to the second, and more correct, sense in which the term "motive" may be used. The distinction may be made clear by considering the case of a man who is " moved by pity " to give assistance to a fellow-creature in distress. The mere feeling of pity is evidently not sufficient to move us to action. It may serve as an element in the efficient cause of action i. e. the man w r ho has a keen sense of pity may be more readily impelled to action than the one whose feeling is comparatively blunt. But the i E. g. Bentham. 64 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. n. feeling itself is not a sufficient inducement to action. By itself, it moves at the utmost to tears as, for in- stance, in the theatre, when we witness imaginary dis- tresses. When a man is moved to action, he must have, besides the mere feeling, the conception of an end to be attained. He perceives a fellow-creature, for instance, in a wretched plight, and sees that, by a certain effort, the man might be put in a more favour- able position. The putting of the man in this more favourable position presents itself to his mind as a desirable end ; and the thought of this desirable end induces him to act in a particular way. If he feels pity, in addition, this may impel him the more readily to such an action ; but the feeling of pity is not, by itself, the inducement to the action, /. e. the motive in the more correct sense. The^jriotiv-e, that which induces us to act, is the thought of a desirable end. l 4. RELATION BETWEEN MOTIVES AND INTENTIONS. 1 So also when, in Goldsmith's ballad, " The dog, to gain some private ends, Went mad, and bit the man," the motive was constituted by the gaining of some private ends, not by the mere madness. Cf. Tucker's Light of Nature, chap. v. The view of Motive given above seems to be essentially that of Aristotle, when he says (De Anima, III. x. 4) 4ke_iKL, From being a means to. happi- ness, /it has come to be itself.a principal ingredient of the individual's ^onceptjonof happiness. The same may be said of the majority of the great objects of human life power, for example, or fame. ^ . . The strongest attraction, both of power and of fame, is the immense aid they give to the attainment of our other wishes ; and it is the strong association thus generated between them and all our objects of desire, which gives 1 Utilitarianism, chap. iv. IO.J MOTIVE AND INTENTION. 75 to the direct desire of them the intensity it often as- sumes, so as in some characters to surpass in strength all other desires. In these cases the means have be- come a part of the end, and a more important part of it than any of the things which they are means to. What was once desired as an instrument for the attain- ment of happiness, has come to be desired for its own sake. In being desired for its own sake it is, however, desired as part of happiness. . . . The desire of it is not a different thing from the desire of happiness, any more than the love of music, or the desire of health. They are included in happiness. They are some of the elements of which the desire of happiness is made up. Happiness is not an abstract idea, but a concrete whole ; and these are some of its parts. " The mean- ing of all this seems quite clear. Evidently money, power, fame, music, and health are not parts of agree- able feeling. What Mill means is that they are parts of that totality of objects which gives agreeable.feeling. That we desire such objeqts, then, may show that we seek pleasures? but not that we seek pleasure. And that we seek pleasures is a mere tautology. * It means simply that we seek what we seek. 10. CAN REASON SERVE AS A MOTIVE ? Even those writers who have not committed themselves to the view that pleasure and pain are the only possible motives, have sometimes been inclined to argue that at least Reason is not capable of serving as a motive to action. This view was most clearly stated by Hume, when he said 1 that " Reason is, and ought only to be, the slave of the passions, and can never pretend to any other i Treatise of Human Nature, Book II., Part III.. Section III. Cf. also Dissertation on the Passions, Section V. 76 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. n. office than to serve and obey them." The term Pas- sion, as here used, is practically synonymous with Im- pulse ; and the meaning of the statement is that all actions depend on particular impulses, while reason can at the most only indicate the means by which these impulses may be gratified. Reason, it is thus held, cannot form any new motive for us : it can only show how an existing motive may be pursued to the best advantage. This view, however, seems to rest on that false conception of the nature of desire to which reference has already been made. It proceeds on the supposi- tion that our mental constitution is made up of a num- ber of isolated and independent desires, among which reason works as a separate faculty. If we recognise that our desires form a universe, then they cannot be said to exist independently. The problem then is to understand the nature of the whole within which par- ticular desires emerge. If that whole is a rational sys- tem, the desires which grow up in it will be very dif- ferent from those desires that might exist in a being in whom reason is not yet developed. In this sense, therefore, reason may be said not only to guide our desires, impulses, or passions, but actually to consti- tute their determinate nature. Reason, that is to say, may set before us ends or motives which for an, irra- tional being would not exist at all. In this sense, then, reason is capable of furnishing us with raoiiyjes to action. 11. Is REASON THE ONLY MOTIVE ? There is, how- ever, an error of an opposite kind against which also we must be on our guard, though no doubt it is one into which, in modern times, we are in much less dan- ger of falling. We must not suppose that all motives MOTIVE AND INTENTION. 77 are rational motives, **. e. that the inducement to act is always for a human being what it would be if he were guided entirely by reason. This view may be better understood by a reference to the doctrine of Socrates. Socrates maintained that "virtue is know- ledge," by which he meant that if we knew with perfect clearness what the nature of the moral end is we should inevitably pursue it. Now it is no doubt true that within a completely rational universe the supreme good would serve as the supreme inducement. But if it is possible that a man may know the nature of the supreme good and yet not occupy a completely rational universe, then it is possible to know the good and not to pursue it. Now it seems clear at least that it is pos- sible to know what is good with a very tolerable degree of clearness, and yet not pursue it. This is expressed in the familiar saying, " Video meliora proboque, de- teriora sequor. " The reason of this is that the motive to action is not always completely rational. 12. How MOTIVES ARE CONSTITUTED. The conclu- sion, therefore, to which we are led is that motives are neither constituted simply by.pleasure and pain, nor simply by dominant desires, passions, or impulses, nor simply by reason, but that they depend upon the nature of the universe within which they emerge. A motive, we may say generally, is an end which is in harmony or conformity with the universe within which it is presented. At any given moment in our lives there are various possible ends which we may set be- fore ourselves. There are various ways in which the content of our world might be changed, so as to be more in harmony with the system of our conscious- ness. Now, in so far as any such change presents itself ?8 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. II. to us as something which could be brought about by our own activity, it presents itself to us as a possible motive to action. Whether it will actually move us to act depends on the question whether the motive pre- sented to us is compatible with other possible motives which are presented to us at the same time. The line of action that is finally willed by us is that which coheres most perfectly with the general system of our consciousness. Whether or not the line thus adopted is a reasonable line depends on the question whether or not we are living within a rational universe. 1 At this point, however, we come definitely upon the question with respect to the relationship between Char- acter and Conduct ; and as this is a question of great importance, it seems to require a separate chapter. 1 In connection with this point, reference may be profitably made to Dr. Sidgwick's article on "Unreasonable Action" (Mind^ New Series, No. 6), and to Mr. Stout's Analytic Psychology, Vol. II., p. 267. See also Posanquet's Psychology of the Moral Se/f, Lecture IX. MOTIVE AND INTENTION. 79 NOTE ON PLEASURE AND DESIRE. It is assumed in this chapter that a satisfied desire brings pleasure, while an unsatisfied desire (or an unsatisfied appetite) is accom- panied by pain. It should be observed, however, that this is a point on which there has been a good deal of discussion ; and that the view taken in the text is not universally adopted. The chief point on which there is difference of opinion is with reference to what are called " the Pleasures of Pursuit." It is held by some writers, and notably by Professor Sidgwick, that, in consequence of the existence of these pleasures, unsatisfied desires and appetites are frequently in themselves rather pleasurable than painful. It may be well here to add a few words on this point. Professor Sidgwick's view is thus stated in the Methods of Ethics (Book I., chap, iv., 2, p, 48) : " When a desire is having its natural effect in causing the actions which tend to the attainment of its object, it seems to be commonly either a neutral or a more or less pleasurable consciousness : even when this attainment is still remote. At any rate the consciousness of eager activity, in which this desire is an essential item, is highly pleasurable : and in fact such pleasures, which we may call generally the pleasures of Pursuit, constitute a considerable element in the total enjoyment of life. Indeed it is almost a commonplace to say that they are more important than the pleasures of Attainment : and in many cases it is the prospect of the former rather than of the latter that induces us to engage in a pursuit." * I believe that this anti- thesis between "Pursuit" and "Attainment" involves a fundamental misconception, and it seems to me to be of considerable importance that this misconception should be removed. There is, so far as I can see, no such thing as a pleasure of Pursuit, as opposed to Attain- ment. The truth appears to me to be rather that there are two kinds of attainment what might be called progressive attainment and catastrophic attainment. The " pleasure of Pursuit " is, I think, in reality the pleasure of progressive Attainment. When it was said, for instance, " If I held Truth in my hand, I would let it go again for the pleasure of pursuing, it" what was really intended seems to have been the pleasure of progressively attaining it. And I think this is 1 For some further illustrations of Dr. Sidgwick's view, the reader may be referred to Mind, New Series, vol. i., No. i (Jan. 1892), pp. 04-101. 8o ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. IT. the case also with those pleasures that are referred to by Professor Sidgwick as " pleasures of Pursuit." He takes the case, for instance, of a game of skill. " No ordinary player, before entering on such a contest, has any desire for victory in it : indeed he often finds it difficult to imagine himself deriving gratification from such victory, before he has actually engaged in the competition. What he delib- erately, before the game begins, desires is not victory, but the pleas- ant excitement of the struggle for it ; only for the full development of this pleasure a transient desire to win the game is generally in- dispensable. This desire, which does not exist at first, io stimulated to considerable intensity by the competition itself : and in proportion as it is thus stimulated both the mere contest becomes more pleasur- able, and the victory, which was originally indifferent, comes to afford a keen enjoyment." With the whole of this passage I agree, with the single exception of the statement that the contest becomes more pleasurable in proportion as the desire to win the game is stimulated. On the contrary, it seems to me that we may distinguish between two kinds of desire to win the game viz. the desire to win it simply as a catastrophic result, and the desire to win it as the cul- minating point in a continuous process. In proportion as the former kind of desire is stimulated, it appears to me that the game ceases to be pleasurable. It is, I believe, a common experience that the gambler whose aim is fixed exclusively on the result of the game ceases to get any real pleasure from it. The man who really enjoys the game is he who desires victory, but desires it only as the culmi- nating point in a progressive series. And the same applies in other cases. The mountaineer who merely wishes to reach the topmost peak, is simply annoyed by the process of climbing up : he would prefer to reach it by a balloon or by a hydraulic hoist. The man who enjoys the ascent is the one who desires the end only in so far as it gives unity and completeness to the process of attaining it. So also the man who is merely interested in the conclusion of a story does not enjoy the novel in which it is told : his view is rather like that of Christopher Sly "Tis a very excellent piece of work- would 'twere done ! " The man who really enjoys the story cares for the end only in relation to the process that leads up to it. Now the man who desires an end in relation to the process of reaching it, is not, I think, correctly described as receiving pleasure from a pursuit, as distinguished from an attainment. The pursuit is, for him, a progressive attainment. From the nature of the case, he could not attain otherwise than by pursuit. A story, for instance, does not admit of any kind of attainment but that of going through MOTIVE AND INTENTION. 8 1 it from beginning to end. In such a process the desire receives a continuous satisfaction, and is not properly regarded as waiting for its satisfaction till the end is reached. I conceive that this view may be applied even to such a case as that of hunger. It seems to me, indeed, to be somewhat incorrect to speak of the mere appetite of hunger as desire. Hunger ought, I think, to be sharply distinguished from the desire for food. It seems to me to be mainly owing to the failure to draw this distinction that hunger is represented by Professor Sidgwick as forming an excep- tion l to the general rule about the " Paradox of Hedonism." 2 It forms an exception, so far as I can see, only because it is not a desire at all. This, however, is a side issue, on which I do not wish to insist at present. The craving of hunger, though not properly a desire, seems to resemble certain of our desires in being susceptible of a progressive satisfaction : and it is for this reason, as I conceive, that the craving appears often to be pleasurable. It is pleasurable because it is continuously attaining its object. As far as I can judge, indeed, the satisfaction of hunger begins, under normal conditions, even prior to the taking of food at all. The " watering of the mouth " is, I think, a commencement of satisfaction ; and in the case of pre- datory animals I suspect that there is a certain satisfaction even in the act of pursuit. 3 At any rate, the normal act of satisfying hunger does not appear to be of a catastrophic character. Ducerccoenam is a principle of general applicability. The satisfaction of the craving is a progressive one. Now, if this is the case, it seems clear that the mere fact that hunger is, under normal conditions, rather pleasur- able than otherwise (which I believe to be true), cannot be accepted as a proof that the mere craving in itself is pleasurable, or is not painful, in so far as it remains unsatisfied. For under normal con- ditions it is not unsatisfied, but is progressively attaining its end. 4 There is another point, closely connected with this one, which ap- pears to me to be overlooked by Professor Sidgwick in his discus- sion on the above subject viz. that our desires and appetites are capable, to a considerable extent, of an imaginative satisfaction. 1 See Methods of Ethics, Book I., chap, iv., 2, p. 49 : " This effect " [viz. that we lose pleasure by seeking it] " is not visible, or at any rate is scarcely visible, in the case of passive sensual pleasures." 2 See above, 7. 3 It is only in this sense, I think, that there is any real "pleasure of pursuit." 4 See also Spencer's Data of Ethics, pp. 156-158. Eth. 6 82 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. n. Dickens's " Marchioness " did not by any means stand alone in the power of " making-believe very much." If it is true that " Cowards die many times before their deaths ; The valiant never taste of death but once," \ it may also be said that the imaginative satisfy their desires many jtimes before they are satisfied in fact, while the unimaginative have /but a single satisfaction. The imaginative player, even if he loses, loses but once for a score of times that he has won in fancy ; and these imaginary successes may be quite as satisfying to his mind at the moment as an equal number of real ones would have been. The " pleasures of Pursuit " are to a large extent made up of these mental victories ; and this fact must largely qualify our view of them as cases of unsatisfied desire, even apart from the consideration (which may not be always applicable") that the desire is in reality attaining its end by means of a continuous process. I make these remarks merely with the view of bringing out the point of view which seems to me correct, and which I have adopted in the present handbook. They are not by any means offered with the view of giving a complete solution to the difficult question involved. 1 1 Students interested in the subject of pleasures of Pursuit will find further discussion and admirable illustrations in Tucker's Light of Xcitntr, chap. vi. I.] CHARACTER AND CONDUCT. 83 CHAPTER III. CHARACTER AND CONDUCT. 1. GENERAL REMARKS. We now understand, in some degree, what is meant by Will, Desire, Motive, Intention, and what is the nature of the relationship between these ; and we are now prepared to consider the nature of Character and its relation to Conduct. In discussing this, we are naturally led to the famous question about the Freedom of the Will ; for this con- cerns the relationship between Character and Conduct. And in considering this, it seems necessary also to ex- plain the terms Circumstance and Habit. Accordingly I intend first to present four sections, dealing respec- tively with Character, Conduct, Circumstance, and Habit, then to explain the significance of the Freedom of the Will, and finally to sum up about the nature of Voluntary Action. 2. CHARACTER. We have seen that Character means the complete universe or system constituted by acts of will of a particular kind. Character is on the whole the most important element in life from the point of view of Ethics, as we shall see more fully in the sequel. The accidental dominance of a good purpose at this or that moment is of comparatively little consequence unless it is an indication of the habitual dominance of 84 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. III. a certain universe. Hence Aristotle rightly laid em- phasis rather on the formation of Good Habit 1 i. ., in the language we have here adopted, on the establish- ment of a continuously dominant universe than on the mere presence of a Good Will at any given mo- ment. Will is, indeed, the expression of character, but it is the expression of it under the limitations of a particular time and place ; and much may remain latent in the character which'it would be necessary to take into account in forming a complete moral estimate of a given individual. This is well expressed in Brown- ing's Rabbi Ben Ezra " Not on the vulgar mass Called ' work ' must sentence pass, Things done, that took the eye and had the price ; But all, the world's coarse thumb And finger failed to plumb, So passed in making up the main account ; All instincts immature, All purposes unsure, That weighed not as his work, yet swelled the man's amount. Thoughts hardly to be packed Into a narrow act, Fancies that broke through language and escaped .- All I could never be, All, men ignored in me, This, I was worth to God, whose wheel the pitcher shaped." At the same time, it is true that "the tree is known by its fruit." The good character necessarily expresses itself in good acts of will. 3. CONDUCT. The term conduct is sometimes used i Ethics, Book II. chap. v. 4-] CHARACTER AND CONDUCT. 85 in a loose sense to include all sorts of vital activities, or at any rate all vital activities which are directed to an end. It is in this sense, for instance, that the term is employed by Mr. Herbert Spencer. l Consequently he speaks of the conduct of molluscs, &c. 2 But this seems to be an inconvenient extension of the meaning of the term. Although the activities of molluscs are no doubt adjusted to an end, yet we cannot regard them- as purposeful activities. A purposeful activity is not merely directed to an end, but, as Kant put it, directed by the idea of an end. Now even the higher animals, in so far as they are guided by mere instinct, 3 cannot be supposed to have any such idea. They move towards certain ends, but they do not will these ends. They have an end, but they have no purpose.* L Now Mr. Spencer admits that purposeless acts are not to be included in conduct. Hence it seems best to confine the term conduct to those acts that are not | merely adjusted to ends, but also definitely willed. A person's conduct,. then, is the complete system of such acts, corresponding to his character. 4. CIRCUMSTANCE. We have said that conduct cor- responds to character. But of course the particular acts which are performed by an individual depend not only on the nature of the systematic unity of his con- i Data of Ethics, chap. i. 2 Ibid., chap. ii. 3 It may well be doubted whether they ever have such an idea. Darwin, however, who is certainly a high authority, seems disposed to attribute some consciousness of the adaptation of means to end even to such very humble creatures as earthworms. 4 It might be convenient to use the term purposive, as distinguished from purposeful, to denote action (such as instinctive movements) in which an end may be seen to be involved, but in which there is no definite consciousness of the end aimed at _ 86 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. in. sciousness, but also on the conditions or environment within which his life happens to be passed. Hence it^ is sometimes said that a man's conduct depends upon his character and circumstances. We must now con- sider what exactly is to be understood by circum- stances. In the first place, we must note that, if we are to understand the ethical significance of a man's circum- stances, we must clear our minds of that view accord- ing to which circumstances are simply the external environment in which a man's life is passed. Under- stood in this sense, any contemporary event might be called a circumstance e. g. the position of the planets, the state of the tides, the direction of the wind, &c. But for most purposes (unless we are believers in Astro- logy), such conditions are not to be classed as circum- stances at all. Again, the geological formation of the country in which a man lives is seldom worth reckon- ing as a circumstance ; though the presence of gold or coal or iron may be a circumstance of considerable importance. Riches or poverty, health or disease, are generally circumstances of more importance ; and so are, in general, a man's social surroundings. From such considerations as this we may see that it is not so easy as it might at first appear to determine what a man's circumstances are, in any sense that is ethically significant. Circumstances in this sense are not_ any- thing external to the man, but only external conditions injsqfar as theY-jcntcr into-his life. What are to be reckoned circumstances in this sense, is a question that depends on the character of the man. Hence it is some- what misleading to speak as if character and circum- stance were two co-ordinate factors in human life ; 4.] CHARACTER AND CQNDUCT.. ./ 8? XssCA ^^^^^^ since it depends largely on character whether anything is to be reckoned a circumstance or not. 1 Again, are we to say that the fact that a man has a good memory, or a good temper, or a good under- standing, or a good reputation, is an element in his character or in his circumstance ? Such facts depend largely on the systematic constitution of a man's con- scious life, and so belong to his character ; yet, on the other hand, they may be regarded as circumstances by which he is helped or hindered in the conduct of his life. Even the fact that a man has already formed a good habit of action say, a habit of punctuality may be a favourable circumstance with reference to his future development. Thus it is to a considerable extent a question of the point of view from which a thing is regarded, whether it is to be described as an element of character or of circumstance. Probably by far the greatest part of any man's present circumstance is simply the expression of what his past character has been. Hence, when we say that a man's actions are the result of his character and his circumstance, we must remember that two men living to all appearance in the same general conditions may in reality be in wholly different circumstances. What stimulates one may depress another, just as "the twilight that sends the hens to roost sets the fox to prowl, and the lion's roar which gathers the jackals scatters the sheep." 2 What 1 Some suggestive remarks on this point will be found in a paper on " Character and the Emotions," by Mr. A. F. Shand, in Mind, new series, Vol. v., No. 18. The relationship between character and cir- cumstance has also been brought out, in a profound and suggestive way, by Mr. Bosanquet, in Aspects of the Social Problem. 2 Art. " Psychology" in Encyclopaedia Britannica, p. 42. 88 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. III. is physically the same is in such cases, to all intents, a different circumstance. 5. HABIT. The significance of Habit has already been to some extent indicated in connection with char- acter, and in particular reference has been made to Aristotle's view that the main thing in the moral life is the establishment of good habits. This view was put forward by Aristotle in opposition to the Socratic doctrine, that Virtue is a kind of Knowledge ; I yet the two views are not so much opposed as might at first sight appear. Virtue is a kind of knowledge, as well as a kind of habit. It is, in fact, as we have already indicated, a point of view. The virtuous man is one who lives continuously in the universe which is con- stituted by duty. To live continuously in that universe is a habit ; but it is at the same time a species of insight. The man who lives in a different universe sees things habitually in a different way through a differently coloured glass, we might say. To be virtu- ous, therefore, is to possess habitually a certain kind of knowledge or insight. And thus both Socrates and Aristotle were right. Virtue is both a kind of know- ledge and a kind of habit. Habit, in fact, in the sense in which the term is applied to moral character, is not mere custom. It is not on a level with habits such as our manner of walking or speaking or of wearing clothes. It is not, in short, of the nature of what is commonly called a secondarily automatic action. It is a habit of willing. HabitS-j^yJiihAav-e_ajgiQraj 1 signi- i Cf. Sidgwick's History of Ethics, pp. 24-5 and 54 ; and, for a fuller account of the doctrine of Socrates, see Zeller's Socrates and the So- cratic Schools, Part II., chap. vii. 5-] CHARACTER AND CONDUCT. 89 ficance are habits of deliberate choice. 1 Now deliber- ate choice depends on thought or reason. 2 In order to choose the right, in the sense in which such a choice has any moral significance, we must know the right. If we simply hit on the .right course by chance, we do not really choose the right. Right willing, therefore, depends on true-insight. Whether it is possible to have true insight without willing rightly is a further question, which we shall have to consider shortly. In the meantime we may partly see what Socrates meant by saying that virtue is a kind of knowledge. It depends on the occupation of a certain point of view, on the possession of a certain rational insight. At the same time, we see the truth of Aristotle's saying that virtue is habit. It is not merely a certain act of will, but a continuous state of character, a steadfast occu- pation of a definite universe. Another point which it is important to notice in this connection is that action which has thus become habitual tends to be pleasant. A good character, for instance, is one whose dominant interest lies within a certain form of moral universe. Such a character will find pleasure in acting in accordance with this interest. Hence Aristotle says again 3 that " a man is not good at all unless he takes pleasure in noble deeds. No one would call a man just who did not take pleasure in doing justice, nor generous, who took no pleasure in acts of generosity, and so on." Further, habit, as is said, becomes a second nature ; so that actions that I'Eo-Tiv apa i) aperr) e't? Trpoatperucij ("Virtue, then, is a habit of choice"). Aristotle's Ethics, II. vi. 15. 2 Cf. Green's Prolegomena to Ethics, Book II., chap. ii. 3 Nicomachean Ethics, I. viii. 12. QO ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. in. have become habitual are done almost instinctively, at least without the necessity for definite reflection. It is important to bear this in mind. Its application will become especially apparent when we are dealing with some of the theories of Kant. 6. THE FREEDOM OF THE WILL. We are now in a position to consider what is meant by human freedom, in so far as this has ethical significance. Some views on this point may almost immediately be ruled out of court. Thus, it has been argued that there is no real freedom, since men are determined by circumstances. This was the doctrine, for instance, of Robert Owen, the Socialist. Accordingly, he made it his great aim in life to improve men's external con- ditions. But we have seen that mere external condi- tions are not circumstances in any sense that is ethically important. Before setting ourselves to improve men's conditions, we should ask ourselves how far their con- ditions are real circumstances to them, and what sort of circumstances they are. To ask this is at the same time to ask what sort of people they are. It is a com- plete mistake to suppose that men are determined by conditions that are in any true sense external to them. Again, freedom is sometimes understood to mean the power of acting without motives. But this also is an absurdity. To act without motives, i. e. without reference to anything that may reasonably serve as an inducement to action, would be to act from blind im- pulse, as some of the lower animals may be supposed to do. But this is evidently the very reverse of what we understand by freedom. In order to avoid such crude misconceptions as /.] CHARACTER AND CONDUCT. 91 these, it is important to consider in what sense the idea of freedom is ethically significant. 7. FREEDOM ESSENTIAL TO MORALS. There is involved in the moral consciousness the conviction that we ought to act in one way rather than in another, that one manner of action is good or right, and another bad or evil. Now, as Kant urged, there would be no meaning in an "ought" if it were not accompanied by a "can." l It does not follow, however, that the "can" refers to an immediate possibility. A man ought to be wise, for instance ; but wisdom is a quality that can only be gra4ually developed. What can be done at once is only to put ourselves in the way of acquiring it. Similarly, we ought to love our neighbours. But love is a feeling that cannot be produced at will. 2 We can only put ourselves in the way of cultivating kindly affections. But it would be absurd to say that a man ought to add a cubit to his stature or to live for two hundred years. He cannot even put himself in the way of attaining these ends, and they cannot therefore form any part of his duty. Now if a man's will were absolutely determined by his circumstances, it would be strictly impossible for him to become anything but 1 Cf. the lines of Emerson " So nigh is grandeur to our dust, So near is God to man, When Duty whispers low, Thou musff The youth replies, / can." 2 For this reason Kant even denies that love is a duty. See Meta- physic of Morals, section I. (Abbott's translation, pp. 15-16). But love can be cultivated, though it cannot be directly produced. Kant's view on this and kindred points is due to the absolute antithesis which he makes between Reason and Feeling. Cf. Caird's Critical Philosophy of Kant, vol. ii. pp. 280-282. See also below, Book II., chap. Hi., 13. 92 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. III. that which he does become, and consequently it would be impossible that he ought to be anything different. There would thus be no " ought " at all. Moral im- peratives would cease to have any meaning. r If-then, there is to be any meaning in the moral imperative, the will must not be absolutely determined by circum- stances, but must in some sense be free. This is true also even if we do not, like Kant, think of the moral end as of the nature of an imperative, but rather as a Good or Ideal to be attained. 2 It still remains true that such an ideal must be, as Aristotle put it, xpay.Tov xat xrqrov dv0pa>xa) (practicable and attainable by man). 8. NECESSITY ESSENTIAL TO MORALS. Nevertheless, there is a sense also in which necessity is required for the moral life. The moral life consists, as we have endeavoured to point out, in the formation of char- acter. Now to have a character is to live habitually in a certain universe. And in any given universe desires have a definite position with reference to one another ; so that there can be no doubt which is to give place to another. Hence the more decidedly a character is formed, the more uniform will be its choice 1 Hence purely determinist writers when they are quite con- sistent, deny the existence of any absolute " ought," and regard Ethics not as a normative science, but as an ordinary natural history science investigating what men do or tend to do, not what they ought to do. This is the view, for instance, which is taken by Schopenhauer (who, in spite of his emphasis on the Will, was to all intents a pure determinist). Cf. Janet's Theory of Morals, p. 138. Another good example of pure determinism, accompanied by the denial of the unity of the self, leading to a natural history view of Ethics, will be found in Simmel'sEinleitiinghi die Moralurissenschaft. Bentham's attitude to some extent illustrates the same thing. See below, Book II., chap, iv., 5. a See below, Book II,, chap, ij, 9-] CHARACTER AND CONDUCT. 93 and its action. Nay, even in the case of characters that are imperfectly formed, any uncertainty that exists with regard to the action is due only to our im- perfect knowledge. It is difficult to predict what will be done by a man who is continually shifting from one universe to another. But his action would be fully foreseen by any one who knew exactly the relation in which these universes stand to one another in his mental life. And not only is this true as a fact with regard to the moral lives of men, but it must be true if the moral life is to have any meaning. The moral life means the building up of character, i. e. it means the forming of definite habits of action. And if a habit of action be definite, it is uniform and predict- able. Now necessity is often understood to mean nothing more than uniformity. In this sense, then, necessity is required for the moral life. 9. THE TRUE SENSE OF FREEDOM. It is apt to seem as if there were a certain contradiction between these two demands of the moral life. But there is no con- tradiction when we observe precisely what is the nature of the freedom and what is the nature of the necessity that is demanded. The necessity means simply the uniform activity of a given character. The freedom, on the other hand, means simply the absence, of determination by anything outside the character itself. A vicious man in a sense can, and in a sense cannot, do a good action. He cannot, in the sense that a good action does not issue from such a char- acter as his. A corrupt tree cannot bring forth good fruit. But he can do the action, in the sense that there is nothing to prevent him except his character i. e. except himself. Now a man cannot stand outside of 94 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. III. himself, and regard a defect in his own character as something by which his action is hindered. If he can, but for himself, he can in the only sense that is required for morality. To be free means that one is determined by nothing but oneself. 1 What this means, how- evjer, we must endeavour to explain somewhat more fully. 10. ANIMAL SPONTANEITY. Consider in what sense an animal is free. As compared with a plant or a stone, it evidently has a certain spontaneity. It is not moved from without, as a stone seems to be, but con- ducts itself in accordance with its own inner feelings. It should be observed, however, that even a stone is not moved entirely from without. No rock was ever thrown to the ground without its own consent. What we call the laws of nature in obedience to which stones are raised or thrown down, are laws of the stone's nature as well as of things outside of it. " The hyssop grows in the wall, because the whole universe cannot prevent it from growing." 2 This is as true as to say that it grows there because the whole universe makes it grow. The law is within it quite as truly as it is without it. In this sense Hegel was no doubt right in saying that the planets run round the sun freely like the immortal gods. "The sun attracts them," it is 1 Those writers who insist on the fact that there is determination or law in all our actions, and who on this ground deny freedom, are commonly known as Necessitarians. On the other hand, those who insist on liberty to such an extent as to deny all law or determination in human conduct, are called Libertarians or Indeterminists. It is now generally recognized that these two schools of writers simply represent opposite sides of the same truth, and that the idea of self- determination combines the two sides. 2 Carlyle, I think, says this ; I do not remember where. II.] CHARACTER AND CONDUCT. 95 said. But the sun could not attract them unless they were willing to be attracted i. e. unless it lay in their own nature to be attracted. Still, we do not usually think of the planets, or of inanimate nature generally, as having any spontaneity in its motions. And rightly. The movements of the planets are not determined by themselves ; for they have no selves. The law is as truly within them as without them ; but it is also as truly without them as within them. It is, as we say, a "law of nature" generally, and does not belong to any one thing in particular. There is no centre to which the movement can strictly be referred. In the case of an animal it is different. Here there is a self, there is a centre of reference viz. the consciousness of the animal itself. It is from that point that the movement proceeds, and we say therefore that it is spontaneous. 11. HUMAN LIBERTY. Yet a mere animal has not a self in the full sense of the term. Its self is simply the feeling of the moment, It has not a definite universe of reference. A man's self, on the other hand, is the universe in which he habitually lives. For this reason, a man is free in a sense in which an animal is not free. If an animal could be supposed to think and speak, it could not refer its actions to itself, but only to its im- pulse af this or that moment. * No doubt, there would be a certain continuity and predictability in its im- pulses ; yet at each moment they would have a certain l Cf. Dewey's Outlines of Ethics, pp. 158-9. "An animal which does not have the power of proposing ends to itself is impelled to action by its wants and appetites just as they come into conscious- ness. It is irritated into acting." See also Gizycki's Introduction to the Study of Ethics, chap. vi. 96 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. in. independence, and would not refer to a common centre. This, of course, means simply that the animal does not think, and consequently does not bring the moments of its consciousness to a unity. Man, on the other hand, lives within the universe of his character. In so far as his momentary impulses do not reflect and reveal that character, he does not regard them as, strictly speaking, his own. His acts are his own only when he is himself \\\ doing them i. e. when they flow from the centre of his habitual universe. He has thus a centre of action which has a certain relative perma- nence ; and for this reason his acts are free in a sense in which the movements of a mere animal, though spontaneous, are not free. ' 12. THE HIGHEST FREEDOM. We see, then, that there are higher and lower senses of freedom. Even a stone is not simply determined from without. An animal has spontaneity. But man has freedom in a higher sense than either of these. This fact naturally suggests the inquiry whether the ordinary freedom of 1 Those writers who have insisted on determination, to the exclu- sion of freedom, have generally also denied the unity of the indivi- dual self or character. Thus Hume (who may be regarded as the founder of the determinist school in modern times) says (Treatise on Human Nature, Book I., Part IV., section vi.) : "When I enter most intimately into what I call myself, I always stumble on some par- ticular perception or other, of heat or cold, light or shade, love or hatred, pain or pleasure " ; and he consequently concludes that the self or personality is "nothing but a bundle or collection of differ- ent perceptions, which succeed each other with an inconceivable rapidity, and are in a perpetual flux and movement." Mill also ac- cepted this view. See his Examination of Sir W. Hamilton, chap. xii. For criticisms of it, see Green's edition of Hume, vol. i., Introd., 342, and Dr. Ward's article on " Psychology " in the Encyclopedia Britannica, p. 39. 12.] CHARACTER AND CONDUCT. 97 a man is freedom in the highest sense, or whether there is the possibility of a freedom of a still higher kind. The answer seems clearly to be that there is a freedom of a still higher kind. This follows at once from the fact that there is a self 'of a still higher kind. This is a point which we shall have to consider more fully in the sequel. In the meantime, we may anticipate so far as to say that, in a certain sense, no form of self can be regarded as ultimately real except the rational self. If this is so, the only true or ultimate freedom will be the freedom that consists in artjng from this self^as a centre. This is recognised even in ordinary language. The man who acts irrationally is said to be " enslaved by his passions. " He is thus not thor- oughly free. And indeed, there are times when a man feels that his irrational acts are not, strictly speaking, his own. His true self lies deeper. This seems to have been felt by the writer in the Pauline Epistles, when he referred his shortcomings not to him- self, but to "sin that dwelleth in me." Here he iden- tifies himself with the higher or rational self. Yet in another passage he seems to identify himself rather with the lower self, when he says, "It is no longer I that live, but Christ that liveth in me." Here "I" refers to the lower self the habitual character of the individual while the higher or true self is referred to as " Christ," living in him and gradually coming to complete realisation. There are, in fact, we may say, three selves in every man. There is the self that is revealed in occasional impulses which we cannot quite subdue, the "sin " that, after all, dwelleth in us. On the other hand, there is the permanent character, the Eth. 7 98 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. in. universe in which we habitually live. ' And finally there is the true or rational self, in which alone we feel that we can rest with satisfaction the " Christ" (to adopt the Pauline metaphor) that liveth in us, and in whom we hope more and more to abide. And, as it is said elsewhere, "his service is perfect freedom." It may, in a certain sense, be maintained that there is no other perfect freedom. The only ultimate self is the rational self; and the only ultimate freedom is the free- dom that_.we.have_when we are rational. This, how- ever, is a point that cannot be fully understood until we have considered the nature of the moral ideal. The significance of all this may perhaps become more apparent as we proceed. In the meantime we may now sum up the results at which we have arrived with respect to the nature of Conduct or Voluntary Action. 13. THE NATURE OF VOLUNTARY ACTION. A definite illustration may perhaps help to make the nature of the various elements in voluntary action clear to us. Take the case of the desire of food. The first ele- ment involved in this is the mere animal appetite. This we may suppose to be at first a mere blind impulse analogous to the organic impulse by which a flower turns to the light ; but it is distinguished from such a vegetable impulse by the presence of consciousness. In this consciousness there are two main elements 1 Even this may not be quite simple. " Zwei Seelen wohnen, ach ! in dieser Brust," said Faust (" Two souls, alas ! live in this breast of mine ") ; and the same could, in some degree, be said by most men. " I am double," said Renan ; " sometimes one part of myself laughs, while the other cries." In cases of madness, the two selves often become very distinctly separated. 1 3.] CHARACTER AND CONDUCT. 99 the ideal presentation, in vague outline, 1 of the object striven towards, and a feeling of pleasure and pain, The latter feeling is twofold : there is a sense of plea- sure in the anticipated satisfaction, and a sense of un- easiness connected with the consciousness of its ab- sence. Thus in the appetite of hunger there is a pecu- liar craving, partly pleasant and partly uneasy, accom- panied by a more or less vague consciousness of the kind of object that would yield satisfaction. I Desire is distinguished from mere appetite by the definite pre- T sence .oLa consciousness of the object as an end to be aimed at, The appetite of hunger involves a vague uneasiness, a vague consciousness of the kind of object that would remove the uneasiness, a vague anticipation of pleasure in its attainment. Desire of food, on the other hand, is a definite presentation of the idea of food as an end to be sought. In this presentation, as in the more vague presentation of the object in appetite, there ^s also involved an element of pleasure and pain. The object thus definitely presented as an end in desire is what is most properly understood by a motive. Such motives may conflict : the ends involved may be in- compatible with one another. Hence the desires gov- erned by these motives may remain in abeyance. The object presented as a desirable end may not be defi- nitely chosen as an end i. e. it may not become a wish. A wish is a desire selected. It is a desire on which attention has been concentrated, and which has thus secured a certain dominance in our consciousness. The wish for food is more than the mere desire for food. It is a concentrated desire. But even this is still not an 1 It is open to doubt whether this element is present in the animal consciousness at all. Cf. above, chap, i., 3. loo ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. in. act of will. An act of will involves, besides, a definite purpose or intention ; i. e. in an act of will we do not merely concentrate our attention on an end as a good to be sought ; but, in addition, we regard it as an end to be brought about by us. The purpose of procuring food the intention, for instance, of working for a livelihood is more than the mere wish for food, more than a mere prayer or aspiration, ffi'/^ howpypr in- volves, further, an actual energising. A purpose or intention refers to the future, and may not be carried out. In an act of will the idea becomes a force. How this is done is a difficult question to answer ; and, hap- pily, it is not a problem that we require here to solve. We have merely to notice this element of active energis- ing as involved in an Act of Will. The man who wills to procure food does not merely intend to work, but actually does exert himself. Finally, character is a formed habit^-e. g. the habit of activity in some par- ticular industrial pursuit. 1 1 Mr. Stout's article on " Voluntary Action," already referred to, should be consulted on several of these points. CHARACTER AND, CONDUCT. I CM NOTE ON RESPONSIBILITY. In modern times the interest in the question of the Freedom of the Will has been stimulated mainly by the desire to have a clear view of human responsibility. 1 The Mediaeval conceptions of Heaven and Hell gave special force to this desire. God was thought of as a supreme Judge, standing outside the world, and apportioning infinite rewards and punishments in accordance with the lives which men had led, or, as some rather thought, in accordance with the beliefs which they had entertained. This doctrine presented serious difficul- ties. On the one hand, if Liberty of Indifference were asserted, if men were supposed to have the power of acting " without motives," of choosing a particular line of conduct without reference to their characters i. e. to the universe of desires within which they have habitually lived this appeared to be both unintelligible in itself and to involve too strong an assertion of the freedom of a merely created, finite, and dependent being. On the other hand, if man were held to be free only in the sense that he is self-determined, it appeared as if he could not be regarded as ultimately responsible for the build- ing up of his own character, for the selection of the universe within which he was to live. This difficulty was felt as early as the time of St. Paul ; and the only solution of it seems to lie in the acknowl- edgment that it is a mystery. Credo quia absurdum. A similar difficulty, however, comes up even at the present time with reference to the responsibility of the individual to society. How, it is asked, can any one be regarded as responsible for the formation of his own character, seeing that he is born with particular inherited aptitudes and tendencies, and that the whole development of his life is determined by the moral atmosphere in which he is placed ? In a sense we choose our own universes ; but the "we," the self that chooses, is not an undetermined existence. We are ushered into the world with a certain predisposition to good or to evil in particular directions. Over this " original sin," or original virtue, which lies in our disposition from the first, we have no con- trol. It is ourselves ; it constitutes the particular nature which we inherit ; and the directions in which it moves us depend on the cir- cumstances in which we grow up. How, then, is society entitled to punish us for our offences ? Even so firm an upholder of personal independence, and so stern an advocate of the punishment of crime, as Thomas Carlyle, admitted, and even insisted, that a man's char- i Cf. below, Book III., chap, vi., 7. 102 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. III. acter is an inheritance; and 'thai the development of it is affected by bodily qualities. Thus, notwithstanding his strenuous insistence on the doctrine that every man is the shaper of his own destiny, we find him, in his Essay on Sir Walter Scott, making this candid admis- sion : " Disease, which is but superficial, and issues in outer lameness, does not cloud the young existence ; rather forwards it towards the expansion it is fitted for. The miserable disease had been one of the internal nobler parts, marring the general organisation ; under which no Walter Scott could have been forwarded, or with all his other endowments could have been producible or possible." What, then, becomes of responsibility ? Have we not here a puzzle or antinomy as real as that with which the Mediaeval Theology was perplexed ? But the answer to this has been partly seen already. If a man were a mere animal, the only reasonable course would be to take him as we find him. In that case, the only justification of punishment l would be found in the hope of effecting, by means of it, some im- provement in the disposition of him who is punished. But a man cannot regard himself as a mere animal, nor can a society of men regard its members as simply animals. They must be regarded as beings animated by an ideal, which they are bound to aim at realis- ing, and which they can realise as soon as they become aware of the obligation. No man could regard it as an excuse for his evil conduct, that he is a mere brute beast, who knows no better. Nor could a society accept this as an excuse for any of its members. Whether a God, sitting outside as an external Judge, ought not to accept it as an excuse, is quite another question, with which we have here no concern. Our question is merely with regard to the way in which a man or a society of men must judge human conduct. And, from this point of view, it is quite sufficient to say that men must regard themselves and others as soldiers of the ideal ; that those who fail to struggle for it must be treated as deserters, and those who deny its authority as guilty of Use majestS against the dignity of human nature. There is no stone wall in the way of a man's moral progress. There is only himself. And he cannot accept him- self as a mere fact, but only as a fact ruled by an ideal. I cannot hope that such remarks as these will remove all difficul- ties from the mind of the student. The question, however, when pressed beyond a certain point, begins to be rather of metaphysical and theological than of strictly ethical importance. 2 1 See below, Book III., chap, vi., 6. 2 A*complete discussion of this difficult question would evidently CHARACTER AND CONDUCT, 103 carry us far beyond the limits of such a handbook as the present. I have touched upon it here only so far as seemed necessary to bring out its bearing upon Ethics. For fuller discussion the reader may be referred to Green's Prolegomena to Ethics, Book II., chap, i., Green's Collected Works, pp. 308333, Bradley's Ethical Studies, Essay I., Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics, Book I., chap, v., Caird's Critical Philosophy of Kant, Book II., chap, iii., Martineau's Study of Religion, Book III., chap, ii., Alexander's Moral Order and Progress, pp. 336 341, Gizycki's Introduction to the Study of Ethics, chap, vi., Stephen's Science of Ethics, pp. 278293, and Seth's Study of Ethical Principles, Part III., chap. i. Cf. also Dewey's Outlines of Ethics, Part I., chap, iii., Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, pp. 5054, Lotze's Practical Philosophy, chap, iii., and Calderwood's Handbook of Moral Philosophy, Part II., chaps, iii. and iv. The views of Green, Bradley, Caird, Alexander, Gizycki, Dewey, and Muirhead are in the main in agreement with that here stated. Lotze, Martineau, Calderwood, and Seth. defend freedom, though generally rejecting Liberty of In- difference in its most extreme form Sidgwick takes up a neutral position. Stephen is a Determinist, and does not fully recognise the fact of self-determination. The same remark applies on the whole to the excellent discussion of Freedom in Simmel's recent Einleitung in die Moralwissenschaft, Vol. II., chap. vi. 104 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. IV. CHAPTER IV. THE EVOLUTION OF CONDUCT. 1. INTRODUCTORY STATEMENT. Conduct, like other aspects of human life, undergoes a steady process of development, both in the individual and in the race. This development is closely connected with the gen- eral development of the forms and customs of social life, and thus forms part of the material which it is the business of the young science of Sociology to investigate. Recent writers on Sociology have tended to lay a good deal of emphasis on the class of phenomena described by the terms Imitation and Suggestion, as throwing light on the development of social customs. 1 These conceptions are probably inadequate in dealing with the higher elements in social development ; but they do seem to be of value in dealing with the more primitive facts of human and animal life, and they may thus serve as a convenient point of de- parture. It seems to be a general truth in Psychology that every presentation involving the idea of movement brings with it a more or less definite "suggestion " of the movement involved i. e. gives rise to a certain tendency to perform the movement. This is es- 1 French writers in particular, such as Guyau and Tarde, have laid great emphasis on facts of this class. 2.] THE EVOLUTION OF CONDUCT. IO5 pecially true when the movement conveyed to an animal being in idea is one for the performance of which its bodily organs are adapted. It then gives rise to movements which may be described as "imita- tions " of the original movement it being borne in mind that they are not to be regarded as conscious im- itations, but rather as being of the nature of " sugges- tion." There can be little doubt that the facts of lan- guage and other expressive movements are to a large extent to be explained in this way ; and so also, in all probability, are many of the instinctive actions * of the lower animals and many of the customs of primitive peoples. Some further remarks on this point may suffice as an introduction to the subject. 2. GERMS OF CONDUCT IN THE LOWER ANIMALS. Though it is perhaps true that Conduct, in the stricter sense of the term, is not to be found at all in the actions of the lower animals, yet it is certainly the case that we may detect in them the germs of that which becomes conduct in man. If animals can seldom be credited with any direct consciousness of an end, they are at least led by certain natural im- pulses to the accomplishment of ends of which they 1 It is still an undecided question, what exactly should be under- stood by instinct ; and any discussion of it would obviously be out of place here. Some writers limit the term to forms of activity that are innate ; but if Principal Lloyd Morgan is right in thinking that nothing is innate in animals except physiological tendencies to cer- tain forms of action when an appropriate stimulus is presented, in- stinct in the psychological sense would seem, on this interpretation, to be reduced to zero. (See his work on Comparative Psychology and his more recent book on Habit and Instinct). For our present purpose, I prefer to understand the term as including all movements that presuppose nothing more (from the psychological point of view) than percepts and perceptual images, 106 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. IV. are themselves unaware. Like the makers of the cathedrals, they "build better than they know," their instincts often carry them more certainly to the attainment of the ends of their species than human reason guides us. Now the nature of instinct is largely involved in obscurity. It seems partly to de- pend on hereditary impulses to action under particu- lar forms of stimulus ; but to some extent also it seems to be acquired in the lifetime of the individual animal, and to be developed under the influence of suggestion. The young of a species learn by imita- tion of the more mature. I This is especially seen in 1 Here again the facts of the case are somewhat open to dispute. The following extract may be given from Principal Lloyd Morgan, who is probably our best authority on such subjects. " If one of a group of chicks learn by casual experience, such as I have before described, to drink from a tin of water, others will run up and peck at the water, and will themselves drink. A hen teaches her little ones to pick up grain or other food by pecking on the ground and dropping suitable materials before them, the chicks seeming to imitate her actions. One may make chicks and young pheasants peck by simulating the action of a hen with a pencil-point or pair of fine forceps. According to Mr. Peal's statement, before quoted, the Assamese find that young jungle pheasants will perish if their peck- ing responses are not thus stimulated ; and Prof. Claypole tells me that this is also the case with ostriches hatched in an incubator It is certainly much easier to bring up young birds if older ones are setting an example of eating and drinking ; and instinctive actions, such as scratching 'the ground, are performed earlier if imitation be not excluded A number of sim- ilar cases might be given. But what impresses the observer, as he watches the early development of a brood of young birds, is the presence of an imitative tendency which is exemplified in many little ways not easy to describe in detail." (Habit and Instinct, pp. 166167). N doubt in all such cases congenital aptitude (and per- haps also congenital impulse) is presupposed. How much may fairly be ascribed to heredity and how much to suggestion, is a dif- ficult problem, with which, happily, we are not here concerned. 3,] THE EVOLUTION OF CONDUCT. IO/ the case of the more gregarious animals, in which, as in the familiar case of sheep, the movements of leaders are observed, and in which certain habi- tual forms of activity grow up, 1 almost similar to the customary morality of human beings. Some- times also penalties seem even to be attached to vio- lations of the customs that have grown up within the herd. In this we see the germs both of moral action and of moral judgment, though it would prob- ably be going too far to say that there is anything more than the germs of them. 3. CONDUCT AMONG SAVAGES. Among savages also the moral consciousness is largely still in germ. Their actions are to a great extent impulsive, and show little sign of forethought with regard to distant consequences. Yet they are by no means left to the guidance of individual caprice. The savage is a member of a tribe, and his life is hedged about by customary observances, of which the purpose is not always very apparent. In the formation of these, sug- gestion and conscious imitation no doubt play a con- siderable part ; and even when an end can be de- tected, it must not always be assumed that it was consciously present to the minds of those who were led to adopt the means to its attainment. 4, THE GUIDANCE OF CONDUCT BY CUSTOM. Even after mankind have to a considerable extent emerged from savagery, the influence of custom in the deter- 1 How far these grow up in the lifetime of the individual, and how far they are a result of imitation, are points still open to dis- pute. The action of the queen bee, in killing off her rivals as soon as she herself emerges from the cell, would almost seem to imply a congenital impulse. 108 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. IV. mination of conduct continues for a long time to be paramount. The words jytfo?, mores, Sitten, all bear evidence to the importance of custom in the formation of the morality of nations. In English the word manners has become restricted to a much narrower and more insignificant sense ; but even now it is sometimes capable of being used more widely and seriously, as when Wordsworth says, in his sonnet to Milton, " And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power." At any rate, whatever terms we may use to express the fact, there can be no doubt that customary mo- rality precedes that which is based on law or on reflection. 5. THE GUIDANCE OF CONDUCT BY LAW. Gradually, however, in the life of a people, definite rules of action begin to be established. To some extent these are simply customary observances made more definite ; but generally in the formulation of positive laws a certain change gets introduced into the previous customs. When, for instance, definite laws with reference to criminal actions take the place of the primitive custom of revenge, the extent of the retaliation is a good deal limited, and a more definite conception of justice is introduced. 6. THE GUIDANCE OF CONDUCT BY IDEAS. When definite laws have been formulated, reflection soon begins. Rules almost inevitably conflict both with custom and with one another ; and in any case they are found too rigid for the guidance of conduct. Ex- ceptional circumstances arise, and men are led to reflect on the principles that underlie the rules, in order 7,] THE EVOLUTION OF CONDUCT. 109 to see how they ought to be modified under the stress of special difficulties. Such reflection leads to a gradual supersession of the letter of the law in favour of its underlying spirit. Men learn to guide themselves by principle instead of by rule, i. e. by consideration of the most important aims that they have in view, and the means that are best adapted to their realisation. When this stage is reached, we have passed almost entirely beyond the region of suggestion and imitation. Re- flective morality is substituted for customary obser- vance. 7. ACTION AND REFLECTION. Of course the part played by reflection even in the most fully developed forms of morality ought not to be exaggerated. The moral life, even in its most developed stages, is not passed entirely in cool reflective hours ; and even if it were, the complexity of the material would prevent its complete saturation by reflective principles. Swift decisions have to be made and far-reaching plans formed ; so that in the actual activities of the concrete moral life even the most thoughtful of men live to a considerable extent by faith, and do not guide them- selves entirely by well developed principles. The ideas by which they are guided are partly formed by reflection, but partly also they are derived from the experience of the individual and partly from the experi- ence of the race. Even here, then, imitation and sug- gestion are not entirely excluded. There is something of the nature of instinct and impulse even in our most developed conduct. 8. MORAL IDEAS AND IDEAS ABOUT MORALITY. This leads us to notice an important distinction, on which a good deal of emphasis has been laid in recent times 110 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. IV. viz. the distinction which has been well expressed by Dr. Bosanquet ' as that between "Moral Ideas" and "Ideas about Morality," or, as it might be put more briefly, between Moral Ideas and Ethical Ideas. The ideas by which we are guided in our actions may be of a more or less reflective character. A man may guide himself by the conception of a clearly-defined end, such as the attainment of happiness or perfection, and may adapt his whole line of conduct to the attainment of this. In such a case he is guided by an Ethical Idea or by an " Idea about Morality," i. e. by an idea formed through reflection upon the nature of the moral end. But a Moral Idea need not be of this character. A moral idea may be got, as it is sometimes put, out of our "spiritual atmosphere." The idea, for instance, of the kind of conduct which fits a "gentleman" or a " Christian " is not, as a rule, derived from any definite reflection on the nature of the moral end, but is rather acquired through tradition and experience. It is im- portant, then, to remember that a man may be guided by moral ideas though he has never definitely reflected upon the nature of morality. It may be added that a man may have reflected much, and even deeply, upon the nature of morality ; and yet his stock of moral ideas may be but small and inefficient. It is no doubt possible to make too much of this distinction ; and perhaps Dr. Bosanquet, who is chiefly responsible for the clear statement of it, has somewhat exaggerated the antithesis. Every moral idea is capable of reflective analysis, and may thus be said to imply an ethical i In an article in The International Journal of Ethics, Vol. I., no. I. It has since been reprinted in The Civilization of Christendom, pp 160207. p.] THE EVOLUTION OF CONDUCT. 1 1 1 idea, and, similarly, every ethical idea naturally becomes a source of moral ideas. 1 This is a point, however, on which we shall have occasion to touch more fully when we come to deal with the bearing of ethical theory on practical conduct. In the meantime it may be sufficient to bear in mind this important dis- tinction between moral and ethical ideas. 9. THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE MORAL CONSCIOUSNESS. From this brief sketch some general notion may be formed of the way in which the moral life develops from customary action, founded on suggestion and imitation, to the stage of independent reflective choice. In order, however, to have a complete view of the growth of the moral consciousness, it is necessary to take account not only of the way in which conduct is developed, but also of the parallel development of the judgment that is passed upon conduct. From the earliest dawn of what can be described as morality, men not only act in particular ways, but also in various ways indicate their opinion that particular kinds of action are right and others wrong. The two lines of development are closely connected, but they are also quite distinct ; for it is often but too apparent that men 1 It would be interesting to inquire how far the moral ideas of the modern Christian world are a result of unconscious growth, and how far they are due to the reflective analysis of Greek thought to the influence of Plato and Aristotle, the Stoics, &c. Or, again, we might ask how far our modern ideas about duties towards animals can be traced to the influence of Utilitarianism, and how far they are due to a more spontaneous development of moral sentiment. But such questions would be very difficult to answer. " The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh or whither it goeth." This is on the whole still true of a great part of our moral development. 112 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. IV. do not act in the way that they judge to be right, or avoid acting in the way that they judge to be wrong. Accordingly, it is now necessary that we should take account of the other line of development the growth of the moral judgment. THE EVOLUTION OF CONDUCT. 113 NOTE ON SOCIOLOGY. The further discussion of the points dealt with in this chapter, and to some extent also of those dealt with in the following chapter, seems to belong most properly to Sociology. But this science is in a very undeveloped state. The beginnings of it are seen in the Politics of Aristotle. In more modern times it owes much to Hobbes, Spinoza, Locke, Shaftesbury, Hutcheson, Rousseau, Montesquieu, St. Simon, Adam Smith, Kant, Fichte, Hegel, and several others. But the definite foundation of it must, on the whole, be ascribed to Comte. In this country it was brought into prominence by Mr. Herbert Spencer's interesting little book on The Study of Sociology. The Principles of Sociology, by the same author, have just been com- pleted, and constitute the most elaborate contribution to the sub- ject in this country. In French, reference may be made to such works as De Greef's Introduction a la sociologie, Tarde's Les lois de limitation, the writings of Fouillee and Guyau, and many others. In German, the most elaborate contribution is Schaffle's Bau nnd Leben des socialen Korpcrs. The works of Simmel (Uebcr sociale Differcnzierung and Einleitung in die Moralwissenschaft) have a special interest from the intimate way in which he seeks to con- nect Sociology with Ethics. He practically regards Ethics as a de- partment of Sociology. Some account and criticism of his views will be found in Bougie's recent work on Les sciences socialcs en Allemagne. See also Mind, New Series, Vol. I., no. 4, and Vol. III., no. 2. Several American writers have also dealt with Sociology, notably Mr. Lester F. Ward. Profs. Small and Vincent have written An Introduction to the Study of Society, and, more recently, two in- teresting handbooks have been written by Profs. Giddings and Fairbanks. There is also an American Journal of Sociology, pub- lished at Chicago. It thus seems clear that some beginning has been made in the study of the science. But it can hardly be said as yet that it has any recognized principles or method. The student who desires to gain some idea of its present position will probably find The Principles of Sociology by Prof. Giddings or An Introduction to Sociology by Prof. Fairbanks most helpful. Both contain good Bibliographies. The recent article by Dr. Bosanquet on Philosophy and Sociology (Mind, January, 1897) will also be found exceedingly instructive. Eth. 8 1 14 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. V. CHAPTER V. THE GROWTH OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 1. THE EARLIEST FORMS OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. The germs of moral judgment, like the germs of con- duct, may be found even among the lower animals. Domesticated animals, especially dogs, seem often to have a consciousness of having done wrong ; at least, they seem to be aware when they have rendered them- selves liable to punishment. And even wild animals, of the more gregarious species, seem to exhibit certain rude beginnings of moral judgment. They seem at least to exhibit a certain discomfort at the violation of a general and settled habit of action, and even in some cases, if all tales are true, to inflict punishment on those members of the herd that violate its traditions. But the severest punishments appear to be inflicted on those whose only crime is that of being diseased or wounded ; so that their action may perhaps be inter- preted, if it is to have a quasi-moral interpretation at all, ' as an instinctive defence of the herd against any- thing that would tend to weaken it, rather than any- thing of the nature of a distinctly moral judgment. But i The probability is rather, as Mr. Stout suggests, that " the distress of the comrade, and especially the smell of blood, rouses blind fury, which tends to find a definite channel, and thus vents itself on the object which is the centre of attention, i. e., the distressed comrade itself. If an enemy is at hand, he will suffer," 2.] THE GROWTH OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 115 among primitive races of mankind also the judgment passed on conduct, and expressing itself in reward and punishment, seems to mean little more than approbation of that which strengthens and disapproval of that which weakens the tribe. l The important point to notice, however, is that the earliest forms of moral judgment involve reference to a tribe or form of society of which the individual is but a member. The germ of this is no doubt found in the gregarious consciousness of animals. 2. THE TRIBAL SELF. This point was brought out in an interesting way by Clifford in his account 3 of what he described as " The Tribal Self." Clifford begins by saying that the Self means essentially "a sort of centre about which our remoter motives revolve, and to which they always have regard." It is, in short, a universe of reference. ' ' If we consider now, " he goes on, " the 1 Something of the same sort may be observed even in more developed communities under certain conditions. Thus, in Bryce's American Commonwealth (chap. Ixiii.), the following remarks are made on some aspects of American political life : " Even city poli- ticians must have a moral code and a moral standard. It is not the code of an ordinary unprofessional citizen. It does not forbid false- hood, or malversation, or ballot stuffing, or 'repeating.' But it denounces apathy or cowardice, disobedience, and, above all, treason to the party. Its typical virtue is ' solidity,' unity of heart, mind, and effort among the workers, unquestioning loyalty to the party ticket. He who takes his own course is a kicker or bolter ; and is punished not only sternly but vindictively." Nor is this kind of moral standard wholly unknown in English party politics, or in the medical profession, or in the working of Trades Unions. But such a moral standard in modern times, being as it were a standard within a standard, is not able wholly to maintain itself against the recog- nized moral standard of the people. Even the professional politician sometimes finds it necessary " to pander a little to the moral sense of the community," (Bryce op. cit., chap. Ixviii.). 2 Lectures and Essays (" On the Scientific Basis of Morals "). n6 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. v. simpler races of mankind, we shall find not only that immediate desires play a far larger part in their lives, and so that the conception of self is less used and less developed, but also that it is less definite and more wide. The savage is not only hurt when anybody treads on his foot, but when anybody treads on his tribe. He may lose his hut, and his wife, and his op- portunities of getting food. In this way, the tribe be- comes naturally included in that conception of self which renders remote desires possible by making them immediate." "The tribe, qua tribe, has to exist, and it can only exist by aid of such an organic artifice as the conception of the tribal self in the minds of its members. Hence the natural selection of those races in which this conception is the most powerful and most habitually predominant as a motive over imme- diate desires. To such an extent has this proceeded that we may fairly doubt whether the selfhood of the tribe is not earlier in point of development than that of the individual. In the process of time it becomes a matter of hereditary transmission, and is thus fixed as a specific character in the constitution of social man. With the settlement of countries, and the aggregation of tribes into nations, it takes a wider and more ab- stract form ; and in the highest natures the tribal self is incarnate in nothing less than humanity. Short of these heights, it places itself in the family and in the city. . I shall call that quality or disposition of man which consists in the supremacy of the family or tribal self as a mark of reference for motives by its old name Piety" Without absolutely subscribing to everything that is stated by Clifford in this connexion, we may at least 3-] THE GROWTH OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. recognise the importance of the point that he here seeks to emphasise viz. the solidarity of the primitive moral consciousness. Man does not at first naturally think of himself as an independent individual, but rather as a part of a system l ; and this system may in a very real sense be called a "self," since it is the uni- verse to which the individual refers the conduct of his life. It is here, then, that we find the earliest basis for the moral judgment ; and, in stating the manner of its formation, it may still be convenient to follow the mode of statement given by Clifford. .. 3. THE ORIGIN OF CONSCIENCE. "We do not like a man/' Clifford goes on, "whose character is such that we may reasonably expect injuries from him. This dislike of a man on account of his character is a more complex feeling than the mere dislike of separate injuries. A cat likes your hand, and your lap, and the food you give her ; but I do not think she has any conception of you. A dog, however, may like you even when you thrash him, though he does not like the thrashing. Now such likes and dislikes may be felt by the tribal self. If a man does anything gener- ally regarded as good for the tribe, my tribal self may say, in the first place, I like that thing that you have done. By such common approbation of individual acts, the influence of piety as a motive becomes de- fined ; and natural selection will in the long run pre- serve those tribes which have approved the right things ; namely, those things which at that time gave the tribe an advantage in the struggle for existence. 1 It may be noted that the idea of tribal unity generally embodies itself in the image of a tribal god ; and the religious bond tends to become more and more important in giving unity to the system. Il8 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. V. But in the second place, a man may as a rule and con- stantly, being actuated by piety, do good things for the tribe ; and in that case the tribal self will say, I like_yo. The feeling expressed by this statement on the part of any individual, ' In the name of the tribe, I like you/ is what I call approbation. It is the feeling produced in pious individuals by that sort of char- acter which seems to them beneficial to the com- munity/' " Now suppose," Clifford proceeds, " that a man has done something obviously harmful to the community. Either some immediate desire, or his individual self, has for once proved stronger than the tribal self. When the tribal self wakes up, the man says, ' In the name of the tribe, I do not like this thing that I, as an individual, have done.' This self-judgment in the name of the tribe is called Conscience. If the man goes- further, and draws from this act and others an infer- ence about his own character, he may say, ' In the name of the tribe I do not like my individual self/ This is remorse. " All this ought to present no difficulty to the student who has grasped the conception of the different Uni- verses within which we live. The Universe, from the point of view of which the primitive moral judgment is passed, is that described by Clifford as "the tribal self." From this point of view the consciousness of the primitive savage passes judgment both on himself and others as individuals within the tribe. And on the whole, actions are judged to be good or bad, and indi- viduals to be praiseworthy or blameworthy, according as they tend to promote or to impede the existence and the welfare of the tribe. 4-1 THE GROWTH OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 1 19 4. CUSTOM AS THE MORAL STANDARD. We must not, however, suppose that the procedure of the primitive man is quite so self-conscious as Clifford's manner of statement might seem to imply. He does not deliberately ask himself whether his conduct is or is not of such a kind as to promote the welfare of his tribe. Still less does he ask such a question with respect to his general character or to that of others. What happens is rather, as we have already indicated, that customary modes ^kijthfr life of a people, that those modes of action that are favourable to its welfare tend on the whole to be selected and preserved, and that those modes of action also tend on the whole to be ap- provecT In thus approving, the individual puts him- self at the point of view of his tribe, but he does so unconsciously ; it does not occur to him that it would be possible for him to take up any other point of view. Of himself as an independent individual, or of others as independent individuals, he has not yet formed any clear conception. Hence also it is not quite true to say that he passes judgment on his own character or on that of others. [e hardly thinks of character. He judges actions. Even in such a comparatively advanced stage of the moral consciousness as that represented in Homer, the idea of a general judgment on character has scarcely emerged. In the Iliad, as Seeley has re- marked, x "the distinction between right and wrong is barely recognised, and the division of mankind into the good and the bad is not recognised at all. It has often been remarked that it contains no villain. The reason of this is not that the poet does not represent his characters as doing wicked deeds, for, in fact, there is i Ecce Homo, chap. xix. 120 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. V. not one among them who is not capable of deeds the most atrocious and shameful. But the poet does not regard these deeds with any strong disapprobation, and the feeling of moral indignation which has been so strong in later poets was in him so feeble that he is quite incapable of hating any of his characters for their crimes. He can no more conceive the notion of a villain than of an habitually virtuous man. The few deeds that he recognises as wrong, or at least as strange and dangerous killing a suppliant, or killing a father he, notwithstanding, conceives all persons alike as ca- pable of perpetrating under the influence of passion or some heaven-sent bewilderment of the understanding." In such a state of society there are things which "one does not do," actions which are not customary, but there is hardly anything which is regarded with strong moral disapprobation. 5. POSITIVE XAW AS THE MORAL STANDARD. Gradu- ally, however, as we have seen, Law takes the place of custom in the control of conduct. Along with this there comes a certain change in the moral judgment. When "thou shalt not do " takes the place of ''one does not do," the distinction between right and wrong is made more precise ; and a more definite condemna- tion attaches to the violation of that which is recog- nised as right. In the early stage of customary morality, to quote Seeley once more, "men, easily tempted into crime, flung off the effects of it as easily. Agamemnon, after violating outrageously the right of property, has but to say aaffd.^, ' My mind was be- wildered/ and the excuse is sufficient to appease his own conscience, and is accepted by the public, and even by the injured party himself, who feels himself 6.] THE GROWTH OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 121 equally liable to such temporary mental perplexities." " After the introduction of law crime could never again be thus lightly expiated and forgotten." " By the law comes the knowledge of sin. A standard of action is set up, which serves to each man both as a rule of life for himself and a rule of criticism upon his neighbours. Then comes the division of mankind into those who habitually conform to this rule and those who violate it, into the good and the bad, and feelings soon spring up to sanction the classification, feelings of respect for the one class and hatred for the other." 6. THE MORAL LAW. But so long as the law taken as the moral standard is not definitely distinguished from the positive law of the land, the moral judgment is not yet fully formed. The positive law of a country is directed primarily against external acts prejudicial to the welfare of society, whereas the moral judgment in its fully developed form has reference rather to men's in- tentions, motives, and characters, than to their mere external performances. Now in the life of a develop- ing people this distinction gradually emerges. We see it perhaps most clearly in the case of the Jews, when the Ten Commandments become definitely distinguished from the ceremonial and civil laws of the country. These Commandments include the rule, "Thoushalt not covet," as well as "Thou shalt not steal," and thus introduce the conception of a judgment to be passed on the inner attitude of mind, as well as on the outer action. As the moral consciousness develops, this con- ception becomes more and more pronounced. 7. MORAL CONFLICT. When moral development has arrived at such a stage as this, certain conflicts 122 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. V. almost inevitably arise, both in action and in the judg- ment that is passed on action. In primitive societies each man's duty is comparatively obvious. There is little division of labour, and the way in which the welfare of the tribe is to be promoted can seldom be doubtful. But when law is added to custom, and moral law added to positive law,, and when at the same time a man finds himself occupying many different positions within his society (being, for instance, at once father, soldier, judge, husbandman, and the like), the right thing to do on a given occasion is not always so apparent. Law may conflict with custom, or one law with another. The classical instance of such a con- flict is found in the Antigone of Sophocles, where the definite law of the state comes into collision with the more customary principle of family affection. Anti- gone prefers the latter, because it is of immemorial antiquity and its origin cannot be traced, whereas the law of the state has been made and may be unmade again. But the ultimate result of such a conflict is to give rise to reflection, and to the search for some deeper standard of judgment. 8. THE INDIVIDUAL CONSCIENCE AS STANDARD. Such a standard is sometimes sought in an appeal to the heart or conscience of the individual. An appeal may be made from the outer law of the state to the inner voice, or law of the heart. But this is soon found to be unsatisfactory, inasmuch as the conflicts found in the outer law are in reality repeated in the inner law. The heart may attach itself, for instance, to the idea of the family, but it may also attach itself to the idea of the state ; and devotion, to the one may be incom- 10.] THE GROWTH OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 123 patible with devotion to the other. l We are accord- ingly thrown back upon reflective analysis. 9. THE GROWTH OF THE REFLECTIVE JUDGMENT. It is thus that men are gradually led to ask themselves what is the real basis of the moral judgment. This question inevitably leads to the attempt to construct some sort of scientific ethical system. It may, how- ever, for a time stop short of this, and merely lead to the formulation of certain fundamental principles, without any definite attempt at systematic construc- tion. In any case universal principles, applicable to all times and peoples become gradually substituted for the customs and laws of particular tribes and nations. 10. ILLUSTRATIONS FROM ANCIENT PEOPLES. The de- velopment of the moral judgment is perhaps most 1 Cf. the attitude of Blanche in Shakespeare's play of King John, (Act. III., scene i) : " Which is the side that I must go withal ? I am with both : each army hath a hand ; And in their rage, I having hold of both, They whirl asunder and dismember me. Husband, I cannot pray that thou mayst win : Uncle, I needs must pray that thou mayst lose ; Father, I may not wish the fortune thine ; Grandam, I will not wish thy wishes thrive ; Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose ; Assured loss before the match be played." Here the puzzle is On which side is the self ? On which side is the deepest and most abiding interest ? Cf. also the attitude of Desdemona in Othello (Act. I., scene 3) : " I do perceive here a divided duty." Indeed it is out of such conflict that all the most profoundly tragic situations arise. 124 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. V. easily studied in the great nations of antiquity, in which there was less interference from without than in the case of most modern peoples. Among the Jews, for instance, it is easy to trace a development from the customary and ceremonial law, through the Ten Commandments, to the deeper and more inward principles represented by the Psalms and the later prophets. The idea of the "pure heart" gradually substitutes itself for external observances ; and, in Christianity, the law is quite definitely super- seded by the idea of the inner principle of love. When this takes place, the purely national character of the Jewish morality is at the same time broken down, and it becomes a morality that is applicable to all times and peoples. In the case of this line of development, how- ever, it is to be noted that every step takes place, as it were, by a new enactment. The deeper principle is always formulated by the voice of some prophet, speak- ing more or less definitely in the name of "the Lord." The idea of a divine law remains fundamental through- out. Even when the inner principle of Christianity is set against the external rules of the older system, it still appears in the form of a definite enactment, a ' New Commandment.' " It was said by them of old time. . . . . But I say unto you " The appeal is still to an authoritative law. Among the Greeks the case is very different. Here, indeed, we start also from the idea of law, and indeed of divine law. But it is a law that is never distinctly formulated in a code of commandments ; and the process of its development is different. The deeper principle is not introduced in the form of a new pro- phetic utterance, but in the form of a reflective inter- 10.] THE GROWTH OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 12$ pretation. Men begin to question the validity of the old principles of action, and to ask themselves how they are to be justified ; and this soon gives rise to reflective systems of Ethics. The growth of these will be briefly noticed in the following Book. What it is important to observe, however, is that, different as this course of development is from that found among the Hebrews, it leads, nevertheless, to substantially similar results. Here also the growth is one from external ob- servances to the idea of action based on principle from the idea of duty done in obedience to the law of the state to that of duty done TOO xalov ?vexa, for the sake of the beauty or nobility of it. At the same time there is a gradual advance from the idea of a kind of life which is possible only for the Greek, and not for the Barbarian, to the idea (which becomes especially prominent among the Stoics) of a kind of life which is simply human, and which belongs to all mankind as citizens of the world. Among the Romans nothing quite similar can be traced. In their later life they were too much influenced by Greek thought for anything quite spontaneous to arise among themselves. But we see something of the same sort in the development of their law. Roman law is at first simply Roman, and rests on no definite principle. By the help of the stoical philosophy, how- ever, they gradually introduced an inner principle into it, and in so doing made it cease to be Roman Law, and become the Law of the world. Thus, these three peoples gradually developed from their national institutions a universal religion, a uni- versal science, and a universal law, at the same time as they substituted an inner principle of action for a merely external obedience to their laws. 126 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. v. 11. GENERAL NATURE OF MORAL DEVELOPMENT. From this brief sketch the general nature of the development of the moral judgment may be more or less apparent. The following features may be specially noted : (1) It develops from customs, through law, to reflec- tive principles. (2) It develops from the judgment on external acts to the judgment on the inner purpose and character. (3) It develops from ideas peculiar to the circum- stances of particular tribes and nations to ideas that have a universal validity. Having thus indicated the general nature of the de- velopment of the moral judgment, we may now be in a position to consider the essential elements involved in that judgment in its fully developed form. I.] SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. I2/ CHAPTER VI. THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 1. THE NATURE OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. From the statements that have now been made, the general na- ture of the moral judgment ought to be to a consider- able extent apparent; but there are still some questions that it is important to ask with respect to its fully developed content and significance. These questions will naturally fall under two distinct heads. It is evi- dent, in the first place, that the moral judgment is not simply of the nature of what is called a judgment in Logic. It is not merely a judgment about, but a judg- ment upon. It does not merely state the nature of some object, but compares it with a standard, and by means of this standard pronounces it to be good 9r evil, right or wrong. This is what is meant in saying that the moral point of view is normative. Now it follows from this that there are two main questions to be asked (i) What is the object upon which judgment is pro- nounced? (2) What is the point of view from which such a judgment is possible? The consideration of these questions will naturally lead us up to the consid- eration of the precise nature of the standard, which is to be the subject of the following book. The two questions which we have now to consider may be briefly expressed as follows : (i) What is the object of the moral judgment ? (2) What is the subject of the moral judgment ? 128 ETHICS. [BK, I., CH. VI. 2. THE OBJECT OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. In a general way the nature of the object upon which the moral judgment is passed is clear enough. Xhe_oi)iect is voluntary action. It is with this, as we have seen, that Ethics is concerned throughout. It has to do with the right direction of the will. The moral judgments which we pass are, in like manner, concerned with the will. Whatever is not willed, has no moral quality. An avalanche rolling down a mountain may devastate a village ; a shower may save a nation from famine : but we do not judge either the one or the other to be morally bad or good. In like manner, we do not pass moral judgments on tigers or horses for their ravages or for their services, so long as we regard these as dictated by mere instinct, without volition. When we praise or blame them, we do it under the tacit assump- tion that their acts were voluntary. Moral judgments, then, are not passed upon all sorts of things, nor even upon all sorts of activities, but only upon conduct. 3. THE GOOD WILL. We are thus led to the famous declaration with which Kant opened his great treatise on Ethics. 1 He begins it by saying that ''there isl nothing in the world, or even out of it, that can be called good without qualification, except a good will.'_j The gifts of fortune, he said, and the happiness which they bring with them, are to be regarded as good only on condition that they are rightly used. Talents and worldly wisdom are, in like manner, good only when they are subordinated to the attainment of high aims. These things are only conditionally good. But a good will is good without condition. It is, as Kant said, the only jewel that shines by its own light, i Metaphysic of Morals, section I. 3-] SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 12$ But in thus commending the good will as supremely good, and regarding it as the ultimate object approved by the moral judgment, we must be careful to distin- guish will from mere wish. "Hell," it is said, "is paved with good intentions." A good will is not merely a good intention, in the sense in which we dis- tinguish an intention from a fully formed purpose, * but a determined effort to produce a ^ood result thoup-h it ^ may be an effort that has still to wait for its appro- priate opportunity of issuing in overt action. Such an effort is, from a moral point of view, supremely good, even if, from some unforeseen contingencies, the good result is not itself achieved. A good wish is 'merely the consciousness that the attainment of a certain end would give satisfaction : a good will is the identifica- tion of oneself with that end. But again, when we say that a good will is supremely good, even if it fails to achieve a good result, it ought not to be supposed that a good will can actually fail to issue in a good action if, at least, it issues in action at all. 2 WJlLand act, when there is an act at all, are but the inner and outer side of the same phenomenon. A good will issues in a good action ; and, conversely, there can be no good action without a good will. But an action which in itself is good may lead, through the interfer- ence of other circumstances, to a bad result ; and a bad action may lead to a good result. "The morality of an action," said Dr. Johnson, 3 "depends on the motive 1 1. e., the sense in which we distinguish Wish from Will. The term " Intention " is here used in a sense somewhat different from that explained in Chapter i. of the present Book. 2 Cf. above, Book I., chap, i., 59. 8 Boswell's Life of Johnson, Vol. I. Eth. 9 130 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. VI. from which we act. If I fling half-a-crown to a beggar with intention to break his head, and he picks it up and buys victuals with it, the physical effect is good, but, with respect to me, the action is very wrong." On the other hand, an act in itself good may be perverted to evil ends. " You taught me language," says Caliban to Prospero, "and my profit on't is, I know how to curse." He who benefits another may be only nour- ishing a snake. What constitutes the goodness of an action is the goodness of the intention ; but a good intention, though it produces a good action, need not produce a good result. A result is generally a resultant of several causes, of which the will of any particular agent is only one. 1 4. JUDGMENT ON ACT AND ON AGENT. So far there is no difficulty. But it is necessary now to draw a dis- tinction between two forms in which the moral judg- ment is passed. We may judge a man's actions, or we may judge the man himself. It can hardly be doubted that both these forms of judgment are to be found even at the most developed stage of the moral consciousness that has yet been reached. The distinction corresponds, in the main, to that between Right and Good. Some of a man's actions may be right, and yet we may not 1 If we took account of all the effects, direct and indirect, of a man's actions, we should probably find that the amount of good in the result is much more nearly in proportion to the amount of good in the intention than is commonly supposed. Green says (Prolego- mena to Ethics, p. 320), that "there is no real reason to doubt that the good or evil in the motive of an action is exactly measured by the good or evil in its consequences." It should be noted that, in what is said up to this point, no account is taken of the question, afterwards discussed, whether it is strictly on the intention or on the motive that the moral judgment is passed. 5-] SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 13! judge him to be a good man, and vice versa. We some- times, that is to say, judge character, and sometimes will in the narrower sense. Now, with respect to the judgment on character no particular difficulty seems to arise. We judge men's characters by the degree in which the total content of their moral consciousness tends towards the realisation of the highest end, whatever that may be conceived to be. It is not so easy, how- ever, to say what it is that we judge when we judge an act rather than an agent. We do not judge the act by its result, but by the purpose of the agent. On this all are agreed. But it remains to be asked whether we judge it by the whole intention involved in it, or rather by that part of the intention which is described as the motive. On this point there is considerable difference of opinion, and the question is further complicated by a want of uniformity in the interpretation of the terms Intention and Motive. 5. Is THE MORAL JUDGMENT CONCERNED WITH MOTIVES OR WITH INTENTIONS ? The controversy on this subject l has been carried on chiefly between writers of the in- tuitional and the utilitarian school. 3 The former have generally maintained that the moral judgment is con- cerned entirely with the motives of our actions, that our actions are to be pronounced good or bad in pro- portion to the goodness or badness of the motives by which we aje actuated in doing them. Thus Dr. Mar- tineau, the most eminent of recent intuitionist writers, 1 This subject is well treated by Prof. Dewey in his Outlines of Ethics, pp. 4-6, and more fully in Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, pp. 57-62. 2 The nature of these two schools will become apparent in the sequel. 132 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. vi. has drawn out an elaborate table of the motives of our conduct, and arranged them in order of merit. 1 He places reverence at the top, and censoriousness, vin- dictiveness, and suspiciousness at the bottom, while between these lie a great variety of passions, appetites, affections, sentiments, etc. ; such as love of ease, fear, ambition, generosity, and compassion. Now to dis- cuss the merits of such a scheme as this would evi- dently carry us beyond the limits of such a handbook as the present. Two criticisms, however, may be passed upon it. In the first place, the list of motives, or "springs of action " (as they are also called), seems to rest on a false conception of psychological divisions. The student of psychology will probably have become familiar with this objection. Modern Psychology treats the human mind as an organic unity, and repu- diates any hard and fast distinctions of faculties, such as seem to be implied in Dr. Martineau's list. The motives which he enumerates are not simple, but highly complex, phenomena ; and their merits in any particular case would depend on the way in which they are composed. Fear, for instance, is not a simple element in consciousness, but a complex state ; and its merit or demerit depends on the way in which we fear and the thing of which we are afraid. The same applies to ambition, and to most of the other motives enumerated by Dr. Martineau. But, apart from this, the list seems to involve that confusion between the different senses of the term "motive " to which refer- 1 Types of Ethical Theory, Part II., Book I., chap. vi. A criticism of Martineau's doctrine will be found in Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics, Book III., chap. xii. 5-] SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 133 ence has already been made. Thus fear and compas- sion, though referring to objects, may be treated as emotional states ; whereas ambition does not denote a state of feeling, but rather an object aimed at not in- deed a definite object, but a range of objects almost infinite in variety (from the desire to be Mayor of a town to the desire to be the saviour of one's country), having only in common the desire of some form of personal eminence. Now mere feelings in the mind, such as fear and compassion, do not seem, as I have already indicated, to constitute motives at all, in the proper sense of the term : they are not inducements to action. What induces us to act is the presentation of some end to be attained. Consequently, if we are to have a list of motives, this list should take the form rather of a classification of ends to be attained, than of feelings that exist in our minds. Further, these ends would have to be arranged, not under any such ab- stract headings as ''ambition" and the like, but in accordance with their actual, concrete nature. The antagonism of the utilitarians seems to be partly due to the inadequacy of the intuitionist theory. Thus Mill urges r that "the morality of an action depends entirely upon the intention that is, upon what the agent wills to do. But the motive, that is, the feeling which makes him will so to dp, when it makes no difference in the act, makes none in the morality : though it makes a great difference in our moral esti- mation of the agent, espepially if it indicates a good or a bad habitual disposition" "The motive of an action," he says again, 2 " has nothing to do with the i Utilitarianism, chap, ii., p. 27, note. 2 Ibid., p. 26. 134 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. VI. morality of the action, though much with the worth of the agent." The reasonableness of this view is ap- parent. If one man is animated by compassion and another by fear, we may think the former a more amiable man and the latter a more cowardly man : but if they are led to act in precisely the same way, must not their actions be regarded as equally good or bad ? They are not perhaps equally good men ; but that is not the question. A good man may do a bad action, and a bad man may do a good action. The question is simply Are their actions good or bad? How they feel in doing the actions may affect our judgment of their characters, of their lives as a whole, but not of their particular Actions. Of course if their actions are different in consequence of their feelings if, for instance, the man who feels compassion does the act in a more gracious way, and the man who feels fear does it in a hurried and awkward way our moral judgment upon the actions will be different. But the reason is that in this case the feeling has to some ex- tent affected the nature of the act that is willed. This is Mill's view ; and it is evidently a reasonable view, so far as it goes. Nevertheless, it appears to me to be erroneous. 6. THE MORAL JUDGMENT is PARTLY CONCERNED WITH MOTIVES. So long indeed as the reference is merely to the feelings by which our actions are accompanied, there is no need to dispute Mill's position. l But if we understand the motive to mean that which induces us i Of course the nature of our feelings is ultimately determined by the nature of the ends that we have in view, and consequently in disputing the one position we are in reality disputing the other as well. 6.] SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 135 to act in a particular way, then I think we must main- tain that it is on the motive that the moral judgment is passed, or at least that the motive is properly taken into account in passing judgment. Mill's error seems to arise from this, that he supposes -the moral judgment to be passed on things done, whereas the moral judg- ment is not properly passed upon a thing done, but upon a person doing. If it were not so, we should pass moral judgment on the instinctive acts of animals, and even on the movements of rocks, clouds, and avalanches. What we judge is conduct ; and this means not merely an overt act, but the attitude of a person in acting ; and his attitude must include his motive. Now Mill himself admits that the motive (even in the sense of the mere feeling, and surely much more in the sense of the end with reference to which we are induced to act) makes a difference in our estimation of the agent. It is true, indeed, that in passing a moral judgment upon a particular act we need not take account of the whole character of the man who does it. If a man gets drunk, or tells a lie, or defrauds his neighbour, we can say that he has done wrong, without needing to inquire whether he is in other respects a good man or a bad. But this does not imply that we judge his action simply from the outside, as a thing done. It is the man doing it that we judge; and the question, what induced him to do it, is not irrelevant to this judgment. It may be ad- mitted that we frequently omit this inner side of a man's conduct in forming our judgments. But the reason is, that it is so difficult to ascertain what the inner side is. With regard to all men's actions (except our own), 136 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. vi. "One point must still be greatly dark, The moving why they do it." Hence the force of the precept "judge not ! " But in so far as we do judge, when we try to be thoroughly just in our moral appreciations, it seems unquestion- able that we take account of the motive, and that this is what we are bound to take account of. r It may be objected, of course, that a man's motives are sometimes excellent, while yet we feel bound to condemn his actions. Some fanatics, for instance, have performed acts of the utmost atrocity, "thinking that they did God service." Are we to approve these actions, it may be asked, because the end aimed at was good ? In answering this question, we must be sure that we understand exactly what the question is. Are we to understand that we are asked, whether, in the case of such actions, we regard the thing done as i An example may help to make this clear. It has been urged that if it is just to put a man to death, this act will not be rendered vicious by the mere fact that the execution of it is accompanied by a feeling of resentment or malevolence. Certainly, I should answer, the mere feeling of resentment will make no difference in the morality of the action, any more than a feeling of reluctance or a feeling of weariness. But it is otherwise if the gratification of the feeling was the motive of the act. If a judge were to condemn a criminal to death, not because it is just, but because he feels resent- ment, and aims at the gratification of this feeling, then undoubtedly his action would be wrong, though the result of it might accidentally be right /'. c. it might be the case that the criminal ought to have been put to death. Of course in such a case the intention is wrong as well as the motive. This is necessarily so ; for the motive is part of the intention. In the case supposed, it is part of the judge's in- tention (his inner intention, as I have called it) to gratify his feeling of resentment. But if this had not been part of his motive, it would not have vitiated his action /. c. if it had not been part of his induce- ment /] SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 137 a desirable result ? If so, our answer would no doubt be decidedly, No. In the same way we should say that the fall of an avalanche is not a desirable result. But in neither case is our judgment a moral judgment. On the other hand, if we are asked whether we con- sider that the fanatics in question acted rightly, then we must answer that, in so far as they were aiming steadfastly at a definite end, and in so far as that end was a good one, we must approve of their actions. As a rule, indeed, we shall not entirely approve of them ; but the reason is that we do not regard their aims as perfectly good. This is implied in calling them fanatics. AJknatic is one who pursues sr>m<* narrow end as if it were the supreme good. The motive of such a man is not the best possible, and the more conscientiously he is guided by that motive the more certainly will his actions not be the best possible. 7. BUT THE JUDGMENT is REALLY ON CHARACTER. It appears from this, however, that it is only in a some- what strained sense that the judgment can be said to be passed either on the intention or on the motive alone. The truth seems to be rather that the fully de- veloped moral judgment is always pronounced, directly or indirectly, on the character of the agent. That is to say, as I have already remarked, it is never simply on a thing done, but always on a person doing, that we pass moral judgment. It is true that, in some cases, we may have regard only to the person as doing this one particular action, while in other cases we may think of him as having general habits of action. But in all cases, when we are passing a strictly moral judgment, we think of the action, not as an isolated event, but as part of a system of life. We judge its significance not 4 138 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. VI. in the abstract, but for the person who does it, situated as he happens to be, and viewing the world as he has learned to view it. Thus we judge the action to be good or evil according to the extent to which the various elements in the whole presented content serve as inducements to act or to refrain from acting. In thus regarding the action, we are judging the whole intention, but with reference to the extent to which the various elements in it serve, or do not serve, as motives to action. We thus judge the motives, both positively and negatively, and in so doing judge the whole inten- tion. Hence it is somewhat misleading to say simply that we pass judgment either on the intention or on the motive. l 8. THE SUBJECT OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. Having thus considered the precise nature of the object upon which the moral judgment is passed, we must now turn our attention to the subject of the moral judgment, i*. e. to the point of view from which an action is judged to be good or bad. In a sense, every man may be said to judge his own action to be good at the moment when he does it. In deliberately choosing to do it, he pronounces it to be the course of action which offers most inducement at the time. By what right, then, we may ask, does any one else pronounce it to be wrong? Or, how does it happen that the man him- self, on calm reflection, judges his action to fall short of an ideal standard ? The answer is that it is looked 1 For further discussion on this point, the student may be referred to Green's Prolegomena to Ethics, Book II., chap, ii., Book III., chap, i., Book IV., chap, i.; Martineau's Types of Ethical Theory, Part II. Book I., chap, vi., 15 ; and International Journal of Ethics, Vol. IV. Nos. i and 2. 9-] SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 139 at from a different point of view, regarded within a different universe or system, from that from which the individual was regarding it when he decided to act in that particular way. But there are an indefinite number of universes within which an action might be placed, an indefinite number of points of view from which an action or an agent might be judged. What claim has any one of these to be regarded as preferable to any other ? Now to give any complete answer to this question would involve the discussion of the various theories of morals, to which our attention is to be directed in the next Book. But, without entering into this discussion at present, it may be profitable to notice some ways in which the subject of the moral judgment may be conceived. 9. THE MORAL CONNOISSEUR. One way in which we may help ourselves to understand it is by calling to our aid the analogy of the judgments which are passed on works of art. We say that a poem or a play or a novel is a good or a bad artistic product. In so saying, we are passing a judgment upon it, just as we do when we say that an action is good or bad. Now from what point of view is such a judgment pro- nounced? Not, it seems clear, from that of the person who happens at the time to be reading or hearing or seeing the artistic product, any more than the moral judgment is passed from the point of view of the individual who is acting. The artist appeals from the judgment of the multitude to the judgment of the skilled and sympathetic critic. * Now it may be said 1 " Like Verdi when, at his worst opera's end (The thing they gave at Florence what's its name ?) 140 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. vi. that in like manner, when we are dealing with conduct, the appeal is to the judgment of the moral connoisseur. This is the view of the Moral Sense School, to which we shall have occasion to refer in the sequel, and in particular of Shaftesbury, its most notable exponent. Without discussing the point of view of that School at present, it suffices to say here that it hardly seems to furnish us with a satisfactory answer to the present question. A work of art aims, as we have already noted, at the production of a certain result. The skilled critic is the only judge whether such a result has been achieved. "We musicians know." But in morals, as we have seen, it is rather the action than the result that is judged. Now this action, if it is a real action at all, has been already judged by the person who acts. He has deliberately chosen to act in a particular way. Yet his action is judged to be wrong, and judged to be wrong not merely by the moral connoisseur, but by himself when he reflects upon it. 10. THE IMPARTIAL SPECTATOR. A somewhat more elaborate theory was put forward by Adam Smith. His theory rests upon the fact of sympathy, to which reference has already been made. He points out that our approval or disapproval of the conduct of others depends on the extent to which we are able to sym- pathise with them. "We run," he says, 1 "not onlyN to congratulate the successful, but to condole with the While the mad houseful's plaudits near out-bang His orchestra of salt-box, tongs and bones, He looks through all the roaring and the wreaths Where sits Rossini patient in his stall." Browning Bishop Blougram's Apology. i Theory of the Moral Sentiments, Part L, Sect I., chap. ii. 10.] SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 14! afflicted ; and the pleasure which we find in the con- versation of one whom in all the passions of his heart we can entirely sympathise with, seems to do more than compensate the painfulness of that sorrow with which the view of his situation affects us." " If we hear a person loudly lamenting his misfortunes, which, however, upon bringing the case home to ourselves, we feel can produce no such violent effect upon us, we are shocked at his grief ; and, because we cannot enter into it, call it pusillanimity and weakness. It gives us the spleen, on the other hand, to see another too happy, or too much elevated, as we call it, with any little piece of good fortune. We are disobliged even with his joy ; and, because we cannot go along with it, call it levity and folly. We are even put out of humour if our companions laugh louder or longer at a joke than we think it deserves ; that is, than we feel that we ourselves could laugh at it. " "When," he goes on, 1 " the original passions of the person principally concerned are in perfect concord with the sympathetic emotions of the spectator, they necessarily appear to this last just and proper, and suitable to their objects ; and, on the contrary, when, upon bringing the case home to himself, he finds that they do not coincide with what he feels, they neces- sarily appear to him unjust and improper, and unsuit- able to the causes which excite them. To approve o? the passions of another, therefore, as suitable to their objects, is the same thing as to observe that we entirely sympathise with them ; and not to approve of them as such, is the same thing as to observe that we do not entirely sympathise with them. The man who resents J * Ibid., chap, iii. 142 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. vi. the injuries that have been done to me, and observes that I resent them precisely as he does, necessarily approves of my resentment. The man whose sym- pathy keeps time to my grief, cannot but admit the reasonableness of my sorrow. He who admires the same poem, or the same picture, and admires them exactly as I do, must surely allow the justness of my admiration. He who laughs at the same joke, and laughs along with me, cannot well deny the propriety of my laughter. On the contrary, the person who, upon those different occasions, either feels no such emotion as that which I feel, or feels none that bears any proportion to mine, cannot avoid disapproving my sentiments on account of their dissonance with his own. If my animosity goes beyond what the indig- nation of my friend can correspond to ; if my grief exceeds what his most tender compassion can go along with ; if my admiration is either too high or too low to tally with his own ; if I laugh loud and heartily when he only smiles, or, on the contrary, only smile when he laughs loud and heartily ; in all these cases, as soon as he comes from considering the object, to observe how I am affected by it, according as there is more or less disproportion between his sentiments and mine, I must incur a greater or less degree of his dis- approbation ; and upon all occasions his own senti- ments are the standards and measures by which he judges of mine." It follows from this that our earliest moral judgments are passed, not upon ourselves, but upon others. ' 'Our first ideas," he says, 1 "of personal beauty and deformity, are drawn from the shape and appearance d., Part III., chap. i. 10.] SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 143 of others, not from our own. We soon become sen- sible, however, that others exercise the same criticism upon us." "In the same manner our first moral criticisms are exercised upon the character and conduct of other people ; and we are all very forward to observe how each of these affects us. But we soon learn that other people are equally frank with regard to our own. We become anxious to know how far we deserve their censure or applause, and whether to them we must necessarily appear those agreeable or disagreeable creatures which they represent us. We begin, upon this account, to examine our own passions and conduct, and to consider how these must appear to them, by considering how they would appear to us if in their situation. We suppose ourselves the spec- tators of our own behaviour, and endeavour to imagine what effect it would, in this light, produce upon us. This is the only looking-glass by which we can, in some measure, with the eyes of other people, scrutinise the propriety of our own conduct. If in this view it pleases us, we are tolerably satisfied. We can be more indifferent about the applause, and, in some measure, despise the censure of the world ; secure that, however misunderstood or misrepresented, we are the natural and proper objects of approbation." "When I endeavour," he goes on, " to examine my own conduct, when I endeavour to pass sentence upon it, and either to approve or condemn it, it is evident that, in all such cases, I divide myself, as it were, into two persons ; and that I, the examiner and judge, re- present a different character from that other I, the person whose conduct is examined into, and judged of. The first is the spectator, whose sentiments with regard 144 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. vi. to my own conduct I endeavour to get into, by placing myself in his situation, and by considering how it would appear to me, when seen from that particular point of view. The second is the agent ; the person whom I properly call myself, and of whose conduct, under the character of a spectator, I was endeavouring to form some opinion. The first is the judge ; the second the person judged of. But that the judge should, in every respect, be the same with the person judged of, is as impossible, as that the cause should, in every respect, be the same with the effect." Adam Smith was thus led to the idea of what he called the "impartial spectator," from whose point of view our moral judgments are pronounced. He distin- guishes this point of view as that of " the man within," whose judgments are opposed to those of the "man without." An appeal, he says, 1 lies from the opinions of mankind " to a much higher tribunal, to the tribunal of their own consciences, to that of the supposed im- partial and well-informed spectator, to that of the man within the breast, the great judge and arbiter of their conduct." 11. THE IDEAL SELF. How far this conception of an "impartial spectator " is valuable, and what exactly is to be meant by his "impartiality," we cannot here discuss. I have given this reference to Adam Smith merely on account of the clearness with which he brings out the fact that our moral judgments involve a certain reference to a point of view higher than that of the in- dividual who acts an appeal, so to speak, "from Philip drunk to Philip sober." The point of view to which an appeal is thus made may perhaps be most i Ibid., Part III., chap. ii. II.] SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 145 fittingly described as that of the Ideal Self. At early stages of development it corresponds to what Clifford described as ' ' the Tribal Self. " The normal member of the tribe ' may be said to be the "impartial spectator" to whose judgment the appeal is made. At more advanced stages of human development the nature of the Ideal Self becomes more complicated; and we cannot discuss it satisfactorily until we have con- sidered the significance of the moral standard. In the meantime this much seems necessary in order to_ bring out the fact that in the moral judgment there is an appeal from the Universe of the individual con- sciousness to a higher or more comprehensive system. With this in view, we are now able to proceed to the consideration of the various theories of the moral standard. 1 This may be compared with the view of the " normal man," taken by such a writer as Dr. Simmel. A somewhat similar concep- tion is contained in the theory of the standard of moral value, given by Meinong in his Psychologisch-ethische Untersuchungen zur Werth- theoric. Eth. 10 146 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. VI. NOTE ON THE MEANING OF CONSCIENCE. Throughout this chapter, as well as some of the preceding, we have had frequent occasion to refer to conscience ; and it may be well at this point to explain more precisely the sense (or senses) in which this term is used. The term is derived from the Latin con- scire, to be conscious (of wrong). The Greek oweifiijo-is, the German Gewissen, and the old English Inwit, are similar in meaning. Conscientia used to be employed almost indifferently for conscience and for consciousness in general ; and in English, as in French,! the term conscience is occasionally found with the latter meaning. It is in this sense that Milton says, referring to the loss of his eyes, " What supports me dost thou ask ? The conscience, Friend, to have lost them overplied In liberty's defence, my noble task, Of which all Europe rings from side to side." But even here there is perhaps a certain implication of a moral consciousness ; as there is also in Hamlet's saying, "Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all," though here it seems to mean little more than reflection. In Chau- cer's description of the Prioress, where he says, " All was conscience and tender heart," it appears almost to mean sensibility. But the definitely moral sense soon became established in English, especially under the influence of such writers as Butler. Even in the moral sense of the term, however, there is some ambiguity. It sometimes means a feel- ing'of pleasure or pain, and especially a fgeling of pain, accompany- ing the violation of a recognised principle of duty. At other times it means the principle of judgment by which we pronounce one action or one kind of action, to be right and another wrong. In the latter sense, again, it may refer to this principle of judgment as it appears in a particular individual or in a body of men. Such phrases as " the Non-Conformist Conscience," " the Conscience of Europe," and the like, illustrate this use of the term. We shall have to make some further comments on the nature of conscience, espe- cially in dealing with the intuitional school of morals and with the social nature of the moral consciousness. But this much seemed necessary at present by way of general explanation of the use of the term. 1 Malebranche and some other French writers use the term con- science, more particularly in the sense of s//-consciousness. I.] DEVELOPMENT OF ETHICAL THOUGHT. 147 BOOK II. THEORIES OF THE MORAL STANDARD. CHAPTER I. THE DEVELOPMENT OF ETHICAL THOUGHT. 1. EARLY GREEK ETHICS. Thought on Ethics, as on most other scientific subjects, first took definite shape among- the Greeks. l Attention, however, was not strongly drawn to this subject till a considerable time after philosophical thought in general had begun to develop. The earliest thinkers among the Greeks directed their attention chiefly to physical inquiries especially to the question, What is the world made of? Two of the physical philosophers, however, do appear to have touched with some definiteness upon the ethical problem viz. Heraclitus and Democritus (sometimes known as the " weeping " and the " laughing" philo- sopher). These two may be regarded as the founders of those modes of thinking which afterwards developed in- to Stoicism and Epicureanism respectively. Heraclitus took Fire as his fundamental physical principle i". e. the bright and dry and he seems to have regarded this as incessantly struggling with the dark and moist principle which is opposed to it. In the life of man he 1 For a more detailed account of the way in which this took place, reference should be made to Sidgwick's History of Ethics. 148 ETHICS. [BK. IL, CH. i. appears to have thought that this struggle can be found going on ; and the great aim of the moral life is to secure the victory for the bright and dry. ' ' Keep your soul dry," was with him the fundamental moral law. Hence also the saying, so often quoted, that "the dry soul [or the 'dry light'] is the best." This opposition of the moist and dry the " blood and judgment " l runs through a very long period of philosophic thought. With Democritus, on the other hand, the fundamental principle of morals seems to have been pleasure. 2 But there is no evidence that either of these philosophers made any attempt to develop his ethical ideas in a systematic form. 2. THE SOPHISTS. Parmenides and the Pythago- reans, and indeed to some extent all the early phi- losophers, seem also to have touched, either in a purely theoretical or in a more directly practical way, upon the ethical and political side of speculation. In fact, from quite an early period, philosophy among the Greeks seems to have come to mean a way of living as well as a way of thinking. 3 But it was that remarkable group of teachers known as the Sophists who seem first to have brought the ethical problem to the front. The i " Blest are those Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled, That they are not a pipe for fortune's fingers To play what stop she pleases." On the views of Heraclitus, see Burnet's Early Greek Philosophy, pp. 138, 139, 178, 179. 2 Not, however, sensuous pleasure. It was rather peace or arapa to. Perhaps his point of view might be compared with that represented > in modern times, by Dr. Stanton Coit in a paper in Mind, Old Series, Vol. XL, p. 324 sqq. 8 Thus we hear of the " Parmenidean Life," of the Pythagorean rules of conduct, &c. Cf. Burnet, of. at, pp. 29, 40, 182, 316. 3-] DEVELOPMENT OF ETHICAL THOUGHT. 149 aim of these teachers was to a large extent practical, z'. e. it was the aim of preparing the young men of Athens to be efficient citizens. In instructing them in the duties of citizenship, they found it necessary to inquire into the basis of political obligation and of social morality in general. This seems to have been done by them in general in a serious and candid spirit ; but, naturally enough, inquiries of this kind tended to be somewhat subversive of the older moral standards, and the more conservative minds were alarmed. This alarm found expression especially in the satirical drama of Aristophanes ; and as Plato also shared, to a con- siderable extent,the unfavourable view thus taken of the tendency of the sophistic teaching, the name of the Sophists has fallen into evil odour. Probably this is in the main unjust perhaps in pretty much the same way as the criticisms of such men as Carlyle and Ruskin on modern science were often unjust. The Sophists were probably the most enlightened men of their day, and did more than any others to awaken the intellectual life of the city. x 3. SOCRATES. Socrates was closely associated with the Sophists, and indeed was regarded by Aristophanes as the typical example of them. He was distinguished, however, from most of the others by the fact that he did not set himself up as a professional teacher, but rather regarded himself throughout his life as a student of moral science. When commended by the oracle for his wisdom, he replied that it consisted only in know- ing his own ignorance. By this attitude he displayed, perhaps not more modesty (for his modesty was at i Reference may profitably- be made to the articles on the " So- phists" and " Socrates" in the Encyclopaedia Britannica. I$0 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. I. least in part ironical), but at least more earnestness than his fellow-Sophists. He was less of a dogmatist, because he was more clearly aware of the difficulty of the problem. The one point on which he was fully convinced was the unsatisfactoriness of the commonly received explanations of the moral life, and the neces- sity for a more scientific account. He believed that this was necessary, not merely for the satisfaction of speculative curiosity, but for the sake of practical morality. For it seemed to him that there could be no true morality which did not rest on a scientific basis. " Virtue," he said, "is knowledge " (or is science). He believed that if any one fully understood the nature of the moral end, he could not fail to pursue it. On the other hand, he conceived that if any one did not fully understand the nature of the moral end, he could not be moral except by accident ; and this is not, in the full sense, morality at all. Whatever is not of knowl- edge is sin. 1 As to the nature of the moral end, how- ever, Socrates only professed to be an inquirer. The view that he suggested seems sometimes to have leaned to Hedonism ; 2 but there is no reason to suppose that he had explicitly developed any theory on the subject. The fact that diverse schools arose, claiming him as 1 This is perhaps a slight exaggeration. But Socrates, like Plato, maintained that to be temperate or courageous without knowledge is to be temperate by a kind of intemperance or courageous by a kind of cowardice. He even went so far as to say that it is better to do wrong consciously than unconsciously ; since the former involves at least the knowledge of right. Cf. Zeller's Socrates and the Socratic Schools, p. 147. 2 In Plato's Protagoras he is represented as definitely putting for- ward such a doctrine ; and there are also indications of the same tendency in Xenophon's Memorabilia. 5-] DEVELOPMENT OF ETHICAL THOUGHT. 151 master, seems to afford some evidence that his view had not been clearly defined. 4. THE SCHOOLS OF ETHICAL THOUGHT. Immediately after the time of Socrates, ethical speculation began to run in separate schools, which with variations may be said to have lasted even down to our own day. The two most distinctly ethical schools, among the fol- lowers of Socrates, were those of the Cynics and the Cyrenaics, which afterwards gave rise to those of the Stoics and Epicureans. The members of these schools fixed on points connected with the general char- acter and influence of Socrates, almost as much as with his speculative activity. The Cynics were struck with his independence and freedom from want ; and they made this their fundamental principle. The Cy- renaics were more impressed by his tact and skill in making the most of his surroundings. The Cynics were thus led to asceticism, and the Cyrenaics to Hedonism. These two tendencies have persisted throughout almost the whole course of ethical specula- tion. 5. PLATO AND ARISTOTLE. But in the meantime there were other writers who made more definite efforts to connect ethical ideas with the general principles of philosophy, and so to get beyond the one-sidedness of opposing schools. Plato, in particular, put forward a metaphysical view of the world, upon which he en- deavoured to rest his ethical conceptions. His general view is contained in what is known as the theory of Ideas or Types. l He believed that the fundamental 1 EZfir;. It is difficult to render this in English. The word " idea " has come to mean in English (chiefly through the influence of Locke. Berkeley, and Hume) that which exists or goes on in our heads, 152 ETHICS. [BK. n., CH. i. reality of things is to be found in the Type to which they conform, and to which they are imperfect approx- imations. Among these Types he held that the most* fundamental is the Type or Idea of the Good, and it is in approximating to this that the ideal of virtue is to be found. To understand this Type it is necessary to go through a course of metaphysical training ; and hence the highest form of virtue is attainable only by the philosopher. Plato, however, recognised also a lower form of virtue which can be cultivated by the good citizen, and he was accordingly led to analyse the virtue of the citizen. Aristotle carried this analysis further, and even devoted a considerable part of his great work on Ethics to the description of the various aspects of the virtuous life as found in the Athenian society of his time, I though he agreed with Plato in thinking that the highest type of life is to be found in the contemplation of the philosopher, rather than in the active life of the citizen. The opposition thus in- troduced between the life of the philosopher and that of the ordinary citizen was further developed by the Stoics. They flourished at the time when the Greek City State was decaying, and were thus not able, as Plato and Aristotle had been, to see in the life of the citizen the type of an ideal self-realization. Hence they were led to seek for the highest form of human Our word " Ideal " comes nearer to the Platonic meaning, provided we remember that he understands it to signify, not an unreal shadow-picture, but rather the most real of all things, of which the existent world is but a shadow (or, as he seems to have generally conceived it, a realization in an imperfect medium the imoSoxh of the Timceus.) Cf. above, p. 28, note, and below, pp. 266-7. 1 This species of Descriptive Ethics was further developed by Theophrastus, the chief of Aristotle's disciples. See his Characters. 7-] DEVELOPMENT OF ETHICAL THOUGHT. 153 life in the perfect independence of the Sage, rather than in the activity of the good citizen. A similar ten- dency appears in the schools of the Epicureans and Sceptics. It was only with the advent of Christianity that it again became possible to conceive of an ideal kingdom, of which all are members, and in which even the humblest citizen may participate by faith, though unable to understand with any fulness the nature of the unity within which his life is passed. 6. MEDIEVAL ETHICS. Mediaeval ideas on Ethics ' were much influenced by those of Plato and Aristotle, but partly also by those of the Stoics and by concep- tions derived from Christianity. The more religious aspects of morals were specially developed ; and a good deal of attention was also given to the application of ethical ideas to the guidance of the individual life. Casuistry owed its origin to the efforts that were made in the latter direction. 7. SCHOOLS OF ETHICS IN MODERN TIMES. The de- velopment of Ethics in modern times is considerably more complex, and we can only indicate some of its main lines. Descartes is generally regarded as the founder of modern philosophy ; but his interests were mainly metaphysical. In Ethics he and his school did little more than develop the ideas of the Stoics, to which they were specially attracted in consequence of the opposition between mind and body involved in their metaphysics. In the meantime, however, a more ma- terialistic school of thought was growing up, led by Gassendi and Hobbes, and the members of this school allied themselves rather with the Epicurean school of 1 These are dealt with pretty fully in Sidgwick's History of Ethics. 154 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. I. ancient times. Gassendi was definitely a disciple of Epicurus. Hobbes worked out a more independent line, regarding the attainment of power as the great aim of human life. Hobbes was opposed by the Cambridge Platonists and by Cumberland, who endeavoured to bring out the more social, and at the same time the more rational, side of human nature. Out of their posi- tion was developed what came to be known as the Moral Sense School, represented by Shaftesbury and Hutcheson. According to these writers we have an intuitive perception of the distinction between right and wrong, similar to the aesthetic perception of the distinction between the beautiful and the ugly ; but at the same time this perception is capable of explanation. It depends on the social nature of man. What is bene- ficial to society strikes one naturally as good ; what is harmful is instinctively regarded as bad. This point of view forms a sort of watershed, from which several streams of tendency in ethical speculation emerge. Some writers tended to emphasise exclusively the fact that there is an intuitive perception of right and wrong. Out of this came the Intuitionist School of Reid and his followers. Others were specially struck by the fact that the distinction between good and bad rests on a reasonable consideration of the results of action. Hence arose the rational school, represented by Locke, Clarke, Wollaston, &c. This line of thought may be said to have culminated in Kant ; and, in the works of his immediate successors, it gave rise to a point of view approximating to those of Plato and Aristotle. This view afterwards passed into English thought in the school of modern Idealism represented by Green and others. Finally, some of those who were impressed /] DEVELOPMENT OF ETHICAL THOUGHT. 155 by the teaching of the Moral Sense School were led to attach special importance to the fact that the good is that which is beneficial to society, or that which pro- motes human happiness. From this consideration the school of modern Utilitarianism was developed. These three schools the Intuitionist, the Rational, and the Utilitarian, were the main lines of modern ethical thought, until the school of the modern Evolutionists arose. 156 ETHICS. [BK. ii., CH. ii. CHAPTER II. THE TYPES OF ETHICAL THEORY. 1. GENERAL SURVEY. We are now able to take ac- count of the leading types of ethical thought that have occurred throughout the history of speculation. In details there is wide diversity, but in their broad out- lines the types are few and simple. Two types, in particular, come up again and again in the course of ethical thought as opposing points of view the types represented by Heraclitus and Democritus, An- tisthenes and Aristippus,Zeno\and Epicurus, Descartes ' and Gassendi, Cudworth and Hobbes, Reid and Hume, Kant and Bentham. This antithesis may be roughly expressed as that between those who lay the emphasis on reason and those who lay the emphasis on passion ; but, as we go on, we shall have to endeavour to define it more precisely. Besides these opposing schools, however, we find throughout the course of ethical speculation another point of view which may be de- scribed as that which lays the emphasis on the concrete personality of man, rather than on any such abstract quality as reason or passion. This point of view does not usually appear in opposition to the other two, but rather as a view in which they are reconciled and transcended. It appears chiefly in the great specula- i Geulincx and Malebranche represented the more ethical aspect of the Cartesian School somewhat more definitely than Descartes himself. 2.] TYPES OF ETHICAL THEORY. 157 live thinkers who rise above the oppositions of the schools such as Plato and Aristotle, Hegel, and one or two others. ' In recent times, however, it has come out more distinctly as one school (or perhaps we should say two schools) side by side with the others the school which may be broadly characterized as that of development. Besides these main positions there are a number of others that are more transitory and less recurrent such as the aesthetic school, represented chiefly by the Moral Sense writers and Herbart ; the school of sympathy, represented by Adam Smith ; and one or two others. We must now try to make the main lines of contrast a little clearer. 2. REASON AND PASSION. It has already been in- dicated that the main line of opposition may be said to consist in the antithesis between reason and passion. We have seen that the human consciousness may b( described as a Universe or system, consisting, whei we regard it from the active point of view, of various desires placed within a more or less fully co-ordinate( group. Now it is possible to direct special attention either to the separate desires existing within this whole or to the form of unity by which it coheres as a system. We may regard human life as essentially a struggle between desires seeking gratification, or as the effort to bring those desires into subjection to the idea of a system. The antithesis between the two schools arises, 1 Spinoza should on the whole be classed with them. Though a Cartesian, he fully recognises the element of truth in the point of view of such a writer as Hobbes, and his final view of the highest good as being found in the " Intellectual Love of God," is to a large extent a reproduction of the teaching of Plato and Aristotle wtth regard to the Speculative Life. 158 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. II. in the main, from the tendency to lay emphasis on one or other of these sides. The one tendency is perhaps best represented by such a doctrine as that of Hume, that "reason is and must always be the slave of the passions," /. e. that reason can do nothing but guide the particular impulses to their gratification. When this view is taken, the chief good of life is almost in- evitably conceived as consisting simply in the gratifica- tion of the particular impulses as they arise. This is the view of the Cyrenaics, and, in a modified form, of the Hedonists in general. The opposite view is that * which recognises some law to which the particular impulses must be subjected, in order to bring them into systematic form. In the history of ethical thought, this law has generally been conceived as the law of reason, just as the attainment of the end of the parti- cular impulses has generally been thought of as plea- sure. But Hobbes thought of the end of the desires rather as Power than as Pleasure ; and so also there have been thinkers who have thought of the law to which the impulses are to be subjected in some other form than as the law of reason. Hence we are led to state the opposition in a slightly different form. 3. THE RIGHT AND THE GOOD. It has been pointed out already that there are two main forms in which the moral ideal presents itself as the Right and as the Good. We may think of morality as conformity to a rule or standard, or as the pursuit of an end. Now the distinction between the two opposing schools of Ethics connects itself, to a considerable extent, with this dis- tinction. It is on the whole true that the line of thinkers from Heraclitus, through the Stoics, to Kant, think of the supreme standard in morality as some 4-] TYPES OF ETHICAL THEORY. 159 sort of law, rule, or imperative, from which we learn what it is right to do ; while the line of thinkers from Democritus, through the Epicureans, to Bentham, think rather of a Good (generally described as Happiness) at which men aim, and by reference to which their actions are to be praised or blamed. The two schools may thus be roughly characterised as those that take Duty and Happiness, respectively, as their standards. 4. DUTY, HAPPINESS, PERFECTION. If we describe the two opposing theories as those of Duty and Happi- ness, the term Perfection may appropriately be used to characterise the middle theory, which, to a large extent, combines the other two. It may be noted that these are not merely three different theories of the moral standard, but that differ- ent types of life correspond to them. It has been re- marked of Kant that his life reminds us of the "categor- ical imperative of duty," which was for him the kernel of morals. J In like manner the life of Bentham may i Caird's Critical Philosophy of Kant, Vol. I., p. 63. Dr. Caird quotes, in this connection, the following humorous account of Kant from Heine. " The life of Immanuel Kant is hard to describe : he had indeed neither life nor history in the proper sense of the words. He lived an abstract, mechanical, old-bachelor existence in a quiet, re- mote street of Konigsberg, an old city at the northeastern boundary of Germany. I do not believe that the great cathedral clock of that city accomplished its day's work in a less passionate and more regular way than its countryman, Immanuel Kant. Rising from bed, coffee-drinking, writing, lecturing, eating, walking, everything had its fixed time ; and the neighbours knew that it must be exactly half- past four when they saw Professor Kant in his grey coat with his cane in his hand step out of his house door, and move towards the little lime-tree avenue, which is called after him the Philosopher's Walk. Eight times he walked up and down that walk at every season of the year, and when the weather was bad or the grey clouds threatened rain, his servant, old Lampe, was seen anxiously 160 ETHICS. [BK. ii., CH. ii. be taken as typical of the Hedonistic position a life spent in devotion to the improvement of the mechanical conditions of existence, the means of happiness. 1 The kind of life that corresponds to Perfection would be best represented by such men as Plato and Aristotle, or by the modern Greek, Goethe. To some extent the three great peoples, the Hebrews, Romans, and Greeks, might be taken as representing these three ideals. With the Hebrews the law of righteousness is supreme. The Romans were also devoted to law, but in a different sense. The law which interested them most was rather that by which the mechanical conditions of life are regulated, and which provide the material of happiness. The Greeks obviously represent the ideal of perfect development of personality. 5. MIXED THEORIES. In contrasting these different following him with a large umbrella under his arm, like an image of Providence." " Strange contrast between the outer life of the man and his world-destroying thought. Of a truth, if the citizens of Konigsberg had had any inkling of the meaning of that thought, they would have shuddered before him as before an executioner. But the good people saw nothing in him but a professor of philoso- phy, and when he passed at the appointed hour, they gave him friendly greetings and set their watches." 1 Bentham's great interest was legislation. " Bentham," says Sir Henry Maine (Early History of Institutions, p. 400), "was in truth neither a jurist nor a moralist in the proper sense of the word. He theorises not on law but on legislation ; when carefully examined, he may be seen to be a legislator even in morals. No doubt his language seems sometimes to imply that he is explaining moral phenomena ; in reality he wishes to alter or rearrange them according to a working rule gathered from his reflections on legislation. This transfer of his working rule from legislation to morality seems to me the true ground of the criticisms to which Bentham is justly open as an analyst of moral facts." On this point, see below, Book II., chap, vi., 4- 5-] TYPES OF ETHICAL THEORY. l6l views of the supreme standard in morals, it should be remembered always that many of the theories held by the most representative writers cannot be classed quite definitely under any one head, but rather re- present combinations of the different views. Thus, even the Stoics may be said to stand midway between the theory of Duty and that of Perfection ; for though their ideal may be described as that of obedience to law, it is at the same time that of the attainment of the life of the perfectly wise man. The same applies to the Cartesians and to Kant. Again, in the Moral Sense School, the ideas of Duty and Happiness are to a large extent combined, as they are also, in a different way, in the views of Dr. Sidgwick. The modern Evolution- ists, such as Mr. Herbert Spencer, combine the ideas of Happiness and Perfection. And in many other ways the different theories have been united. But, as we are not at present studying the history of ethical theory, but only its most typical forms, it is most con- venient for us to consider the different views, as far as possible, apart. Eth. 162 ETHICS. [BK. n., CH. in., PT. i. CHAPTER ill. THE STANDARD AS LAW. PART I. : THE GENERAL IDEA OF MORAL LAW. 1. INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. In dealing with the different types of ethical theory, it seems most con- venient to start with those that take as their funda- mental conception the idea of Duty, Right, Law, Obligation. To the race, as to the child, morality presents itself first in the form of commandments, and even in the form of threats. It is only at a later stage of development that we learn to regard the moral life as a good, and finally as the realisation of our own nature. Hence it seems most natural to begin with those theories which are based rather on the idea of Tightness than on that of the Good. From this point of view, morality presents itself as obedience to the Law of Duty. The significance of this conception, and the different forms which it may take, are what we have now to consider. 2. THE MEANING OF LAW IN ETHICS. A good deal of confusion has been caused in the study of Ethics, as well as in that of some other subjects, by a certain ambiguity in the word Law. ' It is important, there- fore, that we should try to understand exactly the sense in which it is here to be used. It has been customary to distinguish two distinct 1 Cf. Whately's Logic, p. 209 ; and Welton's Manual of Logic, vol. i., p. 8. 2.] GENERAL IDEA OF MORAL LAW. 163 senses in which it may be used. We speak of the laws of a country and also of the laws of nature ; but it is evident that the kinds of law referred to in these two phrases are very different. The laws of a country are made by a people or by its rulers ; and, even in the case of the Medes and Persians, there is always a possibility that they may be changed. There is also always a possibility that the inhabitants of the country may disobey them ; and, as a general rule, they have no application at all to the inhabitants of other coun- tries. The laws of nature, 1 on the other hand, are con- stant, inviolable, and all-pervading. There are three respects, therefore, in which different kinds of law may be distinguished. Some laws are constant : others are variable. Some are inviolable : others are liable to be disobeyed. Some are universal : others have only a limited application. The last of these three points, however, is scarcely distinguishable from the first : for what is universal is generally also constant and necessary, and vice versa. Consequently, it may be sufficient for the present to distinguish different kinds of laws as (i) changeable or unchangeable, (2) violable or inviolable though we shall have to return shortly to the third principle of distinction. Adopting these two principles, we might evidently have four different classes of laws (i) Those that can be both changed and violated, (2) those that can be changed but cannot be violated, (3) those that can be violated but cannot be changed, (4) those that can neither be changed nor violated. 1 I mean such laws as those that are stated in treatises on theore- tical mechanics. These laws relate to tendencies that are operative throughout the whole of nature. See following note. 164 ETHICS. [BK. ii., CH. in., PT. i. Of the first and last of these, illustrations have already been given. Of the second also it is not dif- ficult to discover examples. The laws of the solar system, of day and night, seedtime and harvest, and all the vicissitudes of the seasons, are inviolable so long as certain conditions last ; but if these conditions were changed say, by the cooling of the sun, by the retardation of the earth's velocity, or its collision with some comet or erratic meteor the laws also would change with them. 1 Again, most of the laws of po- litical economy are of this character. They hold good of certain types of society, and among men who are swayed by certain motives ; and within these limits they are inviolable. But change the conditions of society, or the characters of the men who compose it, and in many cases the laws will break down. Such laws are sometimes said to be Hypothetical They are valid only on the supposition that certain conditions are present and remain unchanged. Some philoso- phers 2 have thought that even the laws of mathematics may be of this character that there might be a world in which two and two would be equal to five ; and that if a triangle were formed with the diameter of the earth for its base and one of the fixed stars for its apex, its three angles might not be equal to two right angles. 3 But this appears to be a mistake. The laws of 1 It might be urged that all laws of nature are of this character, i. e. that they are all hypothetical, depending on the continuance of the present constitution of the universe. This is true, unless there are some laws of such a kind that no system of nature could exist without them. The consideration of this question, however, belongs to Metaphysics. 2 E. g. J. S. Mill. 8 This was the opinion of Gauss, for instance. 2.] GENERAL IDEA OF MORAL LAW. 165 mathematics belong rather to the last of our four classes. The laws of Ethics, however, must on the whole be regarded as belonging to the third class. They cannot be changed, but they may be violated. It is true, as has been already stated, that the particular rules of morals may vary with different conditions of life ; but the broad principles remain always the same, and are applicable not only to all kinds of men, but to all rational beings. If a spirit were to come among, us from another world, we might have no knowledge of his nature and constitution. We might not know what would taste bitter or sweet to him, what he would judge to be hard or soft, or how he would be affected by heat or sound or colour. But we should know at least that for him, as for us, the whole is greater than any one of its parts, and every event has a cause ; and that he, like us, must not tell lies, and must not wantonly destroy life. 1 These laws are unchangeable. They can, however, be broken. We may, indeed, speak of ethical principles which it is impossible to violate. An ethical writer, for instance, may insist on the truth that every sin brings with it some form of punishment. This is a truth from which there is no escape ; but it is rather a metaphysical than an ethical truth. It is a fact about the constitution of the world, not a moral law. A moral law states something that ought to happen, not something that necessarily does happen. Moral laws are not the only laws that are of this 1 Some theological writers have denied this, holding that goodness in God may be something entirely different from goodness in man. This opinion is ably refuted by Mill in his Examination of Hamilton, chap. vii. 1 66 ETHICS. [BK. n., CH. in., PT. i. character. On the contrary, the laws of every strictly normative and of every practical science are essentially similar. No one can make the fundamental principles of architecture, navigation, or rhetoric, in any way different from what they are ; though in practice any one who is willing to take the consequences may defy them. No doubt the rules of these sciences might require modification if they were to be applied to the inhabitants of another planet than ours ; and even on our own planet they are not absolutely rigid. A style of building which is suitable for Iceland would scarcely be adapted for the Tropics. The navigation of the Mississippi is different from that of the Atlantic. And the oratory which would awake the enthusiasm of an Oriental people might move an Anglo-Saxon audience only to derision. Still, it is possible in all these sciences to lay down broad general laws which shall be applicable universally, or at least applicable to all conditions under which it is conceivable that we should wish to apply them laws, indeed, from which even the particular modifications required in special cases might' be deduced. For example, we might take it as a prin- ciple of rhetoric that if an audience is to be moved to the performance of some action or the acceptance of some truth to which they may be expected to be disin- clined, they ought to be led up to the point by an easy transition, from step to step, beginning with some things that are obvious and familiar, and in which their affections are naturally engaged. From this it might be at once inferred that the character of such an appeal ought to vary with different audiences, accord- ing to the nature of the objects to which their experience has accustomed them, to the intensity of the feelings 3-] GENERAL IDEA OF MORAL LAW. l6/ which have connected themselves with these objects, and to the average rapidity of their intellects in passing from one point to another. The law is constant : it is only the application that varies. The science of logic gives us a still more obvious instance of such laws. The rules of correct thinking cannot be changed, though the particular errors to which men are most liable may vary with different objects of study, different languages, and different habits of mind. In this case also, as in Ethics, the laws cannot be changed, 1 but may be violated. 2 3. Is, MUST BE, AND OUGHT TO BE. The distinctions expressed in the preceding section maybe conveniently summed up by saying that some laws express what is, some what must be (or shall be], and some what ought 1 It may be urged, no doubt, that some at least of the laws of logic are applicable only within certain hypothetical limits. Some of them, for instance (viz. those commonly discussed under the head of Formal Logic), depend on the admission of the principles of identity, contradiction, and excluded middle ; and it may be main- tained that there are objects to which these principles are not strictly applicable. But this point is too subtle to be more than merely hinted at in this place. 2 This distinction between laws, which can and cannot be violated, like other distinctions of the same sort, must be interpreted with some care, and not pressed too far. In a sense it is possible to violate a natural law, i. e. we can evade the conditions under which it holds. In a sense also it is not possible to violate a moral law. To act wrongly is, as we shall see, to be in contradiction with our- selves ; and " a house which is divided against itself cannot stand." Similarly, even the law of a nation, if it is a real law, cannot be violated. Punishment may be said to be the open expression of this impossibility. The violation recoils upon the perpetrator, and anni- hilates him and his act. Cf. below, Book III., chap, vi., 5. But of course all this does not in any way interfere with the relatively true distinction between these different classes of law. 168 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. III., PT. I. to be. l What we call laws of nature are simply general statements about what is. The law of gravitation simply states that bodies tend to move in certain ways relatively to one another. Even the laws recognised in the more abstract sciences are of this character. The law of demand and supply simply states that, as a general rule, prices tend to adjust themselves in par- ticular ways. 2 Laws of nations, on the other hand, state what must be, i. e. what is bound to be unless certain penalties are incurred. Atoms and prices do not and cannot violate their laws, so long as the appropriate conditions hold. Their laws are nothing but statements of the way in which certain occurrences uniformly take place under certain conditions. Human beings, on the other hand, may and do violate 1 It is one of the very few advantages, from a philosophical point of view, which the English language possesses over the German, that we have the two \vords shall and ought, where they have only sollcn, which corresponds rather more closely to shall than to ought Hegel's objection to the use of the word sollen (Logic of Hegel, Wallace's Translation, p. u) seem to be due chiefly to the fact that it suggests (i) something future, as opposed to what is actually realised, (2) something commanded by an external authority. The English word ought seems to be free from both these defects. 2 It has already been indicated (note to Introduction, chap, i.), that there is a sense in which the principles of the more abstract sciences may be said to be normative that theoretical astronomy may be said to state the laws according to which the planets ought to move, that geometry may be said to state the laws that ought to hold in a perfect triangle or circle, and so forth. But "ought" in this sense means that these relationships do hold, in so far as the appropriate conditions are realised ; and the significance of the sciences lies in the fact that, in the concrete world of experience, they either do approximately hold, or are determining conditions in the actual constitution of things. Truly normative principles are not of this nature. If all men were to go mad, the principles of correct thinking would still hold as before. 4-] GENERAL IDEA OF MORAL LAW. 169 the laws of their country. But the law states that they must not do so, and attaches penalties (or sanctions) to the doing of it. A moral law, finally, is a law tha states that something ought to be. It is the statement of an Ideal. Thus, if a Government decides to enter upon a war which is known by the citizens to be un- just, some of the soldiers may feel that it is wrong to serve, i. e. that it is contrary to their ideal of what is right in conduct. Here they come in conflict with what they recognise as a moral law. Nevertheless, they must not desert ; i. e. they will be shot if they do. Here there is a law of the State. Suppose they do desert and are shot, they die by a law of nature. 4. THE CATEGORICAL IMPERATIVE. We are now in a position to understand the important conception which was introduced by Kant with reference to the moral law. He said that it was of the nature of a categorical imperative. The meaning of this may readily be made apparent. All laws which are not simply expressions of natural uniformities may be said to be of the nature of commands. The laws, of nations are commands issued by the government, with penalties attached to the violation of them. Moral laws may also (subject to a certain qualification) be said to be commands, though we are not yet in a position to consider how they are issued. Now commands may be absolute in their character, or subject to qualification. The laws of a nation are laws that we must obey, unless we are prepared to suffer the consequences of disobedience. Again, the fundamental principles of rhetoric may be said to be of the nature of commands or rules ; but the commands which are thus laid down are applicable only to rhetoricians. The laws of architecture, in like I/O ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. III., PT. I. manner, apply only to those who wish to construct stable, commodious, and beautiful buildings. Some of the laws of political economy, again, are neither constant nor universal. They are not constant ; for they may vary with different conditions of society. They are not universal ; for they are applicable only to those who wish to produce wealth. Even the laws of formal logic are not universal. They apply only to those who wish to be self-consistent. 1 Now a man may reject this aim. He may say, with Emerson, 2 "Suppose you should contradict yourself; what then ? " "A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do." ^ Such imperatives as these, therefore, are merely hypothetical. * They apply only to those who adopt the 1 1 assume of course here that logic is to be regarded as a norma- tive science, laying down the rules of consistent thought. Some logicians have treated the subject in a different way, regarding it either as an ordinary positive science, or as an art, or as a combina- tion of the two. 2 Essay on " Self-Reliance." a No doubt Emerson is referring here to consistency in action, rather than to consistency in thought. But the same might be said of the latter under certain conditions. " In order to think at all," as Mr. Bradley says (Appearance and Reality), " you must subject your- self to a standard." Thinking is a game, and " if you sit down to the game, there is only one way of playing." So the laws of moral- ity may be said to constitute the rules of the game. But the latter is a game that we must be always playing. We may take a holiday from thinking, and feel or dream instead, and there is nothing in the laws of thinking to prevent this. Morality, on the other hand, claims a universal jurisdiction. It is not a rule of thought that you must always be thinking ; but it is a rule of action that you must always be doing what is right in the given conditions. 4 Such laws as those of political economy are thus hypothetical in a double sense hypothetical with regard to the conditions under 4-] GENERAL IDEA OF MORAL LAW. I /I end with which the particular normative science is The laws of Ethics differ from all other laws in being not hypothetical, but categorical. It is true that Emer- son's paradox about consistency has been capped by that of the preacher who bade us, " Be not righteous overmuch." 1 But if this maxim is to have any intelligible meaning, we must understand the term " righteous " in a somewhat narrow sense. It cannot be taken to mean that we should not, to too great an extent, do what we ought to do. This would be a contradiction in terms. If we are not to be too fana- tical in the observance of particular moral rules, it must be in deference to other moral rules or principles that are of a still higher authority. The supreme moral principle, whatever it may be, lays its command upon us absolutely, and admits of no question. What we ought to do we ought to do. There can be no higher , law by which the moral imperative might be set aside. , There are, indeed, some other laws which might seem to be scarcely less absolute, because they relate to ends that every one naturally seeks. Thus, every one would like to be happy ; and consequently if there were any practical science of happiness, every one would be bound to follow its laws. Accordingly, Kant called such laws assertorial, 2 because although they de- pend on the hypothesis that we seek for happiness, yet it may be at once asserted of every one that he does seek which they are applicable, and hypothetical with regard to the end with reference to which they are applicable. 1 Cf. Stephen's Science of Ethics, p. 418. "'Be good if you would be happy,' seems to be the verdict even of worldly prudence ; but it adds in an emphatic aside, ' Be not too good,' " 2 Metaphysic of Morals, section II, 1/2 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. III., PT. I. this end. Again, intellectual perfection is an end "J which a rational being can hardly help desiring. There is probably no one who would not, if he could, have the penetration of a Newton, or the grasp of a Shake- speare or a Goethe. Hence if there were any science that taught how such perfection is to be attained, its laws would have at least an almost universal applica- tion. Still, even such laws as these are not quite parallel to the laws of morals. Their universality, if they are universal, depends on the fact that every one chooses the end to which they have reference ; whereas the laws of morals apply to all men irrespective of their choice. If, indeed, happiness could be shown to be necessarily bound up with virtue, and unhappiness with vice, then the obligation to follow the rules of happiness would have the same absoluteness as the obligation to obey the moral law ; but only because these two things would then be identical. In like manner, if we were to accept quite literally the view of Carlyle, that all intellectual perfection has a moral root, so that a man's virtue is exactly proportional to his intelligence, in this case also the laws of intel- lectual perfection would become absolute, but only because they would become moral. The moral law, then, is unique. It is the only categorical imperative. l Up to this point, I have, so far as possible, been following the account of Kant. There are, however, two points on which some slight criticism, or at least caution, seems to be required, (i) It is somewhat i On this subject the student should consult Kant's Metaphysic oj Morals, section II. The opening paragraphs of Clifford's Essay " On the Scientific Basis of Morals ' may also be found suggestive, though he does not entirely accept the view indicated above. 5-] VARIOUS CONCEPTIONS OF MORAL LAW. 173 misleading to describe the moral law as an impera- tive. At least it can only be so described on a certain view of its nature, which will have to be further con- sidered. To call it an imperative or command is to represent it as being of the nature of a must rather than of an ought. It should rather be described as based on an ideal. (2) In saying that it is categorical, we must remember that all that can at present be seen to be categorical is the principle that we must do what is right, when we know what it is. It remains to be seen whether it is possible to lay down any rule for the determination of what is right. If there is any such rule, it will be categorical ; but it may turn out that there is none. In the latter case, it is somewhat misleading to speak of a categorical imperative. With these general remarks on the nature of moral law, we may now proceed to ask what exactly the law is which is thus categorically imposed. PART II. : VARIOUS CONCEPTIONS OF THE MORAL LAW. 5. THE LAW OF THE TRIBE. We have already seen that the earliest form in which the idea of law pre- sents itself is that of the law of the tribe, or of the chief of the tribe. I But this is soon felt not to be cate- gorical. It often comes into conflict with itself ; and the reflecting consciousness demands something more consistent. At the best it furnishes a must, rather 1 An illustration of this form of law, in comparatively recent times, may be found in the well-known saying of the Highland wife, when her husband was at the foot of the gallows, "Go up, Donald, my man ; the Laird bids ye." Contrast this with the attitude of Antigone, referred to above, Book I., chap, v., 7. i/4 ETHICS. [BK. IL, CH, in., PT. n. than an ought ; and the free man soon rebels against such government from without. 6. THE LAW OF GOD. It is a stage higher when the moral law is distinguished from the law of the land, and regarded as a principle which owes its authority, not to any man or body of men, but to God or the gods. The best known instance of such a set of laws is to be found in the Ten Commandments of the Jews. But these also may come into conflict, and require qualification. Besides, the moral conscious- ness soon begins to ask on what authority the divine law rests. If it rest merely on the command of powerful supernatural beings, it is still only a must, not an ought. If God is not Himself righteous, His law cannot be morally binding merely on account of His superior power. But to ask whether God is right- eous is to ask for a law above that of God Himself, and by which God may be judged. Hence the law of God cannot be accepted as final. \ 7. THE LAW OF NATURE. In order to get over this difficulty, the view has sometimes been taken that the most fundamental law of all is that which lies in the nature of things. In Greek Ethics, in particular, the conception of nature (yuffi?) plays a very prominent part. The Greeks understood by nature the essential^ constitution of things underlying their casual appear- ances. It was in this sense, for instance, that the Stoics used their famous phrase to " live according to nature " (vivere convenienter natures). In modern times also, especially in the latter part of the seventeenth and the greater part of the eighteenth centuries, much was made of the idea of natural law. Perhaps in Ethics one of the most striking applications of this conception /.] VARIOUS CONCEPTIONS OF MORAL LAW. 175 is to be found in the system of Samuel Clarke. Clarke held that certain differences and relations between things are inherent in their very nature, and that any one who observes them in a careful and unprejudiced way will become aware of these differences and rela- tions. "The differences, relations, and proportions of things both natural and moral, in which all unpreju- diced minds thus naturally agree, are certain, unalter- able, and real in the things themselves." x To the laws of nature thus discovered "the reason of all men every- where naturally and necessarily assents, as all men agree in their judgment concerning the whiteness of the snow or the brightness of the sun." 2 " That from these different relations of different things there neces- sarily arises an agreement or disagreement of some things with others, or a fitness or unfitness of the application of different things or different relations, is likewise as plain as that there is such a thing as pro- portion in Geometry or Arithmetic, or uniformity or difformity in comparing together the respective figures of bodies. "3 Here we have the statement of the cele- brated doctrine of "the fitness of things." But in all statements of this sort, taken as the basis of moral theory, there seems to be an obvious confusion in- volved. There are certainly laws in nature ; but these, as we have noted, are simply statements of the uni- form ways in which things occur ; and such laws are exhibited quite as much in what is evil as in what is good. The destruction of a building by the explosion of a bomb is as much in accordance with the fitness of things, as deduced from the laws of nature, as the 1 Natural Religion, pp. 44-45. 2 Ibid., p. 66. 3 Ibid., p. 29. 176 ETHICS. [BK. IL, CH. in., PT. n. movements of the planetary system. 1 Fitness, in any sense in which it can serve as the basis of| moral theories, must be fitness for something L e. i\ must involve some reference to an end or ideal ; am no alchemy can ever extract this out of the mere observation of natural laws. 2 The analysis of the 1 As illustrating this confusion, reference may perhaps be made to those primitive conceptions of the relation between the natural and the moral order, according to which a man by committing a crime might produce an earthquake. Some interesting facts of this sort are to be found in D'Alviella's Hibbert Lectures (e.g., p. 168). Mill's Essay on "Nature" (in his Three Essavs on Religion) is still worth reading, with the view of clearing up this confusion. Cf. also Marshall's Principles of Economics (3d Edn.), pp. 55-57. 2 Cf. Le Rossignol's Ethical Philosophy of Samuel Clarke, p. 43. Mr. Leslie Stephen's comment on Clarke's doctrine (English Thought in the Eighteenth Century ', vol. ii., p. 7.) may be worth noticing here. " An obvious difficulty," he says, " underlies all reasoning of this class, even in its most refined shape. The doctrine might, on the general assumptions of Clarke's philosophy, be applicable to the ' Laws of Nature,' but is scarcely to be made applicable to the moral law Every science is potentially deducible from a small number of pri- mary truths. . . . Thus, for example, a being of sufficient knowledge might construct a complete theory of human nature, of which every proposition would be either self-evident or rigorously deducible from self-evident axioms. Such propositions would take the form of laws in the scientific, not in the moral, sense ; the copula would be ' is,' not ' ought ' ; the general formula \vould be ' all men do so and so, not ' thou shalt do so and so.' . . . The language which he uses about the moral law is, in reality, applicable to the scientific law alone. It might be said with plausibility . . . that the proposition ' all men are mortal ' is capable of being deductively proved by inferences from some self-evident axioms. A denial of it would, therefore, involve a contradiction. But the proposition ' Thou shalt not kill ' is a threat, not a statement of a truth ; and Clarke's attempt to bring it under the same category involves a confusion fatal to the whole theory. It is, in fact, a confusion between the art and the science of human conduct." I quote this passage, because it not only brings out what seems to be the error of Clarke, in confounding natural and 8.] VARIOUS CONCEPTIONS OF MORAL LAW. 17; "is, "in any such sense as this, can never yield an "ought." Similar doctrines to that of Clarke have frequently been put forward, even in quite recent times ; I but they all seem to labour under the same fatal de- feet. 8. THE MORAL SENSE. If the laws of nature or the laws of God are to yield us moral principles, it must be because they in some way appeal to our own conscious- ness, because we in some way feel that obedience to them or observance of them serves to realise an ideal which we bring with us. Now an obvious way of making the connection between such external prin- ciples and our own minds is to say that we have a natural feeling which leads us to approve some things and disapprove of others. We are thus led to the con- ception of the moral sense. This point of view, like most others in Ethics, has had a long history. It connects itself essentially with the Greek view of the identity between the Beautiful and the Good. In Greek TO xaAov was used habitually either for beauty or for moral excellence. Thus, the Stoic maxim, 8rt, /JLOMV dyaffdv TO xaAov, means that only the beautiful (i. e. the morally excellent) is good. A similar view has frequently appeared in modern times. Thus, the philosopher Herbart insisted strongly on the identity of Goodness with Beauty, and definitely treated moral law, but also illustrates the other error of confounding moral law with the command of a superior. Thou shalt not kill,' as a moral, law, is not a threat, but the statement of a normative principle. Similarly, there seems to be an error in representing Ethics as the art of conduct. 1 The theory of James Hinton, for instance, so far as he had a theory seems to bear a considerable resemblance to that of Clarke. See an interesting account of his ideas in Mind, old series, Vol. IX. Eth. 12 i/8 ETHICS. [BK. n., CH. HI., PT. n. Ethics as a part of Esthetics. 1 The conception of a kind of feeling, like aesthetic feeling, accompanying the moral judgment, comes out also in some of the writers of the school known as the Cambridge Platonists, especially in 'Henry More. But the writers who are specially known as the representatives of the idea of a moral sense are Shaftesbury and Hutcheson. 2 "Should one," says Shaftesbury, 3 "who had the countenance of a gentleman, ask me, ' Why I would avoid being nasty, when nobody was present ? ' In the first place I should be fully satisfied that he himself was a very nasty gen- tleman who could ask this question ; and that it would be a hard matter for me to make him even conceive what true cleanliness was. However, I might, notwith- 1 See, for instance, his Science of Education, recently translated by Mr. and Mrs. Felkin ; and cf. Bosanquet's History of ^Esthetics, p. 369. We may also refer, in this connection, to the saying of Ruskin, "Taste is not only a part and an index of morality; it is the only morality. The first and last and closest trial question to any living creature is, ' What do you like ? Tell me what you like, and I will tell you what you are. 1 " (Sesame and Lilies}. See also Adam Smith's Theory of the Moral Sentiments, Part IV., sect. II., and cf. the saying of Aristotle quoted above, Book I., chap, iii., 5. 2 Shaftesbury was the founder of this school, and its subsequent development was due chiefly to Hutcheson. See Sidgwick's History of Ethics, p. 189. It is scarcely necessary to point out that the meaning of the term " sense," as here used, is different from that in which we speak of the sense of taste, touch, sight, &c. The latter " senses " are concerned simply with the apprehension of particular qualities of objects ; whereas the moral sense or the sense of beauty passes judgment on such qualities. The meaning of calling it amoral sense is merely to imply that it is an intuitive faculty of judgment Simi- larly, we might say that the judgments of the epicure or of the tea- taster rest upon a sense ; but it is not on the mere " sense of taste " that such judgments rest, since they involve a standard as well as an apprehension. 8 Characteristics, " An Essay on the Freedom of Wit and Humour." Part III., sect. iv. 8.] VARIOUS CONCEPTIONS OF MORAL LAW. 1 79 standing this, be contented to give him a slight answer, and say, ' 'Twas because I had a nose. ' Should he trouble me further, and ask, 'What if I had a cold? Or what if naturally I had no such nice smell ? ' I might answer perhaps, ' That I cared as little to see myself nasty, as that others should see me in that con- dition.' But what if it were in the dark ? Why even then, though I had neither nose nor eyes, my sense of the matter would still be the same ; my nature would rise at the thought of what was sordid ; or if it did not, I should have a wretched nature indeed, and hate myself for a beast. Honour myself I never could ; whilst I had no better sense of what, in reality, I owed myself, and what became me, as a human creature." "Much in the same manner," he goes on, "have I heard it asked, Why should a man be honest in the dark /> What a man must be to ask this question, I won't say. " And so on. Shaftesbury is thus led to conceive that to be virtuous is to be a 'virtuoso/ that a cultivated taste is our only guide. "To philosophise in a just signification is but to carry good breeding a step higher." The plausibility of this point of view arises chiefly from the fact that in a well-developed character the habit of obedience to the moral law becomes a second nature, so that the choice of the right and the avoidance of the wrong passes almost into a kind of instinct. From this point of view it may quite rightly be main- tained that the moral sense is a kind of taste. 1 But 1 Using the term "taste," of course, in that secondary sense in which we speak of " good taste." It is not a taste like that which simply apprehends savour, but a taste like that of the tea-taster (who, by the by, is properly tea-smeller), \vhojudges the qualities of teas by a kind of intuitive perception. I SO ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. III., PT. II. it must be remembered that the sense of beauty, as well as the sense of lightness, is capable of being explained and justified. Though it is commonly said that " there is no disputing about tastes," yet we do habitually dispute about them, and pronounce them to be right or wrong. The moral taste, then, is so far quite analogous to the aesthetic taste, and it may be quite correct to refer to it as a sense. 1 But since it is not simply an inexplicable sense, but is capable of a rational explanation, no ethical theory can be regarded as thorough which simply treats it as a sense and does not endeavour to explain it. Moreover, what can be explained can usually also be criticised. When the sense of beauty, for instance, has been explained, it is possible to criticise the sense of beauty as it is found in particular individuals ; and to determine that the aesthetic taste of some men is good, while that of others is defective. Similarly, when the moral sense is ex- plained, it will naturally be possible to pass judgment on the moral tastes of different individuals and even of 1 In this connection it may be noted that even complex intellect- ual processes become, after long practice, scarcely distinguish- able from intuitive perceptions. A man who is highly skilled in any art seems to see at a glance what requires to be done on any given occasion. Yet we do not postulate a sense in such cases, because we know that the judgments of the expert rest in reality on rational grounds (though frequently he might not be able to give any clear account of the grounds of his own judgment). An illustration of a similar fact may be found in " Lord Mansfield's advice to a man of practical good sense, who, being appointed gov- ernor of a colony, had to preside in its Court of Justice, without previous judicial practice or legal education. The advice was to give his decision boldly, for it would probably be right ; but never to venture on assigning reasons, for they would almost infallibly be wrong" (Mill's Logic, Book II., chap, iii., 3). In such a case the reasons of the action are latent ; but no one would doubt that reasons 9-] VARIOUS CONCEPTIONS OF MORAL LAW. l8l different ages and nations. For these reasons, then, a system of ethics which simply rests content with the idea of a moral sense, can scarcely be regarded as satisfactory. As a matter of fact, indeed, the moral sense was not accepted either by Shaftesbury or by Hutcheson as a sufficient basis for Ethics. They both sought to ex- plain it as due to the nature of man as a social being. They both thought that what a cultivated moral taste approves is that which is beneficial .to society as a whole, what tends to bring about "the greatest happi- ness of the greatest number. " ' All that they urged was that it is not necessary to reflect upon this principle, since it is naturally embodied in any cultivated taste. But, of course, in morals we want some principle which will apply generally, not merely to those of cul- tivated taste ; or at least we require to know definitely what it is that constitutes a cultivated taste, in order that it may be developed, as far as possible, in all could be found. So in the moral life the good man seems to see instinctively in many cases what he ought to do, and frequently could not give any reason. It is this fact that makes it appear as if there were some special " moral sense " involved. But the truth is that even intellectual insight depends, from this point of view, on a kind of developed intuition. Everything that we really know, we know by directly looking at it, rather than by arguing round about it. " All the thinking in the world," as Goethe said, " does not bring us to thought ; we must be right by nature, so that good thoughts may come to us, like free children of God, and cry ' Here we are.' " So it is with moral perception. It depends on a developed sense or intuition, but not an unintelligible sense, or one destitute of inner principle. "Our "instinctive knowledge," says Mach (Science of Mechanics, Chap. I., sect, ii.), " leads us to the principle which explains that knowledge itself, and which is in its turn corroborated by the existence of that knowledge." So it is with our instinctive morality. 1 This phrase was actually used by Hutcheson. 1 82 ETHICS. [BK. n., CH. in., PT. n. mankind. In this way the moral sense differs from the artistic sense. A man who is deficient in the latter may be a respected member of society ; but the man who lacks the former is condemned by all who have it. It is this authoritativeness of the moral sense that is not sufficiently brought out when it is regarded as analogous to the sense of beauty. 9. THE LAW OF CONSCIENCE. Bishop Butler was strongly impressed by the unsatisfactoriness of the view of Shaftesbury in this respect ; and he endeavoured to remedy the defect by substituting the idea of Con- science for that of the moral sense. In itself this is but a slight change ; but by Conscience Butler under- stood something considerably different from what Shaftesbury had meant by the moral sense. Butler thought of human nature as an organic whole, con- taining many elements, some of which are naturally subordinate to others. Thus, there are in our nature a number of particular passions or impulses which lead us to pursue particular objects ; but all these are na- turally subordinate to Self-love, on the one hand, and to Benevolence, on the other ; i. e. it is natural for us to restrain or guide our passions with a view to the good of ourselves or of others. But there is a certain principle in human nature which is naturally superior even to Self-love or Benevolence. This is the principle of reflection upon the law of Tightness ; and this is what Butler understood by Conscience. He regarded this principle as categorical, on account of its place in the human constitution. "Thus that principle, by which we survey, and either approve or disapprove our own heart, temper, and actions, is not only to be considered as what is in its turn to have some influence ; which 10.] VARIOUS CONCEPTIONS OF MORAL LAW. 183 may be said of every passion, of the lowest appetites : but likewise as being superior ; as from its very nature manifestly claiming superiority over all others ; inso- much that you cannot form a notion of this faculty, conscience, without taking in judgment, direction, superintendency. This is a constituent part of the idea, that is, of the faculty itself : and to preside and govern, from the very economy and constitution of man,belongs to it. Had it strength, as it has right, had it power, as it has manifest authority, it would absolutely govern the world. " ' When we ask, however, what is the nature of this authoritative principle, two different views seem to present themselves. According to one view, it is simply an inexplicable faculty which we find within us, by which laws are laid down. According to another view, it is an intelligible authority whose commands can be understood by rational reflection. It is not quite clear in which of these two ways Butler thought of Con- science ; but among those who followed him the two views began to be clearly distinguished. The former view is that which is generally known as Intuitionism, in the narrower sense : the other is the view of a law of Reason. 10. INTUITIONISM. Intuitionism 2 may be described generally as the theory that actions are right or wrong 1 Sermon II. 2 From Latin, tntuen, to look at. The intuitionists hold that we perceive the Tightness or wrongness of actions by simply looking at them, without needing to consider their relations to any ends out- side themselves. It may be noted here that the term is generally written in the longer form " Intuitionalism." But the shorter form has been made current by Dr. Sidgwick, and seems more convenient. 1 84 ETHICS. [BK. n., CH. in., PT. n. according to their own intrinsic nature, and not in vir- tue of any ends outside themselves which they tend to realise. Thus, truth-speaking would be regarded as a duty, not because it is essential for social well-being, or for any other extrinsic reason, but because it is right in its own nature. l This theory has been held in vari- ous forms, more or less philosophical in character. For a full account of these forms reference must be made to histories of Ethics and Philosophy. 2 Here it is only possible to notice the leading points. In the narrower sense of the term, Intuitionism is understood to mean the doctrine which refers the judg- ment upon actions to the tribunal of Conscience, under- < stood as a faculty which admits of DO question or appeal. When conscience is thus referred to as the funda- mental principle of morals, we must not under- 1 It should be observed that there is a certain ambiguity in the use of the term Intuitionism. It is employed in a wider and in a narrower sense. In the narrower sense it means a doctrine which traces our moral judgments to some unanalysable form of perception, some purely intuitive conviction of which no rational account can be given. In this acceptation of the term, Kant and his forerunners, Clarke, Wollaston, &c., were not intuitionists ; for Kant at least rested the moral judgment on the practical reason, not on percep- tion. But in a wider sense all the writers of this class may be char- acterised as intuitionists ; since they appeal to self-evident laws,A. rather than to any conception of a good with reference to which our moral actions may be regarded as means. 2 For the best modern statement of the intuitionist doctrine, the student should consult Martineau's Types of Ethical Theory, Part II. IAn excellent criticism of intuitionism will be found in Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics, Book I., chaps, viii. and ix., and Book III. For the history of the subject, see Sidgwick's History of Ethics, especially pp. 224 236. Also pp. 170 204. Calderwood's Handbook of Moral Philosophy may also be referred to. 10.] VARIOUS CONCEPTIONS OF MORAL LAW. 185 stand it to mean the conscience of this or that indi- vidual. The conscience of any particular individual is simply the consciousness of the harmony or dishar- mony of his action with his own standard of right : and if this standard is defective, the same defect will appear in the conscience. His conscience may be, in Mr. Ruskin's phrase, ''The conscience of an ass." The man who does not act conscientiously certainly acts wrongly : he does not conform even to his own stand- ard of Tightness. But a man may act conscientiously and yet act wrongly, on account of some imperfection in his standard. One who acts conscientiously in ac- v cordance with some defective standard is generally known as a "fanatic." l When, however, Kant says that " an erring con- science is a chimera/' 2 or when Butler says of the conscience that "if it had power, as it has manifest authority, it would absolutely govern the- world," or when, in general, intuitionist writers refer to the con- science as the supreme principle of morals, what they mean by conscience is rather what may be called the universal conscience. They mean that ultimate recog- nition of the Tightness and wrongness of actions, wh-ich is latent in all men, but which in some men is more fully developed than in others. The principles by which this recognition is made are sometimes referred to as principles of Common Sense, because they are 1 Of, above, Book I., chap, vi., 6. It is there explained that we judge the action to be wrong because it is not done from the best motive. It may, however, appear to the agent to be the best. See also below, Book III., chap, ii., 14. 2 See the Preface to his Metaphysical Elements of Ethics (Abbott's translation), pp. 311 and 321. 1 86 ETHICS. [BK. n., CH. in., PT. n. supposed to be common or universal throughout the whole human race. * The principles of common sense have been referred to by some writers 2 as if they were simply certain moral truths which are found unaccountably in the consciousness of mankind. Against this view there is the same objection as there is against the correspond- ing view with regard to intellectual truth. It conflicts with a principle which is deeper than any other principle of common sense can well be the principle, namely, that the world must be regarded as an intelligible sys- tem of which a definite account can be given before the bar of reason. If this principle is a mistaken one, it is hard to believe that there can be any other that has a deeper claim to be regarded as of universal validity. The inadequacy of conscience as a basis of morals becomes further apparent when we endeavour to de- termine definitely what principles are laid down by 1 It will thus be seen that there is a certain ambiguity in the use of the term " conscience." There is another ambiguity, to which we shall have occasion to refer by and by. Conscience is frequently ^perhaps even generally, understood to denote, not. the principles of moral judgment, but the feeling ot palfl which "ac violation of moral law. When we speak of "the voice of con- science, and of conscience as laying down laws, we are of course not speaking of it as a mere feeling of pain, but as containing prin- ciples in accordance with which we form our moral judgments. The confusion which results from this ambiguity in the use of the term is well brought out by Mr. Muirhead in his Elements of Ethics pp. 78-9. Cf. also Porter's Elements of Moral Science, p. 246. And see above, Note at end of Book I. 2 Especially Reid and the other members of the so-called Scotch School. See Sidgwick's History of Ethics, pp. 226-233. D r - Marti- neau's theory is essentially a carrying out of this view. On the other hand, such a book as Janet's Theory of Morals represents a more rational interpretation of the intuitional principles. 10.] VARIOUS CONCEPTIONS OF MORAL LAW. l8/ it. The content of conscience, even if we mean by it the conscience of a people or an age, rather than that of an individual, is found to vary very consider- ably in different times and countries ; and even at the same time and place the rules that are laid down by it are of a very uncertain character. l Reflection shows, moreover, that these variations are not arbitrary, but have a distinct reference to the utility of actions under varying conditions for the realisation of human welfare. This has been well brought out in the very thorough examination of Common Sense Morality which is given in Dr. Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics,* From this it appears that the moral sense must not be regarded as a blind faculty, laying down principles for our guid- ance which are not capable of any further analysis or justification. On the contrary, the principles which it , lays down can be rationally justified and explained. In fact, it is only by such justification and explanation that we can distinguish what is permanent and reliable in the decisions of conscience from what is variable and untrustworthy. But when we thus draw distinc- tions and pass judgment upon conscience itself, it is evident that we must somehow have a conscience be- hind conscience, a faculty of judgment which stands above the blind law of the heart. 11. THE LAW OF REASON. The view, however, which holds that there are certain universal principles, of moral truth in the human consciousness is not necessarily pledged to regard these principles as unin-| 1 See Locke's Essay Concerning Human Understanding, Book I., chap, iii., and Spencer's Principles of Ethics, Part II. a See especially Book III., chap, xi., for a summary of Dr. Sidg- wick's carefully reasoned conclusions on this point. 1 88 ETHICS. [BK. n., CH. in., PT. n. telligible. Just as Kant held that there are certain principles of intellectual truth what he called categories , which belong to the nature of all intelligent beings/ as such, so it may be held also that there are certain/ universal principles of moral truth. And just as the categories of our intellectual life may be deduced from the very nature of thought, so also the principles of our moral life may be capable of a rational deduction. There may be principles of our moral life which are as obvious to us, when we reflect upon them, as that 2 -f- 2 = 4, or that every event must have a cause ; and yet it may be possible, as in these latter cases it is, to see, on further reflection, why it is that these principles are obvious. If this were so, the intuitions of the moral con- sciousness would in reality be due to a kind of rational insight. They would be a manifestation of what might be called moral reason. This is the view of the deeper intuitionists, of whom Clarke may be taken as a type ; x for the law of reason, in this sense, is scarcely distinguishable from what was referred to above as the law of nature. The Stoics, and most other writers whol have referred to a law of nature, have also described it as the law of reason nature being nearly always conj ceived by them as in some sense, a rational system. 2 1 See Sidgwick's History of Ethics, pp. 179 184. A similar view seems to be represented by Janet in his Theory of Morals, Book III., chap. iv. Janet holds that, in spite of the apparent diversities of moral sentiment in different peoples brought out by such writers as Locke and Spencer, there are yet certain latent principles which are the same in all men, and to which a final appeal may be made. This view seems not inconsistent with the recognition that particular individuals and races may have a very imperfect apprehension of the ultimate principles involved in their moral judgments. 2 When the law of nature is thus conceived as a principle of reason, it comes to be thought of as normative. 11.] VARIOUS CONCEPTIONS OF MORAL LAW. 189 When, however, the unsatisfactoriness of basing moral principles on a law of nature has become apparent, writers of this type are naturally led to lay more and more emphasis on the fact that it is in reality a law of reason with which we are concerned. Ethics thus comes to be conceived after the analogy of Logic, just as. the moral sense school conceived it on the analogy of ../Esthetics. Wollaston, a disciple of Clarke, repre- sents this tendency in its most extreme form. " Moral evil/ according to Wollaston, is the practical denial of a true position, and moral good the affirmation of it. To steal is wrong because it is to deny that the thing stolen is what it is, the property of another. Every right action is the affirmation of a truth ; every wrong action is the denial of a truth." 1 " Thirty years of profound meditation," says Stephen, 2 " had convinced Wollaston that the reason why a man should abstain from breaking his wife's head was, that it was a way of deny- ing that she was his wife. All sin, in other words, was lying." If a man runs another through the body, it is simply a pointed way of denying that he is a man and a brother ; and the evil lies not in the pointedness but in the error. " It is worse than a crime it is a blunder. " In all this the sophistry is obvious. A bad action is inconsistent ; but it is not inconsistent with fact : it is in- consistent with an ideal the ideal, for instance, which is involved in the relationship between man and man. 3 1 Le Rossignol's Ethical Philosophy of Samuel Clarke, p. 87. 2 English Thought in the Eighteenth Century, vol. i., p. 130. 3 What is said above refers specially to the views of Clarke and Wollaston. With Locke Ethics is conceived more definitely on the analogy of mathematics. He thinks of these as the two demonstra- tive sciences, starting with nominal definitions and proceeding by the law of self-consistency. This seems to involve some misconcep- 190 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. III., PT. III. A more ingenious and suggestive form of this doctrine was put forward by Kant, who argued that bad actions are essentially inconsistent with them- selves ; or at least that there is an inconsistency in the principle upon which they proceed. His view on this point is so important that we must examine it at some length. PART III. THE DOCTRINE OF KANT. 12. KANT'S VIEW OF THE MORAL REASON. Kant argued that, since the moral imperative is categorical, it cannot be derived from the consideration of any end outside of the will of the individual. For every external end is empirical, and could give rise only to a hypothetical imperative. We should only be entitled to say that, if we seek that end, we are bound to act in a particular way, with a view to its attainment. Kant held, there- fore, that the absolute imperative of duty has no refer- ence to any external ends to which the will is directed, but simply to the right direction of the will itself. "There is nothing good but the good will ; " and this isj good in itself, not with reference to any external facts./ It must have its law entirely within itself. If the im- perative which it involves were dependent on any ov the facts of experience, which are by their nature con- tingent, it would itself be contingent, and could not be an absolute law. It follows from this that the morali law cannot have any particular content. It cannot tell tion of the nature both of mathematics and of morals. Geometry does not start simply with nominal definitions. It starts with the conception of space. Similarly, Ethics does not start with arbitrary definitions of justice, &c., but with the conception of the concrete human ideal. This is a subject, however, into which we cannot enter with any fulness here. 11.] THE DOCTRINE OF KANT. 19! us any particular things that we are to do or to abstain/ from doing ; because all particular things have in them} an empirical and contingent element, and the morall law can have no reference to any such element, j Hence the moral law cannot tell us what the matter or content of our actions ought to be : it can only instruc us with regard to fti&form. But a pure form, withou any matter, must be simply the form of law in general That is to say, the moral law can tell us nothing more / than that we are to act in a way that is conformable to J law. And this means simply that our actions must have a certain self-consistency i. e. that the principles on which we act must be principles that we can adopt throughout the whole of our lives, and that we can apply to the lives of others. Kant is thus led to give as the content of the categorical imperative this formula " Act only on that maxim (or principle) wjjich thou canst at the same time will to become a universal law/' z He illustrates the application of this formula by taking such a case as that of breaking promises. It is wrong to break a promise, because the breach of a promise is a kind of action which could not be univer- salised. If it were a universal rule that every one were to break his promise, whenever he felt inclined, no one would place any reliance on promises. Prom- ises, in fact, would cease to be made. And of course, if they were not made, they could not be broken. Hence it would be impossible for every one to break his promise. AnH_sinrg if is impr>sgifr]f> for every one^ it must hn wrong for nny nnr The essence of wrong- doing consists in making an exception. i Metaphysic of Morals, section II. IQ2 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. III., PT. ITI, Similarly, it may easily be shown that we could not, without a certain absurdity, have universal s'uicide, * or universal stealing, or even universal indifference to the misfortunes of others. Since, then, we cannot really will that such acts should be done by every one, we have no right to will that we ourselves should do them. In fact, the moral law is Act only in such a way as you could will that every one else should act under the same general conditions. 13. CRITICISM OF KANT, (i) Formalism. It seems clear that the principle laid down by Kant affords in many cases a safe negative guide in conduct. If we cannot will that all men should, under like conditions, act as we are doing, we may generally be sure that we are acting wrongly. When, however, we en- deavour 4o extract positive guidance from the formula when we" try to ascertain, by means of it, not merely what we should abstain from doing, but what we should do it begins to appear that it is merely a formal principle, 2 from which no definite matter can be derived ; and further consideration may lead us to see that it cannot even give us quite satisfactory negative guidance. We must first observe, however, what was the exact 1 This is one of the most difficult points to prove in at all a satis- factory way. Kant's argument is ingenious, but hardly convincing. 2 See the criticisms on Kant in Mill's Utilitarianism, chap, i., p. 5, Bradley's Ethical Studies, pp. 139 sqq., Dewey's Outlines of Ethics, pp. 7882, Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, pp. 130-135, Adamson's Philosophy of Kant, pp. 119-20, &c. For a full discussion of Kant's doctrine on this point, see Caird's Critical Philosophy of Kant, Book II., chap. ii. Mr. Abbott, in his translation of Kant's Theory of Ethics, pp. xlix Iv, partly defends Kant's point of view, but does not succeed in showing that it leads to results that are practically helpful. 1 3.] THE DOCTRINE OF KANT. 193 meaning that Kant put upon his principle. It is evident that it might be interpreted in two very different ways. It might be taken to refer to general species of con- duct, or it might be taken to refer to particular acts, with all the limitations of time, place, and circumstance. It was in the former sense that the principle was under- stood by Kant ; x but it is well to bear in mind that there is also a possibility of the latter interpretation. The difference between the two might be illustrated, for instance, in the case of stealing. According to the former interpretation, stealing must in all cases be condemned, because its principle cannot be univer- salised. According to the latter interpretation, it would be necessary, in each particular instance in which there is a temptation to steal, to consider whether it is possible to will that every human being should steal, when placed under precisely similar conditions. The former interpretation would evidently give us a very strict view of duty, while the latter might easily give us a very lax one. Now if we accept, as Kant does, the former of these two interpretations, it seems clear that the principle is a purely formal one, from which the particular matter of conduct cannot be extracted. In order to apply it at all, we must presuppose a certain given material. 2 1 The reason why Kant took this view is, that he thought that a man ought not only to be able to will that the principle of his action should be universally adopted, but that it should be made into a law of nature. To discuss the ground on which he held this opinion, would carry us beyond the scope of this manual. 2 Kant was partly aware of this, and in his later treatment of the subject seeks to derive the positive part of moral obligation from the consideration of the twofold end our own Perfection ar^d the Hap- piness of others and also from the general principles of Jnrispru- Eth. 13 194 ETHICS. [BK. n., CH. HI., FT. in. Thus, in order to show that stealing- leads to self-con- tradiction, we must presuppose the existence of pro- perty. It is inconsistent to take the property of another, if we recognise the legitimacy of private property ; but if any one denies this, there is no inconsistency in his acting accordingly. In order to apply Kant's principle, therefore, it is necessary first to know what presuppo- sitions we are entitled to make. Otherwise, there is scarcely any action which might not be shown to lead to inconsistency. For instance, the relief of distress, the effort after the moral improvement of society, and the like, might be said to lead to inconsistency ; for if every one were engaged in these actions, it would be unnecessary for any one to engage in them. They are necessary only because they are neglected. The only difference between these cases and that of theft or of promise-breaking, is that in the one set of cases the abolition of the activity would lead to what is regarded as a desirable result the cessation of distress or immorality ; while in the other set of cases it would lead to what is regarded as an undesirable result the cessation of property or of promises. But when we ask why the one result is to be regarded as desirable and the other as undesirable, there is no answer from the Kantian point of view. All that the Kantian prin- ciple enables us to say is that, assuming certain kinds dence. See Abbott, pp. 296302. Thus, the positive side of duty would be derived largely from utilitarian considerations, while the moral reason would simply urge us to be self-consistent. Kant's view thus approximated to that developed in recent times by Dr. Sidgwick. See below, chap. iv. But on this point, as on many others, Kant kept the different sides of his theory in separate com- partments of his mind, and never really brought them together. Cf. Caird's Critical Philosophy of Kant, Book II., chaps, vi. and vii. 13.] THE DOCTRINE OF KANT. 195 of conduct to be in general right, we must not make exceptions on our own behalf. If, on the other hand, we were to adopt the second of the two possible interpretations of the principle of consistency, it would not be possible to derive from it even this very moderate amount of instruction. For to say that we are always to act in such a way that we could will that all other human beings, under exactly the same conditions, should act similarly, is merely to say that we are to act in a way that we approve. Whenever a man approves of his own course of action, he ipso facto wills that any one else in like conditions should do likewise. Consequently, from this principle no rule of conduct whatever can be derived. It simply throws us back upon the morality of common sense. 1 The pure will of Kant, being thus entirely formal, and destitute of particular content, has been well described by Jacobi as a ' ' will that wills nothing. " 2 14. CRITICISM OF KANT (continued). (2) Stringency. Not only is the Kantian principle open to the charge of being purely formal, it has also the defect of giving rise to a code of morals of a much stricter character than that which the moral sense of the best men 3 seems to demand. Of course this cannot be regarded as a fatal criticism ; for it may be that that moral sense 1 Or upon utilitarian considerations. See preceding note. It may be remarked that this difficulty in Kant arises from the dualism of his philosophical point of view. 2 See Caird's Critical Philosophy of Kant, vol. ii., p. 216, note. 3 Our English moralists are fond of referring to the opinions of " the plain man." But it depends a good deal on the character of " the plain man " whether his opinions on moral questions are worth considering. 196 ETHICS. [BK. ii., CH. in., PT. HI is deficient. 1 Still on the whole any conflict with that sense must be regarded as a prima facie presumption against an ethical system in which it occurs ; and, along with other criticisms, may help to overthrow it. Now there are two distinct ways in which the Kantian system appears to be much too rigorous. (a) In the first place, according to the Kantian view no conduct can be regarded as truly virtuous which rests on feeling. Conduct is right only in so far as it is dictated by the moral reason ; and the moral reason is a purely formal principle, which has no connection with any of the feelings or passions of human nat- ure. But much of the conduct that men commonly praise, springs rather from feeling than from any direct application of reason. 2 This has been strikingly expressed by .Wordsworth in his Ode to Duty " There are who ask not if thine eye Be on them ; who, in love and truth, Where no misgiving is, rely Upon the genial sense of youth : Glad hearts ! without reproach or blot ; Who do thy w r ork, and know it not." 8 1 We shall see later (chap, vi.) that few ethical writers are pre- pared to go against the developed moral sense of mankind ; and, in particular, it is certain that Kant himself was not. 2 Kant's point of view might be illustrated by the famous declara- tion of Sir T. Browne in his Rcligio Medici : " I give no alms to satisfy the hunger of my brother, but to fulfil and accomplish the will and command of my God." Contrast this attitude with that of the philanthropist who is actuated simply by love of those whom he seeks to benefit, and it is at once evident, even to the plainest com- mon sense, that the latter is immeasurably the higher of the two. Indeed, it would scarcely be a paradox to say that, in such cases, the more purely a man is guided by love, and the less conscious he is of performing a duty, the better his action is. But see next note. 3 Schiller has an even more emphatic utterance on the same point in his Doem Der Genius, beginning, ".Must I distrust my impulse ?" I4-] THE DOCTRINE OF KANT. 197 Kant, resting duty upon a formal principle of reason, does not recognise the possibility of such an attitude as this. This defect was early perceived by the poet Schillef, an ardent student of the Kantian system, who expressed his dissatisfaction in the form of an epigram. He supposes an ethical inquirer to bring the following difficulty before a Kantian philosopher " Willingly serve I my friends, but I do it, alas ! with affection. Hence I am plagued with the doubt, virtue I have not attained." And he represents him as receiving the following an- swer " This is your only resource, you must stubbornly seek to abhor them. Then you can do with disgust that which the law may enjoin." Of course this is a gross exaggeration of Kant's posi- tion ; for he would not demand the presence of abhor- rence, nor even the absence of affection. Still, it is true that he did not recognise the possibility of the performance of duty from feeling as contrasted with and ending, " What thou pleasest to do, is thy law." His criticism is more philosophically expressed in the treatise, Ucber Anmuthund W'iirdc, where he says, among other things, that " Man not only way but should bring pleasure and duty into relation to one another ; he should obey his reason with joy." Of course, it would be easy to carry all this to the opposite extreme from that represented by Kant ; and perhaps Kant's is the less dangerous extreme of the two. The over-indulgent parent, for instance, cannot be justified by a mere appeal to an impulse of affection. All that we are entitled to say 'is that a man will often be led to the performance of duty by affection far more effectively than by the consciousness of law, and that duty so performed does not thereby cease to be duty ; and further, that the highest forms of duty, involving love, are not compatible with the absence of affection, and cannot be satisfactorily done from mere respect for law. C/. Janet's Theory of Morals, Book III., chap. v. ; and see above, Book I., chap, iii., 5. 198 ETHICS. [BK. ii., CH. in., PT. in. the performance of it from the mere sense of duty given by the moral reason. (b) Another respect in which the rigour of Kant's point of view appears, is this, that he permits of no exceptions to his moral imperatives. Now the moral sense of the best men seems to say that there is no commandment, however sacred (unless it be the com- mandment of love), that does not under certain cir- cumstances release its claims. This objection was very forcibly put by Jacobi in an indignant protest against the Kantian system, which he addressed to Fichte. I "Yes," he exclaims, "I am the Atheist, the Godless one, who, in spite of the will that wills no- thing, am ready to lie as the dying Desdemona lied ; to lie and deceive like Pylades, when he pretended to be Orestes ; to murder like Timoleon ; to break law and oath like Epaminondas, like John de Witt ; to commit suicide with Otho ,and sacrilege with David, yea, to rub the ears of corn on the Sabbath day, merely 1 It may be observed that Fichte himself, though a disciple of Kant, laid stress chiefly on the Kantian 'dictum that "an erring conscience is a chimera," and regarded the command to " follow conscience " as the supreme moral principle. He regarded con- science, moreover, not as a principle which lays down merely formal imperatives, but rather as one which bids us advance along the line of rational development. Fichte was thus -rather a repre- sentative of the school of idealistic evolution, referred to below in chap. v. For this reason, Janet remarks (Theory of Morals, p. 264) that Jacobi ought to have regarded Fichte as essentially in agree- ment with himself. For Jacobi also appealed to the heart or moral sense of the individual. But surely what Fichte meant by the " conscience " was a rational and universal principle of guidance, very different from a mere heart or moral sense. Cf. Adamson's FicJite, pp. 193 sqq. ; Schwegler's History of Philosophy, pp. 273-4 J Erdmann's History of Philosophy, vol. ii., pp. 514-16. I4-] THE DOCTRINE OF KANT. 199 because I am hungry, and because the law is made for the sake of man and not man for the sake of the law. I am that Godless one, and I deride the philosophy that calls me Godless for such reasons, both it and its Supreme Being ; for with the holiest certitude that I have in me, I know that the prerogative of pardon in reference to such transgressions of the letter of the absolute law of reason, is the characteristic royal right of man, the seal of his dignity and of his divine nature." Jacobi held, therefore, that man is not called upon to act "in blind obedience to the law." He is entitled to appeal from pure reason to the heart, which is indeed the only "faculty of ideas that are not empty." "This heart," he says, "the Transcendental Philosophy will not be allowed to tear out of my breast, in order to set a pure impulse of Egoism in its place. I am not one to allow myself to be freed from the dependence of love, in order to have my blessed- ness in pride alone." To what extent this view of Jacobi is justifiable, will probably become more apparent as we proceed. In reality, it is quite as one-sided as the view of Kant to which it is opposed. It calls attention, however, to the undue rigour of Kant's principle, in admitting of no exceptions to his moral imperatives. But indeed, even apart from such considerations as Jacobi has ad- duced, it must be tolerably apparent that the rigour of the Kantian system, in excluding 'all exceptions, over- shoots the mark. For many actions in ordinary life are right simply because they are exceptions. Many instances of heroic self-sacrifice would be unjustifiable if every one were to perform them. When it is right for a man to devote his life to a great cause, it is 200 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. III., PT. III. usually right just because it may be assumed that no one else will do it. Or take the case of celibacy. 1 For every one to abstain from marriage would be in- consistent with the continuance of the human race on earth ; consequently, any one who abstained from marriage for the sake of some benefit to posterity would, from Kant's point of view, be acting inconsistently ; yet it seems clear that it is not the duty of every one to marry, and even that it is the duty of some to abstain, and to abstain, too, for the sake of posterity. It appears, then, that the Kantian principle, inter- preted in this way, is much too stringent. On the other hand, if we were to accept the other interpreta- tion, it would be too lax. For it would then admit of every conceivable exception that we could will to be universally allowed under precisely similar conditions ; and this would include everything that human beings do, 2 except when they are consciously doing what they know cannot be justified by any rational plea. 15. REAL SIGNIFICANCE OF THE KANTIAN PRINCIPLE. We must not, however, conclude from this that the Kantian principle is to be entirely rejected. There is a sense in which it is a quite complete criterion of the 1 C/ Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics, Book IV., chap, v., 3 ; and Abbott's translation of Kant's Theory of Ethics, pp. liii., sqq. The student should observe carefully where the inconsistency comes in here viz. in the principle (or maxim) itself, not in its mere results. 2 For instance, a man might be dishonest in business, and justify himself by saying that the principle on which he acted was, that a shrewd man is entitled to overreach a careless one. If he had per- fect confidence in his own shrewdness, he might be quite willing that this principle should be universally carried out ; and at the same time he might uphold the general principle of respect for the rights of others, subject only to this particular limitation. 15.] THE DOCTRINE OF KANT. 2OI Tightness of an action to ask whether it can be consist- ently carried out. Our moral action is in this respect exactly similar to our intellectual life. An error can- not be consistently carried out, and neither can a sin. But in both cases alike the test is not that of mere formal consistency. We may take up an erroneous idea and hold consistently to it, so long as we confine ourselves to that particular idea. The inconsistency comes in only when we try to fit the erroneous idea into the scheme of the world as a whole. It is with that scheme that error is inconsistent. In like manner in our moral life we may take up a false principle of action, and we may carry it out consistently, and even will that all others should act in accordance with it, so long as we confine our attention to that particular action and its immediate consequences. But so soon as we go beyond this, and consider its bearing on the whole scheme of life, 1 it becomes apparent that we could not will that it should be universalised. The reason is, not that the action is inconsistent with itself, but rather that it is inconsistent with the self 1\ e. with the unity of our lives as a systematic whole. 2 But then we have at once to ask How are we to know 1 How this scheme of life is to be conceived, is a question for future consideration. We shall see, at a later stage, that life has to be thought of as a growth or development. Hence it can never stand before us as a completed scheme ; and that with which we have to be consistent is rather the idea of progress. But, as the novelists say, " we are anticipating." 2 It should be observed that Kant to some extent advanced towards the point of view here indicated ; especially by his conception of Humanity as an absolute end, and still more by the pregnant idea of all rational beings as constituting -^Kingdom of ends. Metaphysic of Morals, Sect. II. (Abbott's translation, pp. 46 59). But the per- sistent dualism of Kant's system prevented him from recognising 202 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. III., PT. HI. what is and what is not consistent with this unity? What can we, and what can we not, desire to see universally carried out ? This question cannot be answered by any mere consideration of formal con- sistency. We must inquire into the nature of our desires i. e. we must introduce matter as well as form. We must ask, in other words, what is the nature of the self with which we have to be consistent. the full significance of the advance which he had thus suggested ; and his principle remained formal after all. C/. Caird's Critical Philosophy of Kant, vol. ii., pp. 218226. For a more recent criticism of Kant's ethical position, see Simmel's Einleitung in die Moral- wissenschaft, Vol. II., chap. v. THE DOCTRINE OF KANT. 2O3 NOTE ON KANT. Kant's view is rightly characterised by Bradley (Ethical Studies, Essay IV.) as that of " Duty for Duty's Sake," 1 and is contrasted with the utilitarian view (Essay III.), which is described as that of "Pleasure for Pleasure's Sake." Professor Dewey, in like manner, describes the Kantian system (Outlines of Ethics, p. 78) as furnishing us with merely "Formal Ethics," and as being a "theory which attempts to find the good not only in the will itself, but in the will irrespective of any end to be reached by the will." Mr. Muirhead (Elements of Ethics, p. 112 sqq.) has also described the Kantian theory in similar terms, referring both to Bradley and to Dewey ; but he has carried Bradley's antithesis between the Kantian Ethics and utilitarianism to a somewhat extreme point, even going so far as to characterise the Kantian view of the supreme good by means of the heading, "The End as Self-Sacrifice." This appears to me to be an exaggeration. Kant considered that we must do our duty out of pure respect for the law of reason, and not from any anticipation of pleasure ; but he nowhere,' so far as I am aware, suggests that there is any merit in the absence of pleasure. On the contrary, though he does not regard happiness as the direct end at which the virtuous man is to aim, he yet believes that, in any complete account of the supreme human good, happiness must be included as well as virtue though in subordination to virtue. Indeed, he even con- sidered that, unless we had grounds for believing that the two elements virtue and happiness are ultimately to be found united, the very foundation of morality would be destroyed. Thus he says, " In the summum bonum which is practical for us, /. e. to be realised by our will, virtue and happiness are thought as necessarily com- bined, so that the one cannot be assumed by pure practical reason without the other also being attached to it. Now this combination (like every other) is either analytical or synthetical. It has been shown that it cannot be analytical ; 8 it must then be synthetical, and, more particularly, must be conceived as the connection of cause 1 It should be noted, however, that the account given by Mr. Bradley in this chapter of the theory of " Duty for Duty's Sake " is not, and is not intended to be, an exact statement of the position of Kant. 2 Critique of Practical Reason, Part I., Book II., chap. ii. I. Ab- bott's translation of Kant's Theory of Ethics, third edition, p. 209. 3 /. e. that happiness is not directly included in virtue, or virtue in happiness. 204 ETHICS. [BK. n., CH. in., PT. in. and effect, since it concerns a practical good, /. e. one that is pos- sible by means of action ; consequently either the desire of happiness must be the motive to maxims of virtue, 1 or the maxim of virtue must be the efficient cause of happiness. The first is absolutely impossible, because (as was proved in the Analytic) maxims which place the determining principle of the will in the desire of personal happiness are not moral at all, and no virtue can be founded on them. But the second is also impossible, because the practical connection of causes and effects in the world, as the result of the determination of the will, does not depend upon the moral dispositions of the will, but on the knowledge of the laws of nature and the physical power to use them for one's purposes ; consequently we cannot expect in the world by the most punctilious observance of the moral laws any necessary connection of happiness with virtue, adequate to the sum mum bonum. Now as the promotion of this summum bonum, the conception of which contains this connection, is a priori a neces- sary object of our will, and inseparably attached to the moral law, the impossibility of the former must prove the falsity of the latter. If then the supreme good is not possible by practical rules, then the moral law also which commands us to promote it is directed to vain imaginary ends, and must consequently be false." Kant's view, then, was that the supreme aim of the virtuous man is simply that of conforming to this law of reason /'. c., according to him, the law of formal consistency. He must not pursue virtue for the sake of happiness, but purely for the sake of duty. In this sense Kant inculcates self-sacrifice. But he does not regard self-sacrifice as the end. The "end is conformity to law, obedience to reason. Further, Kant considers that though the virtuous man does not aim at happiness, yet the complete well-being 2 of a human being in- cludes happiness as well as virtue. And apparently he thought that if we had no ground for believing that the two elements are ulti- mately conjoined, the ground of morality itself would be removed. 1 This is what Kant denies : and it is only in this sense that he is fairly to be described as an ascetic, or as one who advocates self- sacrifice. 2 Co mpletc well-being (boninn consummatum] as distinguished from supreme well-being (snpremnm bonum}. The supreme good is vir- tue : the complete good is virtue -}- happiness. See Critique of Prac- tical Reason, Part I., Book II., chap. ii. (Abbott's translation, p. 206). For a discussion of Kant's view on this point, see Caird's Critical Philosophy of Kant, Book II., v chap. v. (vol. ii. pp. 289-314.) THE DOCTRINE OF For morality rests on a demand of reason ; and the possibility of attaining the summum bonum is also a demand of reason. If the demands of reason were chimerical in the latter case, they would be equally discredited in the former.! He solves the difficulty by postulating the existence of God, " as the necessary condition of the possibility of the summum bonum." 2 From this it will be seen that Kant did not really regard self- sacrifice as the end. Indeed it may be doubted whether it has ever been regarded as an end by any serious school of moralists. Ben- tham, indeed (at least as represented by Dumont 3 ), contrasts his utilitarian theory with what he calls " the Ascetic Principle," saying of the latter that " those who follow it have a horror of pleasures. Everything which gratifies the senses, in their view, is odious and criminal. They found morality upon privations, and virtue upon the renouncement of one's self. In one word, the reverse of the partisans of utility, they approve everything which tends to diminish enjoyment, they blame everything which tends to augment it." But this description would evidently not apply to Kant, 4 nor perhaps to any school of moralists, if we except some of the extremest of the Cynics.s Bentham himself, in the passage from which the above extract is taken, does not refer to any philosophic writers, but only to the Jansenists and some other theologians. Even the Stoics 6 (to whom certainly Kant bears a strong resemblance 7 ) did not regard 1 Observe the close resemblance between Kant's view on this point and that of Butler. See Sidgwick's History of Ethics, pp. 195-7. Kant, however, states the difficulty in a much more precise and pro- found form than that in which it is put by Butler. Kant's attempted solution, in like manner, is characterised by immeasurably greater speculative depth. 2 Kant, loc. cit, section V. (Abbott, p. 221). 3 Theory of Legislation, chap. ii. See also Principles of Morals and Legislation, chap. ii. 4 There is, indeed, a passage in the Methodology of Pure Practical Reason (Abbott's translation, p. 254), in which Kant says that virtue is " worth so much only because it costs so much." But the context shows that his meaning is merely that the cost brings clearly to light the purity of the motive. 5 See Sidgwick's History of Ethics, p. 33-35. 6 For an account of the Stoics, see Sidgwick's History of Ethics, pp 70-8S 7 Cf. Caird's Critical Philosophy of Kant, vol. ii. pp. 222-3, &c. 206 ETHICS. [BK. n., CH. in., FT. in. the sacrifice of happiness as in itself a good. On the contrary, as Kant himself remarks,* both the Stoics and Epicureans were agreed in identifying virtue with happiness : only while the Epicureans held that the pursuit of happiness is virtue, the Stoics held, contrari- wise, that the pursuit of virtue is happiness. 2 I have thought it desirable to dwell on this slight divergence be- tween my view on this point and that stated in Mr. Muirhead's Elements, not for the purpose of emphasising my disagreement, but rather to bring out the fundamental identity of our views. For if the reader will turn to the passage in Mr. Muirhead's book, I think he will easily see that the difference between us is merely superficial. Although Mr. Muirhead treats of the Kantian Ethics under the head- ing " The End as Self-Sacrifice," and refers to it as illustrating the ascetic principle in morals, yet his actual treatment of Kant's funda- mental position does not, I think, materially differ from that suggested in the present manual. I am convinced, therefore, that our diver- gence on this point is little more than verbal. It is perhaps fair to add here that a partial reply to Schiller's ob- jections (referred to above, 13) was made by Kant in his treatise on Religion within the Bounds of mere Reason? Kant there admits that a thoroughly virtuous man will love virtuous activities, and per- form them with pleasure ; but he regards this as a mere result of action from the sense of duty. The man who acts from a sense of duty has a feeling of pleasure gradually superinduced. This admis- sion obviates the grosser forms of the criticism that has been passed on Kant with regard to this point ; but it still leaves a fatal dualism between the law of reason and the affections of human kindness. In short, it still has the defect of emphasising the mere isolated good will instead of the good character. 4 Cf. above, Book I., chap, iii., 2. 1 Critique of Practical Reason, Part I., Book II., chap. ii. (Abbott's translation, p. 208). 2 Or at least that a certain form of happiness is an inseparable accident of the pursuit of virtue. See Sidgwick's History of Ethics, PP- 83-4- 8 Cf. also Metaphysical Elements of Ethics (Abbott's translation), pp^ 312-13. 4 The point that it is specially important to remember is, that Kant always insists that duty must not be done from inclination. He never denies that it may be done with inclination. Consequently, he is not properly an ascetic. 1.] THE STANDARD AS HAPPINESS. 2O/ CHAPTER IV. THE STANDARD AS HAPPINESS. 1. INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. We thus see that the idea of a categorical imperative breaks down, or at least lands us in sheer ernptiness. It tells us only that we must judge our action's from the point of view of a universal self, not from a private standpoint of our own, and that we must act in a way that is consistent with the idea of this higher self. All this is formal : x 1 In saying that it is merely formal, I do not of course mean to deny its practical importance. In concrete life we constantly tend to judge ourselves and others by standards that are not of uni- versal application ; and Kant's formula is useful as a safeguard against this. Perhaps the following passage from Bryce's A merican Commonwealth (chap. Ixxv.) may serve to illustrate this danger. " All professions," he says, " have a tendency to develop a special code of rules less exacting than those of the community at large. As a profession holds certain things to be wrong, because contrary to its etiquette, which are in themselves harmless, so it justifies other things in themselves blamable. In the mercantile world, agents play sad tricks on their principals in the matter of commissions, and their fellow-merchants are astonished when the courts of law com- pel the ill-gotten gains to be disgorged. At the English Universities, everybody who took a Master of Arts degree was, until lately, required to sign the Thirty-nine Articles of the Church of England. Hundreds of men signed who did not believe, and admitted that they did not believe, the dogmas of this formulary ; but nobody in Oxford thought the worse of them for a solemn falsehood. . . . Each profession indulges in deviations from the established rules of morals, but takes pains to conceal these deviations from the general public, and continues to talk about itself and its traditions with an air of unsullied virtue. What each profession does for itself most individuals do for themselves. They judge themselves by them- 2o8 ETHICS. [BK. n., CH iv, we now wait for the content with which the form is to be filled. We have to ask, in short, what is the nature of the ideal self, and how it is constituted. 2. HIGHER AND LOWER UNIVERSES. That certain forms of will are higher or better than others, may almost be said to be the fundamental assumption of Ethics. Now it follows from this that certain desires, or certain universes of desire, are higher or better than others. Thus it becomes a problem to determine why it is that any desire or universe of desires should be regarded as higher or better than any other. The significance of this problem may perhaps be best in- dicated by suggesting a possible answer. It is obvious that some universes are more comprehensive than others. If a man acts from the point of view of the happiness of his nation as a whole, this is evidently a more comprehensive point of view than that from which he acts when he has regard only to his own happiness. The former includes the latter. So too, if a man acts from the point of view of his own happi- ness throughout the year, he acts from a more com- prehensive point of view than if he has regard only to the happiness of the passing hour. Now the narrower the point of view from which we act, the more certain we are to fall into inconsistency and self-contradiction. selves, that is to say, by their surroundings and their own past acts, and thus erect in the inner forum of conscience a more lenient code for their own transgressions than that which they apply to others. We all know that a fault which a man has often committed seems to him slighter than one he has refrained from and seen others committing. Often he gets others to take the same view. 'It is only his way,' they say: 'it is just like Roger.' The same thing happens with nations." There is perhaps some cynicism in this ; but it contains sufficient truth to illustrate the present point. 3-] THE STANDARD AS HAPPINESS. 209 If the universe within which we act is merely that of the passing hour, that universe will no longer be -the dom- inant one when the hour is past ; and then we shall find ourselves acting from some different, and perhaps inconsistent point of view. If, on the other hand, the universe within which we act is broad and compre- hensive, we may be able to maintain our point of view consistently through life, and also to apply it to the actions of others. The wider universe may, there- fore, be regarded as higher or better than the narrower one, since it enables us to maintain a more consistent point of view in our actions. From this consideration we may partly see why it is that one universe is to be regarded as higher or better than another. Still, this does not make it quite clear. For sometimes when we prefer one universe to another, the former does not include the latter, and is not obviously wider than it. What is the ground of preference in such cases we shall consider at a later point in this inquiry. But in the meantime, it may be well to notice a plausible expla- nation of the preference, which we shall see reason afterwards to reject. In such a subject as Ethics, erroneous doctrines are often almost as instructive as those that are correct. 3. SATISFACTION OF DESIRES. When a desire attains the end to which it is directed, the desire is satisfied ; and this satisfaction is attended by an agreeable feel- ing l a feeling of pleasure, enjoyment, or happiness. 1 I follow Dr. James Ward and others in using the term " Feeling " for pleasure and pain. It is, however, a very ambiguous term, and perhaps the term " Affection," which is used by Prof. Titchener in his Outline of Psychology, is in some ways preferable. See Stout's Manual of Psychology, Book II., chap. viii. Eth. 14 2IO ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. IV. On the other hand, when the end of a desire is not attained, we have a disagreeable feeling a feeling of pain, misery, or unhappiness. Now if we act within a wide universe, or within a universe that includes de- sires that are continually recurring throughout life, we shall be acting in such a way as to satisfy our desires with great frequency, and so to have many feelings of pleasure. On the other hand, if we act within a nar- row universe, or one containing desires that do not often recur, we may have few satisfactions and a fre- quent occurrence of painful feelings. Now it seems plausible to say that, since what we aim at is the satis- faction of our desires, the best aim is that which will bring the greatest number of pleasures and the smallest number of pains. This consideration would supply us with a criterion of higher and lower universes. The highest universe within which we could act would be that which would supply us with the greatest number of pleasures and the smallest number of pains. The highest universe, in fact, would be that which is con- stituted by the consideration of our greatest happiness throughout life ; or, if we consider others as well as ourselves, by the consideration of the greatest happi- ness of the greatest number. This leads us to the con- sideration of Hedonism^ 4. VARIETIES OF HEDONISM. Hedonism is the general term for those theories that regard happiitess or pleas- ure as the supreme end of life. It is derived from the Greek word ydovy, meaning pleasure. These theories have taken many different forms. It has been held by some that men always do seek pleasure, t. e. that pleasure in some form is always the ultimate object of desire ; whereas other Hedonists confine themselves 3-] THE STANDARD AS HAPPINESS. 211 to the view that men ought always to seek pleasure. The former theory has been called by Prof. Sidgwick Psychological Hedonism, because it simply affirms the seeking of pleasure as a psychological fact ; whereas he describes the other theory as Ethical Hedonism. Again, some have held that what each man seeks, or ought to seek, is his own pleasure ; while others hold \ that what each seeks, or ought to seek, is the pleasure of all human beings, or even of all sentient creatures. Prof. Sidgwick has called the former of these views Egoistic Hedonism ; the latter, Universalistic Hedonism. The latter has also been called Utilitarianism which, however, ic a very inappropriate name. r Most of the earlier ethical Hedonists were also psychological Hedonists ; but this latter view has now been almost universally abandoned. Egoistic Hedonism has also been generally abandoned. Its chief upholders were the ancient Cyrenaics and Epicureans. 2 Some more modern writers, however, such as Bentham and Mill did not clearly distinguish between egoistic and universalistic Hedonism, and consequently, though in the main supporting only the latter, often seemed to be giving their adhesion to the former. The student must be careful to distinguish between these different kinds of Hedonism : otherwise great confusion will 1 See below, S 9. 2 For an account of these see Sidgwick's History of Ethics, pp. 32-3, and pp. 82-90. See also Zeller's Socrates and the Socratic Schools, and Stoics, Epicureans, and Sceptics. Prof. Wallace's little volume on Epicureanism (" Chief Ancient Philosophies ") is a most delight- ful book, which every student ought to read. Prof. Watson's Hedonistic Theories from Aristippus to Spencer is also exceedingly interesting, and, though somewhat popular in its mode of treatment, is nearly always reliable. 212 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. I%~ result. Now the doctrine of Psychological Hedonism has already been considered in Book I. It is simply a statement of fact ; whereas Ethical Hedonism is a theory of Value, a theory of the ground upon which one form of action ought to be preferred to others. 5. ETHICAL HEDONISM. We have seen that the theory of psychological Hedonism is unsound. Ethical He- donism, however, does not stand or fall with this. On the contrary, as Dr. Sidgwick has pointed out, 1 ethical Hedonism is scarcely compatible with psycho- logical Hedonism, at least in its most extreme form. If we always did seek our own greatest pleasure, there would be no point in saying that we ought to seek it ; while, on the other hand, it would be absurd to say that we ought to seek the pleasure of others, except in so far as this could be shown to coincide with our own. Of course, if psychological Hedonism be merely inter- preted as meaning tnat we always do seek pleasure o/ some sort, then ethical Hedonism may be understood as teaching that we ought to seek the greatest pleasure, whether our own or that of others. But, in any case, there is no necessary connection between the two doctrines. 2 The confusion that has often been made 1 Methods of Ethics, Book I., chap, iv., i. 2 It will be seen, therefore, that I do not agree with Mr. Muirhead (Elements of Ethics, p. 114) in regarding the psychological form of Hedonism as " also its logical form." At the same time, it should be observed that systems of ethical Hedonism (especially \vhenegoistic) have nearly always been made to rest on psychological Hedonism. Nor is this necessarily inconsistent ; for most Hedonists (especially egoistic Hedonists) have denied any absolute "ought" as having authority over men's natural inclinations. They have regarded Ethics as simply laying down rules for the guidance of our actions, so as to secure the greatest possible gratification to our natural im- pulses. They have thought that by the introduction of adequate "sane- g $.] THE STANDARD AS HAPPINESS. 213 between the two theories seems to be due in part to an ambiguity in the word ' ' desirable. " I This point also may be illustrated by a passage from Mill. "The only proof," he says, " capable of being given that an object is visible, is that people actually see it. The only proof that a sound is audible, is that people hear it. ... In like manner, I apprehend, the sole evi- dence it is possible to produce that anything is desir- able, is that people do actually desire it." It is here assumed that the meaning of the word "desirable" is analogous to that of "visible" and "audible." But "visible" means "able to be seen," and "audible" means " able to be heard" ; whereas " desirable" does not usually mean ' ' able to be desired." When we say that anything is desirable, we do not usually mean merely that it is able to be desired. There is scarcely anything that is not able to be desired. What we mean is rather that it is reasonably to be desired, or that it ought to be desired. When the Hedonist says that pleasure is the only thing that is desirable, he means that it is the only thing that ought to be desired. But the form of the word "desirable" seems to have mis- led several writers into the notion that they ought to tions" (see below, Note to Book III., chap, vi.) the greatest pleasure of the community as a whole might be made coincident with the individual's greatest pleasure. Bentham was particularly explicit on this point, saying even, paradoxically, that the word " ought " " ought to be abolished." (But cf. Principles of Morals and Legisla- tion, chap, i., 10.) But this view is, of course, incompatible with the admission (now generally made by all Hedonists) that the gratification of our own inclinations may conflict with duty. If this is allowed, ethical Hedonism cannot rest on psychological. Cf. Gizycki's Introduction to the Study of Ethics, pp. 70 78. i Cf. Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics, Book III., chap, xiii., 5. i 214 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. IV. show also that pleasure is the only thing that is capable of being desired. z The latter view is that of psycho- logical Hedonism, which seems clearly to be unsound. The former is that of ethical Hedonism, which we have still to examine. We have already stated that there are two forms of ethical Hedonism egoistic and universalistic. But be- fore we proceed to consider these, it will be well to indicate more precisely what the general meaning of ethical Hedonism is. 6. QUANTITY OF PLEASURE. Hedonism is not merely the vague theory that we ought to seek pleasure. It states definitely that we ought to seek the greatest pleasure. Otherwise of course it would give us no criterion of right and wrong in conduct. Pleasure may be found by acting in the most contradictory ways. But when we are told to seek the greatest plea- sure, there can usually be but one course to follow. In estimating the quantity of pleasure, it is usually said that there are two points to be taken into account intensity and duration. 7 ' Some pleasures are preferable to others because they last longer. Pains require also 1 The fallacy here involved is that known to writers on Logic as the " Fallacy of Figure of Speech " (figure? dictionis). See Whately's Logic, pp. 117-18, Davis's Theory of Thought, p. 270, Welton's Manual of Logic, vol. II., p. 243. Jevons (Elementary Lessons on Logic, p. 175) seems to have quite misunderstood this fallacy, as well as many others. 2 In estimating the value of pleasures, there are, according to Ben- tham, some other qualities also which should be taken into account viz. certainty, propinquity, fecundity (power of producing other pleasures), and purity (freedom from pain). He considered also that we should take account of their extent i. e. the number of per- sons who participate in them. See his Principles of Morals and Legis- lation. He summed up his view in the following doggerel verses 7-] THE STANDARD AS HAPPINESS. 21$ to be taken into account. Pain is simply the opposite of pleasure, and is consequently to be treated just as negative quantities are treated in mathematics. If a pleasure is represented by -f- a, the corresponding pain will be represented by -a ; and what we are to aim at is to secure the greatest sum of pleasures or the small- est sum of pains, pleasures being counted as positive and pains as negative. If there are three pleasures, valued respectively at 3, 4, and 5 ; 5 is to be preferred to either 3 or 4, 3 -f- 4 is to be preferred to 5, 3 -f- 5 to 3 -(- 4, and 4 -f~ 5 * o 3 ~h 5- Again, if we have pains valued at - 3, - 4, - 5 ; - 3 is to be preferred to - 4, and -4 to - 5. So too 5 - 3 is to be preferred to 4-3, and 3-4 to 3-5 ; while between 4-3 and 5-4, or between 3-3 and 4-4, there is no ground of preference. And so on. 7. EGOISTIC HEDONISM. Egoistic Hedonism is the doctrine that what each ought to seek is his own greatest pleasure. Almost the only writers who have held this doctrine in a pure form are the Cyrenaics and Epicu- reans. The writers of the former school, however, confined themselves to inculcating the pursuit of the pleasure of each moment as it passes i. e. they did not take account of duration. The Epicureans in- culcated rather the endeavour to secure the happiness "Intense, long, certain, speedy, fruitful, pure, Such marks in pleasures and in pains endure. Such pleasures seek, if private be thy end ; If it be public, wide let them extend. Such pains avoid, whichever be thy view ; If pains must come, let them extend to few." Cf. Sidgwick's History of Ethics, pp. 240-1, and Dewey's Outlines of Ethics, pp. 36-7. 216 ETHICS. [BK. IL, CH. iv. of life as a whole. In modern times, owing to the spirit of self-sacrifice introduced by Christianity, this doctrine has seldom been avowed in any form. Hobbes I and Gassendi are the chief modern writers who decidedly adopt this view ; and it is by them made to rest on psychological Hedonism. It appears also in a manner in Spinoza ; 2 but he subordinates it to a cer- tain metaphysical theory, which we cannot here con- sider. Egoistic Hedonism has always presented a repulsive appearance to the moral consciousness. Yet it is pos- sible to give it a plausible appearance, and even at the present time it is recognised by Dr. Sidgwick as an inevitable element in a complete system of Ethics. The reason why this should seem to be so is evident enough. It is clear that the end at which we are to aim must be some end that will give us satisfaction. When asked why we pursue any end, the only reason- able answer that can be given, is that it satisfies some 1 For an account of Hobbes, see Sidgwick's History of Ethics, pp. 163-170. It should be observed, however (what perhaps Dr. Sidg- wick does not sufficiently bring out), that the Egoism of Hobbes is much more pronounced than his Hedonism. It is even open to question whether he is strictly to be regarded as a Hedonist at all, though on the whole the answer seems to be in the affirmative. Cf. Croom Robertson's Hobbes, p. 136. Helvetius and Mandeville may perhaps also be classed as Egoistic Hedonists. See Lecky's History of European Morals, p. 6sqq. But Mandeville can hardly be taken seriously. It should be added that scarcely any of these writers can be regarded as purely (or at least consistently) egoistic. Even Hobbes is led in the end to recognise a law of Reason (though of a very derivative character) bidding us have regard to the general good. See Croom Robertson's Hobbes, p. 142. 2 See Principal Caird's Spinoza, chaps, xii. and xiii. Spinoza's highest end was rather blessedness than pleasure. See below, 9, (c), and Chap. V., 14. 7-] THE STANDARD AS HAPPINESS. 2 17 demand of our nature ; and the only finally satisfac- tory answer that can be given, is that it satisfies the most fundamental demand of our nature. For if we say that we pursue the end for some external reason as, e. g. because we are commanded by some supe- rior authority there still remains the question why we are to be influenced by that external reason. The only answer that leaves no further question behind it, is the answer that has reference to an ultimate demand of our nature. Now, when we are asked what it is that satisfies the ultimate demands of our nature, it is very natural to answer "Pleasure." On consideration, however, it appears that, in giv- ing this answer, we are misled by the same ambiguity as that which we encountered in dealing with psycho- logical Hedonism. It is undoubtedly true that what- ever satisfies the ultimate demands of our nature will bring pleasure with it, and may consequently be de- scribed as a pleasure. But this pleasure must have some objective content, and that content is not itself pleasure. The object that gives us pleasure may be the pleasure of some one else, or it may be the welfare of our country, or it may be the fulfilment of what we conceive to be our duty. These things are pleasures i, e. they are objects the attainment of which will bring us pleasure. But they are not themselves pleasure i. e. agreeable feeling. Here, again, therefore, to say that we ought to seek pleasures, is not to say that we ought to seek pleasure. Dr. Sidgwick, however, thinks r that " when we sit down in a cool hour" (as he says, quoting Butler), we i Methods of Ethics, Book III., chap. xiv. 5, 21 8 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. IV. perceive that there is nothing which it is reasonable to seek i. e. nothing which is desirable in itself except pleasure. He then argues that since pleasure is the one desirable thing, the greatest pleasure must be the most desirable. A more intense pleasure is conse- quently to be preferred to a less intense, and a.pleasure which lasts longer to one that is of shorter duration. Further, he urges that, in estimating our pleasures, a past or future pleasure ought, cateris paribus, to be regarded as of equal value with a present one. For mere difference of time ' can of itself make no dif- ference to the value of our pleasures. 2 All this is evidently true, on the assumption that pleasure is the one desirable thing. But there seems to be no warrant for this assumption. 3 8. UNIVERSALISTIC HEDONISM. Universalistic He- donism or Utilitarianism is the theory that what we ought to aim at is the greatest possible amount of pleasure of all human beings, or of all sentient crea- tures. The chief exponents of this theory are Bentham, J. S. Mill, and Professor Sidgwick. Bentham's proof of the theory is not very explicit, 4 and may perhaps be considered to be sufficiently represented by that of Mill. Mill's argument is stated thus in the fourth chapter of his Utilitarianism : ' ' No reason can be given why the general happiness is desirable, except that each person, so fa"r as he believes it to be attainable, 1 Apart from the uncertainty which is generally connected with the lapse of time. Allowance would, of course, have to be made for this. 2 Methods of Ethics, Book III., chap, xiii., 3. 3 Cf. 5, and see below, 10. 4 C/. Sidgwick's History of Ethics, pp. 241-245. 8.] THE STANDARD AS HAPPINESS. 219 desires his own happiness. This, however, being a fact, we have not only all the proof which the case admits of, but all which it is possible to require, that happiness is a good : that each person's happiness is a good to that person, and the general happiness, there- fore, a good to the aggregate of all persons." He then goes on to argue that happiness is the only good, on the ground that we have already noticed viz. that to desire a thing and to find it pleasant are but two ways of expressing the same thing. /Now it would be diffi- cult to collect^in a short space so many fallacies as are here committed.), We have already noticed the confu- sion in trft last point, due to the ambiguity in the word "pleasure,." We have also noticed the confusion with regard to the meaning of ''desirable," which vitiates the first part of the argument. It only remains to notice the fallacy involved in the inference that "the general happiness is a good to the aggregate of all per- sons." The fallacy is that which is known in logic as "the fallacy of composition." It> is inferred that be- cause my pleasures are a good to me, yours to you, his to him, and so on, therefore my pleasures -|- your pleasures -f- his pleasures are a goqd to me -j- you -f- him. It is forgotten that neither the pleasures nor the persons are capable of being made into an aggregate. It is as if we should argue that because each one of a hundred soldiers is six feet high, therefore the whole company is six hundred feet high. The answer is that this would be the case if the soldiers stood on one another's heads. And similarly Mill's argument would hold good if the minds of all human beings were to be rolled into one, so as to form an aggregate. But as it is, '"' the aggregate of all persons" is nobody, and con- 220 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. IV. sequently nothing can be a good to him. A good must be a good for somebody. T Dr. Sidgwick's proof is of a more satisfactory char- acter. He considers universalistic Hedonism to be established in the very same way as Egoistic Hedonism is established. 2 He thinks that he has shown that pleasure is the only thing that is in itself desirable. This being the case, pleasure is always to be chosen. And in the choice of pleasure, reason bids us be im- partial. The greatest attainable pleasure is always to be selected. In choosing our own pleasures, the future is to be regarded as of equal weight with the present. In like manner, also, the pleasures of others are to be regarded as of equal weight with our own. It might be thought that in this way Dr. Sidgwick had over- thrown egoistic Hedonism, a'nd shown universalistic Hedonism to be the only reasonable Hedonistic system. But, for some reason which it is not easy to discover, he does not consider this to be the case. So far as can be made out, the reason seems to be that what is primarily our good is our own pleasure ; and it is only in a secondary way that we discover that the pleasure of others ought to be equally regarded. Now this secondary discovery cannot overthrow the first primary truth. Hence we are bound still to regard our own pleasure as a supreme good. For this reason Dr. Sidg- wick considers that there is a certain contradiction or dualism in the final recommendations of reason. We are bound to seek our own greatest pleasure, and yet we are bound also to seek the greatest pleasure of the aggregate of sentient beings. Now these two ends i Cf. Bradley's Ethical Studies, p. 103. * Methods of Ethics, Book III., chap. xiii., 3. 8.] THE STANDARD AS HAPPINESS. 221 may not, and probably will not, coincide. There is thus a conflict between two different commands of reason. This conflict is referred to by Dr. Sidgwick as ''the Dualism of Practical Reason/' 1 But if there is any force in this consideration, it seems as if we might carry it further, and say that there is a similar conflict between the pursuit of our own greatest plea- sure at a given moment and the pursuit of the greatest happiness of life as a whole. For it is the pleasure of a given moment that appears to be primarily desirable. At any given moment what seems desirable is the satisfaction of our present wants. Consequently, on the same principle we might say that we are bound to seek the greatest pleasure of a given moment* no less than the greatest pleasure of our whole life. There would thus be three kinds of Hedonism instead of two the Cyrenaic view being recognised as well as the Epicurean and the Benthamite. However, it is per- haps scarcely worth while to consider which form of Hedonism is the most reasonable, as they seem all to be based on a misconception. Two points may be noted with regard to universal- istic Hedonism. In the first place, it used to be de- scribed as Utilitarianism, because it was supposed to inculcate the pursuit of what is useful. But it is now seen that pleasure is not more useful than any other possible end ; and the name has consequently been dropped in scientific writings though, for shortness, i For Dr. Sidgwick's view on this point, see his Methods of Ethics, concluding chapter. Prof. Gizycki, who is to a large extent a fol- lower of Dr. Sidgwick, does not accept his doctrine on this point. See his criticism of the fourth edition of the Methods of Ethics in the International Journal of Ethics for October, 1890. 222 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. IV. the term is still often used as a designation of the school. In the second place, the end of universalistic Hedonism used to be described as being the attainment of "the greatest happiness of the greatest number/' The mean- ing of this was, 1 that if we had to choose between a great happiness of a small number and a smaller hap- piness of a great number, we ought to prefer the latter, even if the total happiness were less. But it is now recognised that if pleasure is to be regarded as the good, we are bound to choose the greatest pleasure, even if it should be concentrated in a single person, instead of being distributed over a large number. Accordingly, this phrase has also been abandoned. 2 9. GENERAL CRITICISM OF HEDONISM. (a) Pleasure and Value. We see now the general foundation on which the Hedonistic theory of Ethics rests. It may be based either on a psychological theory of the object of desire or on a theory of value. The former basis has been perhaps sufficiently discussed ; but on the latter some remarks must still be added. The general point of view is that, though our desires may often be directed to other objects than pleasure, yet, when we set ourselves calmly to consider the matter, we see that pleasure is that which alone con- stitutes the value for us of the objects of our experi- 1 In so far as it had any definite meaning. The phrase seems to have been frequently employed without any definite meaning being attached to it. There is an interesting discussion of this point in Edgeworth's Mathematical Psychics, p. 117 sqq. 2 It should be observed that Bentham himself seems, in his later years, to have discarded the expression " of the greatest number.' His reasons for doing so (which are not very clearly explained) may be found in Burton's Introduction to Bentham's Works, pp. 18 and 19, note. 9-] THE STANDARD AS HAPPINESS. 223 ence. A psychosis (to use Prof. Huxley's term, 1 adopted by recent psychologists), i. e. a state of con- sciousness, is valuable for us exactly in proportion as it is pleasant. Consequently, though the impulse of desire may sometimes move towards the less pleasant of two possible objects ; and though, therefore, we cannot say that our desires are always moved simply by the calculation of pleasure ; yet, when we reflect calmly, and from a purely egoistic point of view, we see that the only reasonable ground of preference be- tween two psychoses is that the one is more pleasurable than the other. Hence, though it is not true that we always act in such a way as to secure for ourselves the pleasantest of possible psychoses, yet we ought (i. e. it is reasonable) to secure for ourselves the most plea- sant, so long as this does not interfere with the pleasure of any one else ; and, in general, we ought to act in such a way as to make the sum of the pleasures of all psychoses, present and future, as great as possible. Now it is true, I think, that pleasure may fairly be described as a sense of value.* Mr. Bradley has said 3 1 Huxley's Hume, p. 62. * Cf. Dewey's Psychology, p. 16. I mean that it is truer to call pleasure a sense of value than to represent it as constituting value. But even to call it a sense of value involves a kind of anticipation. In sensuous pleasure, for instance, we can hardly be said to have any consciousness of value. The general subject of the relation between pleasure and value is, however, too complicated to be dis- cussed here. I have made some attempt to deal with it in a Note on Value at the end of Chap. IV. of my Introduction to Social Philosophy. Cf. also ' Notes on the Theory of Value " in Mind, New Series, Vol. IV., no. 16. 8 Ethical Studies, p. 234. Mr. Bradley has since abandoned this view. The element of truth in it seems to lie in the fact that pleasure consists in a certain harmony of the content of conscious- 224 ETHICS. [BK. IL, CH. iv. that pleasure is. essentially " the feeling of self-realised- ness." Exception might be taken to this, on the ground that it can scarcely be applied to the feelings of ani- mals, or to the more animal pleasures of men. But at any rate we may say that the feeling of pleasure is the accompaniment of objects which have a certain value l for the consciousness to which they are presented. It is of some importance, I think, to remember that it is the objects, not the feelings of pleasure, that have value the feeling of pleasure being the sense of value, not the value itself; but with this point we need not here trouble ourselves. It is sufficient to note that, from this point of view, it seems at least plausible to say that, though pleasure is not the direct object of desire, and though it is not even in itself that which has value for us, yet it may be accepted as the measure of value ; just as the degrees of a thermometer, though not themselves heat, may be taken as the measure of heat ; or as a token currency, though of little value in itself, may serve to measure the values of commodi- ties. This, I say, is a plausible view. But it evidently rests on the assumption that pleasures are all of the same sort ; just as the power of money to serve as a measure of the values of goods rests on the assumption of a certain uniformity in the currency. If the sense ness with the form of unity within which it falls. But this form of unity need not be a definite consciousness of self and its realization, i Wherein this value consists, we are not here called upon to de- cide. It may lie, as manypsychologists have supposed, in a certain heightening of general vitality or of particular vital functions. On the general nature of pleasure and pain, and their place in our conscious life, the student may be referred to Mr. Stout's Analytic Psychology, chap, xii., or to his Manual, pp. 234-240. 9.] THE STANDARD AS HAPPINESS. 225 of value which we have in pleasant feeling is to be taken as the measure of the values which we reasonably attach to the different objects that are presented to our consciousness, this implies that the values are always judged by the same standard, always presented, so to speak, before the same court of appeal. Or (taking Mr. Bradley's phrase) if pleasure is the feeling of self-rea- lisedness, then in taking pleasure as the measure of our self-realisation, we assume that it is always the same self that is realised. But is this the case ? Be- fore considering this point any further, it may be well to notice the form in which it was presented by Mill. (b) Quality of Pleasures. We may say briefly that the Hedonistic theory proceeds on the assumption that all pleasures are capable of being quantitatively com- pared that it is always possible to determine w;ith regard to two pleasures, or two sums of pleasures, which is the greater and which is the less. On this point a serious difficulty was raised 1 byj. S. Mill, who called attention to the fact that pleasures differ not merely in quantity but also in quality that some pleasures are preferable to others, not because as pleasures they are greater, but because they are of a more excellent kind. , If this is the case, it is evident that the Hedonistic theory must be abandoned, for it is then "no longer true that pleasure is the only desirable thingv One pleasure is, on this view, more desirable than another, not on account of its nature as pleasure, but on account of some other quality that it possesses, beyond its mere 1 Utilitarianism, chap. y. He did not, indeed, raise the point as a difficulty, but rather as indicating a way out of a difficulty. But evidently it is a difficulty from the Hedonistic point of view. Eth. 226 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. IV. pleasantness. Further, if we admit differences of quality, it becomes impossible to place pleasures, and sums of pleasure, in any precise order of desirability. Qualities cannot be estimated against quantities, unless in some way they can be reduced to quantities and this, on Mill's supposition, is not the case. It becomes important, therefore, to consider whether there really are qualitative differences among pleasures. In order to do this, we must recur to some of the points that were discussed in a former chapter. (c) Kinds of Pleasure. At the beginning of Book I. we distinguished between appetites and desires, and we pointed out also that desires may belong to a great variety of distinct universes. Now just as there is a dis- tinction between different kinds of desire, so there is a distinction between the feelings of satisfaction which accompany the attainment of their objects. When an appetite is satisfied, the feeling of satisfaction is simple and immediate. It is to this kind of feeling that the term pleasure is perhaps most properly applied. On the other hand, the feeling which accompanies the satis- faction of desire is of a more intellectual or reflective character, and ought perhaps rather to be described as happiness. Human desire involves the more or less direct consciousness of an end, and in the feeling which accompanies its satisfaction there is also a more or less direct consciousness of an end attained. These feel- ings vary greatly, according to the nature of the uni- verse within which we are living at the time when the desire is satisfied. The feelings of satisfaction that belong to the universe of self-interest are very different from, those that belong to the universe of duty ; those that belong to the universe of animal enjoyment are 9-] THE STANDARD AS HAPPINESS. 22/ very different from those that belong to the universe of poetic or religious emotion. Carlyle has suggested x that, in the case of such higher universes as these, the feeling ought to be described rather as blessedness 2 than as happiness. At any rate, whether or not we use different words for the different universes, it seems clear that the feelings in question are of very different characters. It is, in fact, a very different self that is realised in each of these cases ; and the feeling of self- realisedness is consequently different. Or, to put it in the other form that we have used, the sense of value in each case is a sense of value for a different judge. We are estimating, as it were, sometimes in gold, sometimes in silver, and sometimes in copper. Now it might be possible, no doubt, to find a common denominator for these : but this common denominator does not seem to be supplied in the feeling of pleasure itself. There is, however, a difficulty which is apt to pre- sent itself at this point. It is apt to be thought that what is different in these different cases is not the feeling itself, but merely the object on which the feeling depends. This is the point that we have next to consider. (d) Pleasure inseparable from its Object. Pleasure, it must be remembered, is not an entity, having an ex- istence by itself, independently of the object in which pleasure is felt, or of the unity of consciousness to 1 Sartor Resartus, Book II., chap. ix. 2 Spinoza also seems to use the term beatitudo in this sense. This form of happiness is found, according to Spinoza, in the ' Intellec- tual Love of God," i. e. in the appreciation of the universe as the realization of a spiritual principle. Cf. also Janet's Theory of Morals, Book I., chap. ix. 228 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. IV. which that object is presented. It is an element in a total state of consciousness, and is entirely relative to the other elements in that state. It is the inner side of that of which the other elements may be said to form the outer side. The sharp distinction that we are apt to draw between an object of consciousness and the feeling of pleasure or pain which accom- panies it, is due largely to an inadequate apprehension of the nature of the object which is presented to our consciousness. Take, for instance, the pleasure which accompanies the hearing of a musical performance. The pleasure here is evidently quite distinct from the music which we hear. But it must be remembered that the music which we hear is not the total object that is before our consciousness. The hearing of the music is accompanied by all sorts of ideas which it calls up in our minds. It is accompanied also by other ideas which were passing through our minds before the music commenced. The object which is before our consciousness is a complex total of in- numerable thoughts and images. Now the feeling of pleasure is not this complex total ; but neither can it be said to be anything that is separable from that total. It is the inner side to which that total corre- sponds as the outer side. Given that total, we could not but have that feeling of pleasure. Change that total, and our feeling of pleasure must also be changed. The total content of our consciousness in listening to a piece of music is different from the total content in reading a novel or witnessing a dramatic performance : the feeling of pleasure is also different. The feeling and the object to which it corresponds are like the two sides of a curve. They are distinguishable 9-] THE STANDARD AS HAPPINESS. 22Q from one another ; yet they are inseparable, and the one necessarily varies with the other. * (e) Pleasures cannot be Summed. It follows from this that there cannot be any calculus of pleasures i. e. that the values of pleasures cannot be quanti- tatively estimated. For there can be no quantitative estimate of things that are not homogeneous. But, indeed, even apart from this consideration, there seems to be a certain confusion in the Hedonistic idea that we ought to aim at a greatest sum of pleasures. If pleasure is the one thing that is desirable, it is clear that a sum of pleasures cannot be desirable ; for a sum of pleasures is not pleasure. We are apt to think that a sum of pleasures is pleasure, just as a sum of 1 Dr. Sidgwick has replied to this objection, as stated by Green. " It is sometimes said," he remarks (Methods of Ethics, Book II., chap, ii., 2, note) " that ' pleasure as feeling, in distinction from its con- ditions which are not feelings, cannot be conceived.' This is true in a certain sense of the word ' conceive ' ; but not in any sense which would prevent us from taking pleasure as an end of rational action. To adopt an old comparison, it is neither more nor less true than the statement that an angle cannot be ' conceived ' apart from its sides. We certainly cannot form the notion of an angle without the notion of sides containing it ; but this does not prevent us from apprehending with perfect definiteness the magnitude of any angle as greater or less than that of any other, without any comparison of the pairs of con- taining sides. Similarly we cannot form a notion of any pleasure existing apart from some ' conditions which are not feelings ' ; but this is no obstacle to our comparing a pleasure felt under any given conditions with any other, however otherwise conditioned, and pro- nouncing it equal or unequal : and we require no more than this to enable us to take ' amount of pleasure ' as our standard in deciding between alternatives of conduct." But this reply seems to involve a misconception of the precise nature of the criticism. The length of the sides makes no difference to the size of the angle ; whereas Green's argument is that the nature of the objects makes all the difference in the world to the kind of pleasure that we feel. 230 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. IV. numbers is a number. But this is evidently not the case. A sum of pleasures is not pleasure, any more than a sum of men is a man. For pleasures, like men, cannot be added to one another. Consequently, if pleasure is the only thing that is desirable, a sum of pleasures cannot possibly be desirable. If the Hedon- istic view were to be adopted, we ought always to desire the greatest pleasure i. e. we ought to aim at producing the most intense feeling of pleasure that it is possible to reach in some one's consciousness. 1 This would be the highest aim. A sum of smaller pleasures in a number of different people's conscious- nesses, could not be preferable to this ; because a sum of pleasures is not pleasure at all. The reason why this does not appear to be the case, is that we habitually think of the desirable thing for man not as a feeling of pleasure but- as a continuous state of hap- piness. But a continuous state of happiness is not a mere feeling of pleasure. It has a certain objective con- tent. Now if we regard this content as the desirable thing, we do not regard the feeling of pleasure as the one thing that is desirable ; i. e. we abandon Hedonism. (/") Matter without Form. We may sum up the de- fects of Hedonism by saying that it has the opposite i Just as, if our object were to produce the greatest man (instead of the greatest pleasure), Falstaff would have to be preferred to the whole of his ragged company. We may calculate, no doubt, that nine tailors make a man ; but that is only on the assumption that our object is not man as such, but the fulfilment of certain functions of a man. It might be said that in a number of men there is more flesh and blood and bone than in oue. But this is to measure flesh, blood, and bone, not men. So it is possible that in a number of pleasant experiences there is more of something than there is in one. But they are not a greater pleasure. 9-] THE STANDARD AS HAPPINESS. 231 fault to that which we found in the system of Kant. Kant's principle of self-consistency gave us form with- out matter the mere form of reason, with all the par- ticular content of the desires left out. Hedonism, on the other hand, gives us matter without form. It takes up all the desires as they stand, and regards the satisfaction of all as having an equal right, in so far as the pleasant feeling accompanying the satisfaction is equally intense and lasts equally long. This view ignores the fact that what we really seek to satisfy is not our desires but ourselves ; and the value of our satisfactions depends on the kind of self to which the satisfaction is given i. e. it depends on the universe within which the satisfaction is received. It may be mere animal pleasure : it may be human happiness : it may be saint-like bliss. To consider it in this way is to consider our desires with reference to their form with reference to the universe in which they have a place. Hedonism ignores this form. It looks on our desires and their gratifications simply as quantities of raw material. It regards our wants as so many mouths to be filled, and the pleasures of their satisfac- tion as so many lumps of sugar to go into them. It is matter without form. 1 i For further criticism on Hedonism, I may refer to Bradley's Ethical Studies, Essay III., Green's Prolegomena to Ethics, Book III., chap, i., and Book IV., chaps, iii. and iv., Sorley's Ethics of Natural- ism, Part I., chap, iii., Alexander's Moral Order and Progress, Book II., Part I., chap, v., 2, Janet's Theory of Morals, Book I., chap, iv., Dewey's Outlines of Ethics, pp. 14-67, Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, Book III., chap. i. See also Watson's Hedonistic Theories from Ansttppus to Spencer, and the article by Prof. James Seth, "Is Pleasure the Summum Bonum ?" in the International Journal of Ethics, Vol. VI., no, 4. For a fuller statement of my own view on this subject, I may refer to my Introduction to Social Philosophy, chap. iv. 232 ETHICS. [BK. ii., CH. iv. 10. RELATION OF HAPPINESS TO THE SELF. But though we thus seem bound to reject the Hedonistic theory, we must not overlook the importance of hap- piness. If happiness is not exactly " our being's end and aim," it is yet certain that we cannot attain the end of our being without attaining happiness. All that we have to insist on is that in seeking happiness we must observe exactly what kind of happiness it is that we seek. Happiness is relative to the nature of the being who enjoys it. The happiness of a man is different from the happiness of a beast : the happiness of a wise man is different from the happiness of a fool. What con- t stitutes our happiness, in fact, depends on the universe in which we live. The smaller our universe, the more easily is our happiness attained. " That low man seeks a little thing to do, Sees it and does it : This high man, with a great thing to pursue, Dies ere he knows it." " It is indisputable," as Mill says, 1 " that the being whose capacities of enjoyment are low, has the greatest chance of having them fully satisfied ;' and a highly endowed being will always feel that any happiness which he can look for, as the world is constituted, is imperfect. But he can learn to bear its imperfections if they are at all bearable ; and they will not make him envy the being who is indeed unconscious of the im- perfections, but only because he feels not at all the good which those imperfections qualify. It is better to be a human being dissatisfied than a pig satisfied ; better to be Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied. " What is important, then, is not that we should seek the 1 Utilitarianism, chap. ii. 11.] THE STANDARD AS HAPPINESS. 233 greatest sum of happiness, but the best kind of happi- ness. " We can only have the highest happiness," said George Eliot, ' ' ' such as goes along with being a great man by having wide thoughts, and much feeling for the rest of the world as well as ourselves ; and this sort of happiness often brings so much pain with-^t that we can only tell it from pain by its being what we would choose before everything else, because our souls see it is good." The nature of the highest happiness, then, depends not on its being the greatest sum, but on its belonging to the highest kind of character. That is, it depends on the nature of the self, on the nature of the universe within which we habitually live. To attain the highest happiness, then, we must live habit- ually in the highest kind of universe, and the desires that belong to that universe must be satisfied. 11. SELF-REALISATION AS THE END. We seem, how- ever, to be very little farther on than we were at the beginning of this chapter. For at the beginning of the chapter we propounded the question, how we were to distinguish a higher universe from a lower; and this question is still unanswered. We have only been enabled to see that quantity of pleasure cannot furnish the criterion, and that we must look for the criterion rather in the nature of the character itself. We see, in fact, that the end must consist in some form of self- realisation, /. e. in some form of the development of character that the end, in short, ought to be described rather as perfection than as happiness. What per- fection or self-realisation consists in, we must endea- vour to find out in the following chapter. 1 Epilogue to Romola. 234 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. V. CHAPTER V. THE STANDARD AS PERFECTION. 1. APPLICATION OF EVOLUTION TO MORALS. The idea that the end at which we are to aim is the realisation of the self or the development of character, leads us at once to regard the moral life as a process of growth. Although this idea has often been applied to the moral life in former ages, yet it is chiefly in recent times that the conception has been made prominent. The whole idea of growth or development the idea of "evolu- tion," as it is often called may almost be said to be a discovery of the present century. It was first brought into prominence by Hegel and Comte ; it was applied by Lamarck, Darwin, and others, to the origin of species ; while Mr. Spencer and others have extended its applications to the origin of social institutions, forms of government, and the like, and even to the formation of the solar and stellar systems. With these applications we are not here concerned. We have to deal only with the application of the idea of evolution to morals. And even with this application we have to deal only in a certain aspect. We are not concerned at present with the fact that the moral life of individuals and nations undergoes a gradual growth or develop- ment in the course of years or ages. This is a fact of moral history, whereas here we are concerned only with the theory of that which is essential to the very 2.] THE vSTANDARD AS PERFECTION. 235 nature of morality. When we say, then, that the idea of evolution is applicable to the moral life, we mean that the moral life is, in its very essence, a growth or development. The sense in which it is so will, it is hoped, become apparent as we proceed. 2. DEVELOPMENT OF LIFE. We may say, to begin with, that what we mean is this. There is in the moral life of man a certain end or ideal, to which he may attain, or of which he may fall short ; and the signi- ficance of his life consists in the pursuit of this end or ideal, and the gradual attainment of it. We may illustrate what we mean by reference to the forms of animal life. Among animals there are some that we naturally regard as standing higher in the scale of being than others. We judge them to be higher by reference to a certain (it may be a somewhat vague) standard that we have in our minds whether it be, as with Mr. Herbert Spencer, the standard of adaptation to their environment, or the standard of approximation to the human type, or whatever else it may be. Now if we are right in supposing that there is a continuous development going on throughout the species of animal existence, the main significance of this development will lie in the evolution of forms of life that approach more and more nearly to the standard or ideal type. Similarly, the evolutionary theory of Ethics is the view that there is a standard or ideal of character, and that the significance of the moral life consists in the grad- ual approximation to that type. 3. HIGHER AND LOWER VIEWS OF DEVELOPMENT. In all development there is a beginning, a process, and an end. The developing thing starts from a certain level and moves onwards towards a higher level. Now in 236 ETHICS. [BK. IT., CH. v. general what is presented to us is neither the beginning nor the end, but the process. The lowest forms of animal life do not often come before our notice, and the nature of the lowest of all is quite obscure. Nor do we know what possibilities there may be of still further development in the forms of animal life. The starting-point and the goal are alike concealed from us : we see only the race. So it is also with the moral life. The earliest beginnings of the moral conscious- ness are hidden in obscurity ; and, on the other hand, we can scarcely form a clear conception of a perfectly developed moral life. We know it only in the course of its development. Nevertheless, we cannot under- stand the process except by reference either to its beginning or to its end. And we may endeavour to understand it by reference either to the one or to the other. Hence there are two possible methods of inter- preting the moral life, if we adopt the theory of devel- opment. We may explain it by reference to its begin- f ning or to its end. The former is perhaps the more natural method ; as it is most usual to explain pheno- mena by their causes and mode of origination. But further consideration seems to show that this is in reality the lower and less satisfactory method. Let us con- sider briefly the nature and merits of the two methods. 4. EXPLANATION BY BEGINNING. It seems most natural at first to endeavour to explain the moral life Jby tracing it back to its origin in the needs of savages, or even in the struggles of the lower animals. It is in this way that we explain ordinary natural phenomena, such as the formation of geological strata, and even the growth and decline of nations. We go back to the beginning, or as near to the beginning as we can get, 5-] THE STANDARD AS PERFECTION. 237 and trace the causes that have been in operation throughout the development of the object of our study. We do not inquire what the end of it will be. To inquire into this would, in general, throw little, if any, light upon its actual condition. Ought not the develop- ment of morals to be' studied in the same way ? The answer seems clear. The science of Ethics, as we have already pointed out, occupies quite a different point of view from that of the natural sciences. It is not concerned with the investigation of origins and with the tracing of history, but with the determination of ideals and the consideration of the way in which these ideals influence conduct. Now the ideal lies at the end rather than at the beginning. In dealing with natural phenomena we are concerned primarily with what is, an d secondarily with the way in which it has come to be what it is. In Ethics, on the other hand, it is of comparatively little interest to know what is. 1 "Man partly is, and wholly hopes to be." It is what he hopes to be that determines the direction of his growth." The meaning of this, however, may become clearer if we direct attention for a little to the theory of one of the most eminent of those recent writers who have endeavoured to deal with the moral life by tracing yii back to its origin. 5. MR. HERBERT SPENCER'S VIEW OF ETHICS. Mr. Herbert Spencer's theory on this subject is contained in a very interesting book entitled The Data of Ethics * To give any complete account of the contents of that 1 /. e. what is in the purely natural history sense, in which we say that the lion is, while the unicorn is not. In the deeper sense, of course, Ethics is concerned with what is viz. with what man's fun- damental nature is. Cf. above, chap. iii. of the present Book, 3. 2 Now Part I. of his larger book, The Principles of Ethics. 238 ETHICS. [BK. IT., CH. v. book would be quite impossible here ; but the follow- ing may be taken as indicating its drift. l Mr. Spencer begins by trying to determine what we mean by con- duct, and what we mean by calling conduct good or bad. He examines this question by going back to the life of the lower animals. In all life there is what may be called conduct, and in all life it may be good or bad. Now the essence of life, as seen in its lowest forms, consists, according to Mr. Spencer, in "the / continuous adjustment of internal relations to external J relations " i. e. the constant effort of an organism to adapt itself to its environment. All conduct tends either to promote or to hinder such adaptation. In so far as it tends to promote it, it is good : in so far as it tends to hinder it, it is bad. Good conduct produces pleasure, because it brings the organism into harmony with its surroundings. Bad conduct produces pain. Nearly all conduct is partly good and partly bad. Perfectly good conduct would be that which produces only pleasure with no accompanying pain. But con- duct is relatively good when it tends on the whole to produce a surplus of pleasure over pain i. e. when it tends on the whole to produce a more perfect ad- justment of organism to environment. The supreme moral end is to help on the process of development, which consists in a more and more perfect adjustment of internal relations to external relations. 6. CRITICISM OF MR. SPENCER'S VIEW. Now this theory is in many ways suggestive. It helps to bring the study of the moral life into co-ordination with the study of life generally ; and this is in harmony with the whole development of modern scientific thought, 1 Cf. Sidgwick's History of Ethics, pp. 254-257. 6.] THE STANDARD AS PERFECTION. 239 which leads us to believe that there are no absolute divisions between the various objects of our knowledge, and that we are never likely to fully understand any one of these objects without bringing it into relation to all the rest. Yet a little reflection seems to show that Mr. Spencer's theory involves a kind of varepov xpo-cepov, or putting the cart before the horse. For what is meant by saying that the development of our lives means a continuous process of adjustment to our environment ? It is easy to see that in a certain sense such a process is continually going on. The progress of our knowledge means that we are constantly adjust- ing our ideas more and more to the objective realities of nature. In like manner, the advance of the arts means that we are gradually learning to adjust our modes of life to the necessities imposed upon us by the conditions of the external world. And so in morals, in so far as we can claim to have "sweeter manners, purer laws " than our forefathers, in so far as we have wider ideas of what is required of us, and are more conscientious in meeting these requirements, all this means that we are adjusting our modes of life more and more to the necessities of the case. But what exactly is implied in this adjustment ? Does it not imply, above everything, that we have certain ends that we set before ourselves to be attained \ When we say that two things are not adjusted to one another, we imply that we have some idea of a relation in which the two things ought to stand and in which at present they do not stand. In a sense everything is adjusted to everything else. Death is an adjustment. A living being is conscious of a certain want of adjust- ment only because it has certain definite aims. The 240 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. V. scientific man perceives that his ideas are not fully adjusted to the facts of nature, and he pursues know- ledge in order that he may adjust them more com- pletely ; but a stone is adjusted to its environment without the need of any such effort. 1 The scientific man is aware of a want of adjustment simply because he is aware of an un attained end in other words, because he brings an ideal with him to which the world does not conform. But if this be so, then surely we ought to turn the statement the other way about. We ought not to say that the deficiency of living beings, ^ which the development of their lives is gradually removing, consists in the fact that they are not adjusted to their environment ; but rather, at least in the case of seflTconscious beings, that the deficiency consists in the fact that their environment is not adjusted to them. For it is not in the environment, but I in themselves, that the standard lies; with reference to ' which a deficiency is pronounced. 'If a man were content to " let the world slide," he would soon enough become adjusted to his environment ; it is because he ^insists on pursuing his own ends that the process of (adjustment is a hard one. It is because he wants to adjust his environment to himself; or rather, because he wants to adjust both himself and his surroundings to a certain ideal of what his life ought to be. Even in the case of the lower animals, indeed, it would often be as true to say that they adjust their environment I to themselves as that they adjust themselves to their [environment. In any case, adjustment seems to have no meaning unless we presuppose some ideal form of adjustment, some end that is consciously or uncon- i Cf. Prof. Alexander's Moral Order and Progress, pp. 271-2. /] THE STANDARD AS PERFECTION. 24! sciously sought. But if so, then it is surely rather with the idea of this end that we ought to start than with the mere idea of the process of adjustment, in which the end is presupposed. Though it seems natural to begin at the beginning in our explanation and move on, through the process, to the end ; yet since in this case it is the end by which the process is determined, it is rather at the end that we ought to begin. 1 7. VIEWS OF OTHER EVOLUTIONISTS. Mr. Spencer's theory is distinguished from that of most other writers of the evolutionist school by the distinctness with which he recognises an ultimate and absolute end to' which conduct is directed. Although he begins his- explanation from below, from the beginning, from the simplest forms of life, he yet leads up to the concep- tion of an absolute end. Hence he insists on the need of treating Ethics from a teleological point ^ of view 2 ; and indeed carries his conception of an ultimate end so far that he even propounds the idea of an absolute system of Ethics, not relating to the present world at all, but rather to a world in which the adjustment to environment shall have been com- --' pletely brought about. 3 Most other evolutionists have repudiated this absolute Ethics, * and have also avoided the statement of any absolute end to which we are moving. Thus, Mr. Leslie Stephen seems to content 1 For a more complete discussion of Spencer's doctrine, see Sor- ley's Ethics of Naturalism, especially pp. 203-220, Alexander's Moral Order and Progress, pp. 266-277, Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, pp. 136-159, and Dewey's Outlines of Ethics, pp. 67-78, and pp. 142-146. 2 Data of Ethics, pp. 304-5. 8 See Dr. Sidgwick's account of this, History ofEthics,p. 256. 4 See, for instance, Stephen's Science of Ethics, p. 430, Alexander's Moral Order and Progress, p. 270. Eth. 242 ETHICS. [BK. ii., CH. v. himself with the idea of health or efficiency. " A moral rule is a statement of a condition of social welfare." 1 Virtue means efficiency with a view to the maintenance of social equilibrium. 2 This theory does not require any view of an ultimate end to which society is mov- ing ; but simply takes society as it finds it, and regards its preservation and equilibrium as the end to be aimed at. 3 Prof. Alexander adopts a view which is sub- stantially the same. Thus he says, 4 "An act or person is measured by a certain standard or criterion of con- duct, which has been called the moral ideal. This moral ideal is an adjusted order of conduct, which is oased upon contending inclinations and establishes an equilibrium between them. Goodness is nothing but this adjustment in the equilibrated whole." This view of Ethics bears a close relation to the doctrine of the development of animal life which was set forth by Darwin. According to Darwin's view, the develop- ment of animal species takes place by means of a ' ' struggle for existence, " in which ' ' the fittest " survive. This process is commonly referred to as one of "nat- ural selection." In the same way, the view of Mr. Stephen and Prof. Alexander is that in the moral life there is a process of natural selection in which the most efficient, or the most perfectly equilibrated type of conduct is preserved. The connection between i Science of Ethics, p. 450. 2 Ibid., pp. 79-81, &c. Cf. the statement of Mr. Stephen's theory in Sidgwick's History of Ethics, p. 257. Of course, on such a view, any actual state of society is regarded as being only partly in equilibrium ; and the end aimed at may be said to be a condition of perfect equilibrium. But the writers referred to do not attempt to give any positive account of what would be involved in such an equilibrium. 4 Moral Order and Progress, p. 399. i 8.] THE STANDARD AS PERFECTION. 243 this theory and that of Darwin has been well worked out by Prof. Alexander in a recent article on ' ' Natural Selection in Morals " z ; and as this seems to me to contain perhaps the best summary statement that we have in English 2 of the attempt to explain morality from below, it may be worth while to indicate briefly its general scope and gist. 8. NATURAL SELECTION IN MORALS. "Natural Selec- tion," says Mr. Alexander, 3 "is a name for the process by which different species with characteristic structures contend for supremacy, and one prevails and becomes relatively permanent." In the case of animal life the struggle is primarily one between different individuals or sets of individuals, some of which die out, while the "more fit " survive. It is not exactly so in morals. ' ' The war of natural selection is carried on in human affairs not against weaker or incompatible individuals, but against their ideals or modes of life. It does not suffer any mode of life to prevail or persist but one which is compatible with social welfare." 4 What happens in the animal world is that certain individuals or sets of individuals happen to be born with peculiar natural gifts. These gifts turn out to be such as make them more fit to survive than other individuals ; and accordingly they do survive, and transmit their char- acteristics to their descendants, while their less favoured 1 International Journal of Ethics, vol. ii., No. 4 (July, 1882), pp. 409- 439. Cf. also Prof. Alexander's Moral Order and Progress, Book III., chap, iv., where the same" point is brought out. 2 An even more extreme instance of an attempt to explain morality from below, and on very similar lines, will be found in a recent Ger- man work entitled Einleitungin die Morahvissenschaft by Dr. Georg Simmel. 3 Loc. CiL, p 431. 4 Ibid., p. 428, 244 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. V. rivals die out. In the case of morals, however, we are dealing "not with animals as such, but with minds." 1 In such cases "we have something of the following kind. A person arises (or a few persons) whose feelings, modified by more or less deliberate reflection, incline him to a new course of conduct. He dislikes cruelty or discourtesy, or he objects to see- ing women with inferior freedom, or to the unlimited opportunity of intoxication. 'He may stand alone and with only a few friends to support him. His proposal may excite ridicule or scorn or hatred ; and if he is a great reformer, he may endure hardship and obloquy, or even death at the hands of the great body of persons whom he offends. By degrees his ideas spread more and more ; people discover that they have similar leanings ; they are persuaded by him ; their previous antagonism to him is replaced by attachment to the new mode of conduct, the new political institution. The new ideas gather every day fresh strength, until at last they occupy the minds of a majority of persons, or even of nearly all." 2 "Persuasion and education, in fact, without destruction, replace here the process of propagation of its own species and destruction of | the rival ones, by which in the natural world species become numerically strong and persistent. " ' ' Persua- sion corresponds to the extermination of the rivals"; J for "the victory of mind over mind consists in persua- sion." 3 Thus, then, the origin of moral ideals, like the origin of species, is to be explained by a process of nat- ural selection. 9. NEED OF TELEOLOGY. Now there can be no 1 Ibid,, p. 420 " * Loc. cit. t p. 414. Ibid., p. 420. 9-] THE STANDARD AS PERFECTION. 245 doubt that all this is very suggestive and instructive ; but if it is to be taken as a complete account of the moral ideal, it labours under a fatal defect. It is a mere natural history of the growth of the moral life. - Now in dealing with animal life we may be content with a mere natural history. In this case we do not want to know much more than the nature of .the species that exist and that have existed, and the cir- cumstances that have led them to survive or perish. We are not much interested to inquire what right man has to extirpate the wolf, or how we are to justify the extermination of the mammoth or the survival of the / ape. We are not specially interested in the relative values of different species of animal life. But it is just with the question of value that Ethics is concerned. We wish to know the ground of preference of one kind of con- / duct over another ; and it is no solution of this problem to say that the one kind has succeeded in driving out the other. This, indeed, is partly admitted by Mr. Alex- ander himself. "A new plan of life," he says, "is not made good because it succeeds ; its success is the stamp, the imprimatur affixed to it by the course of history, the sign that it is good." r But this admission is of little value ; for when he is asked what it is, then, that makes it good, what is the common characteristic that makes ideals morally valuable, he can only answer "that that common characteristic consists in that such / a plan of life is adapted to the conditions of existence ; J that under it the society reacts without friction upon i Loc. tit, p. 418. Sometimes, I think, Mr. Alexander forgets this. Thus, in his Moral Order and Progress, p. 307, he says" Evil is simply that which has been rejected and defeated in the struggle with the good." 246 ETHICS. [BK. IL, CH. v. its surroundings, or, as I should prefer to say, that in the conditions in which it is placed society can with this ideal so live that no part of it shall encroach upon the rest, that the society can be in equilibrium with itself." l But why should we desire that society should be in equilibrium with itself? What is it that makes (this condition valuable to us? This is the question which we are forced to ask ; and it is a similar question that recurs in connection with the view of Mr. Spencer, and with all similar theories. These writers answer questions of natural history instead of questions of Ethics. 2 What they say may throw considerable light on the way in which the moral life has developed, but does not answer the question Why are we to choose / that life ? Why, we may ask, for instance, should we not seek to disturb the equilibrium of society, instead of promoting it ? The answer to this could only be given by showing that that equilibrium is a good. 1 Ibid., p. 419. Cf. also Prof. Alexander's article on " The Idea of Value," in Mind, vol. i., No. i (Jan., 1892), especially pp. 44-48. 2 This point is very fully brought out in Sorley's Ethics of Natural- ism, Part II., chap. ix. A short passage may here be quoted (pp. 270-1). "A man might quite reasonably ask why he should adopt as maxims of conduct the laws seen to operate in nature. The end, in this way, is not made to follow from the natural function of man. It is simply a mode in which the events of the world occur ; and we must, therefore, give a reason why it should be adopted as his end by the individual agent. To him there may be no sufficient ground of inducement to become ' a self-conscious agent in the evolution of the universe.' From the purely evolutionist point of view, no definite attempt has been made to solve the difficulty. It seems really to go no deeper than Dr. Johnson's reply to Bos well, when the latter plagued him to give a reason for action : ' Sir,' said he, in an animated tone, 'it is driving on the system of life.'" Cf. Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics, p. 83, Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, PP- I49-I56- 10.] THE STANDARD AS PERFECTION. 247 Similarly, we may ask Why may we not set our- selves in opposition to the stream of development which Mr. Spencer traces ? Here again the answer to this question must be found by showing that the stream of development is leading to something which we re- cognize as good something that can serve as an ideal for our moral nature. If this can be shown, then we may start from that ideal. That ideal then becomes the explanation of the process, instead of the process being an explanation of it. We go through the pro- cess of development because we are seeking that ideal. The end, -and not the beginning, is thus taken as the principle of explanation. x 10. EXPLANATION BY END. Even in the case of the development of animal life it is not at all certain that the idea of teleology ought not to be introduced. Indeed even in Mr. Spencer's view of evolution there is a kind of teleology. The whole life of animals is regarded as a continual struggle after a perfect adjust- ment. That is the ideal by which the whole process is explained. And it is possible that on a deeper view of evolution the meaning of the process might be seen to have a still more profoundly teleological significance. So at least Emerson thought " Striving to be man, the worm Mounts through all the spires of form." So also Aristotle and Hegel thought. 2 But however 1 This seems to be the essential point in the argument of Prof. Huxley's famous Romanes Lecture (Evolution and Ethics). But Prof. Huxley partly obscures the point by drawing an unreal anti- thesis between the processes of nature and the activities of the moral life. Cf. also Principal Lloyd Morgan's Habit and Instinct, pp. 271 and 335, and Seth's Man's Place in the Cosmos, I. 2 It is still more remarkable (though perhaps not so consistent) to 248 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. V. this may be with regard to animal life, and to the life of nature generally, there can be no doubt that we (must apply teleological ideas in Ethics. Indeed, as ^ we have seen, this is explicitly stated by Mr. Herbert Spencer himself. But if this is the case, then the at- tempt to explain the moral life from behind cannot be * of much avail. We must explain it rather by what lies in front of us, by the ideal or end that we have in view. How this may be done, may be indicated by a brief reference to the work of the most dis- tinguished of those thinkers in recent times who- have attempted it the late Professor T. H. Green. 11. GREEN'S VIEW OF ETHICS. Green's doctrine is stated in his great work entitled Prolegomena to Ethics, probably the most considerable contribution to ethical science that has been made in England during the present century. 1 Green, taught that the essential I element in the nature of man is the rational or spiritual 3 \/ principle within him. Man has appetite, as animals have, and, like them, he has sensations and mental images ; but these, and everything else in man's nature, are modified by the fact that he has reason. ^ His appetites are not mere appetites : his sensations^ -^ are not mere sensations. In his appetites there is^ always more or less explicitly present the conscious- ness of an end /. e. they are desires and not mere appe- tites. 2 In his sensations there is always more or less find such a pronounced materialist as Duhring objecting strongly to the Darwinian attempt to explain evolution by the mere struggle for existence, and urging the adoption of a more teleological view. See his Cursus der Philosophic, II. iii. 1 The account of Green's doctrine contained in Sidgwick's History of Ethics (pp. 259-260) is unhappily very inadequate. 3 I may say that Green seems to me to exaggerate the extent to 11.] THE STANDARD AS PERFECTION. 249 explicitly present the element of knowledge i. e. they are perceptions, and not mere sensations. This is due to the fact that man is rational, self-conscious, spiritual. This is the essential fact with regard to man's nature. Green points out, indeed, that even in animal life, and even in inanimate nature, we must assume the presence of a rational principle just as Mr. Spencer points out that even in animal life there is present the principle of adjustment. But in nature the presence of this prin- ciple is implicit. We must believe that it is there, but it is co-ncealed or imperfectly manifested. In man it is explicit ; or, at any rate, it is becoming explicit. And the significance of the moral life consists in the con- stant endeavour to make this principle more and more explicit to bring out more and more completely our rational, self-conscious, spiritual nature. How exactly this is to be done, Green admits, it is not easy to answer, just because our rational nature is not yet completely developed. The moral life is to be ex- which animal appetites are transmuted in human consciousness. Perhaps, however, my own statement above (Book I., chap, i., 3) contains an exaggeration on the opposite side. At any rate, the main point here is that the essence of man consists in his rational nature, not in anything that he has in common with a mere animal (if there is any mere animal). What exactly is involved in the consciousness of the higher forms of animal life, is a difficult question. It seems absurd to deny them perception. It is hard even to suppose that they are without perceptual images. Else how does the ox know his master's crib ? How does the bird construct its nest ? There seems to be involved in such cases not only an apprehension of the object before them but an anticipatory image of what is about to be. And indeed this seems to be required even for Darwin's earthworms ( Vegetable Mould, chap. ii.). But all this lies beyond our present sub- ject. Reference may be made to Lloyd Morgan's Animal Lije and Intelligence (especially chapter ix.), to Wundt's Human and Animal Psychology, pp. 350-366, and to Stout's Manual^ pp. 264-266. I 250 ETHICS. [BK. ii., CH. v. plained by its end ; but as we have not reached the end, we cannot, in any complete form, give the ex- planation. Still, we can to a considerable extent see in what way our rational nature has been so far de- veloped, and in what direction we may proceed to develop it more fully. This is a brief statement of Green's point of view ; and it certainly appears to furnish us with an answer to the question with which we set out viz. the ques- tion how we are to determine which is the higher and which is the lower among our universes of desire. Green's answer is the highest universe is that which is most completely rational. The meaning of this, how- ever, must be somewhat more fully considered, in relation to the point of view that we have already tried to develop. 12. THE TRUE SELF. We have seen that there are a great number of universes within which a man may live. In some of these men live only for moments at a time : in others they live habitually. Some of them are universes within which no abiding satisfaction can be found. The universe of mere animal enjoyment is of this nature. Its pleasures soon pall upon the appetite. In others we find that we have a more per- manent resting-place. Now the nature of the universe within which a man habitually lives constitutes, as we have seen, his character or self. If he chances to be led into some other universe by a sudden impulse or unexpected temptation, the man scarcely considers himself to be responsible for his actions within that universe. He says that he was not himself when he acted so. He was not within his own universe. But there is no limited universe within which we can \ 12.] THE STANDARD AS PERFECTION. 25! find permanent satisfaction. As we grow older, we get crusted over with habits, and go on, with little misgiv- ing, within the universe to which we have grown accustomed. But if the universe is an imperfect one, we are not without occasional pricks of conscience *'. e. we sometimes become aware of a higher universe within which we ought to be living. "Just when we are safest, there's a sunset-touch, A fancy from a flower-bell, some one's death, A chorus-ending from Euripides And that's enough for fifty hopes and fears, As old and new at once as nature's self, To rap and knock and enter in our soul." l On such occasions we begin to feel that even in the life that we ordinarily live we are not ourselves. There is a want of permanence in our habitual universe, just as there is in those into which we find ourselves occa- sionally drifted by passion and impulse. Just as we do not feel satisfied in these, but escape from them as rapidly as we can, and declare that we were not ourselves when we were in them ; so we become con- scious at times that even in our habitual lives there is something unsatisfying, and if it were not for thejrpst of custom we would make our escape from these also, and declare that in them also we are not ourselves. Where, then, is the universe within which we should find an abiding satisfaction ? What is the true self ? - The true self is what is perhaps best described as the rational self. It is the universe that we occupy in our moments of deepest wisdom and insight. To say fully what the content of this universe is, would no doubt, as Green points out, 2 be impossible. The content of 1 Browning Bishop Blougram's Apology. * Prolegomena to Ethics, 288, p. 310. 252 ETHICS. [BK. IT., CH. v. the universe of rational insight is as wide as the uni- verse of actual fact. To live completely in that uni- verse would be to understand completely the world in which we live and our relations to it, and to act con- stantly in the light of that understanding. This we cannot hope to do. All that we can do is to endeavour to promote this understanding more and more in our- selves and others, and to act more and more in a way that is consistent with the promotion of this understand- ing. So to live is to be truly ourselves. ' 13. THE REAL MEANING OF SELF-CONSISTENCY. From this point of view we are better able to appreciate the real significance of the Kantian principle, that the supreme law of morals is to be self-consistent. This law, as we pointed out, seemed to supply'us with a mere form without matter. It is not so, however, if we interpret the statement to mean not merely that we are to be self-consistent, but that we are to be consistent with the selfi. e. with the true self. For this principle has a content, though the content is not altogether easy to discover. Kant's error, we may say, consisted in this, that he understood the term Reason in a purely abstract way. He opposed it to all the particular con- tent of our desires ; whereas, in reality, reason is rela- tive to the whole world which it interprets. The uni- *" verse of rational insight is the universe in which the \j whole world including all our desires appears in its true relations. To occupy the point of view of reason, i For some criticisms on the idea of self-realization, see the valu- able article by Mr. A. E. Taylor in the International Journal of Ethics, Vol. VI., no. 3. Mr. Taylor's objections do not seem, how- ever, to bear upon the theory as explained above and as developed in the following Book. 14- ] THE STANDARD AS PERFECTION. 253 therefore, is not to withdraw from all our desires, and occupy the point of view of mere formal self-consist- but on the other hand the end in view is more complex and more diffi- cult to define. The unfolding of the capabilities of mankind, the realisation of the rational Universe phrases such as these, though they have a quite defi- nite and intelligible meaning, hardly serve to furnish us with a clear-cut end to the attainment of which definite means may be adopted. If such an end were not one that is naturally and inevitably adopted by mankind, it would be .hopeless to seek to impose it upon them. Besides, as the ideal, from this point of view, is not thought of as an external end, but as the unfolding of the essential nature of mankind, we may naturally expect to find it unfolding itself throughout the whole course of human history. If this view is correct, the ideal would be found in human life by the psychologist and the sociologist, as well as by the student of Ethics ; the difference being that the former are not specially concerned with it, and find it only as 6.] THEORY AND PRACTICE. 283 one fact among others, while the student of Ethics makes it his special business to examine it. From the point of view of idealism, therefore, more than from most others, it must be clearly recognised that it is not the business of Ethics to invent a new morality for the world. If it were not true that "morality is the nature of things," no amount of reflection could ever make it so. At the same time, this ought not to be under- stood as meaning that the student of Ethics accepts the world as he finds it. Like the poet, he " Looks at all things as they are But through a kind of glory." He looks at the world in the light of the ideal which is developing through it. Taking the world as it stands at any particular time, we do not find that it is a homogeneous whole. It is a struggling, developing process, in which, as the Persians put it, there is a continual conflict between Ormuzd and Ahriman, Light and Darkness. The student of Ethics, from the point of view of Idealism, is not an indifferent spectator of this struggle. He looks for the evidence of the triumph of Light. In what direction this triumph will come, he will hardly undertake to prophesy ; but, in his study of life and history, of the contest between the Family and the State, Individualism and Socialism, Law and Freedom, the ideals of the Hebrews and of the Greeks, he is interested to watch not simply the direction in which at any time things are moving, in the swaying to and fro of opposing forces, but rather in trying to bring out the significance of the movement, i.e. its bearing upon the gradual unfolding of the ideal which it involves. To study it in this way is at the same time to criticise it. 284 ETHICS. [BK. ii., CH. vii. There are thus two sides in the idealistic view of Ethics. On the one hand, it looks to the experience of mankind ; on the other hand, it looks to the ideal. Without the former it would be empty ; without the latter it would be blind. And on the whole all the writers who have dealt with the subject from this point of view have kept their eyes upon both aspects. But some writers have tended to lay more emphasis on the one side than on the other. The typical instances of the two methods are Plato and Aristotle. \ Elato seems, at least to the superficial view, to be perpetually con- structing ideal Republics and ideal types of life, with but littjje reference to the concrete facts of human development. r Aristotle, on the other hand, seems again to the superficial view to throw aside the ideal as not TTpaxrov xai xT-qroy dvQpcuTra), and to concentrate his attention upon the virtues and institutions of the Greek State, as he found it beside him. Hegel, in more modern times, has seemed to lend himself to both forms of misunderstanding. Some have regarded him as a father of revolutionists, 2 who created a world out of his inner consciousness, without regard to fact and history ; others have scoffed at him as an upholder of the status quo, who simply accepted the world as he found it. 3 But wisdom is justified of all her children ; 1 That Plato was not a mere dreamer of dreams, but a true inter- preter of the moral life of his time, is well brought out by Hegel in his History of Philosophy and Philosophy of Right. 2 The Socialists and Nihilists used to be fond of claiming Hegel as their founder. They seem to have abandoned this view now. 3 Fries said of Hegel that his political views were grown " not in the garden of science, but on the dunghill of servility." In some- what the same way Goethe was called the Friend of the powers that be (Freund des Bestehenden}. The confusion, in the case of /.] THEORY AND PRACTICE. 285 and the opposition between these different aspects of truth is wholly superficial. iThe ethical idealist takes the world as he finds it ; but he takes it to bring out its significance, and so to criticise it. He brings an ideal to bear upon it, but the ideal is one that is in- volved in the facts themselves. The seeming opposi- tion is a real identity ; and Aristotle is not the enemy of Plato, but his interpreter. 7. SUMMARY OF RESULTS. On the whole, then, we see that there are three views of the way in which Ethics bears on practical life : (1) There is the view that it has essentially no bearing upon it at all. This is the view of the more extreme Intuitionists, whether perceptional or rational ; of those evolutionists who believe that no end can be discovered in the process of development ; and perhaps also of a few idealists. (2) There is the view that Ethics is directly practical. This is the view chiefly of the Utilitarians, but partly also of all those who think that some definite end can be formulated for mankind, which is not involved in the process of human development itself. (3) There is the view that Ethics has for its primary function to bring out the significance of the moral life in relation to the ideal that is involved in it, and that this process is at the same time a criticism of it. The third of these views is of course the one that is here Hegel, arises mainly from not appreciating his distinction between the Actual (Wirklich} and the Existent. He held that the Actual is Rational, but he meant by the Actual, not what is at any time found existing, but the underlying spirit by which the movement of history is carried on. It is the business of Ethics to bring this clearly to light. 286 ETHICS, [BK. IL, CH. vn. adopted ; and, in the light of what has now been said, the remarks at the beginning of this treatise on the essentially normative character of ethical science may perhaps become more intelligible. 8. COMPARISON BETWEEN ETHICS AND LOGIC. Perhaps a comparison between Ethics and Logic, from this point of view, may help in some degree to make my meaning clearer. The essential similarity between these two sciences has been already indicated. Now, it is possible to take different views of Logic, in its bearing upon the work of the particular science, just as it is possible to take different views of Ethics, in its bearing upon practical life. It may be held that it is the business of Inductive Logic to lay down the rules to be observed by the particular sciences in the inves- tigation of nature. This is on the whole the view suggested by Mill, just as on the whole the corre- sponding view of Ethics is suggested by him. Or again, such a Logic as that of Hegel, in which the, ideas, of Quantity, Substance, Cause, &c., are dealt with in their relationship to one another, may be supposed to be (and has been supposed to be) an effort to deduce these ideas a priori, without any reference to the way in which they emerge in our experience. Such views of Logic would be on a par with the view of Ethics according to which it is its business to invent a system of morality. But most logicians would now admit that the methods of the sciences have to be first dis- covered by the sciences themselves, and that the ideas used by them (Quantity, Substance, Cause, &c.), could never be known by us if they did not inevitably emerge in the course of our experience. So also it seems to be true that the content of the moral life is 8.] THEORY AND PRACTICE. 287 developed in the course of human experience, and does not wait for the science of Ethics to invent it. But then, it may be asked, does Logic simply accept the methods of the sciences as it finds them, and simply arrange the ideas of which the sciences make use ? This view also seems to be incorrect. Logic seeks to bring out the significance of those methods and ideas, and to test their validity. In this way it at once justifies them within their proper sphere, and brings out their limitations. It does not invent ideas and methods for the sciences, but it certainly criticises those that it finds, in the light of the ideas of truth and con- sistency which it finds in them. So with Ethics. It does not invent the Family and the State, or the ideas of Love and Truth, or the laws about Life and Pro- perty. Still less does it seek to overturn these ideas and institutions. It finds them in the concrete world with which it deals ; and it seeks to understand them in the light of the ideal of human development, to which they have reference. It thus at once shows their significance, and indicates their limitations. For the "plain man" such an institution as the Family or Private Property is apt to seem an eternal and inviolable fact in the moral life ; and, if he is taught to doubt about this, by being shown that they have had a history, and have not always existed in the form in which they now appear, he is apt to become confused, and to think that the significance of those elements in human life has been destroyed. The student of Ethics should be able to see the significance and value of such institutions, while at the same time he is able to put them in their proper place as elements in a whole. It 288 ETHICS. [BK. n., CH. vn. is in this form of critical insight that the study of Ethics has practical value. 9. THE TREATMENT OF APPLIED ETHICS. In the light of those observations, we are now able to proceed to the treatment of Applied Ethics. Hitherto we have been concerned with the pure theory, i. e. with the consideration of the nature of the standard or ideal. Now, a treatise on Ethics frequently contains nothing more than the discussion of this point ; and, if our view of the nature of the standard had been some- what different from what it is, this might possibly have sufficed for our purpose, if we had adopted an in- tuitional view, there could have been hardly any Applied Ethics to deal with. If we had adopted a Utilitarian view, the applications would have consisted in working out the Calculus in various directions ; and however difficult (if not impossible) this might be, the general principle of it at least would have been so obvious, that we might fairly have been dispensed from the working of it out. But for any one who adopts the point of view of development a treatment of Ethics which made no attempt to interpret the concrete pro- cess of development in the light of the ideal principle involved, would be little short of an absurdity. Hence, this part of the subject has generally been a prominent one with those writers who adopt the point of view of Development. It is so, for instance, with Aristotle, in whose Nicomachean Ethics the concrete life of the citizen is sketched with considerable fulness, and who seeks to complete the subject by a consideration of the State and Education in his treatise on Politics. It is so also with Hegel, whose chief work on Ethics (the 9-] THEORY AND PRACTICE. 289 Philosophy of Right) is almost entirely concerned with the concrete moral life. In dealing with this concrete aspect of the subject, the student must guard against two possible miscon- ceptions, which have perhaps already been sufficiently indicated, but which it may be well to repeat and em- phasize once more. (i) It must not for a moment be imagined that the concrete elements of the moral life are to be extracted by some sort of alchemy, out of the general principle. The task of Ethics would indeed be a hard one if it had to invent the moral life as well as to interpret it. But happily there were some good men in the world before there were books on Ethics ; and even now that many books have been written, Heaven help the hapless mortal who gets his ideas of the moral life from them i We can learn what the moral life is by living it, and there is no other way. It is only after it has been lived that the science of Ethics can step in, and explain what it means. No doubt in thus explaining it, it is at the same time criticising it ; and a moral life that has been subjected to criticism (like a book that has been sub- jected to criticism) is not quite the same thing as it was before. But the student must altogether clear his mind of any sort of notion that may linger in it, that in the chapters which follow a brand-new moral life is to be unfolded before his wondering eyes. Even a treatise on medical science does not teach us to breathe with our ears. We learn to breathe before we study physi- ology or hygienics, and to live before we study Ethics ; and, on the whole, after we have studied them, breathe and live very much as we did before. We learn such things by action and experience. If a man is "a fool Eth. 19 290 ETHICS. [BK. ii., CH. vii. or a physician at forty," it is certain that he is a muff or a moralist at a still more tender age ; and the reflec- tive analysis of life can only teach him to do a little more carefully and exactly (it may be, only a little more pedantically) what in the main he did before. (2) On the other hand, the student must equally guard against the opposite misconception, that in study- ing the content of the moral life we regard it simply from the point of view of Sociology. To the student of Sociology the immoral life is on the whole as inter- esting as the moral life (Simmel says l it is more so), and degeneration is as interesting as development. For us, on the other hand, life is interesting only in the light of its ideal. We do not care for what it is, but for what it signifies. Hence also our method of treatment is different. We do not aim at a statement of the course through which the moral life has passed in the che- quered career of its history, but rather at an account of its most significant aspects. In a complete treat- ment of it, we might perhaps be led to arrange it, after the manner of Hegel, in the order of its dialectical development. But in an introductory account like the present a somewhat less systematic arrangement may suffice. At any rate, we have now had enough of these pre- liminary observations and warnings. Let us plunge, as best we can, into our account of the concrete moral life. 1 See International Journal of Ethics, Vol. III., 110.4. So also in physiology and psychology, pathological states are often more enlightening than those that are normal. I.] THE SOCIAL UNITY. 291 BOOK III. THE MORAL LIFE. CHAPTER I. THE SOCIAL UNITY. 1. THE SOCIAL SELF. We have seen that the true self is the rational self, We must now try to under- stand what this means. And, first of all, we have to add that the true self is the social self. Up to this point we have spoken of the individual almost as if he might bean isolated and in dependent unit. But every individ- ual belongs to a social system. An isolated individual is 'even inconceivable. Aristotle said truly that such a being must be "either a beast or a god." 1 Such a being could have no ideal self. He must either have realized his ideal like a god, or have no ideal to realize like a beast. For our ideal self finds its embodiment in the life of a society, and it is only in this way that it is kept before us. Not only so, but even the realiza- tion of our ideal seems to demand a society. For to have a perfectly rational self would involve that our universe should have a perfectly rational content. Now the only possible universe with a rational content seems to be a universe of rational beings. Hence we 1 Politics, I. ii. 14 : " He who is unable to live in society, or who has no need because he is sufficient for himself, must be either a beast Or a god (r; Oypiov y fleos)." 292 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH i. must go even beyond the saying of Aristotle, and say that even a God must be social. Even a God must have a rational universe in relation to Himself, and must consequently create, or, in Hegelian phrase, go out of Himself into a world of rational beings. But this is perhaps too abstruse a subject to be more than hinted at here. It is sufficient for our purpose to say that it is in relation to our fellow-men that we find our ideal life. " Where two or three are gathered to- gether, there am I in the midst of them." 1 The "I" or ideal self is not realized in any one individual, but finds its realization rather in the relations of persons to one another. It embodies itself in literature and art, in the laws of a state, in the counsels of perfection which societies gradually form for themselves. 2. SOCIETY A UNITY. Society, therefore, must be re- garded as a unity in fact, as we shall see shortly, as an organic unity. The parts of it are necessary to each other, as the parts of an animal organism are ; and it is in all the parts in relation to one another, rather than in any one of them singly, that the true life is to be found. " We are members one of another." The ideal life of one requires others to complement it, and it is by mutual help that the whole develops towards per- fection. This we shall see more fully in the sequel. 2 1 I do not mean to imply that this saying was originally intended to bear the sense here ascribed to it. But I think it has frequently been used by religious men to express that consciousness of unity, and of elevation into a higher universe, which arises when a number of men gather together in a common spirit and with a common aim for the advancement of their moral lives. Clifford's "tribal self" contains a similar idea. See above, p. 115. 2 See sections n and 12 below. The present section is intended only as a preliminary statement 3, 4-] THE SOCIAL UNITY. 293 3. EGOISM AND ALTRUISM. This fact leads us to in- troduce a certain modification into the view of the moral life that has been presented up to the present point. We have spoken of the great end of the moral life as self-realization. But since an individual is a member of a social unity, his supreme end will be not simply the perfecting of his own life, but also of the society to which he belongs. To a great extent the one end will indeed coincide with the other. Yet there appears, at least primci, facie, to be a certain possibility of conflict. Now when we seek simply our own in- dividual ends, this attitude is called Egoism ; while the term Altruism is used to denote devotion to the ends of others. It is of great importance to consider the precise relation of these two attitudes to one another. 4. MR. SPENCER'S CONCILIATION. A good deal of attention has been given to this subject by Mr. Herbert Spencer, 1 and he has endeavoured to show how a con- ciliation may be effected between the two attitudes. He points out that either of them, if carried to an ex- treme, is self-destructive. If every one were to seek only his own ends, this would be a bad way of secur- ing the ends even of any one individual. For each one stands frequently in need of help. On the other hand, if every one were to devote himself entirely to the good of others, this would be fatal to the good of others. For if each one neglected himself, he would deteriorate in his ability to help others. This point is worked out in a very interesting way by Mr. Spencer, i Data of Ethics, chaps, xi. and xiv. Cf. Stephen's Science of Ethics, chap, vi., Dewey's Outlines of Ethics, pp. 70-1, and Muirhead's, Elements of Ethics, pp. 164-5. 294 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. i. and he comes to the conclusion that what we should aim at is neither pureJEgpism nor pure Altruism, tmt^a compromise between them. He thinks also that the more completely society becomes developed, the more will the two ends tend to become identical. 5. SELLREALIZATION THROUGH SELF-SACRIFICE. T truth seems to be, however, that there is even less opposition between Egoism and Altruism than that which Mr. Spencer recognizes. We can realize the true /self only by realizing social ends. In order to do this we must negate the merely individual self, which, as we have indicated, is not the true self. We must real- ize ourselves by sacrificing ourselves. 1 The more fully . we so realize ourselves, the more do we reach a uni- | versal point of view i. e. a point of view from which our own private good is no more to us than the good of any one else. No doubt it must always be neces- sary for us to take more thought for our own individual development than for that of any one else ; because each one best understands his own individual needs, and has the best means of working out his own nature to its perfection. But when this is done from the point of view of the whole, it is no longer properly to be de- scribed as Egoism. It is self-realization, but it is self- realization for the sake of the whole. In such self- realization the mere wishes and whims of the private self have been sacrificed, and we seek to develop our- selves in the same spirit and for the same ends as those in which and for which we seek to develop others. When we live in such a spirit as this, the opposition between Egoism and Altruism ceases. We seek neither i Cf. Caird's Hegel, pp. 210-218. 6, 7] THE SOCIAL UNITY. 2Q5 our own good simply nor the good of others simply, but the good both of ourselves and of others as mem- bers of a whole. Looking at the matter, therefore, from this point of view, it might be better to describe the ultimate end as the realization of a rational uni- verse, rather than as self-realization. 6. ETHICS A PART OF POLITICS. We must recognize, in short, that man is, as Aristotle expressed it, "a po- litical animal," x and that Ethics cannot be satisfacto- rily treated except as a part of Politics i. e. as a part of the study of Society. Our duties and our virtues are at every point dependent on our relations to one another. This fact was more clearly recognized by some of the ancient Greek thinkers than it has been by many in modern times for, in modern times, partly on account of the influence of Christianity, 2 we have come to think more of the independence of the indi- vidual. It may be well, therefore, to glance for a moment at the way in which Ethics was regarded by Plato and Aristotle. 7. PLATO'S VIEW OF ETHICS. Plato was so strongly impressed with the social nature of man, and with the necessity of studying his life in relation to society, that, in his study of Ethics, instead of inquiring into the characteristics of a virtuous life in an individual, he endeavoured first to determine the characteristics of a good state. Having found what these are, he considered that it would be perfectly easy to infer what are the characteristics of a good man. Accordingly, the great ethical treatise of Plato is the Republic, in 1 " HoAtTi/cbi/ $ov " (Politics, I. ii. 9). 2 Partly also, no doubt, because our wider international relation- ships have made it impossible for us to regard any one social system as a complete and exclusive unity in itself. 296 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. i. which he gives a sketch of an ideal state. It seemed to him in accordance with a classification that was current among the Greeks that there were four great virtues required for the existence of an ideal state, viz. wisdom, courage, temperance, and justice ; and he thought that by observing exactly the significance of these virtues in the ideal state, he was able to see also what their exact significance must be in the life of the individual. 1 8. ARISTOTLE'S VIEW OF ETHICS. Aristotle was not less convinced than Plato of the essentially social nature of man. He began his great treatise on Ethics perhaps the greatest that has ever been written with a statement to the effect that Ethics is a part of Politics ; 2 and the greater part of his treatise is occupied with an investigation of the virtues that are required in a good citizen of a state such as he found in Greece, and especially in Athens. He did indeed think that there was a kind of life, what he called the contem- plative or speculative life (what we might call the life of science, or the life of the student), which was essen- tially higher than the life of political activity ; but he 1 For a fuller account of Plato's Ethics, see Sidgwick's History of Ethics, pp. 35-51. Plato's Republic is a book of such interest and importance that every student ought to find some opportunity of reading it. It has been admirably translated both byjowettand by Davies and Vaughan. In connection with this, Dr. Bosanquet's Companion to Plato's Republic should by all means be used. 2 In the wide sense in which the term Politics was used by the Greeks. Perhaps in modern times we should rather say that Ethics is a part of Social Philosophy. I have discussed this point in my Introduction to Social Philosophy, p. 48. On the relation between Ethics and Politics the student may profitably consult Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics, Book I., chap. ii. See also Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, Book I., chap, iii., 14. 9, 10.] THE SOCIAL UNITY. 297 considered that even this higher life must be built up on a basis of civic virtue. 1 9. COSMOPOLITISM. The best Ethics of the Greeks, then, was based on the conception of the State, as the sphere within which the life of the individual is to be realized. It was only after the best days of the Greek state were over, when everything was beginning to be crushed under the iron heel of Rome, 2 that the Stoics began to speak of a Kofareta TOO xoff/wu, and to think of the virtuous man (or "the wise man," as they called him) as one who is bound by no particular social ties, but lives an independent life of his own. Even the Stoics, however, recognized that the good man is a citizen ; but they said that he ought to be "a citizen of the world," not of any particular community. In this way his social relations were made so vague that it almost seemed as if they might be altogether ignored. There was a great elevation in much of the teaching of the Stoics ; but its want of any definite recognition of social relationships made it cold and hard, and some- what destitute of content. And often it was inflated with a certain false pride in the independence of the individual. 10. CHRISTIAN ETHICS. Christianity may be said to have gone to some extent in the same direction as Stoicism. 3 It also was essentially cosmopolitan, and it also tended to insist on the independent life of the individual. ^ Each one must "work out his own 1 See Sidgwick's History of Ethics, pp. 51-70. 2 See Caird's Hegel, pp. 204-207, Zeller's Stoics, Epicureans, and Sceptics, pp. 15-16, and Wallace's Epicureanism, chap, i 8 Sidgwick's History of Ethics, pp. 114-117. * Christianity insisted on the dignity of man as man more strongly 298 ETHICS. [BK. III., CH. I. salvation," and must even forsake father and mother, and all other social relationships, in order to follow after the ideal life. Christianity represented the ideal life also as an imitation of a divine personality. Still, this was only one aspect of Christianity. It was no less emphatic in its insistence on the doctrine that we are "members one of another," and that in order to attain perfection we must recognise our essential unity both with each other and with God. The fact, how- ever, that Christianity had to make its way in an adverse world rendered it necessary at first to insist somewhat strongly on the need of isolation. Its fol- lowers had to recognize that they were "not of the world," in order that they might keep their ideals pure. But after Christianity had to a great extent conquered the world, the other side the social side began to come out ; and it is perhaps on that side now that its significance is greatest. Whether we look, therefore, to ancient or to modern systems of morals, it is not difficult to see that the recognition of the essentially social nature of man plays a prominent part in all that is best in them. This being the case, it will be well now to abandon the view of the mere individual life as that which is to be perfected, and to consider rather what is involved in the perfection of society. 11. THE SOCIAL UNIVERSE. We must, however, first bring this point of view into relation to what has been already said with respect to the universes in which men habitually live. The life of every man, except an absolute madman, constitutes a more or less con- than even Stoicism had done. Stoicism proclaimed the dignity only of the wise man or philosopher ; whereas Christianity was preached to " publicans and sinners." II.] THE SOCIAL UNITY. 299 sistent whole. His actions fall within a more or less ordered scheme or plan. This whole, this plan, this totality of ends which a man pursues, we have agreed to describe as the universe within which he lives. Now this universe is always of a social character. Even the most original and even the most misanthropic of men cannot escape from the influence of the social environment by which they are formed. They inevi- tably imbibe something of what has been called "the ethos of their people," the moral point of view adopted by the race or nation or body of men among whom, or under the influence of whom, their lives are spent. This moral atmosphere in which they pass their lives supplies the main part of that universe within which their desires find scope. So much is this the case that a man always, except when in some abnormal state of mind, thinks of himself, not as an isolated personality, but as a member of some body. This fact is em- phasized even by a writer in some respects so indi- vidualistic as Mill. 1 "The social state," he says, 2 "is at once so natural, so necessary, and so habitual to man, that, except in some unusual circumstances or by an effort of voluntary abstraction he never con- ceives himself otherwise than as a member of a body ; and this association is riveted more and more, as man- kind are further removed from the state of savage independence. Any condition, therefore, which is es- sential to a state of society, becomes more and more an 1 This element in Mill's teaching is due, as he partly acknowledges two pages later, to the study of Comte. Cf. his Autobiography, chap, iv. Mill seems never to have made any serious effort to reconcile the elements which he derived from Comte with the general tenor of his philosophy. 2 Utilitarianism, chap, iii., pp. 46-7 300 ETHICS. [BK. HI., CH. i. inseparable part of every person's conception of the state of things which he is born into, and which is the destiny of a human being 1 /' For this reason, w r hen we consider any .large society of human beings, bound together by a common language, a common law, a common religion, a common interest, we may say in a broad sense that they all live habitually within the same universe. They will all be distinguished no doubt by individual peculiarities ; some of them will be more and some less affected by the common ties; and even from year to year and from day to day the universe of each will be liable to considerable varia- tions. Still, speaking broadly, what the Germans call the Siilen, i. e. the moral habitudes of a man's time and place, tend to overshadow the peculiarities of his individual nature, and to have a strong determining influence on his view of life and on his conception of his own vocation. The necessity of making himself intelligible to those around him, the immense advan- tage of understanding them, and the need of constantly co-operating with them, would of themselves be suf- ficient to bring about a certain homogeneity among the members of a community. And when we add to this the influences of heredity and education, the force is overwhelming. 12. SOCIETY AN ORGANISM. These considerations may partly enable us to understand an idea which has become prevalent in recent times among writers of very diverse schools the idea, namely, that a society of human beings is, as we have already indicated, to be regarded as an organic unity. The meaning of this is, broadly speaking, that just as we recognize a common life animating all the members of which a 12.] THE SOCIAL UNITY. 3 negative. On the other hand, most of our positive obligations cannot be stated in this absolute way. The duty of beneficence, for instance, is relative to time, place, and circumstance. virtue seems to lie in what is beyond duty : yet every such act must depend on the peculiar circumstances under which it is done, of which we leave the agent to be the judge, and we certainly think it his duty to do what is best." Cf. Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, p. 190, note. See also Adam Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiments, Part I., sect. II., chap, iv., Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics, Book III., chap, ii., Rickaby's Moral Philosophy, p. 70, 1 Utilitarianism, chap. v. Some other writers have limited the application of the term Justice to those actions which can be enforced by national law. Thus Adam Smith says (Theory of Moral Senti- ments, Part II., sect. II., chap, i.) : "The man who barely abstains from violating either the person, or the estate, or the reputation of his neighbours, has surely very little positive merit. He fulfils, how- ever, all the rules of what is peculiarly called justice, and does every- thing which his equals can with propriety force him to do, or which they can punish him for not doing. We may often fulfil all the rules of justice by sitting still and doing nothing." Cf. the Note at the end of chap. x. *Metaphysic of Morals, section II. (Abbott's translation, p. 39) Observe what is said in Mr. Abbott's note. Cf. also Caird's Critical Philosophy of Kant, vol. ii., pp. 382-3. 12.] THE DUTIES. 345 No man can be under an obligation to do good in all sorts of ways, but only in some particular ways, which he must in general discover for himself. Hence this may be called an Imperfect Obligation, because it can- not be definitely formulated. Now it is no doubt true that there is a distinction of this kind. There is, indeed, a threefold distinction be- tween duties of different kinds. There are, in the first place, those duties that can be definitely formulated, and embodied in the laws of a State, 1 with penalties attached to their violation. In the second place, there are those duties that cannot be put into the form of national laws, or that it would be very inconvenient to put into such a form, but which, nevertheless, every good citizen may be expected to observe. In the third place, there are duties which we may demand of some, but not of others ; or which different individuals can only be expected to fulfil in varying degrees. 2 But the distinction between these different classes of duties is not a rigid one. The duties that can be made obliga- tory by law vary from time to time, according to the constitution of the State concerned, and the degree of the civilization of its people. The same applies to those duties that every good citizen may fairly be expected to observe. Consequently, while at any given time and place it might be possible to draw out a list of the 1 This was the original meaning of Duties of Perfect Obligation. Kant altered the use of the phrase. Some points in connection with the relation between Ethics and Jurisprudence will be found well brought out in Adam Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiments, Part VI., sect. IV. 2 The fulfilment of these in an eminent degree might be said to constitute Virtue, as distinguished from Duty, in the sense explained above. But this is on the whole an inconvenient usage. 34-6 ETHICS. [BK. III., CH. III. Duties of Perfect Obligation, and to express them in a code of Commandments, yet the tables of stone on which these were engraved would require to be periodi- cally broken up. 1 And many of the most important duties for any particular individual would remain un- formulated. 13. MY STATION AND ITS DUTIES. The determination of a man's duties, therefore, must be left largely to his individual insight. Ethics can do little more than lay down commandments with regard to his general atti- tude in acting. In the details of his action, however, a man is not left entirely without guidance. Human beings do not drop from the clouds. Men are born with particular aptitudes and in a particular environ- ment ; and they generally find their sphere of activity marked out for them, within pretty narrow limits. They find themselves fixed in a particular station, help- ing to carry forward a general system of life ; and their chief duties are connected with the effective execution of their work. Hence the force of Carlyle's great principle, " Do the Duty that lies nearest thee." 2 The 1 This of course is no sufficient reason for not formulating them as well as we can. As Hegel says (Philosophy of Right, 216), " The universal law cannot be forever the ten commandments. Yet it would be absurd to refuse to set up the law 'Thou shalt not kill ' on the ground that a statute-book cannot be made complete. Every statute-book can of course be better. It is patent to the most idle reflection that the most excellent, noble, and beautiful can be con- ceived of as still more excellent, noble, and beautiful. A large old tree branches more and more without becoming a new tree in the process ; it would be folly, however, not to plant a new tree for the reason that it was destined in time to have new branches." 2 Sartor Resartus, Book II., chap. ix. : "The situation that has not its Duty, its Ideal, was never yet occupied by man." See also the admirable chapter by Mr. Bradley on " My Station and its Duties " 13.] THE DUTIES. 347 prime duty of a workman of any kind is to do his work well, to be a good workman. ' Of course he must first have ascertained that his work is a valuable one, and one that he is fitted to do well. Having thus found his place in life, he will not as a rule have much difficulty in ascertaining what are the commandments that apply within that sphere. Hence the important point on the whole is not to know what the rules of action are, but rather the type of character that is to be developed in us. A well-developed character, placed in a given sit- uation, will soon discover rules for itself. 2 Thus, we (Ethical Studies, Essay V.). Cf. Dewey's Outlines of Ethics, Part II. : " The moral endeavour of man takes the form not of isolated fancies about right and wrong, not of attempts to frame a morality for him- self, not of efforts to bring into being some praiseworthy ideal never realized ; but the form of sustaining and furthering the moral world of which he is a member." Thus we agree, after all, with the view of Dr. Johnson, that a good action is one that " is driving on the system of life." But for this view we now have a rational justifi- cation. iQ". Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, p. 47: "An artisan or an artist or a writer who does not ' do his best ' is not only an inferior workman but a bad man." Mr. Muirhead quotes Carlyle's saying about a bad joiner, that he " broke the whole decalogue with every stroke of his hammer." See also Dewey's Outlines of Ethics, p. 112 : " The good artisan ' has his heart in his work.' His self-respect makes it necessary for him to respect his technical or artistic capacity ; and to do the best by it that he can without scrimping or lowering." 2 It may be worth while to note here that rules of conduct are, in general, valuable for us in proportion as our interest in the concrete matter concerned is small. A man does not want rules for the per- formance of anything which he has deeply at heart. Thus, a serious student has little need of rules for study. His own interest is a suf- ficient guide. On the other hand, a man whose main work does not lie in study, but who is able to devote a few hours to it now and then, may find it advantageous to have definite rules for the perform- ance of the uncongenial task. So it is in life generally. Christian- ity abolished the external rules of Judaism, by enjoining upon us an 348 ETHICS. [BK. III., CH. III. are naturally led from the consideration of the com- mandments to the consideration of the virtues. 1 interest in life instead. Such an interest is the only safe final guide. But so long as such an interest cannot be pre-supposed, particular rules retain a certain relative value. Some very suggestive remarks on this point will be found in Adam Smith's Theory of Moral Senii-. tnents, Part III., sect. IV. He there gives some interesting examples of actions which are naturally done in obedience to rule, because our interest in them is slight ; and of others which are naturally done rather from an interest in the object to be attained. i Prof. Dewey says (Outlines of Ethics, p. 231) : " It is a common remark that moral codes change from ' Do not ' to ' Do,' and from this to ' Be.' A Mosaic code may attempt to regulate the specific acts of life. Christianity says, ' Be ye perfect.' The effort to exhaust the various special right acts is futile. They are not the same for any two men, and they change constantly with the same man. The very words which denote virtues come less and less to mean specific acts, and more the spirit in which conduct occurs." Cf. Muirhead's Ele- ments of Ethics, p. 71, note. THE DUTIES. 349 NOTE ON RULES OF CONDUCT. I have no doubt that some readers will be a good deal disappointed by the results of this chapter. Many of those who take up the study of Ethics expect to find in it some cut-and-dried formulas for the guidance of their daily lives. They expect the ethical philoso- pher to explain to them, as I once heard it put, what they ought to get up and do to-morrow morning. And no doubt it is true enough in a sense that the ethical philosopher, if he is good for anything, will explain this. He will explain to them the spirit in which they ought to apply themselves to the particular situation before them to-morrow morning. But most people, and especially most English people, are not content with this. The cause of this discontent is no doubt partly that most of us have become accustomed in our youth to a code of Ten Commandments, generally accompanied by cer- tain subordinate rules deduced from them. Partly, again, it is that most of the English schools of Ethics have connected themselves closely with Jurisprudence, 1 and have thus given encouragement to the notion that a set of moral laws might be devised similar to the laws of a nation. Now I admit of course that it is possible to draw out certain rules of conduct, founded on the general nature of human life and the conditions under which it has to be carried on ; and it is part of the task of the moral philosopher to explain the general nature of these rules, and to show their place in the conduct of life. This I have endeavoured to do. But to suppose that Ethics is called upon to do more than this appears to me to be a most fatal error. Happily life cannot yet be reduced to rule. A moral genius must always, like Mirabeau, "swallow his formulas" and start afresh. Pedantry will not carry one far in life, 2 any more than in literature. At the same time, while emphasizing this point, I have certainly no wish to rush to the opposite extreme. There has been so strong a tendency in former times to lay down an absolute " ought " in 1 The chaotic state of English law led men like Bentham to seek for a rational basis of Jurisprudence in ethical principles. This ap- plication of Ethics has reacted on the study of Ethics itself. On the Continent the prevalence of Roman Law has perhaps made the demand for a fresh ethical basis less urgent. 2 There are some good remarks on this point in Adler's Moral Instruction of Children, pp. 19-23. 35 ETHICS. [BK. HI., CH. HI. Ethics, with a rigid scheme of obligations hanging from it, that now, by a not unnatural reaction, we find a number of our ethical writers treading very gingerly, hesitating to say that there is any such thing as duty, apologizing for the use of the word " ought," and mildly conceding that Ethics is of no practical value. This extreme appears to me to be quite as pernicious as the other. It is the function of the ethical philosopher to discover and define the supreme end of life. This is what all the great ethical writers have done, from Plato and Aristotle to Spinoza, Kant, Hegel, and Green. As soon as this end is clearly seen, the duty of pursuing it becomes an absolute imperative, from which there is no escape. And with this end in view, the whole of our life falls into shape. Hence, as Aristotle puts it,i " from a practical point of view it much concerns us to know this good ; for then, like archers shooting at a definite mark, we shall be more likely to attain what we want" Undoubtedly, in this sense, Ethics is of the greatest practical value. Nor is its value in any way dimin- ished by the fact that the moral genius, or even the man of ordi- nary good sense, may act well without any knowledge of Ethics. The human end is involved in man's very existence. No one can exist at all without being in some degree conscious of it. The task of the moral philosopher is only that of bringing it to clear con- sciousness. Only that ! In the same way, the task of the poet is only that of making clear to us the beauty that is everywhere around us. The task of the metaphysician is only that of bringing out the mean- ing and connection of the principles made use of in the sciences. This " only " is a little out of place. While we must insist, then, that it is not the task of Ethics to furnish us with copy-book headings for the guidance of life, we must equally insist that it is its task to furnish us with practical principles to bring the nature of the highest good to clear consciousness, and to indicate the general nature of the means by which this good is to be attained. It thus tells us, not indeed the particular rules by which our lives are to be guided, but what is of infinitely greater practical importance the spirit in which our lives are to be lived. I am well aware that all this will seem unsatisfactory to many minds. The military spirit is deeply rooted in human nature. Men are eager to catch the word of command, and are disappointed when they are only told, as by Jesus, to " love one another," or, as by Hegel, to " be persons," or, as in the vision of Dante, to " follow their star." And, indeed, as I have already said, Ethics does supply some- i Ethics, I. ii. 2. THE DUTIES. 351 thing more than this. It does interpret for us the meaning and im- portance of some more special rules. But assuredly neither Ethics nor anything else will tell a man what in particular he is to do. There would be an end of the whole significance of life if any such information were to be had. All action that is of much consequence has reference to concrete situations, which could not possibly be exhausted by any abstract methods of analysis. It is the special busi- ness of every human being to find out for himself what he is to do, and to do it. Ethics only instructs him where to look for it, and helps him to see why it is worth while to find it and to do it. Like all sciences, it leaves its principles in the end to be applied by the instructed good sense of mankind. 1 1 It may perhaps appear that this point has been somewhat over- emphasized ; but I think there is a real danger of misconception here, and I have been anxious to guard against it. On the general question involved, it may be well to refer, in addition to the authori- ties already cited, to Mill's System of Logic, Book VI., chap, xii., Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics, Book IV., chaps, iv. and v., Green's Prolegomena to Ethics, Book IV., Hegel's Philosophy of Right, Intro- duction, Bosanquet's Civilization of Christendom, p. 160 sqq., and the article by Mr. Muirhead on " Abstract and Practical Ethics " in the American Journal of Sociology for November, 1896. r 352 ETHICS. [BK. III., CH. IV. CHAPTER IV. THE VIRTUES. 1. RELATION OF THE VIRTUES TO THE COMMANDMENTS. When we have ascertained what are the most important commandments, we have at the same time discovered to a considerable extent what are the most important virtues. l The virtuous man will be on the whole the man who has a steadfast habit of obeying the com- mandments. There are, however, many virtuous hab- its which do not correspond to any commandments that can be definitely formulated. 2 Moreover, as the virtues are concerned mainly with inner habits of mind, whereas the commandments deal with overt acts,3 the 1 Virtue (from Latin vir, a man or hero) meant originally man- liness or valour. The Greek aperjj (from the same root as Ares, the god of war) and the German Tugend (connected with our English word "doughty") have a somewhat similar origin. The term is here employed to denote a good habit of character, as distinguished from a Duty, which denotes rather some particular kind of action that we ought to perform. Thus a man docs his Duty ; but he pos- sesses a Virtue, or is virtuous. Another sense in which the term " Virtue " is used, has been already noticed above (chap, iii., 12). 2 Mr. Alexander (Moral Order and Progress, p. 253) definitely con- nects the virtues, as well as the duties, with social institutions. In both cases there seems to be some exaggeration in this. Cf. Muir- head's Elements of Ethics, p. 188. 8 The Jewish commandments, as interpreted in the Sermon on the Mount, and by modern Christian thought, are of course concerned with the heart as well as with outer acts. Also the summary of the commandments in terms of love refers entirely to an inner habit of mind. But when the commandments are thus summed up, they 2.] THE VIRTUES. 353 lines of cleavage in dealing with the virtues are natu- rally somewhat different from those that we find in dealing with the commandments. Hence it seems desirable to devote a separate chapter to the subject of the virtues. 2. VIRTUES RELATIVE TO STATES OF SOCIETY. The virtues which it is desirable for human beings to culti- vate vary considerably with different times and places. They are more variable even than the commandments I ; because the latter confine themselves to those broad principles of conduct which are applicable to nearly all the conceivable conditions of life. At the same time, even the virtues are less changeable than they are apt at first sight to appear. The Greek virtue of courage, confined almost entirely to valour in battle, has but little correspondence to anything that is su- premely important in modern life. Yet the temper of mind which it indicates is one for which there is as much demand now as ever. 2 And so it is also with most of the other virtues. The precise conditions of their exercise change ; but the habit of mind remains intrinsically the same. Still, even the habit of mind does undergo some alteration. The kind of fortitude which is required for valour in battle is, even in its most inward aspect, somewhat different from that cease to be particular rules. Particular rules relate to particular modes of action. Cf. Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, p. 70. For a discussion of the relation of Virtue to Duty, see Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics, Book III., chap. ii. The following chapters of the same book contain interesting analyses of most of the particular virtues. Cf. Rickaby's Moral Philosophy, Part I , chap. -v. 1 In that broad sense in which alone, as we have seen, universally significant commandments can be laid do\vn. 2 See Green's Prolegomena to Ethics, Book III., chap. v. Eth. 23 354 ETHICS, [BK. in., CH. iv. fortitude which sustains the modern man of science, politician, scholar, or philanthropist. Hence this side of ethical study is one which each generation of writers requires almost to reconsider for itself. However in- structive the great work of Aristotle may still remain on this point (and there is perhaps nothing more in- structive in the whole range of ethical literature), it is yet not quite directly applicable to the conditions of modern life. In order to understand what are the most important virtues for us to cultivate in modern times, it is necessary to consider them in relation to the structure and requirements of modern society. 3. THE ETHOS OF A PEOPLE. It is for this reason that it is so important, from an ethical point of view, to study carefully what the Germans call the Sitten l (the moral habitudes of thought and action) of differ- ent times and peoples. We have no English word that quite expresses this idea ; but, instead of having recourse to the German, we may use a Greek term, and speak of the ethos of a people. 2 The ethos of a people is partly constituted by definite rules or precepts. The Ten Commandments formed a very important element in the ethos of the Jews ; and they have continued, 1 The English word " Manners " used to have a meaning closely approximating to this, but it has deteriorated. See International Journal oj Ethics, Vol. VII., no. i. 2 cy. Bradley's Ethical Studies, chap, v., especially p. 156, where the following is quoted from Hegel : " The child, in his character of the form of the possibility of a moral individual, is something, sub- jective or negative ; his growing to manhood is the ceasing to be of this form, and his education is the discipline or the compulsion thereof. The positive side and the essence is that he is suckled at the breast of the universal Ethos." Similarly on p. 169: "The wisest men of antiquity have given judgment that wisdom and virtue con- sist in living agreeably to the Ethos of one's people." 3-] THE VIRTUES. 355 with certain modifications and enlargements, to form an important element in the ethos of modern European peoples. The precepts contained in the Sermon on the Mount have perhaps never been sufficiently appro- priated by the world in general to be made definitely into a part of the ethos of any people ; but they have undoubtedly exercised a most profound influence on the ethos of nearly all civilized nations. The ethos of a people, then, is partly expressed in definite com- mands and precepts. But partly also it consists in re- cognized habits of action and standards of judgment which have never been precisely formulated. Thus, in England there is a general idea of the kind of con- duct which is fitting in a " gentleman " ; and though it might be difficult to reduce this standard to the form of definite rules, yet it has undoubtedly exercised a great influence in forming the ethos of our people. The ethos of a people, then, we may say, constitutes the atmosphere in which the best members of a race habitually live ; or, in language that we have previously employed, it constitutes the universe of their moral activities. It is the morality of our world ; and on the whole the man who conforms to the morality of that world is a good man, and the man who violates it is a bad man. Mr. Bradley has even said emphatically x i Ethical Studies, p. 180. So also on p. 181 he says : " We should consider whether the encouraging oneself injhaving opinions of one's own, in the sense of thinking differently from the world on moral subjects, be not, in any person other than a heaven-born prophet, sheer self-conceit." There is, however, some paradox in this. A man may be a moral reformer in a small way, without being exactly a " heaven-born prophet/' The suffering or witness- ing of wrong in some particular form, for instance, often makes a man sensitive to an evil to which most men are callous. Also the 356 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. iv. that the man who seeks to have a higher morality than that of his world is on the threshold of immorality. But this is an exaggeration. For the ethos of a people is not a stationary thing. 1 It develops, like social life generally ; and its development is brought about mainly by the constant effort of the best members of a race to reach a higher standard of life than that which they find current around them. The xaioxdyaOos of the Greeks might occasionally permit himself to do many things, and to abstain from doing many things, which would scarcely be thought becoming in a modern "gentleman"; while the teachings of Christianity hold up to us an ideal of life which has not yet been fully embodied in the current morality of the world. While, then, it is on the whole true that the ethos of our people furnishes us with our moral standard, it must yet be remembered that it is often desirable to elevate that standard itself. 2 disciples of the " heaven-born prophets " will for a time hold opinions different from those of the world. But what Mr. Bradley means is simply, Try to be as good as your world first : after that you may seek to make it better. His meaning is similar to that of Burke (Reflections on the Revolution in France] : " We are afraid to put men to live and trade each on his own private stock of reason ; because we suspect that the stock in each man is small, and that the indi- viduals would do better to avail themselves of the general bank and capital of nations and of ages." 1 Sometimes, indeed, it is a highly artificial thing, brought into being by the accidental circumstances of a particular time and place. Thus Adam Smith remarks (Theory of Moral Sentiments, Part V., sect. II.) that "in the reign of Charles II. a degree of licentiousness was deemed the characteristic of a liberal education. It was con- nected, according to the notions of those times, with generosity, sincerity, magnanimity, loyalty, and proved that the person who acted in this manner w^as a gentleman, and not a puritan." 2 Cf. below, chap. vii. 4-] THE VIRTUES. 357 Now the virtues that are current among a people at a given time are the expression in particular forms of the ethos of that people ; and their significance can be appreciated only in relation to the general life of the times. 4. VIRTUES RELATIVE TO THE SOCIAL FUNCTIONS. Not only, however, are the virtues relative to different times and different social conditions : they are also relative to the functions that different individuals have to fulfil in society. Here again it is true that the differences are not so great as one is apt to think. We are apt to say that a poor man cannot exercise the virtue of liberality ; and that a man who is rich and prosperous has little need for the virtue of patience. This is to a large extent true; yet the habit of mind which with a rich man leads to liberality may equally well be present, and is equally admirable, in one who is poor. And the same applies to other qualities. Still, it remains on the whole true that the virtues which we respect and admire in a man are not quite the same as those of a woman ; that those of the rich are not quite the same as those of the poor ; those of an old man not quite the same as those of a young man ; those of a parent not quite the same as those of a child ; those of a man in health not quite the same as those of one who is sick ; those of a commercial man not quite the same as those of a man of science ; and so in other cases. In describing the virtues, there- fore, we must either go somewhat minutely into the consideration of different circumstances of life, and of the qualities that are most desirable under these vary- ing conditions ; or else we must confine ourselves to statements that are very general and vague. The 358 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. iv. limits ot space and the difficulties of the subject both lead us to adopt the latter alternative. 5. THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. The virtues, as was admirably pointed out by Aristotle, are habits of deli- berate choice. To be virtuous means to have a char- acter so developed that we habitually choose to act in the right way. Now as the right action nearly always stands between two possible bad actions one erring by excess and the other by defect Aristotle con- sidered ' that virtue consists essentially in a habit of choosing the mean. He well added, however, that it is the choice of the relative mean L e. of the particular intermediate course which is appropriate to the par- ticular individual in question, and to the particular circumstances in which he is placed. That mean must be determined in each case by a consideration of its conduciveness to the general development of social life. To hit upon it rightly is often a problem for in- dividual tact and insight ; but a study of the greatest examples in human history is in many cases a valuable aid in deciding on the most fitting conduct in a given case. 6. THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. From the earliest pe- riods of ethical speculation, attempts have been made to enumerate the various forms of virtues. The most celebrated of these lists are those given by Plato and Aristotle. The former seems to have been current among Greek moralists even before the time of Plato. It has at least the merit of simplicity, containing only four cardinal 2 virtues Wisdom (or Prudence), Courage 1 Ethics, Book II., chaps, vi. ix. Cf. Sidgwick's History of Ethics, P-59- 2 From cardo, a hinge. The Cardinal Virtues are supposed to be 6.] THE VIRTUES. 359 (or Fortitude), Temperance (or Self-Restraint), and Justice (or Righteousness). This classification, how- ever, simple as it appears, was soon found to give rise to considerable difficulties. It began to be perceived, for instance, that in a certain sense the first of the virtues includes all the others ; for every virtuous activity consists in acting wisely in some particular relationship. Again, Justice (or Righteousness) seems to be made somewhat too comprehensive in its mean- ing when it is used to include (as, on this acceptation, it must) all the social virtues. Perceiving these and other defects in the catalogue of the virtues, Aristotle was led to a considerable expansion of the list. x But his expansion had so constant a reference to the virtues that were expected of an Athenian citizen that its direct interest for modern life is comparatively slight. And it would perhaps be somewhat futile to attempt to draw up any similar catalogue specially adapted for those on which the others hinge or depend. C/. the Cardinals in the Roman Catholic Church. i It might be held, however, that Plato and Aristotle were in reality engaged on distinct problems. Plato sought to give an ac- count of the Cardinal Virtues /. c. the general elements involved in all virtuous activities ; whereas Aristotle sought to give a list of special virtues, exhibited not in all virtuous activities, but in parti- cular kinds of virtuous activity. But this view seems to me to be scarcely tenable. The distinction here referred to is clearly drawn by Prof. De\yey in his Outlines of Ethics, p. 230. I am doubtful, however, whether his interpretation of the term " cardinal virtue " is sanctioned by the best usage. He means those general charac- teristics of a virtuous attitude, such as purity of heart, disinterested- ness, conscientiousness, and the like, which belong to the very essence of virtue as such. The relation of such qualities of the "'inner life" to the virtues proper is partly dealt with in the next chapter. For the origin of the phrase " cardinal virtue, ' see Sidg- wick's History of Ethics,?. 133. C/. Rickaby's Moral Philosophy, p. 84. 360 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. iv. modern times, with their complicated problems and varied relationships. r Nevertheless, a few suggestions towards such a catalogue may be found useful. / We may note, to begin with, the distinction which is commonly drawn between self-regarding virtues and those that are altruistic, or have reference to the good of others. This distinction is apt to be mislead- ing. The individual has no life of his own independ- ent of his social relations ; and any virtue which has reference to the good of the individual, must have reference also to social well-being. This fact, how- ever, need not prevent us from distinguishing between the life of an individual and the wider world to which it is related ; and some virtues may be said to bear specially on the former, while others bear more par- ticularly on the latter. It may be convenient to look at these two classes of virtues separately. (a) Taking the four Platonic virtues as a convenient starting-point, it is evident that courage and temper- ance are the two that bear specially 2 on the life of the individual. If we understand courage (or fortitude) in the wide sense of resistance to the fear of pain, and temperance in the equally wide sense of resistance to the allurements of pleasure, these two virtues w r ill include all forms of opposition to temptation in the individual life. Temptation appears either in the form of some pain to be avoided or some pleasure to be 1 An interesting list has been drawn up, in the form of a table, by Mr. Muirhead, in his Elements of Ethics, p. 201. Some suggestive remarks on the particular virtues required in modern life will be found in Adler's Moral Instruction of Children, Lectures XI. XV. 2 Wisdom, as we shall see immediately, is also directly concerned in the guidance of the individual life. But it applies equally to our social relationships. 6.] THE VIRTUES. 361 secured ; and he who is proof against these will lead a steadfast life along the lines that he has chosen. It is evident, however, that a man may be courageous and temperate in the conduct of his life, and yet be living foolishly. A wise choice of the line to be pursued is a necessary preliminary. If we understand the Platonic virtue of wisdom (or prudence) in this sense, we shall have in a manner a complete list of the virtues required for the conduct of the individual life. But it is evident that each of these virtues must be understood in such a sense as to comprehend under it a great variety of qualities not always found together in the same indi- vidual. Thus wisdom would require to be understood as including care, foresight, prudence, and also a cer- tain decisiveness of choice. Courage, again, would include both valour and fortitude, i. e. both the active courage which pursues its course in spite of the pro- bability of pain, and the passive courage which bears inevitable suffering without flinching. 1 But these are not the same virtues, and are indeed perhaps not often found together in any high degree. Again, courage would have to be understood as including perseverance ; and this seems a somewhat unnatural extension of its meaning ; just as it is somewhat un- 1 Mrs. Bryant (Educational Ends, pp. 71-2) regards fortitude as a higher virtue than the more active courage which goes to meet danger ; because the former bears actual pain, the latter only the fear of pain. This is so far true. Courage is a blinder virtue than fortitude. The courageous man sets pain aside and forgets it whereas the man who shows fortitude is one who endures an ac- tually present pain which cannot be set aside. But on the other hand courage is a more active and voluntary virtue than fortitude. It not merely endures pain, but goes to meet it in the fulfilment of a purpose. In this respect courage seems to be the higher virtue of the two. 362 ETHICS. [BK. III., CH. IV. natural to include decision under wisdom. Perhaps the qualities of decision, diligence, and perseverance would come most naturally under a separate heading by themselves. These qualities are concerned not so much with the resistance to the solicitations of plea- sure and pain, as with the resistance to the natural inertia of human nature. The Christian virtues of faith and hope are closely connected with valour and fortitude, in so far as they supply the latter virtues with an inner ground. A confident and cheerful view of life seems to be presupposed in the highest forms of courage. 1 With reference to temperance, again, this virtue would require to be understood as including the resistance to all kinds of solicitation from pleasures, whether sensual or intellectual, in so far as these tend to interfere with the conduct of life along the lines that have been chosen. Broadly speaking, then, we should be led in this way to recognize four distinct classes of virtues as bearing directly on the conduct of the indi- vidual life wisdom in the choice of its general course, decisiveness in pursuing it, courage and temperance in resisting the solicitations of pain and pleasure. 2 1 Browning's portraiture of Hercules in Balaustion's Adventure well illustrates the qualities involved in the highest forms of active courage. 2 Mr. Muirhead remarks (Elements of Ethics, p. 198-9) that the vir- tues of courage and temperance involve one another. " In order to be temperate a man must be courageous : in order to be able to resist the allurements of pleasure he must be willing to endure the pain that resistance involves. Similarly, in order to be courageous, he must be temperate." But this is perhaps a needless subtlety. The man who temperately abstains from a bottle of wine must no doubt be courageous enough to face the difficulties and dangers in- volved in going without it. But does not this mean simply that temperance is a kind of negative courage ? And does not the dis- tinction between positive and negative still remain ? 6.] THE VIRTUES. 363 (b) The virtues that relate to the individual's deal- ings with his fellow-men are perhaps best summed up under the head of justice. At the same time, this term, as commonly understood, is much too narrow to include all the virtues that arise in such relation- ships. It must be understood, for instance, to include not merely the fulfilment of contracts, and the perform- ance of every duty required by the laws, express or understood, of the community to which one belongs, but also perfect honesty and fidelity in all one's rela- tionships with others. Mr. Ruskin has taught us to look for honesty even in modes of artistic expression ; and this kind of honesty, as well as others, 1 must be included in our idea of justice, if that idea is to be made to comprehend all the virtues connected with our social obligations. Further, the Christian ideal of life has taught us to expect something beyond the mere satisfaction of obligations in our dealings with our fellow-men ; and indeed more than this was expected even by the moral consciousness of the Greeks. We commonly say that generosity is expected as well as justice ; and in Christian communities love also is re- quired. In a sense, however, we may say that all this ought to be included in our idea of justice. 2 For it is part of what is due from one individual to another that 1 Other instances of honesty, going beyond mere truthfulness, might easily be given. Thus the student who " crams " for an ex- amination may be said to be dishonest, because his knowledge is not genuine. Again, what Mr. Bosanquet calls (History of /Esthetic, p. xiii) "the scholar's golden rule never to quote from a book that he has not read from cover to cover," is a good instance of the ex- tension of the idea of honesty. 2 Thus, generosity, as Mr. Muirhead says, " is only justice ade- quately conceived" (Elements of Ethics, p. 200). 364 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. iv. the latter should be treated not as a mere thing to which certain specifiable obligations are owed, but as a person, an absolute end, with infinite claims. It is true that as a general rule such ideal relationships are only partly attainable ; but the thoroughly just man will endeavour to realize them as far as possible, and will be glad when the external relationships of mere contract can be transmuted into the relationships of friendship or Christian love. 1 Hence also such ideas as those of courtesy, and even of a certain cheerfulness and good humour in social intercourse ; such efforts as that of being, as far as possible, all things to all men, of avoid- ing all appearance of evil, of abstaining from that which is lawful when it is not expedient, and in general all the chivalries of the Christian gentleman, are not foreign to the conception of justice. They are part of what we owe to one another as persons and as abso- lute ends. We see, then, that, by giving a broad interpretation to each of the terms used, we may accept the old Greek classification of the virtues with but slight modi- fications. The only positive addition that we have to make is the recognition of a virtue of decisiveness and perseverance. Perhaps it was natural that the Greeks should omit this, partly because their plan of life was more mapped out for them beforehand than it is with us, and partly because with their simpler method of life steady persistence in any particular line was less essential. Perhaps also the light inconstancy of the 1 Here we are in agreement with Carlyle. Cf. above, chap, ii., 7. We doubt only whether the abolition of contract would of itself produce this desirable result. Justice must on the whole precede generosity. 6.] THE VIRTUES. 365 Athenian character, its perennial youthfulness, made the omission of this stern virtue easy. A Roman would scarcely have forgotten the idea of disciplined application ; I an Englishman would not naturally omit decision of character : a German would remember Daurbarkeit.* Besides this, however, it must not be forgotten that we have been extending the meaning of the four Greek virtues to senses which the Greeks themselves would not have acknowledged. 3 But such an expansion of the conception of duty is inevitable as the world advances. Having made this classification, however, we may at once add that any attempt to draw out such a list, like an attempt to make a list of the command- ments, is of very slight importance. There is essen- tially but one virtue (what we may, if we like, call practical wisdom *), just as there is essentially but one commandment. The particular virtues, like the par- ticular commandments, are only special forms in which 1 The decisiveness of such a man as Caesar, for instance (cf. below, chap, v., n. note), seems to be a virtue which cannot be identified either with wisdom, courage, or temperance. 2 Persistence. Cf. also the peculiarly German virtue of Treue (fidelity). These virtues were all somewhat foreign to the Athenian character. 3 This was habitually done by the early Christian moralists who accepted the Platonic classification. See Sidgwick's History of Ethics, P. 133- 4 It might be urged, of course, that there is a great difference be- tween what Bacon calls " wisdom fora man's self " and that wisdom which manifests itself in a just regard for others. But wisdom for a man's self, in the sense of mere selfish prudence, is not virtue at all. Wise care of a man's own interests, in the sense in which that is a virtue, is precisely the same quality as that which leads, when extended, to a wise care of the interests of others. The only dif- ference lies in the extension of our universe. 366 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. iv. the right attitude of mind manifests itself. The effort to make a list of these forms is almost frivolous. I have thought it worth while to say so much as I have done on the subject, only in order to make it clear what such an effort would mean. Perhaps the best way of regarding the virtues is to treat them as those forms of character that are implied in the fulfilment of the duties or commandments ; while those duties or commandments, again, depend on the elements in- volved in the social unity. 7. EDUCATION OF CHARACTER. Having ascertained what are the types of character to which we wish to approximate, we have next to inquire into the means by which these types are to be developed. Here, how- ever, it would be necessary to trespass on the province of Psychology, and especially on that part of Psycho- logy which is concerned with the theory of Education. This subject is still in a somewhat undeveloped state ; l and there are only one or two remarks that seem to have any practical value for our present purpose. It is scarcely necessary to refer to what every moralist has noticed, the influence of example in the development of character. "As iron sharpeneth steel, so a man sharpeneth the countenance of his friend." But all the forms of social relationship have a similar value. Per- haps we may say generally that the important thing, 1 Reference, may, however, be made to Herbart's Science of Educa- tion. Some good points will be found also in Guyau's Education and Heredity, Fouillee's L'Enseignement au Point de Vue National, Mrs. Bryant's Educational Ends, Rosenkranz's Philosophy of Educa- tion, and Dr. Adler's Moral Instruction of Children. Herbart's chief point is that the great work of education is to extend the " circle of thought." By a " circle of thought " he means very nearly what has been described in this handbook as a "universe." 7] THE VIRTUES. 367 from this point of view, is the influence that comes from connecting oneself with some organization that has a certain completeness in itself. Schiller said that a man must either be a whole in himself or else join him- self on to a whole. To this Mr. Bradley has added, l "You cannot be a whole, unless you join a whole." Complete development of character can be attained only by devoting ourselves to some large end, in co-operation with others. Such an attachment comes to different men in different ways. Some find it in the pursuit of science, others in particular practical interests, others in the political life of the State, others in poetry or religion. It matters little what the form may be ; but unless a man has, in some form, a broad human interest which lifts him out of himself, his life remains a fragment, and the virtues have no soil to grow in. The first requisite, then, for the development of the virtues, is to unite ourselves with others in the pursuit of some end or ideal. In the second place, we may observe that a certain amount of ascetic discipline is sometimes found valuable. As Aristotle put it, 2 when a man's character has been twisted in one direction, it may be straightened by bending it in the other. Also, even apart from this, a certain check to the gratification of our natural propensities helps to waken up the will : 3 it prevents us from living on by rote, and thus serves 1 Ethical Studies, p. 72. Mr. Bradley attributes the saying to Goethe. It is one of the Xcnien, and was probably of joint authorship. 2 Ethics, II. ix. 5. 3 Cf. James's Principles of Psychology, vol. i., p. 126. Prof. James lays down the maxim : " Keep the faculty of effort alive in you by a little gratuitous exercise every day." He adds, " Be systematically ascetic or heroic in little unnecessary points ; do every day or two something for no other reason than that you would rather not do it" 368 ETHICS. [BK. III., CH. IV. as a stimulus to the development of character ; so that, like Rabbi Ben Ezra, we may " welcome each rebuff That turns earth's smoothness rough, Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand but go." It is best, however, when such a rebuff comes to us in the ordinary course of nature. When it is consciously administered, it is apt to involve too much attention to our own inner development, which almost always leads to the production of a morbid habit of mind. 1 On the whole, it is generally better to escape from our defects, not by thinking about them and trying to elude them, but by fixing our attention on the opposite excellences. Dr. Chalmers used to speak of ''the ex- pulsive power of a new affection '' ; 2 and it certainly seems a more effectual method as a rule to expel our evil propensities by developing good ones rather than by seeking directly to crush the evil ones. At the same I venture to doubt the wisdom of this. A man who is living with serious ends in view will, I think, always find sufficient occasions for ascetic discipline " Room to deny himself, a road To bring him daily nearer God " without artificially seeking them out (except perhaps in the way in- dicated by Aristotle). See the whole passage from James quoted in Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, p. 129, note. Cf. also Miss Gilliland's Essay on " Pleasure and Pain in Education" in the International Journal of Ethics, vol. ii., No. 3 (April, 1892), pp. 303-4. 1 Cf. below, p. chap, v., n. 2 So also Mrs. Humphry Ward says in Robert Elsmere : " This, indeed, is the only way in which opinion is ever really altered by the substitution of one mental picture for another " ; and again : " An idea cannot be killed from without it can only be supplanted, transformed, by another idea, and that, one of equal virtue and magic." These quotations are due to Mr. Welton. 8.] THE VIRTUES. 369 time, it must be allowed that it is seldom possible to develop the moral life, like a flower, by a simple pro- cess of steady growth. Usually a certain amount of attention to the inner life is necessary ; and often a man has to pass through crises, such as used to be called, in religious language, conversion or new birth, in which the attention is turned inwards, and the man is occupied, as it were, in feeling his own pulse and fingering the motives of his conduct. This is an attitude from which we ought to escape as rapidly as possible ; but it is so characteristic a feature in the development of the moral life that it seems worth while to devote a separate chapter to the consideration of it the more so, as it will lead us to a further study of what may be called the inner side of virtue. 1 8. THE MORAL SYLLOGISM. Before we conclude this chapter, it may be convenient to take note of a highly significant conception of Aristotle, which seems here in place. In the present and the two preceding chapters we have briefly indicated the various forms 1 With reference to moral education, it may be noted here that a certain confusion is frequently fallen into between the culture of the moral nature and the acquisition of knowledge about morals. The former is all-important : the latter frequently leads to nothing more than that form of spiritual pride which is vulgarly known as " prig- gishness." In the former sense, all real education is moral education. It is in this sense that Herbart says (Science of Education, p. 57), " The one and the whole work of education may be summed up in the concept Morality. ' In the latter sense, on the other hand, a moral education would generally be a bad education, leading to nothing but self-conscious introspection. Cf. the important distinction be- tween " moral ideas " and " ideas about morality " drawn by Mr. Bosanquet in his article on " The Communication of Moral Ideas " in the International Journal of Ethics vol. I., No. i (Oct. 1890), p. 86. See also Miss Gilliland, loc. cit.,pp. 294-5. Eth. 370 ETHICS. [BK. III., CH. IV. in which the moral atmosphere (if we may so call it) affects the individual consciousness. The moral ideal involved in social life presents itself to him in the three forms of institutions to be maintained, duties to be fulfilled, and a type of life to be realized. At different stages of social development, and in different races of mankind, it tends to present itself more distinctly in one or other of these forms. Thus the Jews thought chiefly of Commandments, the Greeks chiefly of Virtues, and perhaps the Romans attached most im- portance to the maintenance of social institutions. But, in whatever form the moral life is conceived, the good citizen may be said to derive from these general conceptions of its nature the principles by which his life is guided. It is then his business to apply these principles in detail. This process was described by Aristotle as the formation of a practical syllogism. The major premiss consists of the general statement, that a particular social institution is to be maintained, that a particular commandment is to be obeyed, that a particular type of life is to be realized. The minor premiss consists in the apprehension that an action of a particular kind would be one that, fulfilled these conditions. Then the conclusion would consist in the carrying out of the action in question. The power of thus apprehending the general prin- ciple to be followed, and of bringing the particular action under it, was called by Aristotle practical wisdom (ypovyais) ; and the man who possessed this quality was called a p6vt/w$ to the consideration of that of the ffopd? (the man of speculative wisdom), which he declares to be higher. This raises the general question how far the highest life of the individual can be regarded as something to be realised apart from the life of the community, or as something that contains elements that are not adequately expressed in his relations to the social unity to which he belongs. It is this question that we have now to consider. * Nicotnachean Ethics, II., vi. , 15. "Eony apa 17 aperr; e'i? TrpoaipeTiKTj, k.v ovua T]7 irpb? ^/xas, copicrjae'i'Tj \6yw Kal aj? ai/ 6 ifxos opi'cretep. 37 2 ETHICS. [BK. in., en. iv. NOTE ON THE CLASSIFICATION OF THE VIRTUES. Students who desire a more complete classification of the Virtues than that which has been given in the foregoing chapter might find it advantageous to study them genetically, *.u gvsxa, for the sake of what is beautiful or noble. But the recognition of this has been very much deepened x by the growth of a clearer consciousness of the uni- versality of the principles on which the virtues rest. 6. NEW OBLIGATIONS. In the preceding section we have seen that the deepening of the conception of the principle on which the virtues rest is accompanied by an extension of the sphere of their application. The expansion of our ideas of obligation which takes place in this way is of a comparatively simple kind. We i It seems to me that Green somewhat exaggerates the unity of sentiment on this point in the Greek and Christian moral con- sciousness, Ibid., p. 271 seq., p. 288, &c. But no doubt there is greater danger in unduly emphasizing the divergence between them. 424 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. vn. learn to recognize that what applies to the Greek ap- plies equally to the Barbarian, that what applies to the Jew applies equally to the Gentile, that what applies to men applies equally to women. But along with this expansion there is another of a less simple kind, by which we become aware of obligations that present themselves to our minds as new rather than as mere extensions of the old ones. Thus, when the Christian conception of man's nature and destiny was intro- duced, it seemed to bring with it an obligation of pro- pagandism which had not been felt in the same way before. The recognition of the infinite issues at stake in the moral regeneration of mankind, and of the in- terest in these issues which belongs to every individ- ual soul, rendered it an imperative obligation on those who accepted the Christian doctrine to endeavour, to the utmost of their power, to "preach the Gospel to every creature/' On the other hand, the knowledge which has been subsequently acquired of the gradual way in which the moral nature develops, has modified the obligation of preaching, and transformed it into the obligation to make intellectual and moral education universally accessible. Again, the knowledge that has recently been acquired of the relation between men and animals has led to a transformation of our view with regard to the way in which the latter ought to be treated. It would be going somewhat too far to describe this transformation by saying that we have extended to the lower animals the same conception of rights and obligations as we apply to men. In the case of some of the lower animals any such extension would be generally regarded as absurd; and even with respect to the highest of them, unless we allow that 6.] MORAL PROGRESS. 425 they are self-conscious, rational beings, with a moral life like that of man (which even their best friends scarcely claim for them), we cannot acknowledge that they possess rights, in any strict interpretation of the term. "All that we seem entitled to say is, that we have begun to recognize that the animal consciousness has a certain kinship with our own, that we can dis- cover in it traces of feelings, perceptions, and instincts that appear to be on the way towards the development of a moral life, and that consequently we feel bound to treat the animals, at least in their higher forms, in a way that is semi-human in a way approximating to that in which we treat children, in whom also the moral consciousness, to which rights attach, is not fully developed. 1 But the acknowledgment of our relationship has, in recent times, extended even further than this. Even with inanimate nature we have be- gun to recognize a certain kinship ; and this has given rise in some minds to a more or less vague sentiment that even natural scenery possesses a certain quasi- right to exist, and ought not to be wantonly outraged. In noticing such extensions of our obligations as these, it ought not to be denied that there are also some obligations of which we are apt to lose the con- sciousness. Thus, it has often been pointed out that, in more primitive times, the consciousness of the mutual obligations of master and servant was much stronger than it is now. This must be fully admitted. At the same time it should be remembered that this 1 1 need hardly say that I do not intend this passage to be taken as a complete discussion of this difficult question. The quasi-righis of children, for instance, must differ widely from those of the lower animals, inasmuch as the former are actually on the way to become rational, whereas the latter are not. 426 ETHICS. [BK. III., CH. VII. partial obliteration of the consciousness of a duty is partly due to an extension of the sphere within which our obligations hold. The intensity of the personal relationship between master and servant (which, how- ever, is often greatly exaggerated) was due in 'part to the fact that no human obligation was acknowledged except what was due to that particular relationship. The servant was supposed to owe a debt of gratitude to his master for the protection and patronage vouch- safed to him. 1 The obligation recognized on the side of the master was, I am afraid, generally of a much vaguer character. Now, on the other hand, we recog- nize the obligation of man to man, as such, independ- ently of any special relationships. That this recogni- tion of a wider sphere of duty has practically weakened the narrower ties, seems to be partly true. It is always more difficult to act up to the requirements of a large obligation than to those of a small one. But this ought not to prevent us from perceiving that there has been a great extension of the sphere of acknow- ledged duty. 7. MORAL CHANGE AND CHANGE OF ENVIRONMENT. The question is sometimes raised 2 whether the exten- sion which thus takes place in our view of moral obligation is in reality due to a development of our moral consciousness, or only to a change in our en- vironment. Thus, it may be urged that the emancipa- tion of slaves 3 in modern times may be accounted for by the general development of our industrial methods ; 1 Cf. Buckle's History of Civilization, Vol. III., p. 325. See also above, pp. 304, note i, and 346, note I. 2 Cf. Muirhead's Elements of Ethics,, p. 229 seq. 8 Cf, Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations, Book III., chap, il 7,] MORAL PROGRESS. 427 and it may be suggested that the attempt to rest the movement in this direction on general considerations of the rights of men is merely an illustration of the cant and hypocrisy of the modern age. Now it seems clear that the general recognition of the possibility of abolishing slavery (which Aristotle could not acknow- ledge), and with this the recognition of the duty of actually abolishing it, was really due to the develop- ment of economic conditions. And a similar remark would apply in most other cases in which an extension of recognized obligations occurs. It is so, for instance, also with the movement towards the emancipation of women. New industrial conditions have pushed for- ward the demand for it. But this fact need not in any way stumble us, or make us hesitate the more to be- lieve that there is a moral advance. Doubtless the moral life does not grow up in vacua. It is relative throughout to the environment in which it is nurtured. It grows by the increase of our knowledge, by the in- crease of our power, by the increase of the possibilities of our action. The moral life is thus constantly being determined anew by the new conditions and combina- tions presented for solution, and by the new directions in which possible solutions appear. 1 But its growth is not therefore the less real. Those who know anything of the spirit in which the emancipation of the slaves was carried out, must be well aware that, however true it may be that industrial conditions made it pos- sible, that industrial conditions first brought it to men's minds, and first won for it a general acceptance, how- 1 The spirit of man " makes contemporary life the object on which it acts ; itself being the infinite impulse of activity to alter its forms." Hegel's Philosophy of History (English translation), p. 215. 428 ETHICS. [BK. III., CH. VII. ever true it may even be that commercial and merely political motives weighed most strongly with the rank and file of those who fought for its accomplishment, yet the inspiration of the great leaders of the move- ment, without which the necessary self-sacrifice would never have been undergone, was at bottom purely moral. Mere external changes may bring the need of a moral reform to light ; but it is only in so far as they thus serve to awaken a moral consciousness that the world is moved by them. 8. THE IDEAL UNIVERSE. The fact of moral progress causes it to be not entirely true that the good man, and especially the moral genius (who is generally at the same time a moral reformer), lives within a uni- verse constituted by actually existing habits and in- stitutions, or even by ideals that are definitely acknow- ledged at a given time and place. What is said of Abraham may be applied to the moral life generally. "By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place which he should after receive for an in- heritance, obeyed ; and he went out, not knowing whither he went. . . . For he looked for a city which hath foundations, whose Builder and Maker is God." The spirit of man, in its moral growth, looks continu- ally for such a city. It is continually " moving about in worlds not realized." It is dissatisfied with the habits and institutions actually established at any time and place, and even with the ideals that are customa- rily recognized, and presses forward towards a form of life that shall be more complete, consistent, and satis- fying. 1 Hence the perennial interest of Utopias and * " That which gives life its keynote is, not what men think good, but what they think best. True, this is not the part of belief which 8.] MORAL PROGRESS. 429 poetic dreams and anticipations of better modes of existence. The danger, in such dreams and anticipa- tions, is that they are apt to represent only a partial and abstract phase in the development of life, and to involve some loss of hold upon its concrete content. In this sense, there is some truth in the saying that the world as a whole is wiser than its wisest men. The fresh intuitions of the prophets, who are as strangers and pilgrims on the earth, require to be re- interpreted in the light of the practical good sense of those who are at home on it. The prophetic seer is sometimes apt to be blinded by his own light, so that the rest of the world seems to him darkness. Hence the melancholy which Carlyle regarded as at the basis is embodied in conduct : the ordinary man tries to avoid only what is obviously wrong; the best of men does not always make us aware that he is striving after what is right. We do not see people growing into the resemblance of what they admire ; it is much if we can see them growing into the unlikeness of that which they condemn. But the dominant influence of life lies ever in the un- realized. While all that we discern is the negative aspect of a man's ideal, that ideal itself lives by admiration which never clothes itself in word or deed. In seeing what he avoids we judge only the least important part of his standard ; it is that which he never strives to realize in his own person which makes him what he is. The average, secular man of to-day is a different being because Christendom has hallowed the precept to give the cloak to him who asks the coat ; it would be easier to argue that this claim for what most would call an impossible virtue has been injurious than that it has been impotent. Christianity has moulded character where we should vainly seek to discern that it has influenced con- duct. Not the criminal code, but the counsel of perfection shows us what a nation is becoming; and he who casts on any set of duties the shadow of the second best, so far as he is successful, does more to influence the moral ideal than he who succeeds in passing a new law." These suggestive, and even profound remarks are taken from Miss Wedgwood's work on The Moral Ideal (p. 373). The italics are mine. 430 ETHICS. [BK. III., CH. VII. of all true insight the pessimism and despair which cloud the consciousness, so long as it sees only the imperfection and incompleteness of all actual achieve- ment in the moral life, in contrast with the partial Pisgah-sight of something better to be attained ; and does not yet perceive, what is often the deeper truth, that the germs of the better are already at work in the partly good, and may even be contained in what pre- sents itself at first as simply bad. The recognition, however, of this moral faith, this presence of the consciousness of an unattained and even unformulated ideal, leads us at once into the region of poetry and religion, which in a manner transcend morality. The consideration of these would carry us beyond our present subject ; but we may conclude with a chapter on the relationship between Ethics and Metaphysics, in which the place of religion will be in- cidentally referred to. l 1 The whole subject of the present chapter is most admirably treated in Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, Book V, I.] ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 431 CONCLUDING CHAPTER. ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 1. GENERAL REMARKS. It must be evident to the discerning reader that, in what has gone before, we have occasionally been skating on rather thin ice. The ultimate questions to which we have been led have not received any quite satisfactory solution. We have perhaps seen the insufficiency of all other theories of Ethics more fully than we have seen the sufficiency of that which we have been led to adopt. The truth is that the theory of Ethics which seems most satisfactory has a metaphysical basis, and without the considera- tion of that basis there can be no thorough understand- ing of it. If we could have satisfied ourselves with a Hedonistic theory, a psychological basis might perhaps have sufficed. On the other hand, if one of the current evolution theories could be accepted, we might look for our basis in the study of biology. But if we rest our view of Ethics on the idea of the development of the ideal self or of the rational universe, the significance of this cannot be made fully apparent without a meta- physical examination of the nature of the self ; nor can its validity be established except by a discussion of the reality of the rational universe. Some further exami- nation of this point seems now to be demanded. 2. VALIDITY OF THE IDEAL. The general result of 43 2 ETHICS. [CONCLUDING CH. our inquiry may be summed up as follows. We have seen that the moral consciousness presents itself first of all in the form of law, a supreme command or cate- gorical imperative imposed on the will of the individual. Hence, when reflection begins on the nature of morality, the first theory which presents itself is one that con- ceives of it as an absolute law of Duty. But this breaks down, because, as we have seen, when this idea is carefully analyzed, it is found to yield no con- tent. The next form in which the idea of morality presents itself is that of the Good ; and this is naturally thought of at first simply as that which satisfies desire, i. e. as the pleasant. But the pleasant is formless, just as the law of Duty is empty ; and we are thus led to look for a more adequate conception of the Good. This is found in the idea of the complete realization of the essential nature of mankind. But in order to under- stand this, it is necessary to study the nature of man- kind in its concrete development. Accordingly, we have been led to notice, in a brief and summary fashion, the ways in which the realization of humanity may be regarded as accomplishing itself through the various institutions of social life, through the duties and virtues which grow up in connection with these, through the growth of the inner life of the individual, and through the progressive development of human history. Through these various activities mankind may be seen to be gradually attaining to that complete rationality which can only be reached through the complete grasping of the world of experience, and bringing it into intelligible relationship to ourselves. This process cannot be seen to complete itself within the actual moral life of mankind : and the ideal involved in the 3-] ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 433 moral life is consequently unfulfilled. Life remains at the best incomplete a noble work, it may be, but a torso. Now this incompleteness in the concrete reali-v zation of the moral ideal brings with it the further de- fect that the validity of the moral ideal is not fully made apparent in the course of its concrete realization. If mankind could be supposed actually to attain that complete development of human faculty, that complete bringing of the world into intelligible and harmonious relationship to the human consciousness, at which we may be said to aim, the result would no doubt be seen to be so satisfying in itself that it would be impossible to question the validity of the ideal as an object of human effort. But this complete justification is not possible so long as the process is not fully worked out. Now it is this insufficiency in the moral life that leads v us to the point of view of religion ; and perhaps some consideration of the latter may enable us to see more clearly the nature of the ultimate problem which is in- volved in the moral consciousness. 3. MORALITY AND RELIGION. Matthew Arnold, as is well known, defined religion as " morality touched with emotion." "This," remarks Mr. Muirhead, 1 " does not carry us far. Emotion is not a distinctive mark of religious conduct. All conduct . . . is touched with emotion, otherwise it would not be conduct at all." This criticism is perhaps not entirely fair. All conduct is in a sense touched with emotion i. e. it involves an element of feeling. So does all conscious life. But this need not prevent us from distinguishing between emotional and unemotional acts and states. In ordinary life the element of feeling is to all intents i Elements of Ethics, p. 180. Eth. 28 434 ETHICS. [CONCLUDING CH. in abeyance. It influences us quietly, but does not rise into prominence. We do what is in harmony with our habits and convictions ; we shun what is in dis- cord with them : but our attention is not specially directed to the agreeableness of the one or the disagree- ableness of the other. The one does not thrill us, and the other does not jar upon us or shock us. This is the case so long as we are living steadily within the universe to which we have become habituated. And we are so living throughout the greater part of that conduct which we describe as moral. Even the saint or hero may perform saintly or heroic acts with no consciousness that he is doing anything particular, and consequently with no sense either of harmony disturbed or of harmony restored. The more entirely he is absorbed in his work, the more likely is this to be the case. Still more is it the case that the "good neighbour" and the "honest citizen" go about their avocations, for the most part, with no particular stir- rings of the breast. On the other hand, Matthew Arnold was probably so far in the right, that the reli- gious attitude, as distinguished from the simply moral, is at least generally characterized (as is also the artistic) by a more or less distinctly marked emotion. Still, I agree with Mr. Muirhead in thinking that Matthew Arnold's definition is inadequate, and this for more reasons than one. In the first place, although it seems an exaggeration to say that all conduct is in any special sense char- acterized by emotion, yet conduct is frequently emo- tional without being, in any ordinary sense of the term, religious. Conduct becomes emotional whenever our attention is strongly directed to some end, affected by 3-] ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 435 our conduct, which we have come to regard as su- premely important. Now this end may or may not be of such a kind as we ordinarily designate religious. In a hotly-contested political election, a man may perform his duty as a citizen under a strong emotiorfal influence, which in some cases has been so powerful as to pro- duce death. Yet we should scarcely say that his con- duct is more religious than that of the good workman who carefully finishes his job, without feeling that anything particular is at stake. Or again, when one of the parents of a large family suddenly dies, leaving the whole responsibility on the shoulders of the other, the sense of this new responsibility, in a conscientious person, will generally cause the ordinary duties of the family to be, for some time at least, performed with a keener feeling than before of the issues that are at stake. Yet we should scarcely say that it is thereby rendered more religious. The truth is that the emo- tional quality of our actions depends largely on the question whether they are habitual acts, acts that belong to the ordinary universe within which we live, or whether we are rising into an unfamiliar universe. Now it maybe readily granted that religion, in any real sense of the word, can hardly be made so habi- / tual as not to involve some uplifting of the soul, some withdrawal from the point of view of ordinary life to a more comprehensive or more profound apprehension of the world and of our relations to it. Hence it can hardly fail to involve emotion. Even the Amor intel- lectualis Dei of Spinoza, however purely intellectual it may be, is still amor. But conduct may involve strong and deep emotion and yet not be specially religious. But, in the second place, Matthew Arnold's definition 436 ETHICS. [CONCLUDING CH. seems to err not merely by including much which would not, in any ordinary sense, be regarded as re- ligion, but also by excluding much which would naturally fall under that category. Some religions*/ have scarcely any direct bearing on the moral life. Even the religion of the Greeks, one of the most beauti- ful and typical of all religions, was largely a worship of the powers of nature. Their gods were not con- spicuously respectable ; and though in an indirect way they had an ennobling influence on Greek life, yet they were not consciously set up as models of moral conduct, nor did the worship of them involve any direct incite- ment to virtue. They did indeed, stand to some ex- tent as representations of the social bond ; so that to violate social order was to offend against the gods of the society. But this was not perhaps their most pro- minent characteristic. And the same is true of many other forms of religion. l It cannot, therefore, be said that religion is always to be regarded as immediately . connected with the moral life. 4. THE RELATION OF RELIGION TO ART. The connec- tion of religion with Ethics, in fact, appears to be very similar to the connection of art with Ethics ; 2 and we 1 E. g., the Scandinavian. The religion of the Romans, on the other hand, was strongly moral (Cf. Froude's Cccsar, p. 12). No doubt, even the Scandinavian and early German mythologies con- tained some strongly-marked ethical traits : Cf. Carlyle's Heroes and Hero-Worship, sect I., and Prof. Pfleiderer's article on "The Na- tional Traits of the Germans as seen in their Religion," in the Inter- national Journal of Ethics for October, 1892 (vol. iii., No. I, pp. 27). 2 A chapter dealing with this subject, which appeared in the earlier edition of this Manual, has been omitted, partly from want of space, and partly because it was felt that the treatment of such a subject in a handbook like this is necessarily too slight to be of any value. The remarks in the present chapter will probably be found suffi- 4-] ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 437 may understand the connection better by noticing the relation of art to religion. Carlyle was fond of remind- ing us of the connection between the terms "Worship " and ' ' Worthship." What we worship is what we re- gard as having supreme worth or value. Religion, in short, like art, is concerned with ideals. But while the ideals of art are beautiful objects that yield an imme- diate satisfaction, the ideals of religion are rather objects that are regarded as having supreme and ultimate worth. In their immediate aspect they may have "no beauty that we should desire them." For the same reason the ideals of religion must be regarded as true. Art, aiming at an immediate satisfaction, may be partly dream. No doubt, if it is to be great art, it must keep close to reality ; and even its most imaginative crea-v tions must express some inner truth in nature or in morals. Indeed, in its highest forms art approaches very closely to religion. But still it is never necessary that the creations of art should be absolutely true. It is enough that they should be beautiful suggestions of truth. Even in the highest regions of art, such a work -< as Shakespeare's Tempest has no literal truth. There are no Calibans or Ariels ; nor is it necessary for our appreciation of the play that we should actually believe that there are any. We can feel the whole beauty of it, and yet be well aware that all the creations in it are "such stuff as dreams are made of." Religion, on the other hand, gives us ideals which are regarded as realities, and even as the most real of things. The Homeric gods, as depicted in the poems 5 are poetic creations ; and there is no necessity for supposing ciently intelligible without reference to the preliminary chapter on Art. 43 8 ETHICS. [CONCLUDING CH. them to be anything but dreams significant dreams, no doubt, but still dreams. As worshipped by the Greek people, on the other hand, the gods were neces- sarily regarded as realities. Hegel, indeed, has con-v/ trasted the Greek with the Christian religion, by saying that the gods of the former were mere creations of the imagination. 1 This is partly true. The Greeks were an artistic much more than a religious people ; and their gods never became, in any complete sense, definitely established objects of belief. But just to this v extent they remained poetry rather than religion. So also in the Christian religion there are many mythical elements which have been made subjects of poetry and of various forms of artistic representation. We may admire the paintings of Jesus and of the Virgin, and feel an artistic pleasure in the contemplation of them, without believing that they are anything more than beautiful dreams. 2 But the man who takes Jesus * See Wallace's Logic of Hegel, p. 233. 2 No doubt there are stages of human development at which the distinction here indicated is scarcely perceived. To the Greeks, for instance, Homer supplied poetry, philosophy, and religion all in one. And so, no doubt, it was to some extent in the great ages of Mediaeval art. At such periods the significance of art for a nation's life is much greater than it is after the three provinces have been more rigidly divided. " However excellent," says Hegel, " we think the statues of the Greek gods, however nobly and perfectly God the Father and Christ and Mary may be portrayed, it makes no differ- ence, our knees no longer bend." See Bosanquet's History of /Esthetic, p. 344, and cf. Caird's Hegel, pp. 111-12. Of course, the clearer distinction in modern times between art and philosophy or religion need not in the end cause our art to be less perfect or less serious than that of the ancient world. For we may still recognize that art is the best expression of all that is deepest in philosophy / and religion. But it is necessarily dethroned from its former unique position. Homer and Dante may have been treated as authorities : 5-] ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 439 as a supreme object of worship necessarily regards him as real and as the greatest of realities. 5. THE NECESSITY OF RELIGION. Religion, being thus akin to art, is related to Ethics in somewhat the same way as art is. It carries us, in a sense, beyond the moral life, by raising us to the idea of a sphere of attainment beyond the sphere of mere struggle. And this it does, not, like art, in the way of hint and sug- gestion, but rather in the way of definite conviction. Such convictions are a necessity of man's life a neces- sity partly intellectual and partly moral. T Both on the intellectual and on the moral side this necessity may be said to arise from a consciousness of the incom- pleteness and inadequacy of our experience. On the purely intellectual side this presents itself as a feeling of wonder at the inexplicable in nature. Out of this wonder, as Plato taught, all science arises. But the imagination outruns science, and creates explanations for itself; and even after science has done its best, there remains a sense of unexplained mystery into which we still seek to press. On the moral side, in like manner, there is a sense of inadequacy in ouiV ordinary experience a want of completeness in our lives, a want of poetic justice in our fates. It is chiefly on this side that religion touches on Ethics. But even the demand for intellectual explanation expresses a " moral need. It is the desire to be at home within our universe, and not to be confronted at every turn with alien mysteries. In an unintelligible world we could Shakespeare and Goethe are regarded only as exponents and illustra- tors. But perhaps they have gained in breadth what they have lost in height. Cf. Bosanquet, op. cit, p. 469. i See Caird's Philosophy of Religion, chap. iv. 440 ETHICS. [CONCLUDING CH. not lead a moral life, because we should not know what ends to propose to ourselves, or how to set about realizing them. 1 Hence even when the imagination constructs myths to explain the formation of the clouds or the motion of the sun, it is indirectly serving mo- rality. It saves us from that prosaic abandonment in which the higher life expires that state in which as Wordsworth complains, " Little we see in nature that is ours.'' Natural religions, like that of the Greeks, save us in some measure from this. They enable us in the presence of nature to " Have glimpses that may make us less forlorn ; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea ; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn." Even here, then, the religious imagination comes to the aid of the moral life. Still, it is chiefly in so far as it supplies a relief from the inadequacy of the moral life itself that religion touches on Ethics. On this aspect we must now look a little more closely. 6. THE FAILURE OF LIFE. Those who fix their at- tention on the lives of individuals have always suf- ficient ground for Pessimism. Even the most favoured human beings attain only a small part of what they hope ; and what they hope is generally but a small part of what they would wish to be able to hope. And a large proportion of the human race scarcely seem to get the length of hope at all. Nor is it merely 1 It is chiefly for this reason that intellectual scepticism is apt to have a detrimental effect on the moral life. This effect was strongly insisted on by Plato, and, in more recent times, by Carlyle. Descartes also, in the pursuit of his intellectual scepticism, felt the need of guarding himself against its moral accompaniment. See his Dis- course of Method, Part III. Burke also emphasized this point. ;.] ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 441 that the average individual does not get so much out of life as he could wish. The apparent unfairness of fate is equally galling. Sometimes the sight of the wicked flourishing "like the green bay tree" offends the moral sense even more than the failures of the righteous ; and this not from envy, but from a sense of injustice. 7. THE FAILURE OF SOCIETY. Some consolation may be found, indeed, for the failure of the individual life in the confidence that society at least goes on ad- vancing. But the progress of society can scarcely be regarded as compensating for individual failure. Society is not an entity apart from the individuals who compose it ; and if the individuals fail, society cannot have wholly succeeded. It might be argued, indeed, that it is moving towards success, towards some " far- off divine event." Still no such event could be morally satisfactory if it were reached, so to speak, by tramp- ling over the fallen bodies of generations of men who "all died not having received the promises." 1 And even the poor comfort that society advances, does not seem an altogether certain hope. In nearly all ages wise men have been inclined to think that they and their generation were no better than their fathers ; and even if we can on the whole trace a line of progress through the lives of nations, "yet progress has many receding waves," 2 and in nearly every case it seems to be followed in the end by a period of cor- 1 This point is strikingly emphasized in Prof. A. Seth's pamphlet on The Present Position of the Philosophical Sciences, near the end. Cf. also his Hegelianism and Personality, p. 228. With much of what is said in both these places, however, I do not agree. 2 Sorley's Ethics of Naturalism, p. 272. 442 ETHICS. [CONCLUDING CH. ruption and decline. And even such progress as there is, appears only to lead in an asymptotical way to the goal that we hope for. The highest civilizations that have ever been achieved, have been accompanied by corrupting luxury on the one hand and degrading s toil and misery on the other ; and there has never been a time at which the most deeply moral natures have not been made to feel that, in some important respects, the world was out of joint, and that neither they nor any others were born to set it right. Is there, it may well be asked, any sober and certain ground for supposing that it will ever be otherwise? If not, we must regard society as having failed, just as, for the most part, the individual life is perceived to fail. 8. THE FAILURE OF ART. Conscious of the failure of life and society, many of the finest natures have taken refuge in art. Matthew Arnold, in one of thev' most striking of his poems, 1 represents Goethe as turning from the vain strife of his age, after having ex- posed its weaknesses, and proclaiming to his contem- poraries as their last resort " Art still has truth, take refuge there. " And indeed in the same poem Matthew Arnold describes the message of Wordsworth to his generation, though in very different language, as being yet substantially the same. Seeing the folly and confusion of the actual world around him, he . taught his age to set it aside, and seek relief in feel- ing. But this is a somewhat treacherous refuge. "Art for Art's sake" is a shallow doctrine at the best. 2 It is true in a sense that art is play. Ernst ist das 1 Memorial Verses. 2 See Bosanquet's History of ^Esthetic, p. 457. 8.] ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 443 Leben, heifer ist die Kunst. 1 Men may seek a tem- porary relief in it from the struggle of life ; and it may be a not unworthy commendation to say of a great poet " The cloud of mortal destiny, Others will front it fearlessly But who, like him, will put it by ? " But even this service can be rendered to us by art only so long as it is believed by us to be a revelation of a deeper truth in things. 2 If it is taken merely as art, merely as a beautiful dream, it sinks into play, becomes a mere refined amusement, and loses all its real power over the human spirit. 3 There could hardly be any worse sign of an age than that it regards art as a mere amusement, as a mere escape from the graver problems of life. In the great ages of art, there has always been a faith behind the art a belief that it symbolizes truths that are eternal, and that can be expressed, though with an unspeakable loss of adequacy and completeness, in sober prose * as well as in the form of artistic dreams. Their art was, indeed, in a sense, play ; but it was a playful mode of giving utterance to the exuberance of a nation's faith, and as such it had the highest beauty and value. 1 " Life is serious, art is joyous." Schiller. Cf. Bosanquet's His- tory of ^Esthetic, p. 296. 2 On the relation of Beauty to Truth, see Caird's Essays on Litera- ture and Philosophy, vol. i., pp. 54-65, 151-154, &c. ; and cf. Bosan- quet's History of ^Esthetic, pp. 336, 458-460, &c. " We cannot give the name of sacred poet to the ' idle singer of an empty day,' but only to him who can express the deepest and widest interests of human life." Caird, loc. cit, p. 154. Cf. also Caird's Critical Philosophy of Kant, vol. ii., pp. 465-6. 4 Dante actually gave a prose interpretation of his Divine Comedy. 444 ETHICS. [CONCLUDING CH. But as a desperate escape from scepticism it could have no such worth. Its dreams, if they were supposed to be altogether unreal, would only make the emptiness of life the more conspicuous. * We might still feel that they were beautiful ; but it would be like the beautify- v ing of a sepulchre full of dead men's bones. The soul would have gone out of them. 9. THE DEMAND FOR THE INFINITE. ' 'Man's Unhap- piness," says Carlyle, "comes of his greatness. It is because there is an Infinite in him which with all his cunning he cannot quite bury under the finite." The ideal unity of our self-consciousness demands a per- fectly harmonious and intelligible universe ; and this cannot be found so long as we see the world in its finite aspect, as a series of isolated events set over against each other. Art partly breaks down this finitude, and lets us see the infinite significance of it shining through. 2 But it does this in a form that is' not quite adequate to the truth a form that is partly playful ; and we return from its ideals to the actual 1 Some suggestive remarks on the possibility of making art a sub- stitute for religion will be found in Duhring's Erzatz dcr Religion, pp. 106-1 1 1. See also Caird's Hegel, pp. 37-8. 2 Carlyle says (Heroes and Hero-Worship, Lect. III.) that music is " a kind of inarticulate unfathomable speech, which leads us to the edge of the Infinite, and lets us for moments gaze into that." Cf. also Caird's Hegel, pp. 112-114; and see the passage quoted from Hegel in Bosanquet's History of ^Esthetic, p. 361. " For in art we have to do with no mere toy of pleasure or of utility, but with the liberation of the mind from the content and forms of the finite, with the presence and union of the Absolute within the sensuous and phenomenal, and with an unfolding of truth which is not ex- hausted in the evolution of nature, but reveals itself in the world- history, of which it constitutes the most beautiful aspect and the best reward for the hard toil of reality and the tedious labours of know- ledge." 10.] ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 445 world with all our discontent again sometimes, in- deed, with our discontent deepened and intensified. Art reaches its intuitions of truth, as Browning put it, " at first leap ; " and often, when reflection supervenes, we find that what we have received is not a solution of our problems, but at most the suggestion of a solu- tion. What we require is an ideal which shall at the same time be absolutely real. 10. THE Two INFINITES. Now there are two main forms in which we become aware of the infinite as a reality within our experience what we may call the purely intellectual form and the moral form. These two are well expressed by Kant in a familiar passage, in which he states the two great objects of reverence. 1 "Two things fill the mind with ever new and increas- ing admiration and awe, the oftener and the more steadily we reflect on them : the starry heavens above and the moral law within. I have not to search for them and conjecture them as though they were veiled in darkness or were in the transcendent region beyond my horizon ; I see them before me and connect them directly with the consciousness of my existence. The former begins from the place I occupy in the external world of sense, and enlarges my connection therein to an unbounded extent with worlds upon worlds and sys- tems of systems. . . . The second begins from my in- visible self, my personality, and exhibits me in a world which has true infinity, but which is traceable only by the understanding, and with which I discern that I am 1 Conclusion of Critique of Practical Reason (Abbott's translation), p. 260. Cf. also Janet's Theory of Morals, Book III., chap, xii., where the whole subject of the relation of Ethics to Religion is treated in a suggestive way. 446 ETHICS. [CONCLUDING CH. not in a merely contingent but in a universal and nec- essary connection. . . . The former view of a countless multitude of worlds annihilates as it were my import- ance as an animal creature, which after it has been for a short time provided with vital power, one knows not how, must again give back the matter of which it was formed to the planet it inhabits (a mere speck in the universe). The second, on the contrary, infinitely elevates my worth as an intelligence by my person- ality, in which the moral law reveals to me a life in- dependent on animality and even on the whole sen- sible world, at least so far as may be inferred from the destination assigned to my existence by this law, a destination not restricted to conditions and limits of this life, but reaching into the infinite." These two reverences, separately or in combination, may be said to furnish the basis of religious worship. When the first is taken alone, it gives rise to Pantheism or to Agnosticism : when the second is taken alone, it gives rise to Monotheism or to the Religion of Humanity. When the two are combined, we have a more com- plete form of religion. 11. THE FIRST RELIGION. The first form of reve- rence, then, in which the demand for the infinite is recognized, is the worship of Nature in the boundless- ness of its extent and power. In its crudest form this religion is summed up in the saying that " All is God." This form of worship rises very naturally in our minds when we are brought face to face with the great elemental forces of nature. " What is man," we are then tempted to exclaim, "that he should be put in comparison with the infinity of the material universe ! " This point of view is materialistic, and is scarcely dis- 12.] ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 447 tinguishable from Atheism. It is, however, a super- ficial view. The infinity which is reached by the mere adding on of an endless number of parts is what Hegel called "the bad infinite." Such an infinity is in no way more satisfying to our minds than the finite is. The mere fact that we cannot get to an end of a thing does not add anything to its value. The blank empti- ness of space, for instance, has no worth for us. The deeper Pantheism is distinguished from this superficial one, in that its meaning is summed up, not in the say- ing that " All is God," but that "God is all" i. e. the finite world is an unreality, and that the ultimate reality is the spiritual power behind it. This view is developed, with great force and suggestiveness, in the Ethics of Spinoza. 1 Since, however, it rests on the mere negation of the finite, it ends either in the asser- tion of blank nothingness as the ultimate reality (the Nirvana of the Buddhists), or in the assertion of some ultimate reality of which nothing can be known (the Unknowable of Mr. Herbert Spencer). This infinity of emptiness is in the end quite as unsatisfactory (both from an intellectual and from a moral point of view) as the infinity of an inexhaustible aggregate. 12. THE SECOND RELIGION. The second religion is the worship of the moral law in the absoluteness of its authority. In order, however, that this may be made an object of reverence, it requires to be regarded as embodied in some concrete form. The simplest form is that of a supreme Law-giver, as in the religion of the Jews. The unsatisfactoriness of this view arises from the fact that such a Law-giver has to be thought of as external to that to which he gives the law. He 1 There is, however, another side to the doctrine of Spinoza, which, 44 8 ETHICS. [CONCLUDING CH. deals with a refractory material. He requires, there- fore, to be thought of as in some sense finite, 1 being limited by a world outside. Accordingly, this view leads readily to Manicheism, the belief in an infinite Devil as well as an infinite God. Other methods of escape are (i) to say frankly, like J. S. Mill, that God is not infinite at all, 2 which deprives us of that supreme satisfaction which the infinite alone can give ; or (2) to abandon the idea of a personal God, and assert only a progressive realization of the moral ideal. This latter resource appears in the Religion of Humanity, insti- tuted by Auguste Comte,3 in which the human race as a whole is represented as a Great Being struggling for- ward against the opposing tendencies of an unintelli- gent and unintelligible nature. A similar view is to be found in Matthew Arnold's idea of a "Power, not our- selves, that makes for righteousness." The inherent weakness of any such position is that it leaves an ir- reconcilable dualism in our world. Evil is left unac- counted for, and we have no assurance that it will be finally overcome with good. 13. THE THIRD RELIGION. It is one of the supreme merits of the Christian religion that it combines these two infinites so completely. The God of Christianity is conceived at once as the infinite Power revealed in nature, and as the source and end of the moralldeal. It is even more important and characteristic, and which brings it into connection rather with the moral point of view, referred to in the next section. The same may be said of Buddhism. 1 In which case this view would become identical with Mill's. 2 A similar view is developed in a recent book entitled Riddles oj the Sphinx. 3 For an account and criticism of this, see Caird's Social phy and Religion of Comtc. I4-] ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 449 enables men to see in the world outside them the work- ing out of their own moral aspirations, 1 to believe that " morality is the nature of things/' and to have con- fidence, not indeed that "whatever is, is right," but that "whatever is right, is" /. e. as Carlyle put it, that "the soul of the world is just," that in the last resort "the Good" (in Plato's phrase) is the only reality. Other religions have partly contained this same inspiring faith ; but Christianity seems to bring it out most clearly. 14. RELIGION AND SUPERSTITION. It has been fre- quently noted that ages of religious faith tend to be rapidly followed by times of doubt and disbelief. The cause of this is not far to seek. The religious imagina- tion, as we have already remarked, in its effort after a final explanation of the mysteries of things, outruns science. It cannot wait for the plodding processes of reasoning and verification. But these come after- wards ; and when they come, they generally find that the kernel of religious truth has been hastily wrapped V up in a husk of superstition. The religions of the world have grown out of the buoyant faith of some imaginative and impassioned natures. To the founders of them they have nearly always been an inextricable blending of truth and poetry. 2 Those who came after 1 Beautifully expressed by Browning Epistle from Karshish " So through the darkness comes a human voice, Saying ' O heart I made, a heart beats here,' " &c. z I. e. their meaning takes the form of an image, which for them is inseparable from the meaning. As the Germans say, the Begriff (i. e. the conception or meaning) appears in the form of a Vorstellung (imaginative representation). Cf. Wallace's Logic of Hegel {First Edition), pp. 1-2, and Ixxxvii. Ixxxix. Eth. 29 45 ETHICS. [CONCLUDING CH. them have seldom been able to catch just that point of view at which insight passed into beauty. The poetry evaporates, and the truth does not remain. The happy intuition becomes a miserable creed ; and the beautiful images that clustered round it turn into the spectres of superstition. Then, as soon as another man of real insight arises, the hollowness of the dogma is revealed, and with this revelation the entire religion appears to be exploded. The gods before which the rapt adora- tion of saint and poet once knelt become mere names that serve perhaps only to give gusto to an oath. 15, THE ETHICAL SIGNIFICANCE OF RELIGION. What remains essential in religion, however, is the convic- tion of the reality of the moral life ; and this convic-^ tion it is which metaphysics is required to justify. In , other words, it has to justify the belief that the moral, life is worth living. From a practical point of view we may say no doubt that such a justification is hardly re- quired. It is the faith which is inevitably involved in life itself, just as in science there is involved the faith that the world can be seen as an intelligible system. In a stirring article entitled "Is Life worth Living?" Professor James remarks "If this life be not a real fight, in which something is eternally gained for the universe by success, it is no better than a game of private theatricals from which one may withdraw at will. But it feels like a real fight ; " and he con- cludes by urging that our attitude on this matter is - necessarily one of faith. "Believe," he says, "that i life is worth living, and your belief will half create the fact. The 'scientific proof that you are right may not be clear before the day of judgment (or some stage of Being which that expression may serve to symbolize) 1 6.] ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 451 is reached. But the faithful fighters of this hour, or the beings that then and there will represent them, may then turn to the faint-hearted, who here decline to go on, with words like those with which Henry IV. greeted the tardy Crillon after a great victory had been gained : ' Hang yourself, Crillon ! we fought at Arques, and you were not there/ " The belief, then, that the moral life is in this sense real may be said to be the essential significance of religion ; and without some such belief the moral life is hardly possible at all. In all spheres of thought, however, the human intellect demands proof; and they' proof of this particular point can only be found in metaphysics. 16. THE ULTIMATE PROBLEMS OF METAPHYSICS. We thus see how it is that the science of Ethics is incom- v/ plete in itself, and stretches out its hands to metaphysics. But in a sense this is true of all science, and we may^ even say, of all art. All positive science rests on the belief that the world can be seen as an intelligible system, and this belief cannot be justified except by metaphysical inquiry. All fine art, in like manner, at least in its higher and more serious forms, may be said to rest upon the conviction that " Beauty is Truth," that v the point of view from which the beautiful is appre- hended is a point of view which grasps a more essen- tial form of actuality than that which appears in mere existence. Similarly, the moral point of view involves the conviction that Good is more real than Evil, that * the moral ideal has a higher actuality r than the exist- 1 In so far as such a point of view as that here indicated can be adopted, the Ideal becomes transformed into the Idea (in the sense in which that term was used by Plato and Hegel)/, e. instead of 452 ETHICS. [CONCLUDING CH. ing world as it appears to the ordinary consciousness of mankind. How this can be established by metaphysical reflec- tion it is not our business here to inquire. It may be possible, as in the system of Hegel, to show that "the actual is rational, and the rational is actual ; " or again, it may only be possible, as in the view of Bradley, to show that the moral point of view contains a higher "degree of reality" than that to which it is opposed. Or it may be that we are left in a purely agnostic posi- tion. Such questions could not be answered here except in a purely dogmatic fashion, and a dogmatic answer is of course worse than none. It is enough for us to have indicated where the ultimate problem lies ; and to have shown that Ethics, regarded as a separate science, is not complete in itself. 1 being thought of Ideologically, as the end or standard by which ive are guided in the realization of the moral life, it would be regarded rather as the underlying principle by which reality itself is deter- mined, in the process by which its inner significance is gradually unfolded. Thus, from the point of view of religion, or of a meta- physical system such as that of Plato or Hegel, the distinction between the Ideal and the Actual vanishes. The term Idea, ex- presses in this sense (which must be carefully distinguished from its use by Descartes, Locke, Berkeley, Hume, &c.), thie point of view from which this transcendence of the opposition takes place. But it would obviously be far beyond the scope of such a work as this to consider whether this point of view can be justified. It would require a complete metaphysical system to deal with it. 1 Metaphysics is a subject which it is hardly worth while for any one to take up unless he intends to study it thoroughly. The student who takes it up in this way will soon find that the writer who is most important at the present time is Hegel. A popular introduc- tion to Hegel has been \vritten by Dr. Edward Caird (Blackwood's Philosophical Classics); and Professor Wallace has also written valuable Prolegomena to his Translation of the Logic and the Philo- Sophy of Mind. The best introduction to Hegel In English is, how- l6.] ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 453 ever, Caird's Critical Philosophy of Kant, where the transition from Kant to Hegel is explained with the greatest thoroughness and clearness. Mr. McTaggart's Studies in Hegelian Dialectic and the Prefatory Essay to Dr. Bosanquet's translation of the Introduction to Hegel's Aesthetik may also be found helpful. As a more ele- mentary introduction to the study of Metaphysics, Watson's Comte, Mill and Spencer may be recommended, with some slight reserva- tions ; and, for still more elementary purposes, Mr. W. M. Salter's First Steps in Philosophy may be mentioned. With special reference to the more religious aspect of the subject, Caird's Evolution of Religion will be found exceedingly instructive. Mr. Bradley's Ap- pearance and Reality is the most important attempt at a metaphysical construction in English. It is largely, but not entirely in harmony with the Hegelian system. But perhaps it must still be sorrowfully admitted, as it was by Kant, that " Metaphysics is undoubtedly the most difficult of sciences ; but it is a science that has not yet come into existence." APPENDIX. NOTE ON ETHICAL LITERATURE. THE chief function of such a handbook as this must be, like that of Goldsmith's village preacher, to " allure to brighter worlds and lead the way." The " brighter worlds " in this case are the works of the great masters of the science. To these frequent references have been given throughout this sketch ; but it may be worth while now to make a few general remarks upon them, and to indicate the order in which they may be most profitably read. The precise order in which they should be taken will of course depend partly on indi- vidual taste, and partly on the amount of time at the student's disposal. For the majority of readers, I believe that Mill's Utilitarianism will be found one of the most easy and interesting books to begin upon ; and it will give a good general impression of the Hedonistic point of view. If thought desirable, the concluding chapter on Justice may be omitted on a first reading. The study of the whole book may be accompanied by a reference to the criticisms contained in Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics. Portions of Kant ought also to be read at an early date. The student will soon find that modern Ethics, like modern Philosophy generally, turns largely upon him. The first two sections of the Metaphysic of Moral (to be found in Abbott's Kant's Theory of Ethics] will be found comparatively easy, even by students who have not read anything on Metaphysics, and will convey a fair un- derstanding of Kant's general position : but it is difficult to proceed far in Kant's ethical system without some knowledge of his meta- physical principles. 1 The student who has mastered the general principles of Mill and Kant will have a fair idea of the bases of the Utilitarian and the 1 Those who are prepared to go fully into Kant's point of view will find invaluable aid in Caird's Critical Philosophy of Kant, 455 456 APPENDIX. Idealistic systems of morals. Those who wish to go more fully into the modern developments of these points of view must read Sidg- wick's Methods of Ethics and Green's Prolegomena. Of these two, Green's is the more difficult to understand, on account of his strongly metaphysical point of view. Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, how- ever, will give the student great assistance in following the line of Green's argument. Sidgwick's book has the advantage of supplying the student not only with the best statement of the modern Utilitarian point of view, but also with the best criticism of Intuitionism. For a statement of the Intuitionist point of view by one of its own adherents, reference may be made to Martineau's Types of Ethical Theory. An element- ary student, however, would probably find this book somewhat confusing. The chief books written from the Evolutionist point of view are Spencer's Data of Ethics, 1 Stephen's Science of Ethics and Alex- ander's Moral Order and Progress.* Each of these possesses spe- cial merits of its own. Mr. Alexander's book seems to me the most profound of the three ; but for this very reason it may perhaps be the most difficult for an elementary student. Mr. Stephen's book, being by a man of letters, is written in remarkably clear and vigorous English, and will probably be found the most pleasant to read. It is also in some respects the most suggestive. Mr. Spencer's work has the advantage of forming part of a complete and compre- hensive speculative system ; and the way in which he connects Ethics w r ith the various other departments of knowledge gives his book a peculiar interest and stimulating power, especially perhaps for young students. Otherwise, it does not seem to me so satisfac- tory as the work of either of the other two. While, however, the more recent books will naturally have a cer- tain attraction for the student, he ought not to neglect the older masterpieces. Plato's Republic and Aristotle's Ethics* are still in many respects the greatest works on Ethics that we possess ; and 1 Now Part I. of The Principles of Ethics. 2 Chapters v. and vi. in Darwin's Descent of Man may also be referred to. But the treatment of this subject there is slight and superficial. 3 In connection with these, Bosanquet's Companion to Plato's Re- public and Muirhead's Chapters from Aristotle s Ethics may be used. See also the Comrnentaries by Nettleship and Stewart, NOTE ON ETHICAL LITERATURE. 457 every serious student ought to read them at as early a point in his course as he finds possible. Spinoza's Ethics is a very difficult book, and can only be fully appreciated by an advanced student of Meta- physics. 1 The same remark is on the whole true of Hegel's Philoso- phic des Rechts a great book of which at last there is a tolerable translation. Some of the most important points in Hegel's system are, however, reproduced in a simple and interesting form in Dewey's Outlines of a Critical Theory of Ethics. 2 Bradley's Ethical Studies also represents the Hegelian point of view ; but this most interest- ing and stimulating work is unhappily out of print. 3 Among other works of historical importance, which the student may profitably read, may be mentioned Butler's Sermons and Dissertation II. (" Of the Nature of Virtue "), Hume's Treatise on Human Nature, Books II. and III., or Dissertation on the Passions and Inquiry con- cerning the Principles of Morals, Adam Smith's Theory of Moral Sen- timent, Bentham's Principles of Morals and Legislation, Bacon's De Augmentis, Books VII. and VIII., and Hobbes's Leviathan* 1 Students who desire to read Spinoza will derive great assistance from Principal Caird's excellent monograph in Blackwood's " Philo- sophical Classics." Those who read German will find his whole system expounded very fully and with extraordinary clearness and brilliancy in Kuno Fischer's Gcschichte der neuern Philosophic, I., ii. For a shorter account, students may be referred to the article on " Cartesianism " in the Encyclopaedia Britannica. Spinoza, as a pure Determinist, and as one who wholly excludes the conception of ideals or of final causes, may be said to begin by denying the possibility of Ethics. He treats it as a positive or natural history science, not as a normative science. Cf.. above, p. 92, note i. But as he goes on with the development of his system, he is led, in spite of himself, to admit the conception of an ideal or end in human life, and even of a certain " immanent finality " in nature. This point is well brought out by Principal Caird (op. cit, pp. 270, 304). 2 Hegel's Philosophy of History (translated in Bohn's Series) will also be found very interesting. 3 Bosanquet's Civilization of Christendom a collection of Essays on Applied Ethics is also written from this point of view. 4 A fairly complete list of important English works on Ethics, arranged according to schools, will be found at the end of Muir- head's Elements of Ethics, ^458 APPENDIX. Many other useful books might be mentioned. Students who read German will find Paulsen's System der Ethik* Hoffding's Ethik, Wundt's Ethik, and Simmel's Einleitung in die Moralwissen- schaft, of the greatest value. 2 In French, the writings of Guyau and Fouillee will be found particularly suggestive : Simon's Du Devoir and Renouvier's La Science Morale may also be referred to. For Social Ethics Comte's Politique Positive is invaluable. 3 I may also mention Sorley's Ethics of Naturalism,* Fowler's Progressive Morality, Clifford's Lectures and Essays (containing some extremely suggestive points), Lotze's Practical Philosophy , Janet's Theory oj Morals, Royce's Religious Aspect of Philosophy, Edge worth's Mathe- matical Psychics and New and Old Methods of Ethics. In the History of Ethics, in addition to Sidgwick's History of Ethics and to the short statements contained in General Histories of Philosophy (e. g. Erdmann's, Zeller's, and Kuno Fischer's), reference may be made to Lecky's History of European Morals, to Stephen's English Thought in the Eighteenth Century, and (for readers of German) to Ziegler's Ethik der Griechcn und Ro'mern and Gcschichte der Christ- lichen Ethik, and to Jodl's Gcschichte der neuern Ethik. C. M. Wil- liams's recent work on Evolutional Ethics will be found useful with reference to that particular school. Notices of current litera- ture on the subject, as well as discussions on particular points, will be found from time to time in the pages of Mind, of the Philo- sophical Review, and of the International Journal of Ethics. 1 This is particularly valuable on the side of Applied Ethics. - The last-named is almost purely critical. 3 For a summary of Comte's point of view, see Caird's Social Philosophy and Religion of Comte. For the history of social Ethics before Comte, reference may be made to Janet's Histoirc de la Science Politique ; also to the same writer's Philosophic dc la Revolu- tion francaise, Saint-Simon ct le Saint-Si monisme, and Lcs Origincs du Socialisme contemporain. See also Mohl's Gcschichte und Litera- tnr der Staatswissenschaften. 4 Containing extremely valuable criticisms of the Utilitarian and Evolutionist schools. INDEX. ABBOTT, T. K. : referred to, 192, 344. Act: will and, 54-7. resolution and, 398-9. crime and, 398-9. Action: reflection and, 109, 384-6. nature of voluntary, 98-100. Actions : as lies, 189, 338. and motives, 65, 388. as dependent on character, 407, and remorse, 408. Activity : involved in morality, 14. Adjustment : in relation to morals and science, 239 seq. Adler: referred to, 349, 374. Esthetics and Ethics, 12, 16, 28-30, 177 seq. Alexander: on natural selection in morals, 243 seq. on good conduct, 245-6. on duties, 333. on virtue and duty, 343-4. on the relation of the virtues to social institutions, 352. on vices as old virtues, 394. Altruism: and Egoism, 293. conciliation of, with Egoism (Spencer), 293-4. Animals: conduct in, 85, 105-6. incapable of higher sins, 415. moral judgment in, 114. relation to men, 424-5. spontaneity of, 94. Appetite : and Want, 44 seq. and desire, 46 seq., 248. Aristotle : on moral activity, 14. Aristotle : on the Good Will, 16. on Ethics and Politics, 32. definition of the Good, 44. on motive, 64. on good habit and the good man, 84, 88. on the relation of virtue and knowledge, 88. view of Ethics, 152, 296. on practical utility of Ethics, 350. on virtue as a mean, 358. list of virtues, 358-9, 372-3. on changing of character, 367. "practical syllogism," 370. definition of virtue, 371. on the contemplative life, 384, 387. referred to, 3, 46, 53, 89, 92, 268, 272, 284, 288, 291, 295, 318, 329, 331, 394, 456. Arnauld : quoted (on rest), 373. Arnold, Matthew : on Conduct, 17. definition of religion, 433-6. on art as truth, 442. and a "power not ourselves, that makes for righteous- ness," 448. Art: and Science, 11-12. - morality a fine, 12 seq., 28-30. relation to religion, 436 seq. the failure of, 442-4. Ascetic principle : Bentham on, 205. Asceticism, 383-4. 459 460 INDEX. Atheism, 447. Attainment : progressive and catas- trophic, 79 seq. Authority, 255 seq. -DACKSLIDING, 307. *-* Bacon : referred to, 365. Bain, Prof. : referred to, 68. Beautiful souls, 29-30, 382-3. Beautiful, the: and the Good, 177-8. Beauty, 28-30, 177-8. Benthain : on pleasure and pain, 67. his life, 159-160. on "the Ascetic Principle," 205. confused egoistic and univer- salistic hedonism, 211. his view of "ought," 213. on value of pleasures, 214. doggerel on qualities of pleasures, 215. discarded the expression "of the greatest number," 222. on Jinal and efficient cause of human- action, 261-2. on sanctions, 259, 261-4. Biology, 26-7, 235 seq. Blanc, Louis : referred to, 315. Blessedness : term for the satis- faction of higher desires, 227. Bosanquet: on Moral Ideas and Ideas about Moralitv, 110. on "the scholars golden rule," 363. referred to, 87, 113, 274, 444. Braaley, F. H. : what pleasure is, 22* on "personal opinions as self- conceit, 355. on being a whole, 367. referred to, 67, 170, 203, 274, 346, 354, 453. Browne, Sir T. : quoted, 196, Browning : quoted on art, 16, 139. on change of universe, 251. on education of character, 368. on estimate of an individual. 84, 385, 401. on intuitions of art, 445. on religion, 449. referred to, 362. Bryant, S. : referred to, on edu- cation, 34. on fortitude, 361. Bryce, J. : quoted, 115, 207-8. Buckle: referred to, 401, 426. Buddha: referred to, 390. Buddhists : referred to, 447. Burke: quoted, 356, 411. Burns : quoted, 136. Butler, J. : on conscience, 182 seq., 185, 266-8. on objects and desires, 71. on authority, 257, 267. on self-love, 267. CAIRD, E. : on Kant, Io9. on art, 443. referred to, 452-3, 455. Caird, Princ. J. : referred to, 52, 457. Calculus of pleasure, 229. Capacity and act, 14. Carlyle : his view of Economics, 12. on character as an inheritance, 102. on blessedness and happiness. 227. on a clear conscience, 304. on slavery, 318. his commandment, 339, 346. on the unconscious as the only complete, 375. on know thyself, 385. on 'crime and act, 399. on birth of heroes, 412. on ' Progress of the Species,' 416. INDEX. 461 Carlyle : on greatness and melan- choly, 429. on -worship, 437. on greatness and unhappiness, 444. on music, 444. ' ' the soul of the world is just, ' ' 449. referred to, 172, 256, 269, 322, 376, 383, 392. quoted, 396. Cartesians, 153, 268. Casuistry, 339-41. Categorical imperative, 169 seq. Categories, 188. Cause, final and efficient, 62. Bentham on, 261-2. Celibacy, 200. Chalmers, Dr. : referred to, 368. Character, 83-4. Novalis on, 57. of women : Pope on, 58, 396. as ohject of the moral judg- ment, 137-8. respect for, 335-6. education of, 366 seq. a weak, 395. of great strength, 396. development of, 400. in relation to action, 407. Children : quasi -rights of, 425. Christ: referred to, 390, 391. Christian Ethics, 297-8. Christianity, 30. Christian love, 363-4. Church : the, 324. Circumstance, 85-8. Civilization : the product of vir- tues and vices, 411. Clarke, 154, 175. Clifford, W. K. : the "tribal self," 115-6, 305. on conscience, 117-8. Code of honour, 8, 342. Coit, Dr. S., 148. Commandments, 8, 332. relation to the virtues, 352-3. the Jewish, 121, 352. what they are, 365-6. Common ^sense ethics, 183 seq. Community: of goods, 317. the civic, 323-4. Comte, Auguste, 113, 448. Conduct, 1-2, 58. a fine art, 12, 14 seq. the whole of life, 17. definition of, 84-5. Spencer's view of, 85. evolution of, 104 seq. germs of, in lower animals, 105-7. among savages, 107. guidance of, by custom, 108. , by law, 108. , by ideas, 108-9. as object of the moral judg- ment, 135. rules of, 349-50. sanctions of, 260. and emotion, 433 seq. Conscience, 146, 186, 198. origin of, i 17 -8. individual, as moral standard, 122-3. law of, 182 seq. as sanction, 264. .authority of, 265-8; and the social unity, 303 seq. mystery of, 304. pain of", 304. attached to the highest system of things, 305. quasi-, 305-6. stifling of, 307. " case of, "341. Conscientiousness, 376. over-much, 389. Consistency, 170, 191 seq. Contract : right and obligation of, 318-9. ' ; from status to," 318. " social," 318. Conventional rules, 342-3. Conversion, 375. Corruption: social, 411. Cosmopolitan, 297. Courage : a Greek virtue, 353 seq., 420. 4 62 INDEX. Courage : a cardinal virtue, 360 seq., 372. Crime, 401-2. as evidence of insanity, 305. Custom, 1, 107-8, 343. as the moral standard, 119- 120. Cyrenaics : and Cynics, 151. and Egoistic Hedonism, 215. ~T\ ANTE : referred to, 438, 443. *-' Darwin : referred to, 85, 242. Decisiveness and perseverance as virtues, 362, 364, 372. Democritus, 148. Descartes : referred to, 153, 389, 440. Desirable : ambiguity of, 213. Desire : general nature of, 43 seq. and appetite, 46-7. universe of, 47-9. and wish, 52-3. and pleasure, 67-9, 79-82. the object of, 69 seq. "disinterested," 72. imaginative satisfaction of, 81-2. higher and lower forms of, 208-9. satisfaction of, is happiness, 209-210. Desires: conflict of, 49-51. not for pleasure, 73-4. satisfaction of, 209-210. Determinists, 94. and crime, 407. Devas, C. S., 33. Development : of the moral con- sciousness, 111-2. general nature of moral, 126. of life, 235. higher and lower views of, 235-6. of moral life, 236. explanation of, 237 seq. Devil, the : an ass, 15. Dewey, J. : conflict of desires, 51-2. Dewey, J. : on motives, 65. on actions of animals, 95. on the good artisan, 347. referred to, 203, 359. Discipline: value of ascetic, 367. Duhving : referred to, 248. Ai/ya/iis, 14. Duties : my station and its, 346-8. Duty, 162 seq. Duty : happiness, perfection and, 169-160. of perfect and imperfect obli- gation, 343 seq. and virtue, 345, 352. and work, 346-7. paradox of, 373. T^DUCATION: right and ob- *-' ligationof, 319. of character, 366 srq. and psychology, 3G6. moral, 369. punishment as agent of, 404. Egoism : and altruism, 293. conciliation of, with altruism, 293 seq. Egoistic hedonism, 215-8. Eliot, George : on the highest happiness, 233. Emancipation of slaves : and mo- rality, 426-8. Emerson : on self -consistency, 170. quoted, 91, 247, 387, 415. End, 2-4. idea of, 85. as self-realiz.ttion, 233. perfection rather than hap- piness, 233. 'Ej^pyem, 14. Environment: change of, and moral change, 426-8. Epicureans : identified virtue with happiness, 206. and egoistic hedonism, 215. Ethical hedonism, 212. INDEX. 463 Ethical hedonism, general mean- ing of, 214 seq. Ethos of a people, 354-7. the universal, 354. Evils: use of, 401-2. /" Evolution : of conduct, 104 seq. \ its application to morals, 234-5. J and theory of ethics, 235, 280 seq. f and Spencer's ethical theory, 237-241, 247. social, 413-6. Evolutionists: on ethics, 241 seq. Example : influence of, 366. Exceptions, 199. Exploitation : of the poor, 412. FACTS and rules, 5-8. Failure: of life, 440-1. of society, 441-2. Fairbanks, Prof. A., 113. Faith, 429-30, 451-2. Family : the, 320. violation of the sanctities of : forbidden, 337. Fanaticism, 57, 136-7, 185. Faults : as moral agents, 387. Feeling, 63, 196. of " self-realisedness," 224. of pleasure is sense of value, 223. of satisfaction : differences of, 226. Fichte, 198. Fidelity, 365, 372. Forgiveness, 410-1. Form and matter, 191, 192 seq., 230-231. Fouillee: referred to, 113, 458. Fowler : referred to, 280. Freedom : essential to morals, 91-2. the true sense of, 93-4. the highest, 97-8. a right of man, 315-6. respect for, 314-5. Friendship, 325-6. Froude, J. A. : quoted, 389. f^ASSENDI: referred to, " 153-4, 216. Gauss : referred to, 164. Genius: moral, 12, 350. Giddings, F. H., 113. Gilman, N. P. : referred to, 12. Gizycki : referred to, 221, 268, 324. God: mediaeval conception of, 101. goodness in, 165. law of, 174, 258. must be social, 292. as all, 456. as infinite and not infinite, 458. Goethe: quoted, 310, 378, 381, 386. Goldsmith: quoted, 64. Golden Age, a, 413. Good, 2-3. - will, the, 15-16, 128-130. its relation to desire, 44. habit, 84. happiness the only, 218. must be for somebody, 220. is explained by the end, 247. the only thing desired, 393-4. the only reality, 449. Goodness: an activity, 14. and the beautiful, 177-8. as adjustment, 242. Goods: community of , 317. Greek religion, 436. Green : on the will, 54. on the relation of pleasure to objects, 229. his view of ethics, 248-250. on good and evil actions, 379. on Greek virtues, 420, on self-denial, 420-2. referred to, 377, 398. Guyau, referred to, 104, 113, 458. Gymnastic and music, 386. HABIT, 88-90, 106. good, 84. Hallam : referred to, 401. Happiness, 171. 464 INDEX. Happiness, the only good, 218. fallacy of the general, 219. its relation to the self, 232. is a relative term, 232. the highest, 233. is not the end, 233. real meaning of, 253. Heart: 198-9. Heaven : and freedom of the will, 101. Hedonism: psychological, 67-69. paradox of, 69-71." varieties of, 210-212. ethical, in relation to psycho- logical, 212-3. egoistic, 215-8. universalistic, 218 seq. three forms of, 221. general criticism of, 222 seq. foundation of, 222. gives matter without form, 231. and motives to seek general happiness, 261. Hedonists : ethical and psycho- logical, 211. Hegel : on the planets, 94. - his view of " ought," 168. his Logic, 286. on the history of freedom, 315. on the Greek gods, 438. on art, 444. " the had infinite," 447. on the real and the rational, 452. quoted, 52, 336, 346, 354, 427. referred to, 284, 288, 310, 449, 450-1. Heine, on Kant, 159-160. Hell : paved with good intentions, 129. and freedom of the will, 101. Helvetius : referred to, 216. Heraclitus: referred to, 147-8. Herbart : referred to, 366. quoted, 369. Heredity, 101-2, 106. Hobbes: referred to, 154, 158, 216. Hoffding : referred to, 398. Homer: referred to, 394, 438. Honesty : more than mere truth- fulness, 363. Honour : code of, 8, 342. Humanity : religion of, 448. Hume : on reason and passion, 75-6. on self, 96. referred to, 318. Hunger: not a desire, 81. Hutcheson, 154, 178, 181. on desires, 71. Huxley : referred to, 223. TDEAL: meaning of, 28-9. - 1 - the : study of, 380. the universe of, 428-30. validity of the, 432. as real, 445. Idealistic view of ethics, its bear- ing on practice, "28" rr^r" Ignorance : and responsibility, 408. Imagination: and morality, 439- 440. Imperative : the social, 309. absolute, 350, 406. with exception, 406. Impulse, 57 : and responsibility, 408. Inclination, 57. Incompleteness: sense of, 418-9. and need of religion, 439. and morality, 439. Indifference : liberty of, 90, 94. Individual : and society, 291 seq. - life, 374 seq. Individualism : and Socialism, 326-7. commandment of, $27. the higher, 374-5.. Inducement, 62-64. Infinite, the: demand for, 444, 446. ' the bad," 447. INDEX. 465 Infinites : the two, 445-6. Insanity : exempts from respon- sibility, 407. Instinct, 105-6, 248-9. Institutions: social, 320.^, unsectarian ethical, 324. and rights, 333. and duties, 333. and virtues, 352, 366. Intention : meaning 1 of, 59 seq. relation to motive, 64 seq. the good : and virtue, 398. good and bad, 399. Intuitionism, 183fg. f 277-8. TACOBI, 195, 198-9. ** James : referred to, 367, 450-1. Janet, P. : referred to, 188, 198, 341-2. Jansenists : referred to, 205. Jesuits: referred to, 340. Jevons, 214. Jewish law summed up, 341. Jews : commandments of, 121, 352. and moral laws, 124. the religion of, 447. John, Epistle of: quoted, 410. Judgment : the artistic, 16. the moral, 114 seq. the reflective, 123. on act and agent, 130 seq. Jurisprudence and Ethics, 349. Justice, 15. social, 310-11. note on, 329-30. use of the term, 344. as social virtue, 363, 372, KANT : on the good will, 15- 16, 128, 190-1. on idea of end, 85. on love not a duty, 91. on " ought " and " can," 91. his life, 159-160. Eth. Kant : on the categorical impera- tive, 169, 191 seq. on conscience, 185, 278. his categories, 188. his view of the moral reason, 190 seq., 268-9. undue rigorism of his system, 195 se%. his duali|m, 195, 201. his view^6f humanity as an end, 20 1. note on'ms views, 203-6. on duties of perfect and im- perfect obligation, 344-5. on the two infinities, 445-6. - referred to, 25, 275, 278, 455. Knowledge and virtue, 88. Kiilpe : referred to, 73."" T ABOUR: right of man to, J-^ 315. duty of, 338-9. Law, 162 seq. positive : as the moral standard. 120-1. the moral, 121. of reason, 187 seq. authority of, 259. and public opinion. 311-2. punishment a vindication of, 304. the supreme, 341-2. Laws : moral, 162 seq. of nature, 163-4. of political economy, 164, 170. of ethics, 165, 171. nature of moral, 332-4. conventional, 342-3. Liberty : human, 95. of indifference is absurd, 90. Milton on, 316. Life : development of, 235. the moral, 291 seq. right and obligation of, 314-5. sacred aess of, 315. respect for, 334. the monastic, 381. 30 466 INDEX. Life : the active and the contem- plative, 384 seq. relation of the inner to the outer, 386 seq. deepening of the spiritual, 419-20. the moral : and environment, 426-8. failure of, 440-1. Locke : his view of ethics, 154, 189. his use of term ' idea,' 28. Logic, 6, 10, 18, 21, 24. and ethics, 28-30, 189, 286 seq. Lowell, J. R., 7. Loyalty, 372. Luther : referred to, 401. Luxuries, 323. Lying : as the essence of sin, 189. forbidden, 337-8. MACAULAY : referred to, 307. MacCunn : referred to, 34. Mach: on Instinct, 181. Maine : on Bentham, 160. referred to, 318. Man : not a mere animal, 291. in relation to social surround- ings, 298 seq. the virtuous, 352. good and bad, 355. the virtuous : and the world, 388-9. the virtuous : and his environ- ment, 389. the virtuous : and success, 402. the vicious : and punishment, 402. cause of his relative unhappi- ness, 415. the ideal, 419. Mandeville : referred to, 216. Manicheism, 448. Marshall, Prof. A. : referred to, 176, 381, 414. Martineau's view of motives, 131-3. Master : and servant, 425-6. Mathematics, 164. Matter : and form, 191, 192 seq., 230, 231. McTaggart, 453. Mediaeval ethics, 153. Metaphysics, 24. and ethics, 30-1. ultimate problem of, 451-2. Mill, J. S. : on pleasure as the ^* object of desire, 68. on parts of happiness, 74-5. ^his view of motives and in- tentions, 133-4. confused egoistic and uni- versalis tic hedonism, 211. exponent of utilitarianism, 218. -^argument , for utilitarianism, 218-9. ^ on quantity and quality of pleasures, 225. on higher happiness, 232. on capacity for enjoyment, 232. on justice, 329-30X - on sanctions7259, 264-5. ^ ; on the finitude of God, 448. quoted, 180, ,299. referred to, 96, 164, 299, 303, 344, 455. Milton : on love of freedom, 316. on religion as a " dividual movable," 382. on cloistered virtue, 390. on Satan, 394, 395, 415. quoted, 146, 400. Moral genius, 12, 350. imperatives, 92. ideas and ethical ideas, 110. consciousness : development of 111-2. law, the, 121. conflict, 121-2. judgment : growth of, 114. judgment, significance of, 127 INDEX. Moral judgment : object of, 128, 133 seq. judgment: subject of, 138 seq. connoisseur, the, 139 seq. sense, 140, 154, 177 seq., 274-5. reason, 190 seq. life : a process of growth, 234 < seq. ideals : origin of, 244. laws : nature of, 332 seq. philosopher, the : the task of, 350. reformer, 390 seq. evil, 393-6. pathology, 393 seq. sanctions : 260-5. progress, 413. universe, the, 416. change, and change of en- vironment, 240, 416-8. life and religion, 436, 450-1. Morality : and religion, 433 seq. Morals : freedom essential to 91-2. necessity essential to, 92-3. and evolution, 234. an adjustment, 238 seq. natural selection in, 243-4. minor, 342-3. primitive and modern, com- pared, 413-4. Morgan, Prin. 0. L., 105, 106, 247, 249. Morris, Wm. : referred to, 317, 385. Moses: referred to, 391. Motive : meaning of, 62 seq. relation of, to intention, 64 seq. relation of, to pleasure, 66-7. reason as a, 75-6. constitution of, 77-8. as object of the moral judg- ment, 134 seq. and actions, 317. as sanction, 260. the right ethical, 260-1. 467 Motive : the political and econo- mic, in relation to morality, 416-8. " Mrs k Grundy," 342. Muirhead, J. H. : on Kantian ethics, 203, 206, on feeling, 306. on a good and a bad artisan, 347. on courage and temperance, 362. on generosity, 363. on resolution, 393. his list of corrupt social in- stitutions, 412. on emotion and religion, 433-4. quoted, 312. referred to, 186, 306, 307, 360, 368. Music : in education, 386. Carlyle on, 444. Must : 167-9, 256 seq. 1^"APOLEON: referred to, 385. -^ Natural selection : in morals, 243 seq. Nature : law of, 1 74 seq. Necessitarians, 94. Necessity : essential to morals, 92-3. Nirvana, 447. Novalis : on character, 57. Normative science, 20-22. Ethics as a, 4 seq. /ABJECT : of desire, 64 seq. ^* its relation to pleasure, 217. pleasure inseparable from, 227-9. Obligation, 270. and rights, 313-4, 333. ultimate meaning of, 319. and commandments, 332. duties of perfect and imper- fect, 343 seq. 468 INDEX. Obligation : new, 423-6. Ought, 167-9, 171, 256 seq. and "can," 91. hedonistic use of, 212. Bentham on, 213. meaning of, 254. as the social imperative, 309. absolute, 349. Owen, Robert, 90. PEDAGOGICS and ethics, 33-4. Pain : as negative of pleasure, 72-3. Paley, 258-9. Pantheism : the deeper, 447. Paradox : of hedonism, 69 seq. of duty, 375. Passion: 157. Paul: referred to, 312, 335, 397. quoted, 97. People : the ethos of a, 354-7. Perception, 180-1. Perfection, 234 seq. the true end, 233. explanations of, 236 seq. t 247 seq. " counsels of," 429. Perseverance, 362, 364, 372. Pessimism : ground for, 440-1. Pessimists, 3. Pfleiderer, Prof. : referred to, 436. Philanthropy, 196. Philosophy : and ethics, 17, 30-1. Physical science : and ethics, 25. ' Plain man,' 195. Plato: his view of virtue as an art, 15. his Ideal theory, 152. his view of ethics, 295-6. on community of goods, 317. on the virtues, 358-9, 373. referred to, 268, 284, 320, 386, 440, 459. Pleasure : as a motive, 66-7. as the only object of desire, 67 seq. Pleasure : paradox of, 69 seq. ambiguity of, 69, 72. of pursuit, 70, 79-82. pain as negative of, 72-3. and pleasures, 72-5, 217. of progressive attainment, 79 seq. and desire : (note on), 79-82. is satisfaction of appetite, 209- 210. quantity of, 214-5. greatest, 214-5. intensity and duration of, 214. objective, content of, 217. only reasonable thing to seek, 218. most intense, preferable, 218. of others and our own, 220. as sense of value, 223-4. inseparable from object, 227-9. no calculus of, 229-230. Pleasures : quality of, 225-6. sum of : is not pleasure, 229- 230. Poetry : in religion, 449-50. Political Economy, 6, 21-2, 271. its relation to ethics, 32-3. Politics: and ethics, 31-2, 295. Pope : quoted, 58, 396. Practical reason : dualism of, 221. Practice : bearing of theory on, 273 seq. Priggishness, 369. Progress : respect for, 338-9. moral, 413 seq. Propagandism, 424. Property : right and obligation of, 316-8. respect for, 336, Psychological hedonism, 67-9. in relation to ethical, 212-3. Psychology : and ethics, 27-8, 36-7. and education, 33. and universe of desire, 51, 58. and the mind, 132. and education of character, 366. INDEX. 469 Public opinion : and law, 311-2. Punishment, 402-4. origin of, 403. justification of, 403, 406. as a vindication of law, 406. retributive theory of, 406. Purpose, 57. Pursuit : pleasures of, 70, 79-82. "DEAL, the: as ideal, 445. ** Reality : as the good, 449. Reason : and will, 75-7. and passion, 157 seq. law of, 157 seq. authority of, 268 seq. Reflection: and action, 109." and the moral life, 374 seq. on conduct and motives, 376-9. Reform : punishment as agent of, 404. Reformation, 409. Reformer : the moral, 390. is often inconsiderate, 396. need of, 412. function of, 418-9. Religion : as a division of labour, 381-2. and the moral life, 436. in relation to art, 436-9. the ideals of, 437. and reality, 437-9. origin of, 439. the necessity of, 439-40. the first, 446-7. the second, 447-8. the third, 448-9. of humanity, 448. and superstition, 449-50. ethical significance of, 450 seq. Remorse, 408. Renan : quoted, 98. Responsibility, 101-3,407-8. Revenge, 405. Reverence, 372, 445. Reward : origin of, 403. Rhetoric, 166. Riddles of the Sphinx : referred to, 448. Right, 1-2, 162 seq. the : and the good, 158 seq. Righteousness, 171. Rights: and obligations, 313-4, 333. of man : denned and discussed, 314*^. ultimate meaning of, 319. quasi, 427. Ritchie, Prof.D. G. : referred to, 64. Rossignol, J. E. Le : on Wollas- ton, 189. Rousseau : referred to, 315, 318. Royce, Prof. : referred to, 304. Rules, 2, 5, 7. Greeks no code of moral, 332. conflict of : inevitable, 3S9. conventional, 342-3. and interest, 347. cut- and- dried, 349. of conduct : (note on), 349- 51. Ruskin: his view of economics, 33. on taste, 178. on honesty in art, 363. referred to, 47, 185, 374, 385, 392, 412, 414. Rutherford, Mark : quoted, 399. SANCTION, 98, 260 seq. as motive, 260. the " Pragmatic," 260. kinds of, 262-4. Satisfaction : subsequent to want, 71-2. imaginative, 81-2. of desires, 209-210. different feelings of, 226. Schiller : his criticism of Kant, 196-7. referred to, 342. quoted, 443. Schopenhauer : referred to, 92. Science : positive and normative, 5-6, 20-22. practical, 8. 47 INDEX. Science : and art, 11-13. physical : its relation to ethics, 25. Seeley, Sir J. : quoted, 119-120, 121. Self : a man's, 95. of a higher kind, 97. the true : is the rational, 98. the "tribal," 115-7. the "ideal," 144-5. and happiness, 232-3. realisation of : as the end, 233. the social, 291-2. Self-consistency : real meaning of, 201-2, 252. Self-denial, 420. Self-examination, 378. and the monastic life, 381. Self-realisation : as the end, 233. through self-sacrifice, 294-5. test of social progress, 326. the fundamental law, 341. Sense: moral, 140, 154, 177 seq. Sermon on the mount, 8. Servant and master, 425-6. Seth, Prof. A. : referred to, 441. Shafteshury, 154, 178-9, 181, 259. Shakespeare : quoted, 3, 53, 54, 56, 65, 123, 395, 400, 410. Shand, A. F. : referred to, 87. Sidgwick, H. : on Mill's Utilitari- anism, 68-9. on the paradox of hedonism, 69-71. on the pleasures of pursuit, 70- 71, 79-81. his relation to Kant, 194. on ethical and psychological hedonism, 212. on egoistic hedonism, 216. on seeking pleasure, 218. his proof of universal! stic he- donism, 220 seq. on conditions of pleasure, 229. on justice, 330. referred to, 61, 194, 265, 268. Simmel, Georg : his view of Ethics, 281-2. referred to, 92, 103, 145, 243, 269, 290,317. Sin, 398 seq. original, 101. "besetting," 380. the shadow of virtue, 396. never an impossibility, 396. and vice, 397. Slavery: forbidden, 318, 335-6. Slaves, emancipation of : and morality, 426-8. Smith, Adam : his view of ethics, 140 seq. on books of casuistry, 340. on positive merit, 344. on morals of Charles II. 's time, 356. referred to, 341, 348, 403. Social philosophy, 32, 310. equilibrium, the, 242. unity and conscience, 303 seq. imperative, the, 309. contract, 318. institutions, 320 seq. progress, 326. order: respect for, 336-7. corruption ,411. evolution, 413-6. Socialism : and individualism, 326-7. commandment of, 327. Society: and the individual, 291 seq. a unity, 292. as the ethical environment, 299. an organism, 300-2. war against, 395. - failure of, 441-2. Sociology, 290. and ethics, 27-8, 37-8. (note on), 113. Socrates : on virtue as knowledge., 77, 88. his ethics, 149 seq. referred to, 268, 332, 388-9. Sophists, 148-9. INDEX 47' Sophocles : referred to, 332. Sorley, Prof. : referred to, 246. 441. Souls: beautiful, 382-3. r Spencer, H : his view of conduct, 85. on development of life, 235. his ethics, 237-241, 247. _- on the conciliation of egoism and altruism, 293-4. on the ideal man, 309. referred to, 161, 281, 312, 334, Spinoza : on blessedness, 227, 253. * referred to, 157, 447. Spiritual life : deepening of, 419- Spontaneity : animal, 94. Springs of action, 132, State : the, 325. and duties, 345. Status: and contract, 318. Stephen, L. : on Samuel Clarke's Ethics, 176. on a moral rule, 242. on " social tissues," 301. on the family, 321. quoted, 171. Stoics: ideal of, 161. view of happiness, 206. estimate of a good man, 297. referred to, 174, 177, 268. Stout, Gr. F. : on appetite, 45. on voluntary action, 58. referrred to, 114. Subordination : in the family, 20. in the workshop, 21-2. Summum bonum, 3, 14. Superstition : and religion, 44 9 -50. Syllogism : the moral, 369 seq. 'T'ASTE : the moral, 179-180. - 1 - Taylor, A. E. : referred to, 252. Teleology : need of, 245 seq. and Spencer's view of evolu- tion, 247. Temperance: as a virtue, 359 tea., 372, 420 seq. Theory: and practice, 273 tea Thugs, 7. Titchener, E. B. : referred to, 73, 209. Truth, respect for, 337-8 in religion and art, 437-8. in religion, 449. Types of ethical theory, 156 seq. TJNIFORMITIES, 163-4. Universe : of desire, 47-9. higher and lower, 208-9, 250. and satisfaction, 210. the highest, is completely rational, 253. the social, 299-300. of moral activities, 355. broad and narrow, 393. moral : and remorse, 418. bringing up to a high, 410. the moral, 416. contradiction in our inner 417. r the ideal, 428-30. Unknowable : the, 447. Utilitarianism : Mill an exponent of, 218-9. theory of, 218 seq., 26.8. as pursuit of the useful, 221. end of, 222. practical value of, 278-280. its motives to seek the general happiness, 261. Utopias: relation to morality, 428-9. "VTALUE: and pleasure, 222 seq. sense of, 223. measure of, 224. Vice, 397. Vices: as virtues of early civil- isation, 294. classification of, 398. Virtue: a kind of knowledge, 472 INDEX, Virtue : use of term, 343, 352. and duty, 352. nature of, 358. Virtues : 352 seq. and commandments, 352-3. and states of society, 353. relative to social functions, 357. the cardinal, 358 seq., 372-3. self -regarding and altruistic, 360. four classes of, 362. what are they, 365-6. inner side of, 379. as outer fact and inward character, 423. Voluntary action : nature of, 98- 100. TT7ALLACE, W, : 211, 452. Want : and appetite, 44 seq. prior to satisfaction, 71-2. War : when justified, 412. Ward, Dr. : quoted, 87. referred to, 209. Ward, Mrs. Humphry : quoted, 368. Watson, Prof., 211, 452. Wedgwood, Miss : on the in- fluence of moral ideals, 428-9. Wedgwood, Miss : quoted, 306. Whitman, Walt: quoted, 374, 385, 414. Will: the good, 15-16, 128-130. and art, 16. and wish, 53-4. and act, 54-7, 129. force of, 56. and character, 57-8. and reason, 75-7. freedom of, 90-1. that wills nothing, 195. higher and lower forms of, 208-9. Wisdom: a virtue, 359, 362, 372. practical, 365. for one's self and others, 365. Wish : an effective desire, 52. and will, 53-4. Wollaston : referred to, 189. Women : rights of, 321, 419, 422, 427. Wonder : a religion, 439. Wordsworth : quoted, 29, 108, 196, 384, 390, 440. Work : and duty, 344. Workshop : the, 321-2. World: the, and the virtuous man, 388-9. Worship, what it is, 437. J UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY, BERKELEY THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE STAMPED BELOW Books not returned on time are subject to a fine of 50c per volume after the third day overdue, increasing to $1.00 per volume after the sixth day. Books not in demand may be renewed if aj " expiration of^k ****, .IAN 30 1948 SEP IV DEC, & JAN 2 feEC'O U> C-D LD 1AY27'64-7RM H9Z"-. 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