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UN'S*?' ST,' O-
A HISTORY
OF
ENGLISH UTILITARIANISM
ERNEST ALBEE, Ph.D.
INSTRUCTOR IN THE SAGE SCHOOL OF FHILOSOPHV, CORNELL UNIVERSITY
LONDON
SWAN SONNENSCHEIN & CO., LTD.
NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN CO.
1902
LI BRJu*^
S C R » P^^^-^T\S T I T U T I O N
O F "'Dt?f55«V '^ O GR A P H Y
UNIVERSITY OF CAL/KORNIA
LA JOLLA. CMJLuTpOftNiA
Zo tbe /iDemor^
OF
S. A. AND R. P. A.
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PREFACE.
Nobody would deny that the History of Ethics is a very
essential part of the History of Philosophy, and, so far as
ethical theories have formed an organic part of the general
systems of ancient and modern philosophers, they may be
said to have received due recognition at the hands of the
historian. But, as the general tendency of English thought
has been (or for a long time was) practical rather than
speculative, it has happened, not unfortunately, that the
progress of ethical theory in England has, on the whole,
been less involved with the rise and decadence of definite
systems of Metaphysics than has been the case on the
continent. Problems belonging distinctly to Ethics have
for the most part been discussed on their own merits —
except, perhaps, where theological issues have been raised.
And if English philosophers have not always put forth
the profoundest theories regarding the nature and meaning
of morality, they have at least done inestimable service in
the way of clear thinking and consistent reasoning.
Now the result of this comparatively non-metaphysical
character of English Ethics is that it has by no means
taken its true place in the general History of Philosophy.
Properly speaking, we have no history of English Ethics.
Dr. Whewell, indeed, published in 1852 his Lectures on the
History of Moral Philosophy in England ; but this book
was hardly calculated to serve more than a temporary
purpose. It everywhere shows marks of haste, as might
vi Preface.
perhaps be expected from its mode of composition, and
the writer is so concerned to refute theories incompatible
with his own, that his expositions, even aside from their
necessary brevity, are generally unsatisfactory and some-
times quite misleading. A very different book is Professor
Sidgwick's Outlines of the History of Ethics for English
Readers, first published in i886. This is all that a mere
' outline ' could very well be ; but, when it is considered
that Chapter iv. of this little volume, on " Modern, Chiefly
English, Ethics," is only about one hundred pages long,
it will readily be seen that it does not by any means
pretend to be an adequate history of the subject. Other
' outlines ' might be mentioned, such as the interesting
one contained in Professor Wundt's Ethik ; but none of
these really supply, or pretend to supply, a need which
we doubtless all feel.
Since, then, we have no adequate history of English
Ethics, the attempt has been made in this volume to
cover a part of the ground by tracing the rise and de-
velopment of Utilitarianism in England. No one of the
writers considered — not even Hume or Mill — is individ-
ually of such importance for English Ethics as Bishop
Butler ; but, taken as a whole, Utilitarianism may fairly
be regarded as England's most characteristic, if not most
important, contribution to the development of ethical theory.
This being the case, its history certainly deserves careful
and somewhat extended treatment. The author hopes
that, whatever may be the shortcomings of the following
chapters, he will not be accused of treating the subject
either carelessly or in a partisan spirit. The greater
part of the matter of the first five chapters has al-
ready appeared as a series of articles in the Philo-
sophical Review (published from May, 1895, to July, 1897),
and for the privilege of using here the matter of those
Preface. vii
chapters, in a somewhat extended and otherwise modified
form, the author is indebted to the editors and publishers
of the Review. The remaining chapters of the book
appear for the first time, except the first section of the final
chapter, as indicated in the text. A paper based upon
the manuscript of that part of the chapter was read before
the American Psychological Association, at the Baltimore
Meeting, December, 1900, and was afterwards printed in the
Philosophical Review.
Cornell University,
May, 1901.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
Introduction xi
CHAPTER I.
Richard Cumberland i
CHAPTER n.
Richard Cumberland {continued) 28-
CHAPTER HI.
Shaftesbury and Francis Hutcheson : their Relation to Utili-
tarianism 52
CHAPTER IV.
George Berkeley, John Gay, and John Brown 64
CHAPTER V.
David Hume gi
CHAPTER VI.
David Hartley 113.
CHAPTER VII.
Abraham Tucker 130
CHAPTER VIII.
Abraham Tucker {continued) 146
X Contents.
CHAPTER IX,
PAGE
William Paley and Jeremy Bentham 165
CHAPTER X.
John Stuart Mill 191
CHAPTER XI.
John Stuart Mill {continued) 219
' CHAPTER XII.
John Stuart Mill {continued) 242
CHAPTER XIII.
Herbert Spencer 268
CHAPTER XIV.
Herbert Spencer (continued) ......... 292
CHAPTER XV.
Herbert Spencer {continued) ......... 329
CHAPTER XVI.
Henry Sidgvvick 358
CHAPTER XVII.
Henry Sidgvvick {continued) 381
CHAPTER XVIII.
Henry Sidgvvick {continued) 400
Index
419
INTRODUCTION.
The barbarous terminology employed in certain modern
systems of philosophy has often been censured, and with
considerable justice ; but the habit of using in a technical
sense words that already have a popular meaning, or words
that inevitably suggest others having a popular meaning, has
its own decided drawbacks. The technical use of the term
Utilitarianism, with which we shall constantly have to do in the
following chapters, partly illustrates this. Though first used by
one of the later exponents of Universahstic Hedonism, as
standing for that principle, it has never become entirely divested
of certain associations connected rather with the ordinary
meaning of the word ' utility,' and with the supposed practical
applications of the Utilitarian theory, than with the essential
logic of the theory itself. When one speaks of English Utili-
tarianism, therefore, it is not wholly evident, without explana-
tion, whether one mainly refers to a very important practical
movement of English thought, extending through the closing
years of the eighteenth century and about the first half of
the nineteenth century, or to a very familiar, to us probably
the most familiar, type of abstract ethical theory.
There is a reason for this confusion, which should not
be overlooked, even apart from the possible ambiguity
of the term Utilitarianism. Bentham and James Mill,
two of the three " English Utilitarians " to whom Mr.
Leslie Stephen devotes much the greater part of his very
interesting and valuable work bearing that title, were much
more interested in the supposed practical applications of the
theory of Utility than in the theory itself considered merely
xii Introduction.
as belonging to Ethics as one of the philosophical disciplines.
In a less degree the same tendency may be traced in the writ-
ings of J. S. Mill, to whom the third volume of Mr. Stephen's
work is mainly devoted, though of the importance of his actual
contributions to philosophy proper there can be no serious
question.
Now it is this social and political side of the Utilitarian
movement that Mr. Stephen has had principally in view in
his admirable account of the " English Utilitarians ". A mere
examination of the analytical table of contents of his three
volumes would show how small a proportion is devoted to
theoretical Ethics. Yet the doctrine of Universalistic He-
donism, as Professor Sidgwick aptly termed it, had been
largely developed as an ethical theory proper before Bentham
wrote, and before he and the two Mills undertook to deduce
from it their characteristic views on society and government.
And though Utilitarianism as an ethical theory seems to have
lost ground, on the whole, during the past two or three
decades, it has certainly outlived the practical Utilitarian
movement referred to above, and still demands the thoughtful
consideration of all students of Ethics.
In truth, this is the one easily recognisable type of ethical
theory which has had both a perfectly continuous and a fairly
logical development from the beginnings of English Ethics
to tJie present time. Such being the case, it has seemed
worth while to trace its development in considerable detail
in the present volume. It must always be remembered that
we are here primarily concerned with the development of
an abstract type of ethical theory, and not with the practical
corollaries, social and political, which by some have been
supposed to result from the theory. It is important to keep
this in mind, for some of the greatest names connected with the
practical Utilitarian movement are of comparatively minor
consequence for the history of the development of Universal-
istic Hedonism considered merely as a type of ethical theory^.
Introduction. xiii
while other names, almost forgotten in some instances,
assume an unexpectedly commanding position.
But, even within the sphere of theoretical Ethics, an impor-
tant distinction has often been made between so-called " Theo-
logical Utihtarianism " and non-Theological Utilitarianism.
It will be well to pause for a little, in order to note just what
this distinction reduces to. The term " Theological Utili-
tarianism " is itself rather misleading, as it almost inevitably
suggests an affinity with certain early forms of ethical theory
which regarded morality as depending upon the arbitrary will
of God. J. S. Mill himself was guilty of serious confusion
on this point in his early essay on Professor Sedgwick's
Discourse on the Studies of the University of Cambridge
(1835), though he tacitly corrected his error three years
later in his well-known essay on Bentham. With less
justification, Mr. Spencer made practically the same mis-
take more than forty years afterward, in the chapter on
■" Ways of Judging Conduct " in his Data of Ethics.
The true distinction may conveniently be indicated by
briefly comparing Paley and Bentham in a single respect.
The criterion of morality was the same for both. Actions
were regarded by both as right or wrong, because they made
for or against ' the greatest happiness of the greatest number ' ;
and the ' greatest happiness ' was taken by both to mean
the ' sum of pleasures,' with a consistent disregard of so-callLd
' qualitative distinctions '. So far they agreed ; but Paley,
unlike Bentham, thought it necessary, not merely to mention,
but to lay very special stress upon the doctrine of rewards
and punishments after death, in order to prove that it is
for the ultimate interest of the hypothetically egoistic moral
agent to act for the common good. In so doing, he was
merely taking what had long been the characteristic position
of " Theological Utilitarianism ". More than half a century
before, the Rev. John Gay, in his anonymous Preliminary
Dissertation (173 1) prefixed to Law's translation of King's
xiv Introduction.
Origin of Evil, had aptly defined obligation, from this point
of view, as " the necessity of doing or omitting any action
in order to be happy " ; and he had pertinently added that,
therefore, complete obligation can come only from the author-
ity of God, " because God only can in all cases make a man
happy or miserable ".
Now it is important to notice that this theory of obligation,
however far it may fall short of satisfying the general moral
and religious consciousness of the present day, was the logical
result of hedonism working itself out on the principles of
eighteenth century individualism. Bentham would have
found himself in the same logical predicament as the " Theo-
logical Utilitarians," if he had worked the problem out to
the end, instead of practically neglecting it. Certainly he
would have recognised our complete obligation to do what is
right and avoid what is wrong, and, since he was as much com-
mitted as the so-called " Theological Utilitarians " to the view
that the moral agent could ultimately will only his own
happiness, the very serious question would have arisen for
him as for them, whether the selfish interest of the individual
and the interest of society would coincide in each particular
case, leaving the possibility of a future life out of considera-
tion. It would have been no answer to say that, if it is not at
present for the interest of the individual to do right in all
cases, it ought to be made so by those very improvements in
legislation in which Bentham himself was primarily interested,
for even he could not have maintained that any general
enactments would meet all special cases. The plain truth is,
that if one begins by assuming an interest of the individual
separate from that of society, in the sense of typical
eighteenth century hedonism, one is logically driven to take
refuge in the doctrine of rewards and punishments after
death, in order to preserve the notion of our complete
obligation to do what is right and avoid what is wrong, which
all accredited moralists hold practically in common.
Introduction. xv
In so-called " Theological Utilitarianism," then, we find a
theory of obligation based upon a theory of the moral motive
which, so far from being peculiar to that school, was the
conventional one during a large part of the eighteenth cen-
tury. This form of ethical theory, whatever may be its other
defects and shortcomings, does not gratuitously introduce
theological considerations, but reserves them for the solution
of a difficulty which could not otherwise be resolved — except
by giving up the individualistic theory of the moral motive
which had led to the theory of obligation itself. It thus
represents the almost inevitable tendency of the earlier form
of consistent Utilitarianism, i.e., Utilitarianism basing upon
the selfish theory of the moral motive. On the other hand,
nineteenth century Utilitarianism represents a constant,
though not uniformly successful, attempt to transcend this nar-
row theory of the moral motive, with the result that the Utili-
tarian theory of obligation has been profoundly modified,
and brought into much closer relation to the highest concrete
moral ideals. In truth, the degree of divergence between the
spirit of typical eighteenth century and typical nineteenth
century Utilitarianism can only be appreciated by those who
have traced the development of the theory with considerable
care.
One other problem should be kept in mind from the very
beginning, that of the so-called ' qualitative distinctions '
between pleasures and pains. The frequent emphasis upon
' happiness,' or even ' pleasure,' in early systems of Ethics is
not decisive, as indicating their hedonistic character, for some
kinds of happiness may be put on an entirely different plane
from others, being regarded as of greater intrinsic worth or
dignity, quite apart from the matter of intensity and duration.
It almost goes without saying that, in so far as such ' quaH-
tative distinctions ' are consciously emphasised, the system in
question departs from typical hedonism, and indeed, strictly
speaking, becomes differentiated from hedonism altogether;
xvi Introduction.
for an ethical system cannot logically begin by affirming that
all moral values are to be computed in terms of pleasure, and
then add that pleasures themselves are of greater or less value,
not merely in terms of intensity and duration, but in propor-
tion as they involve something else distinct from pleasure.
At the same time, the explicit repudiation of ' qualitative dis-
tinctions ' by hedonistic writers naturally came somewhat
after they had practically adopted what was for them the
only consistent position, and hardly dates back as far as
the middle of the eighteenth century.
J. S. Mill's emphatic insistence upon ' qualitative distinc-
tions,' which was too flagrant an inconsistency to exert much
influence upon the further development of Utilitarianism,
was, nevertheless, rather more than a mere reversion to the
old confusion on the subject. It was one of those partly
unconscious, but logically important, concessions to Intuition-
ism, which we shall find to characterise, in very different ways,
the various forms of later Utilitarianism represented by the
ethical writings of Mill himself, of Mr. Spencer, and of Pro-
fessor Sidgwick. For it will appear, as we proceed with our
investigation, that the history of Utilitarianism exhibits two
fairly distinct phases : first, the gradual development of the
theory in the direction of formal consistency down to about
the beginning of the nineteenth century ; and secondly, the
later development, often at the expense of formal consistency,
but always in the direction of doing justice to the concrete
moral ideals which had been partly lost sight of in the earlier,
more abstract form of the theory. This later and larger de-
velopment of Utilitarianism, while particularly open to criti-
cism in detail, since it was always in some danger of over-
stepping its own first principles, is nevertheless one of the
most significant chapters in the History of Ethics, and con-
tains much that is still worthy of the thoughtful consideration
of those who are doing constructive work in Ethics at the
present time.
CHAPTER I.
RICHARD CUMBERLAND,
While the doctrine of Utilitarianism has played a most con-
spicuous part in English Ethics since the time of Paley and
Bentham, it is not commonly realised that the essential
features of the system were roughly stated and in part de-^
veloped by a contemporary of the Cambridge Platonists. It:
is true that Bishop Cumberland's treatise, De legibus naturae,
like most ethical works of the time, was largely controversial
in character, having been written to refute Hobbes. More-
over, the jural aspect of the system, implied by the very title
of the treatise, tends to obscure what for us is by far its most
important feature. And even this is not all. The ' common
good ' which Cumberland regarded as the end of all truly
moral action includes ' perfection ' as well as ' happiness,'
which leads to serious confusion in the working out of the
system. But, making all allowances for what was incidental
in the external form of the work, and for the confusion of two
principles which have long since become clearly differentiated,
it is well worth while to examine with some care the ablest,
or at any rate the most successful, opponent of Hobbes and
the true founder of English Utilitarianism.
It would be quite impossible adequately to treat of any im-
portant ethical system, without taking some account of the
views of the author's contemporaries ; but this is particularly
necessary in the case of early writers. In their works we are
almost sure to find in artificial combination principles which
are now regarded as logically distinct, and the only possible
explanation of the actual form of the system in question is
often to be sought in contemporary influences. Sometimes,
of coiirse, an investigation of this sort is difficult, and, however
I
2 History of Utilitarianism.
carefully prosecuted, yields no very certain results. Fortu-
nately we are not thus hampered in the case of Cumberland.
We shall find difficulty and uncertainty enough in certain
aspects of his system, but there is little doubt with regard to
the formative influences in his case. In his view of the nature
of man, Cumberland stands in the closest and most obvious
relation to Grotius and Hobbes — his relation to the former
being that of substantial agreement ; to the latter, that of
opposition. We must, then, consider in the briefest possible
way the ethical views of these two authors — particularly as
regards the then current conception of Laws of Nature — and
also notice the tendencies represented by the various opponents
of Hobbes.
The idea of Laws of Nature was, of course, by no means
original with Grotius. A Stoical conception at first, it had
exercised a profound influence upon Roman Law, and had
reappeared as an essential feature in the system of Thomas
Aquinas. Here, however, as Professor Sidgwick points out,
it " was rather the wider notion which belongs to Ethics than
the narrower notion with which Jurisprudence or Politics is
primarily concerned ".^ It is one of the most important ser-
vices of Grotius that he distinguished between the provinces
of Ethics and Jurisprudence, the result being as fortunate for
the former as for the latter.^ However, as Professor Sidg-
wick remarks, while the distinction is clearly enough made in
the body of his epoch-making work, De jure belli et pads,
still, in the general account which he gives of Natural Law,
the wider ethical notion is retained. It will be important for
the reader to keep this in mind.
In one of the earlier passages of the Prolegomena to his De
■iure belli et pads, Grotius makes a significant statement regard-
ing his view of the nature of man. Among the properties
which are peculiar to man is a desire for society, and not only
so, but for a life spent tranquilly and rationally.^ The asser-
^ Hist, of Ethics, p. 159.
'^See Jodl, Geschichte der Etkik, vol. I., p. 102.
'Whewell's ed., vol. I., p. xli.
Richard Ctiniberland. 3
tion that by nature each seeks only his own advantage, cannot
be conceded. Even animals manifest an altruistic instinct in
caring for their young, while children show compassion at a
very early age. In adult man, that which in the lower stages
of development had manifested itself as instinctive altruistic
conduct, becomes self-conscious and rational. And this tend-
ency to the conservation of society is the source of ' Jus ' or
Natural Law, properly so called.^ Natural Law would remain
even if there were no God. But of the existence of God we
are assured, partly by reason, partly by constant tradition.
And here we are brought to another origin of * Jus,' i.e., the
free will of God. But even Natural Law, though it proceed
from the nature of man, may yet rightly be ascribed to God,
because it was by His will that such principles came to exist
in us.-
The relation between Natural Law and that which proceeds
from the arbitrary will of God is of some importance. Appar-
ently the latter is always in addition to the former, never in
contradiction with it,^ though it must be confessed that the
author's treatment is wavering. As Professor Sidgwick says,'*
according to Grotius Natural Law may be overruled in any
particular case by express revelation. It is to be noted,
however, that this does not mean that Natural Law, as such,
can be superseded by Divine Law, but rather that a special
act which would ordinarily be a transgression of Natural Law
may be right merely because God has commanded it. At best,
however, this seems to contradict the fundamental principles
of the system. But, apart from the question of a possible
conflict between Natural and Divine Law, there is a further
difficulty. Divine Law is what the name would indicate.
In the case of such law, it may be said : God did not command
the act because it was just, but it was just because God com-
manded it.° In the case of Natural Law, the reverse would
seem to hold true ; but the language of Grotius on this point
1 Whewell's ed., vol. I., p. xliv. -Ibid., p. xlvii.
^ See, e.g., ibid., p. Ixxii.
* Hist, of Ethics, p. i6o. ^De jure, p. 20.
4 History of Utilitarianism.
is somewhat ambiguous. For instance, we have seen that
Natural Law may be ascribed to God, "because it was by
His will that such principles came to exist in us " ; but, on the
other hand, Grotius holds that just as God cannot make twice
two not be four, He cannot make that which is intrinsically
bad not to be bad.^ The undoubted confusion which one
finds here suggests the difficulty of mediating between the
views later represented by Descartes and by Cudworth : (i)
that moral distinctions depend upon the arbitrary will of God ;
and (2) that they do not thus depend.
From the above it will be seen that Grotius insists upon the
social and the rational nature of man. As to the proximate
(not ultimate) origin of Natural Law, there seems to be a slight
ambiguity. Now it appears to be founded upon the primitive
altruistic instinct, and now upon the rational nature of man.^
Probably it would be fair to say that, according to Grotius, the
two are equally essential to human nature, which he regards as
logically prior to Natural Law, just as that is logically prior to
particular civil laws. The relation between Natural Law and
Divine Law has just been considered. Logically, the latter
should always be in addition to, never in conflict with, the
former. When Grotius practically does allow such conflict, we
must regard it as a natural, but not a necessary, concession to
theology. Again, the relation of God to Natural Law is not
quite clear. On the whole, however, Grotius would seem to
hold that certain things are right, others wrong, in the nature
of things, i.e., apart from the will of God. Whether the nature
of things be ultimately the same with the nature of God, we
do not here need to ask. The question would hardly have
occurred to Grotius.
When we turn to the writings of Hobbes, we are at once
confronted with a very different, and much more original,
system of thought ; but it is to be carefully noted that his
ethical and political philosophy is not so closely connected with
his mechanical philosophy as he himself would have had us
' De jure, p. 12.
'■'C/. Cumberland, who probably follows Grotius here, as so often.
Richard Cumberland. 5
believe. Certainly it is quite comprehensible by itself. In-
deed, in the course of his expositions, Hobbes ordinarily refers
to common experience rather than to his own first principles.
The starting-point of his ethical speculation is probably to
be found in the then current conception of Laws of Nature, ^
which we have just been considering. This will be assumed
to be the case in what follows.
In order fully to understand Hobbes's view of the nature of
man, we must distinguish (i) man's need oi society; (2) his
fitness for society ; and (3) his love of society, for its own
sake, (i) That man has need of society — in the sense of an
organised commonwealth — Hobbes would have been the first
to insist. Out of society, indeed, man cannot continue to
exist at all. But (2) man's fitness for society does not by any
means keep pace with his need of the same. Children and
fools need society, if possible, more than others, and yet they
" cannot enter into it," in Hobbes's sense of the words. In-
deed, many, perhaps most, men remain throughout life ' unfit *
for society, either through defect of mind or want of educa-
tion.2 The main reason for this unfitness, however, is man's
fundamental egoism. If it be asked : (3) Does man love
society for its own sake } Hobbes replies with a decided
negative. " All society ... is either for gain or for glory ;
that is, not so much for love of our fellows as for the love of
ourselves." ^ So much is plain, but it is not equally plain in
w^hat terms we are to express this primitive egoism. Some-
times pleasure as such would seem to be the end ; sometimes
(probably more often) self-preservation.
Starting, then, with the assumption of man's original and
ineradicable egoism ; and the further assumption that nature
has made men essentially equal in faculties both of body
and of mind,* so that all may aspire to everything — it is easy
to see that the hypothetical ' state of nature ' must be a
' state of war,' with all the attendant evils which Hobbes so
' C/. Sidgwick's Hist, of Ethics, p. 162.
2 See De cive. Works, Molesworth's ed., vol. II., p. 2, note.
^ Ibid., p. 5. *See Leviathan, vol. III., p. no.
6 History of Utilitarianism.
tersely, yet vividly describes. ^ How are men to escape the
consequences of their own anti-social natures ? The possibility
of deliverance depends upon the fact that man is not merely a
bundle of selfish appetites, but, as Hobbes says : " True
Reason is ... no less a part of human nature than any other
faculty or affection of the mind ". Moreover, ' True Reason *
is " a certain law " ?
It is natural that one should ask just what is meant by
' True Reason,' and Hobbes has a note on the subject,^ which,
however, is not particularly illuminating. " By Right Reason
in the natural state of man," he says, " I understand not, as
many do, an infallible faculty, but the act of reasoning, that is,
the peculiar and true ratiocination of every man concerning
those actions of his which may either redound to the damage
or benefit of his neighbours." He further explains that he calls
reason " true, that is, concluding from true principles, rightly
framed, because that the whole breach of the Laws of Nature
consists in the false reasoning, or rather folly, of those men
who do not see those duties they are necessarily to perform
towards others, in order to their own conservation ".^ In a
word, there is no infallible faculty of Right Reason that can be
implicitly trusted. It can only be proved right by the event,
and the test is the conservation of the individual.
Right Reason, however, in the sense above explained, leads
us to formulate certain Laws of Nature. Such a " law ' is de-
fined as " the dictate of Right Reason, conversant about those
things which are either to be done or omitted for the constant
preservation of life and members, as much as in us lies ". The
first and fundamental Law of Nature is " that peace is to be
sought after, where it may be found ; and where not, there
' See Leviathan, vol. III., p. 113. For passages which seem to show that,
in his description of the ' state of nature,' Hobbes does not understand that he is
giving an historical account of the origin of human society, see, e.g., Leviathan,
vol. III., p. 114, and particularly the last part of the interesting note in De cive,
vol. II., p. 10.
^De cive, vol. II., p. 16. ^ Ibid.
^See, also, Dc corpore politico, vol. IV., p. 225, where the author says: " But
this is certain, seeing Right Reason is not existent," etc.
Richard Cumberland. 7
to provide ourselves for helps of war "} From this law, all
the others — twenty in De cive, eighteen in Leviathan — are
derived. " They direct the ways, either to peace or self-
defence."
We are not here concerned with the enumeration and de-
duction of the particular Laws of Nature, which will readily
be found by referring to Leviathan, De cive, or De corpore
politico. The question as to their exact significance {qua
Laws of Nature), however, is of the greatest importance for
the system ; and it is just here that the expositions of Hobbes
are least helpful. The philosopher himself says : " The Laws
of Nature are immutable and eternal : what they forbid can
never be lawful ; what they command can never be unlawful ".-
At the same time it is important to observe that in a state
of nature it would be irrational for a man to obey these laws,
for he would have no assurance that others would do the same.
Such conduct would defeat the end which all these laws have
in mind, i.e., the preservation of the individual. Indeed, as
Hobbes reminds us, they are not ' laws ' at all in the ordinary
sense, " since they are nothing else but certain conclusions,
understood by reason, of things to be done and omitted " ; ^
whereas the element of compulsion is essential to ' law ' in the
strict sense.
In order that there may be any security whatever, a govern-
ment of some sort must be established. The many conflicting
wills must be changed into one, not by a change in human
nature — which, of course, is impossible — but yyy the several
individuals submitting themselves either to a " council " or to
" one man ". In this compact, the individual gives up all but
the right of defending himself against personal violence. To
the governing power belong the " sword of justice " and the
" sword of war," and — what necessarily follows — judgment as
to the " right use " of each. But this is not all. Since differences
of opinion concerning " vieuin and tnum, just and unjust,
^ De cive, vol. II., p. i6. Cf. Leviathan, vol. III., p. 117.
'^ De cive, vol. II., p. 46. ^Ibid., p. 49.
8 History of Utilitarianism.
profitable and unprofitable, good and evil, honest and dis-
honest," ^ etc., are productive of discord, the civil power must
define the above. Also, the supreme power of the State is to
be judge of all theological doctrines, in so far as they tend
to practical results. In short, this power is " absolute," as
Hobbes himself frankly calls it.
We must now ask : What has become of the Laws of
Nature, with which we started ? We have already seen that
Hobbes refers to them as " eternal and immutable ". In the
latter part of De cive ^ he says, using words that Cudworth
himself could not have objected to : " Natural [Law] is that
which God hath declared to all men by His eternal word born
with them, to wit, their natural reason ; and this is that law
which, in this whole book, I have endeavoured to unfold ".
But suppose that civil laws should be in opposition to these
Laws of Nature .'' Hobbes meets the query with characteristic
boldness. " By the virtue of the natural law which forbids
breach of covenant, the Law of Nature commands us to keep
all the civil laws. For where we are tied to obedience before
we know what will be commanded us, there we are universally
tied to obey in all things. Whence it follows, that no civil
law whatsoever, which tends not to the reproach of the
deity ^ . . . can possibly be against the Law of Nature. For
though the Law of Nature forbid theft, adultery, &c. ; yet,
if the civil law commands us to invade anything, that invasion
is not theft, adultery, &c." * The conclusion to which we are
brought by the philosopher himself is rather startling : Noth-
ing in the civil laws can be against the Laws of Nature,
because not only is the civil power behind the Laws of
Nature that which makes them properly ' laws,' but also it is
that, and that alone, which gives them their content. It
makes comparatively little difference what the Laws of
"^De cive, p. 77. — Note the heterogeneous items. ^See p. i86.
*This is only an apparent exception, for it would be precisely for the civil
power to decide, in any particular case, what was, or was not, " to the reproach
of the deity ".
*D« cive, pp. 190, 191.
Richard Cumberland. 9
Nature command or forbid, so long as it lies wholly with the
civil power to define the terms used.
Some pages back it was seen that there was ambiguity in
Hobbes's use of ' Right Reason '. In De corpora politico we are
told : " But this is certain, seeing Right Reason is not existent,
the reason of some man or men must supply the place there-
of "> In other words, the arbitrary use of civil power must
make up for the lack of Right Reason in man. Again, in
Leviathan : " The unwritten Law of Nature ... is now be-
come, of all laws, the most obscure, and has consequently the
greatest need of able interpreters "?■ But who should be the
interpreter 1 Hobbes candidly remarks : " The interpretation
of the Laws of Nature, in a commonwealth, dependeth not on
the books of moral philosophy. . . . That which I have
written in this treatise concerning the moral virtues . . .
though it be evident truth, is not therefore presently a law ;
but because in all commonwealths in the world it is part of the
civil law." No amount of valid reasoning can vindicate the
Laws of Nature. Nothing but their presence in the statute-
books of the commonwealths of the world can do that. And
the reason why they can be said to be so universally recog-
nised is that the same power, in each particular case, that
compels obedience to them, also practically furnishes them
with their content It may also be noticed that Hobbes has
proceeded deductively — in appearance, at least — in arriving at
his Laws of Nature. If presence in the statute-book be the
only test, he should have proceeded inductively. The utter
confusion which we find here requires no comment. The
Laws of Nature, with which our philosopher began, have
vanished into thin air. We learn what is good for us as well
as what is right, what is true as well as what is just, from the
powers that be. There would be no place for a theorist like
Hobbes himself in his own ideal state.
It was inevitable that a theory of political absolutism like
•that of Hobbes — involving as it did a wholly egoistic system
^See vol. IV., p. 225. *See vol. III., p. 262.
lo History of Utilitarianis7n.
of Ethics, the unlovely character of which the philosopher'
was at no pains whatever to conceal — should excite the most
violent opposition. But while the ethical writers of his own
time and country were practically unanimous in their opposi-
tion to Hobbes, their methods of attack were by no means the
same. Some were more incensed at the brutal egoism of
the system, others at the arbitrary character which Hobbes
had assigned to moral distinctions ; though it is fair to sup-
pose that all were a good deal disturbed by both sides of his
doctrine. A general statement like this, however, is apt to
be misleading, as it does not suggest the complexity of the
facts. It is probable that in periods of controversy, quite as
much as in periods of constructive work, the individualities of
prominent writers play a determining part in shaping their
productions. Hence we must be on our guard against sup-
posing that the conventional division of the opponents of
Hobbes into ' schools ' is wholly satisfactory. For instance,
Whewell classes together : (i) Sharrock, Henry More, and
Cumberland, and (2) Cudworth and Clarke ; while Professor
Sidgwick, on the other hand, distinguishes between (i) the
" Cambridge Moralists," including all the above but Sharrock,
Cumberland, and Clarke, and (2) Cumberland. This does not
imply any essential difference in the way that Whewell and
Professor Sidgwick interpret the doctrines of the authors
named. Any such classification is largely a matter of con-
venience and more or less arbitrary. For our present pur-
pose, three men may fairly be taken as typical of the
tendencies represented by the opponents of Hobbes, viz.,
Cudworth, More, and Cumberland.
Cudworth, of course, stands for Intellectualism. He would
reduce morality to a system of truths. The result is that,
in his unfinished Treatise concerning Eternal and Immutable
Morality, we have a noteworthy system of Metaphysics, rather
than a direct and explicit treatment of what are ordinarily
regarded as the problems of Ethics. Indeed, so much is Cud-
worth concerned to establish a system of " eternal and immu-
table " truths, among which are the truths of Ethics, that never
Richai^d Cumberland. \i
once, in the course of the treatise just mentioned, does he take
the trouble to combat the egoism of Hobbes. Obviously we
are not concerned with his system here. Cumberland, on the
other hand, is singularly devoid of metaphysical interests, and
the passages in his treatise De legibus naturae which do inci-
dentally treat of metaphysical questions, are certainly the
least satisfactory part of his work. To the side of Hobbes's
system which teaches the arbitrary character of moral dis-
tinctions, he replies by reproducing what we have already
seen to be the views of Grotius regarding Natural Law ;
while, in opposition to the egoism of Hobbes, he teaches
what practically amounts to the system of Universahstic
Hedonism. As the first English writer standing for this
principle, he has been taken as the subject of the first two
chapters of the present volume.
More, whose Enchiridion Ethicuni enjoyed an enormous
popularity in its own generation, ^ is particularly hard to
classify ; but it is certainly safe to say that he occupies a posi-
tion logically intermediate between the other two. The fact
that he so nearly refrained from publishing his own work,
owing to the supposed objections of Cudworth, is in itself a
sufficient indication that the two authors concerned regarded
their systems as standing for very much the same principles.
On the other hand, however, while Cudworth had practically
neglected the affective side of our nature in his own treatise.
More makes the * Boniform Faculty ' (which is at once the
touch-stone of virtue and that by which virtue in the moral
agent is immediately and certainly rewarded) not only co-
ordinate with Right Reason, but constantly suggests its
primacy. It is difficult to express in a few words More's view
of the relation in which these two faculties stand to each
other. Sometimes he even seems to identify them ; but, if
one may venture upon a very concise statement, the case
stands thus. In a ' state of grace,' the ' Boniform Faculty '
(which plays much the same part as conscience) is all-sufficient.
^ See Whewell's Hist, of Mor. Phil, in England, Lect. iii. In spite of its
opularity, however, the Enchiridion has never been translated into English.
12 History of Utilitarianism.
No appeal to Right Reason is necessary, or desirable. But,
" since there are some men who have lost all sense of God
and divine things, and recognised no fixed rule in their
faculties," these " must be approached in another way," i.e.,
by Right Reason. The author therefore draws from this
store " certain principles immediately true, and in need of
no proof, but from which almost all moral reasoning (as
mathematical demonstrations from common axioms) may be
clearly and easily deduced ". These he calls ' Noemata '.
An examination of these * Noemata ' at once shows that we
no longer have to do with the intellectualism of Cudworth.
The first twelve * Noemata ' treat of our duty toward ourselves,
and might fairly be termed ' maxims of prudence '. The Good
is here defined (not quite adequately for the system) as that
"which to any perceptive life, or stage of such life, is grate-
ful, pleasing, and suitable, and connected with the preservation
of the percipient ".^ The remaining eleven ' Noemata ' con-
cern our duties to God and to other men. Two of these
might seem quite distinctly to point in the direction of Uni-
versalistic Hedonism. " That good which you prefer for
yourself in given circumstances, you ought to prefer for an-
other in the same circumstances, so far as it is possible without
injury to any third person." ^ And again, " If it is good that
one man should be suppHed with means to live well and
happily, it follows by a sure and wholly mathematical analogy
that it is twice as good for two men to be supplied, three
times for three, a thousand times for a thousand," etc.^
It might very well seem as if, in More, we had already
found an exponent of the Utilitarian principle ; but this is
certainly not the case. The system is one of the most per-
plexed in the whole history of English Ethics, but on the
point just referred to, at least, the author does not leave us in
doubt. Even in the ' Scholia ' appended to the chapter in
which the ' Noemata ' are treated, we find a significant state-
ment of the author's position. Referring to previous attempts
1 Noema i., p. 25, of the fourth ed. of the Enchiridion.
^Ibid. xiv., p. 29. 'Ibid, xviii., p. 30.
Richard Cumberland. 13
to find some one principle, into which morality could be re-
solved, he shows that some have taken ' sociality ' as the first
and simplest principle ; others, ' zeal for the public good ' —
" both parties supposing that there is no perfection or happi-
ness pertaining to human nature which is not bound up with
communion or society "?■ But " it is the internal life of the
mind, and the pleasure which is derived from a sense of virtue,"
that is the proper object of Ethics.- This would exist, if
there were only one man in the world.^ It is not evident
whom More has in mind here, and the criticisms which follow
do not apply to Universalistic Hedonism (which had not yet
been advanced as an ethical theory, at least in England *) ;
but it is clear that More himself had no thought to develop
what some would now recognise as a possible Intuitional
basis of the Utilitarian principle.^ As a matter of fact, the
system is a curious combination of Intuitionism and uncon-
scious, undifferentiated Hedonism. More says, in substance :
A thing is simply and absolutely good which is pleasing, not
to the animal appetite, which man has in common with the
brutes, but to the Boniform Faculty, which distinguishes him
as a man.® He frequently admits, however, that this par-
ticular kind of pleasure is not sufficient in order to perfect
happiness. A certain amount of external goods is also
necessary.'' The Good, then, is happiness, and happiness is
pleasure — but pleasure of a particularly refined sort, such
as only a person of developed moral sensibilities could
enjoy. The happiness considered is almost always that of
the agent ; but it would be as unjust to call the system
Egoistic as it would be misleading to call it Utilitarian. In
place of ' sociality,' or * zeal for the public good,' More pro-
poses, as the necessary unifying principle, " true and sincere
1 See p. 33. 2Seep^5^ ^Seep. 36.
* The Enchiridion was published in 1667, and Cumberland's De legibiis
naturae did not appear till 1672.
*C/, Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics, pp. 379 et seq,
®See p. 47. Also the ' scholia ' appended to ch. ii., in which More attempts
to distinguish his own view from ' Epicureanism '.
"> See, e.g., p. 2.
14 History of Utilitarianism.
love of God," 1 and holds that all the ' Noemata ' may be
reduced to this. In short, we have here a theological system
of Ethics, unconsciously hedonistic, but never more than
vaguely suggesting Utilitarianism. If More had recognised
the hedonistic side of his own system, it is not impossible
that he might have made ' the greatest happiness of the
greatest number ' the end of moral action, but the important
fact for us is that he did not develop his system in this
direction.
We may now turn to a more careful examination of the first
English moralist who can properly be termed a Utilitarian.
We have not here, as often happens, the difficulty of keeping
in mind two or more ethical works by the same author,
possibly differing in point of view, when considering any
particular problem arising in connection with the system. In
fact, the task might seem to be an easy one, as we have to
depend, for our knowledge of Cumberland's Ethics, wholly
upon the treatise entitled Da legibus naturae^ which was
first published in 1672. This, however, is by no means the
case. While a thinker of no ordinary ability, and standing
for a principle which has become clearly differentiated in the
later development of English Ethics, Cumberland is so utterly
lacking in a talent for exposition that the adequate presenta-
tion of his views is a matter of peculiar difficulty. Indeed,
even apart from its singular lack of method, the fact that the
work is so largely controversial in character, increases the
difficulty of extracting from it the author's own system. The
order of exposition is in many respects so unfortunate that
one is tempted to disregard it altogether ; but, even at the
expense of some repetition, it seems desirable to begin by
1 See p. 37.
^ The whole title reads : De legibus naturae : disquisitio philosophica, in qua
ear um forma, snmma capita, ordo, promulgation et obligatio e rerum natura inves-
tigantur ; quia etiam elementa philosophiae Hobbianae, cum moralis turn civilis,
considerantur et refutantur. The passages cited in the following exposition will
be from the English translation by John Maxwell, published in 1727, and all
references will be to the pages of that edition.
Richard Cu7itberland. 15
noticing the principal points in the author's own somewhat
elaborate Introduction. Here he was certainly writing with
his whole system in view,i and it is well to let the somewhal
heterogeneous elements that enter into it appear first in as
close combination as they are capable of. After this general
survey of the system, based upon the Introduction, we shall
neglect the author's own order of exposition, and consider
topically all the important problems which are discussed in
the treatise.
Cumberland begins by asserting that the Laws of Nature
are the foundation of all moral and civil knowledge. They
may be deduced in two ways : (i) From the manifest ' effects '
that flow from them ; (2) from the ' causes ' whence they
themselves arise. The author chooses to adopt the latter
method, i.e., that of ' arguing from cause to effect '. The
former is practically the inductive, the latter the deductive
method. Two objections are commonly made to the induc-
tive method, as applied to the solution of the present problem,
(i) It is said that we cannot infer from the writings of a few
men, or even nations, what are the opinions or judgments
of all men. (2) Even if the above objection did not hold,
' the authority of a known law-giver ' is wanting to give these
judgments the force of ' laws ' to all men.^ To neither of
these objections does Cumberland himself attach much weight.
The agreement of men is practically complete as to the things
most essential, e.g., worship of some deity, and a degree of
humanity sufficient to prevent murder, theft, and adultery.
Again, if the Laws of Nature be ' laws ' at all, they need no
new authority superadded to that originally belonging to
them. However, to establish the existence of Natural Laws
beyond the possibility of a doubt, Cumberland proposes to
reverse the usual order of treatment. He says : " I have
thought it proper to make a philosophical inquiry into their
causes \i.e., those of the Laws of Nature], as well internal
' It is to be noticed that he constantly uses the past tense, showing what has
been the method of exposition in the following work.
'^The reference here is plainly to Hobbes.
1 6 History of Utilitarianism.
as external, the nearer and the more remote ; for by this
method we shall at last arrive at their first Author, or efficient
Cause, from whose essential perfections, and internal sanction
of them, by rewards and punishments, we have shown that
their authority arises " }
It will be seen that the method to be employed can hardly
be described by the single word ' deductive '. First, we must
work back to the First Cause ; then, from the nature of the
deity, as well as from human nature, which will have been
considered on the way, certain results will follow. The
* Platonists,' to be sure, find an easy way out of the difficulty
by assuming ' innate ideas * ; but Cumberland is obliged to
confess that he has " not been so happy as to learn the
Laws of Nature in so short a way ".^ Not that he will
oppose those who believe themselves more fortunate in this
respect ; but it seems ill-advised to base everything upon
" an hypothesis which has been rejected by the generality
of philosophers, as well heathen as Christian, and can never
be proved against the Epicureans, with whom is our chief
controversy ". The reference to the ' Epicureans ' is signif-
icant. The author proposes to fight Hobbes with his own
weapons. And, this being the case, he sets out to prove
that " the Nature of Things, which subsists and is continually
governed by its First Cause, does necessarily imprint on
our minds some practical propositions . . . concerning the
study of promoting the joint felicity of all rationals ; and that
the terms of these propositions do immediately and directly
signify, that the First Cause, in his original constitution of
things, has annexed the greatest rewards and punishments
to the observance and neglect of these truths ". Whence
it manifestly follows that these are ' laws,' " Laws being noth-
ing but practical propositions, with rewards or punishments
annexed, promulg'd by competent authority " ?
The fir.st point to be established, then, is that there are
Laws of Nature, in the legitimate sense of the words. Having
'Seep. 13. *See p. 14. ^Ihid.
Richard Cumber layid. 17
indicated his line of argument, which we shall consider later,
Cumberland proceeds to the more characteristic and con-
structive part of his doctrine. From a consideration of the
practical propositions which may fairly be ranked as Laws
of Nature, 1 it appears that they may be reduced to one
universal Law. This may be expressed as follows : " The
endeavour, to the utmost of our power, of promoting the
common good of the whole system of rational agents, con-
duces, as far as in us lies, to the good of every part, in which
our own happiness, as that of a part, is contained. But con-
trary actions produce contrary effects, and consequently our
own misery, among that of others." -
This reduction of the several Laws of Nature to a single
ultimate one, regarding conduct on the part of the individual'
that shall conduce to the common weal, is shown by the
author to be useful in a double way: (i) it is easier to re-
member \sic\ one principle than many ; and (2) " a certain
rule or measure is afforded to the prudent man's judgment,,
by the help whereof he may ascertain that just measure in
his actions and affections in which virtue consists ".-^ This
is eminently characteristic. The author's aim is practical
throughout.'* If he attempts to rationalise morality, to give
a scientific explanation and justification of the existing moral
code, it is in order that his work may prove an important
help to right living. It is probable that Cumberland, like
some contemporary writers, considerably exaggerates the
' practical ' value of correct ethical theory.
The relation between Cumberland's Laws of Nature and
Cudworth's Eternal Truths should be noticed. How shall
we distinguish the so-called ' practical principles,' which we
have been considering, from others equally ultimate, e.g.,
those of mathematics 1 We say that the former ' oblige ' us ;
the latter not — but why } Simply by reason of the nature
of the effects, according to Cumberland. We can afford to
disregard many, at least, of the truths of geometry ; not so
^Cumberland nowhere attempts exhaustively to enumerate them.
"^ See p. 16. * See p. 30. * See p. 36.
2
1 8 History of Uiilitarianis7n.
the moral law, for our happiness — and, as the author shows
later, even our preservation — depends upon our observance
of it. The criterion, then, is frankly one of ' consequences '
— a fact that must be borne in mind. But these ' conse-
quences,' in part at least, are not arbitrary. " The happiness
of each individual (from the prospect of enjoying which, or
being deprived of it, the whole sanction is taken) is derived
from the best state of the whole system, as the nourishment
of each member of an animal depends upon the nourishment
of the whole mass of blood diffused through the whole." ^
Now the actions which, by virtue of their own ' natural '
force and efficacy, are calculated to promote the common
good, are called ' naturally good '. Again, the common good
being the end, " such actions as take the shortest way to this
effect . . . are naturally [called] ' right,' because of their natural
resemblance to a right line, which is the shortest that can be
drawn between any two given points, . . . but the rule itself
is called ' right,' as pointing out the shortest way to the end ".^
All this is characteristic and important, making allowance
for the quaint use of language. The comparison of humanity
to an organism is one to which the author frequently recurs.^
That there is no ' categorical imperative ' for Cumberland is
clear. The Laws of Nature themselves have, and need, a
* reason for being '. Conduct in accordance with them con-
duces to the common weal. It is with reference to this end
that even they are * right '.
The Introduction closes with a confession on the part of
the author that his work is not altogether literary in style or
method. The passage is itself, perhaps, calculated to em-
phasise this statement : " Its face is not painted with the
florid colours of Rhetoric, nor are its eyes sparkling and
sportive, the signs of a light wit ; it wholly applies itself, as
it were, with the composure and sedateness of an old man,
to the study of natural knowledge, to gravity of manners,
and to the cultivating of severer learning ".*
'See p. 21. '■'See p. 22. 'See, e.g., p. 115. *See p. 36,
Richard Cumberland. 19
We shall now neglect the author's own order of exposition
almost entirely, and endeavour to see the system as a whole,
both in its strength and its weakness. It might seem as if
we were logically bound to begin with a consideration of the
Nature of Things, as Cumberland himself professes to do.^
A very casual examination of the De legibus naturae, how-
ever, would be sufficient to show that the titles of the
chapters give but a very indefinite idea of the nature of their
contents. What Cumberland actually does, at the beginning
of his treatise, is to explain at considerable length and with
great care his notion of Laws of Nature. It is probable,
however, that he was induced to do this largely for contro-
versial reasons ; and, as we are principally concerned with the
constructive part of the work, we may neglect this order,
although it is quite impossible to separate the constructive
entirely from the controversial. It must always be remem-
bered — the title of the treatise to the contrary notwith-
standing — that the jural aspect of the system is not its most
essential feature. Cumberland held the views that he did
regarding Natural Laws in common with a great many of his
contemporaries — perhaps the majority of those representing
the conservative tendency.- His originality consisted in his
attempt to discover an underlying principle from which all
the special moral ' laws ' or ' practical propositions ' could be
deduced.
It does not seem best, then, to begin, as Cumberland actu-
ally did, with an examination of the concept of Natural Law.
Nor is one tempted to begin with the Nature of Things,
ostensibly the first topic treated. Cumberland uses that ex-
pression throughout the treatise as if its meaning were per-
fectly clear and understood by everybody. His utterances on
the subject, however, have all the confusion to which an
author is hable whose interests are wholly practical, and who
yet is obliged to speak in terms of an implicit metaphysic.
At present we need notice only two passages. " The Nature
1 See title of first chapter.
'^ Even Locke was influenced later by the current view.
20 History of Utilitarianism.
of Things does not only signify this lower world, whereof
we are a part, but its Creator and Supreme Governor, God.
... It is certain that only true propositions, whether specula-
tive or practical, are imprinted on our minds by the Nature
of Things, because a natural action points out that only
which exists, and is never the cause of any falsehood, which
proceeds wholly from a voluntary rashness, joining or sepa-
rating notions which Nature has not joined or separated." ^
Again, " We cannot doubt of the nature of created beings,
but that both things external, exciting thoughts in us, and
our mind comparing these thoughts, are the causes of Neces-
sary Truths ".2 The vagueness and inconsequence of these
remarks speak for themselves, and show how unsatisfactory
Cumberland is when on metaphysical ground. It is hardly
necessary to call attention to his agreement with Descartes
as to the origin of human error.
On the whole, it seems best to begin our examination of
the system by considering the author's view of the nature of
man and of society. We have seen that Hobbes regarded
society as artificial. According to his view, it was made up
of a certain number of mutually repellent atoms, each atom
being the radically and unalterably egoistic individual. The
* contract * was a device by which the antagonistic wills of an
indefinite number of self-seeking individuals gave place to
the * one will ' of the sovereign. Cumberland pronounces
emphatically against this view. When Hobbes likens men
to ' wolves,' ' bears,' ' serpents,' ^ etc., he is guilty of libel
against human nature. Referring to such remarks, our
author says : " If they were true, it were evidently impossible
to reduce such beasts of prey, always thirsting after the blood
of their fellows, into a civil state ".^ The compact would
avail nothing, unless there were something in human nature
that would make men abide by their promises. Cumberland
might have added that Hobbes is not at liberty to make any
^ See p. 191. 2 See p. 192.
^De homine, vol. II. (Latin works, Molesworth's ed.), p. 91.
*See p. 295.
Richard Cttinberland. 21
ultimate appeal to reason in the matter — even as showing
what is for the individual's selfish interest — for men learn
what is ' good ' for them, as well as what is ' right,' from the
powers that be.
Hobbes had regarded the instinct of self-preservation, if
not the conscious seeking of one's own pleasure, as the
fundamental spring of human action. For Cumberland, on
the other hand, sympathy is as much an attribute of human
nature as a desire for one's own happiness. If this were not
so, as is suggested above, society itself could not exist. To
be sure, the author sometimes insists upon the pleasures of
(a not too expensive) benevolence in a way to lead one to
suspect that, after all, egoism may be at the basis of appar-
ently disinterested conduct ; ^ but such passages hardly need
detract from the force of distinct utterances, Hke the above,
regarding the impossibility of a society composed of ab-
solutely egoistic individuals. The discussions regarding al-
truism vs. egoism which we meet with in the treatise, are
sometimes quite confusing on account of the author's naive
certainty that the good of the individual and the good of
society are always (in the particular case as well as in the
long run) identical. We have seen that, in the Introduction,
society is already compared to an organism.^ Such being
its nature, it is idle to speak of the good of one part as
opposed to the good of another ; for the good of any particular
part {i.e., any individual) clearly must depend upon the
* health of the social organism,' as Mr. Stephen would say.
Cumberland does not go so far as some modern writers in
pushing this analogy, but it helps to bring out an important
side of his system.
So much in general regarding man's ' fitness ' for society,
so far as an original tendency in the direction of altruistic, as
well as egoistic, conduct is concerned. Here man is regarded
from the standpoint of society, which is to be compared to
an organism rather than to a collection of mutually repellent
1 See, e,g.^ p. 211. ^ See also p. 115.
2 2 History of Utilitarianism.
atoms. When Cumberland has the individual more particu-
larly in mind, he is apt to insist more upon the ' rational '
nature of man. Before considering this question as to the
meaning and scope of Right Reason, let us notice two defini-
tions, and also the author's brief inventory of the powers of
the mind. " By man," he says, at the beginning of Chap, ii.,
" I understand an animal endowed with a mind ; and Hobbes
himself, in his treatise of Hnuian Nature, acknowledges the
mind to be one of the principal parts of man ". By ' animal '
is understood " what the philosophers agree is to be found in
brutes : the powers of receiving increase by nourishment, of
beginning motion, and of propagating their species ". It is
not quite clear that Cumberland would allow sensation to
brutes.^ However, he sometimes refers to sub-human mani-
festations of sympathy. As regards the mind, he says : " To
the mind we ascribe Understanding and Will ; to the Under-
standing we reduce Apprehending, Comparing, Judging,
Reasoning, a Methodical Disposition, and the Memory of all
these things, and of the objects about which they are conver-
sant. To the Will we ascribe both the simple acts of choos-
ing and refusing, and that vehemence of those actions which
discovers itself in the passions, over and above that emotion
or disturbance of the body, which is visible in them." -
Such details are merely preliminary, and we shall now ask
what is meant by ' Right Reason,' an expression which is
constantly recurring in the treatise. Hobbes had practically
denied that there was any such faculty in man. In Cumber-
land's system, on the other hand, Right Reason plays an im-
portant, if a somewhat Protean part. Here, as in the case of
the Nature of Things, we find a degree of confusion that can
only be explained by the fact that the author's interests are
purely practical, and that he is speaking in terms of an incon-
^ See, e.g., p. 94. Also cf. Dr. Frank E. Spaulding's /Jfc/myrf C«w6<rWa«<f ah
Begriinder der englischen Ethik, p. 26. There is an immense amount of physio-
logical data in the treatise, and it is sometimes hard to tell whether Cumberland
is speaking in terms of psychology or of physiology.
"^ See p. 94.
Richard Cumberland. 23
sistent metaphysic that he has never taken the trouble to
think out The following curious passage is perhaps the
author's most explicit statement regarding the nature of Right
Reason. He says : " I agree, however, with him [Hobbes],
that by Right Reason is not to be understood an infallible
Faculty (as he affirms many, but I know not who, to under-
stand it) ; but yet by it is to be understood a faculty not false
in these acts of judging. Nor is it properly understood to
be an act of reasoning (as he too rashly asserts), but an effect
of the Judgment ; that is, true propositions treasured up in
the memory, whether they be premises or conclusions, of
which some that are practical are called ' laws,' for actions are
compared with these in order to examine their goodness, not
with those acts of reasoning which discover them ; yet I
willingly allow that these acts of reasoning are also included
in the notion of Right Reason." ^ And then, as against
Hobbes's view that, out of civil society, " every man's proper
reason is to be esteemed, not only the standard of his own
actions, which he does at his own peril, but also the measure
of other men's reason with respect to his affairs," ^ Cumber-
land adds that this cannot be the case, " For, out of civil so-
ciety, any one may distinguish Right Reason without making
a comparison with his own. Because there is a common
standard . . . the Nature of Things, as it lies before us, care-
fully to be observed and examined by all our faculties."
The first of the passages just quoted is one of the most per-
plexed in the whole treatise. Right Reason is not an " in-
fallible faculty," yet " not false in these acts of judging " ; it is
not properly an " act of reasoning," but the resulting " true
propositions " — yet these " acts of reasoning " are, after all, to
be included under Right Reason. This seems hopeless, but
perhaps we may find what Cumberland means by not expecting
to find too much. First, with regard to that other expression
so often used, ' The Nature of Things '. Cumberland is a
^ See p. 103.
2 This would apply, of course, only in the ' state of nature '.
24 History of Utilitarianism.
wholly nafve realist. By the Nature of Things he seems to
mean all that actually and objectively is — including God as
well as His world. And it is needless to say that Cumberland's
God is a ' transcendent ' (as opposed to an ' immanent ') deity.
This Nature of Things being posited, we have a perfectly ob-
jective standard as regards not only theoretical truths but
practical propositions. The Reason of man is such as to fit
him to apprehend this Nature of Things exactly as it is,
always provided that he does not, by a ' free ' act of will,
choose to assent to that which is not clear and distinct.
Cumberland's test of truth and theory of error are the same
as Descartes's ; he differs from the founder of modern phil-
osophy, of course, in his rejection of ' innate ideas '. For
Cumberland, then, having no theory of cognition other than
that of common-sense, and caring only for the truth of the de-
liverances of Right Reason, it is a matter of indifference
whether we call the latter a * faculty,' an ' act of reasoning,' or
the resulting * true propositions '. In the last resort, Cumber-
land, like Descartes, seems to depend upon the necessary
truthfulness of God.
We now see what, in general, Cumberland holds regarding
the nature of man. He is not without original altruistic in-
stincts, and is, moreover, essentially a rational being. That
his instinctive altruism tends to fit him for society goes with-
out saying. But this alone is not sufficient. Alongside of
the altruistic instincts, are others that must be recognised as
egoistic. The relation in which the two stand to each other
is not clearly indicated, but, at any rate, it is evident that they
would be likely to conflict, if reason did not furnish a rule of
conduct. Now man's rational character fits him for society
in a double way.^ (i) It enables him to see his own interests,
not as something apart from, but in relation to, the common
weaL (2) It enables him to apprehend and desire the Good,
.qua Good, quite independently of the question as to whose
' This will appear from what follows regarding the motive of the individual
agent.
Richard Cumberland. 25
Good it may be.^ Thus, " whoever determines his Judgment
and his Will by Right Reason, must agree with all others
who judge according to Right Reason in the same matter "?
Hence, to use Cumberland's own expression, " the funda-
mental cornerstone of the Temple of Concord is laid by
Nature ".
In any system of Ethics, it is of course necessary to dis-
tinguish between the (objective) ' end ' of moral action and the
' motive ' of the individual agent. We have already seen, in
the Introduction, what the ' end ' dictated by Right Reason is,
and we shall have to consider it more at length later ; but it is
important for us here to ask more particularly than we have
yet done, regarding the motive of the individual agent,
whether, and if so, how, he can directly will the ' common
good '. Here, again, Cumberland's utterances are confusing.
For instance, in Chap. ii. he says : " Universal benevolence is
the spring and source of every act of innocence and fidehty, of
humanity and gratitude, and indeed of all the virtues by which
property and commerce are maintained "? But when later,
in the next chapter, he attempts to explain how man can
will the common good, he rests the argument mainly upon
the rational nature of man ; and proposes to demonstrate the
possibility of altruistic conduct a priori to those who acknowl-
edge the nature of the will to consist in " the consent of the
mind with the judgment of the understanding, concerning
things agreeing among themselves ".* Since the understand-
ing is able to judge what is ' good ' for others, as well as for
the agent himself, there is no reason why one cannot act in a
purely altruistic way. Just what Cumberland means here will
be seen more clearly by referring to what he says regarding
Hobbes's contention that we first desire things, and then call
them ' good '. Cumberland holds, on the contrary, " that
things are first judged to be good, and that they are after-
wards desired only so far as they seem good ".^
^ It will readily be seen that this second function of Right Reason is hardly
jconsistent with the principles of the system,
'^ See p. 107. 3 See pp. 114, 115. ■•Seep. 173. *Seep, 168.
26 History of Utilitarianism.
All this, of course, is unsatisfactory. From a general state-
ment of the universality of a certain degree of benevolence,
we have passed to a bit of more than questionable psychol-
ogy, used to explain the possibility of altruistic conduct.
But Cumberland does not always attempt to rationalise the
matter in this way. Somewhat earlier in the treatise,^ he
attempts to show how altruistic feelings would naturally
arise and be fostered, not only among men, but also among"
the higher animals. We may omit as irrelevant the first two
considerations urged and pass to the third, which is, that " the
motion of the blood and heart, which is necessary to life, is
befriended by love, desire, hope, and joy, especially when con-
versant about a great good ", But a good known to extend
to the most possible will by that very fact be recognised as
the greatest. Hence benevolent affections will conduce to
^Q. preservation of man or animal, as the case may be. A
fourth argument is " that animals are incited to endeavour the
propagation of their own species by the force of the same
causes which preserve the life of every individual, so that
these two are connected by [a] tie evidently natural "? The
details of the argument are not particularly convincing. The
important point is : Cumberland argues that altruism first
appears as sexual love and the parental instinct to protect
offspring. Having once arisen, there is no reason why it
may not extend ever so much further.
But in the latter part of the treatise, there is an interesting-
passage which should not be neglected. The author says :
" No one does truly observe the law unless he sincerely pro-
pose the same end with the legislator. But, if he directly and
constantly aim at this end, it is no diminution to the sincerity
of his obedience that, at the instigation of his own happiness,
he first perceived that his sovereign commanded him to re-
spect a higher end." ^ There is a suggestion here that the
individual first comes to act in an (objectively) altruistic way,
because he finds that it conduces to his own happiness ; but,.
' See pp. 122 et seq. ^ See p. 128. ' See p. 275.
Richard Czimberiand. 2 J
this habit having been established, he comes to act for the
common weal without any thought of self. This doctrine
will be found clearly worked out in the case of two, at least,
of Paley's predecessors, i.e., Gay and Tucker.
From the above it will be seen that, while Cumberland's
view of the nature of man is in striking contrast to that of
Hobbes, and in substantial agreement with that of Grotius,
his treatment of the motive of the individual is rather vague
and unsatisfactory. It is difficult to say whether, according to
Cumberland, moral action is ever prompted by purely dis-
interested benevolence or not. To be sure, all discussions of
the kind are likely enough to end in misunderstanding, because
the ' egoism ' and the ' altruism ' of which we speak with so
much confidence are themselves more or less of the nature of
abstractions. Granted that the good of the individual is inex-
tricably connected with the good of society in many respects,
why should we expect to find the ' self-regarding ' and the
' other-regarding ' affections clearly differentiated ? If Cum-
berland had contented himself with showing that, in the case
of beings endowed with sympathy, ' egoism ' and ' altruism '
must often coincide, we should have had no reason to com-
plain of his treatment. But this he did not do. To what an
extent he was capable of confusion on this point may be seen
by referring to the more than paradoxical passage in the In-
troduction,! in which he attempts to prove that he who per-
forms good actions in gratitude for benefits already received,
shows less generosity than one who is moved to action " by the
hope only of good ". The relation of Cumberland's bio-
logical proof of altruism to Evolutional theory is obvious.
At the same time, it should be noted that his position here is
not inconsistent with his own essentially static view of the
Nature of Things.
^ Not previously quoted. See p. 29.
CHAPTER II
RICHARD CUMBERLAND (continued).
Having considered somewhat at length Cumberland's view
of the nature of man, we shall now turn to the second main
division of our exposition, which depends essentially upon
the above, i.e., his doctrine of the Good. Although the
author is particularly concerned to show the eternity and im-
mutability of the Laws of Nature, this jural aspect of the
system, which will be considered later, must not blind us to
the fact that for Cumberland there is nothing corresponding
to Kant's ' categorical imperative '. On this point he is quite
explicit, as might be expected from the general character of
the system. He says : " These propositions are called practi-
cal, nor is it necessary that they should be pronounced in the
form of a gerund, 'this or that ought to be done,' as some
school-men teach ; because that fitness which is expressed by
a gerund wants explanation ".^ The form of the propositions
makes no particular difference, as the author goes on to show.
They may be given : (i) as statements of fact, i.e., that cer-
tain things necessarily conduce both to the ' common good '
and to that of the individual agent ; or (2) as commands, i.e.,
as Laws of Nature ; or (3) as ' gerunds,' in the sense indi-
cated above. Evidently we have here to do with an Ethics
of the Good, and not with a Duty Ethics.
But what is the Good } Cumberland has much to say re-
garding the good of each and the good of all, ' natural ' good
and ' moral ' good ; but he nowhere tells us as definitely as we
1 See p. 180.
(28)
Richard Cumberland. 29
could wish exactly what the Good is. It is a little curious
that, just after remarking that " it is of the last consequence
to establish a well-grounded and irrefragable notion of
Good," 1 he should make no serious attempt to do so, but in-
dulge in a number of characteristic criticisms of Hobbes.
Throughout the treatise Cumberland is concerned to oppose
the two following related views of Hobbes regarding the
Good : (i) that the [natural] Good for each man is merely
what he wants ; and (2) that, before the establishment of the
State and the enacting of civil laws, there is no ' measure ' of
the Good.
We have already seen that, in opposition to Hobbes's doc-
trine that we call a thing good because we want it, Cumber-
land holds that we want it because first we believe it to be
good.2 As regards the view that in a ' state of nature ' there
is no ' common measure,' the author somewhat naively asserts
that of course there is — the Nature of Things.^ In the same
paragraph, however, he explicitly says : " Whatsoever pro-
position points out the true cause ot preservation does at the
same time show what is true good ". Later in the treatise.
Good is defined as : " that which preserves, or enlarges and
perfects, the faculties of any one thing or of several ". And a
few lines further on : " that is good to man which preserves
or enlarges the powers of the mind and body, or of either,
without prejudice to the other ".*
The first passage quoted may sound like Hobbes ; but of
course what Cumberland has in mind, when he speaks of pre-
servation, is the preservation, not primarily of the individual,
but of society — the ' health of the social organism,' as Mr.
.Stephen would say. Another important difference is that Cum-
^ See p. i6g.
^ Connected with this is the question regarding the permanence of the Good.
Cumberland holds that " Hobbes's fiction that good and evil are changeable is
perfectly inconsistent with the necessary and immutable causes, which he every-
where asserts, of the being and preservation of man " (p. 62). It is to be doubted;
if this is at all conclusive against Hobbes.
' See p. 62. * See p. 165.
30 History of Utilitarianism.
berland's idea of the Good, from this point of view, includes
perfection as well as preservation. Indeed, the emphasis is
certainly to be laid upon perfection. Man is not merely a
bundle of egoistic appetites, but a being essentially rational
— a personality to be developed.
But in Chap. v. we have an example of the other set of
passages, even more numerous, which might be cited as show-
ing that Cumberland's ideal was that of ordinary Hedonism.
" I proceed more fully to explain the common, which also I
call the public good. By these words I understand the aggre-
gate or sum of all those good things which either we can
•contribute towards, or are necessary to, the happiness of all
rational beings, considered as collected into one body, each
in his proper order." ^ The ' rational ' beings referred to are
God and all men. Animals are placed practically on the same
level with the vegetable world. " The perfection ^ of these
things is not properly, at least not ultimately, sought after ;
their use and concurrence with our actions towards the good
of rational beings is the thing intended."
As it is not clear — thus far, at any rate — in what terms
Cumberland would have defined the Good, if he had been
forced to be more exact, it becomes important to consider his
treatment of happiness. This is decidedly careless, and some-
times ' circular,' i.e., the Good is frequently defined in terms
of happiness, while happiness is sometimes ^ defined as ' the
possession of good things '. Indeed, Cumberland occasion-
ally uses the words interchangeably even in the same sen-
tence. However, allowing for his careless use of language,
with which we are already familiar, his theory seems to be that
human happiness results largely from action, particularly from
the exercise of one's intellectual powers. For instance, in
treating of the rewards that attend observance of the Laws
of Nature, he speaks of " that pleasure or part of our happi-
ness which is necessarily contained in such natural employ-
' See p. 202. The title of this long and important chapter is : " Of the Law
of Nature and its Obligation ".
- Note the use of the word. ' See, e.g., p. 43.
Richa7'd Cumbei'land, 31
ment of the human faculties as leads to the best end ... for
all exercise of natural powers, especially of the highest order,
in which we neither miss our aim nor turn out of the direct
road, is naturally pleasant " } Now freedom from evil or
uneasiness may depend upon external circumstances ; no
other pleasures than the so-called ' active ' ones take their
rise from within ourselves. Hence this is the only happiness
to which moral philosophy directs us.- But again, Cumber-
land says : " I have no inclination very curiously to inquire
whether the happiness of man be an aggregate of the most
vigorous actions, which can proceed from our faculties ; or
rather a most grateful sense of them, joined with tranquillity
and joy, which by some is called pleasure. These are in-
separably connected, and both necessary to happiness." ^
This is one of the most ambiguous of the passages making
for hedonism.* It will be noticed, however, that ' tran-
quillity' is distinctly stated to be an essential constituent of
happiness.
As regards the nature, or rather the cause, of this tran-
quillity, the author speaks earlier in the treatise of an ' essen-
tial part ' of happiness, i.e., " that inward peace which arises
from an uniform wisdom, always agreeing with itself ".^ If
we act differently toward others from what we do toward our-
selves, we have the discomfort that attends any inconsistency.
But, in addition, " that great joy is also wanting which arises
in a benevolent mind from a sense of the felicity of others ",
Of course, tranquillity does not depend entirely upon ' con-
sistency' in thought and action. We saw but a moment ago
that it depended materially upon external things. It also
depends largely, according to Cumberland, upon the con-
1 See p. 100. Cf. p. 211, where Cumberland emphasises the pleasures of
success in one's undertakings.
^This passage should not be too much insisted on. By itself, it is mis-
leading.
^ See p. 2og.
•• Strictly speaking, of course, it leaves open the question as to what terms we
shall use (hedonistic or otherwise) in defining the Good.
* See p. 44.
32 History of Utilitarianism.
sciousness of having deserved well of our fellows. But it is
characteristic of our author to insist upon the partial depend-
ence of tranquillity upon having acted consistently.
So far, then, happiness is seen to consist principally in
(i) the pleasures attending our normal, particularly our intel-
lectual, activities ; (2) tranquillity, which depends partly upon
{a) external circumstances, {])) the feeling that we have been
' consistent ' in thought and action, {c) the consciousness that
we have acted for the common weal ; and (3) the pleasure
which results from a knowledge of the happiness of others.
What shall be said, then, with regard to Cumberland's
view of the Good in general } We have seen that he speaks,
now in terms of ' preservation ' and ' perfection,' now in terms
of ' happiness '. In one passage, while maintaining the some-
what trite thesis that ' virtue is its own reward,' he says : " I
care not in this argument to distinguish between the health of
mind and the consciousness or enjoyment thereof by reflec-
tion, since nature has so intimately united these two, that the
free exercise of the virtues and the perception or inward sense
thereof are inseparable ".^ A statement like this must put
us on our guard against expecting too definite an answer to
the question which we are considering. ' Happiness ' always
attends ' perfection ' ; ' perfection ' is necessary in order that
we may attain * happiness '. Practically, then, it makes little
difference which we say — and Cumberland's aim was pre-
eminently a practical one, as we have seen. I do not believe
that it is possible dogmatically to decide on either interpreta-
tion. We should be forcing a distinction, important for us,
upon an author who regarded it with frank indifference.
Indeed, it would be much truer to say that both happiness and
perfection, in our understanding of the words, are included in
the author's conception of the Good.
It should be noticed, however, that Cumberland's actual
treatment of ' happiness ' is a good deal clearer than his treat-
ment of ' perfection ' ; and there is always the lurking possi-
^ See p. 265.
Richard Ctuuberland. 33
bility that the latter may be regarded as of such importance,
because it is a necessary means to the former. The general
impression which the system gives one certainly is that, on the
whole, it is hedonistic. At the same time, it would be sheer
misrepresentation to hold that it is consistently so. It is
much better to let the two principles, which we now regard as
logically distinct, stand side by side, recognising, however, that
greater emphasis is laid upon ' happiness ' than upon ' per-
fection '.
This comparatively vague treatment of ' perfection ' has led
Professor Sidgwick to hold that Cumberland " does not even
define perfection so as strictly to exclude from it the notion of
moral perfection or virtue, and save his explanation of moral-
ity from an obvious logical circle "} I am inclined to think,
however, that Professor Sidgwick exaggerates the ambiguity of
Cumberland's notion of ' perfection '. As Dr. Spaulding has
shown,2 the ' perfection ' referred to is a ' perfection of mind
and body,' ^ which is explained as the ' development of their
powers '.■* This will be plain if we keep in mind what Cum-
berland says regarding ' naturally ' good things. These are
defined as (i) those which adorn and cheer the mind, and (2)
those which preserve and increase the powers of the body.^
We shall now have to notice the distinction (just mentioned)
which Cumberland makes between what is ' naturally ' and
what is ' morally ' good. This has been ignored hitherto, be-
cause it is likely to lead to confusion. What things ' naturally '
good are, we have just seen. On the other hand, " only
voluntary actions conformable to some law, especially that of
Nature," are ' morally ' good. It is quite misleading, when
Cumberland insists that ' natural ' good is more extensive
than ' moral ' good. It is not a matter of more or less, but of
what we may call, for convenience, the ' substantive ' and the
' adjective ' use of the word ' good '. Certain things, once for
all, do, according to the eternal nature of things, conduce to
' See Hist, of Ethics, p. 173.
'^ See Richard Cumberland, pp. 55 et seq. ^See p. 305.
■• See pp. 165 et seq., already cited. ^ See p. 203.
34 History of Utilitarianism.
man's preservation, perfection, and happiness. These are
' naturally ' good, or, as we now prefer to say, they constitute
the Good On the other hand, those ' voluntary actions '
which conduce to the Good, and so fulfil the Laws of Nature,
are called ' morally ' good. This is a somewhat unfortunate
use of language, for it looks at first as if Ethics had to do
only with the ' morally ' good. This is so far from being true
that ' natural ' good is the ultimate, not that which is ' morally '
good ; otherwise Cumberland would be involved in a manifest
circle at the very outset. But while Ethics must needs begin
with a consideration of ' natural good ' — ' the Good,' as we
shall call it — it is not equally concerned with all that would
ideally go to constitute the Good. Cumberland himself, in
the first chapter of the treatise, ^ calls our attention to the use-
fulness of the Stoics' distinction between things in our power
and things out of our power. Now Ethics, from the nature of
the case, must be practically limited in its scope to a considera-
tion of things in our power. At the same time, to limit the
Good to things in our power would be obviously stultifying,
whether we accept preservation, perfection, or happiness (in
our sense of the word) as the criterion. The only type of
Ethics which can do that is the ' duty Ethics,' the Ethics of the
* good will ' ; and, however heterogeneous the elements may
be that enter into Cumberland's system, he surely is not logic-
ally affiliated to the Kantian school.
So far we have been considering the Good quite in general.
As a matter of fact, of course, when the Laws of Nature are
under consideration, Cumberland has in mind, not the good of
any individual or class merely, but the good of all — or rather,
to be more exact, the good of the greatest number. Indeed,
that this good of the whole is greater than the (hypothetical)
good of the isolated part, and therefore the ' greatest end ' of
human action, Cumberland practically puts among self-evident
truths.2 But, as he says, " the good of the collective body is
no other than the greatest which accrues to all, or to the major
1 See p. 63. 2 See p. 97.
Rickiwd Cumberland. 35
part of the whole ".1 Although he speaks of society as an
organic whole — particularly when he is concerned to show
that the good of each ultimately coincides with the good of all
others — he never loses sight of the claims of the individual,
as some modern theorists, standing on much the same ground,
are inclined to do.
It is to be remembered that the ' greatest end ' is nothing-
less than the 'joint felicity of <^// rationals,' so that the happi-
ness or glory of God is included, as well as the happiness of
all men. If there be question as to the ' parts ' of the
' greatest end,' and their ' order,' we are told : " that part of
the end will be superior which is grateful to the nature of the
more perfect being. So that the glory of God is chief, then
follows the happiness of many good men, and inferior to this
is the happiness of any particular person. -
Thus far we have neglected what Cumberland himself may
very well have regarded as most important, i.e., the jural
aspect of the system. As we have already seen, he begins
with an elaborate discussion concerning the Laws of Nature.
It did not seem best to follow his order of exposition, because
this appeared to have been dictated largely by controversial
considerations. Moreover, it is important to see that — from
our present point of view, at least — the system stands alone,
without the assistance of this scaffolding of Natural Laws.-^
At the same time, one would have but a very inadequate idea
either of the external form of the system or of the author's
actual application of his unifying principle, without a knowl-
edge of the substance of what he says regarding the Laws of
Nature. To this subject, then, we shall proceed. It will form
the third, and last, main division of our exposition.
Hobbes himself had admitted Laws of Nature, but in a
sense wholly different from that ordinarily attaching to the ex-
pression, as used by his contemporaries — indeed, in a sense not
1 See p. 60. 2 See p. 280.
' Of course this is not intended to beg the question as to the ultimate validity
of a Utilitarian system.
36 History of Uti/itariamsm.
easy to define, as we have seen. Cumberland returns to the
original conception of Natural Laws,i and is intensely in
earnest in maintaining their existence.
It will be remembered that our author discards the doctrine
of ' innate ideas '. We must, then, learn the Laws of Nature
from experience. How does experience teach us .'' In early
childhood, we act in a practically purposeless way until we
come to recognise the different effects of different kinds of
actions, not only upon ourselves, but upon others as well.
" Hence,'' as Cumberland naively says, " we draw some conclu-
sions concerning actions acceptable to God, but many more
concerning such as are advantageous and disadvantageous to
men." ^ When, in mature years, these conclusions come to
be accurately expressed in a general form, they are called
' Practical Propositions '. We have already seen that the
form of these propositions is immaterial. They may be ex-
pressed (i) as statements of fact, (2) as commands [laws], or
(3) ^s ' gerunds '. Notwithstanding this, however, in the main
body of the work, Cumberland almost always speaks of
Practical Propositions as Laws, and is particularly concerned
to show that they are technically such.
Hobbes had insisted that a Law must be clearly promulgated
by a competent authority, i.e., by one having power to enforce
obedience ; and had denied that the so-called Laws of Nature
possessed either of these requisites. Cumberland, on the
other hand, while accepting Hobbes's definition of a Law,
attempts to show that the Laws of Nature are ' Laws ' in pre-
cisely Hobbes's sense of the word. At the beginning oF
Chap, v., he defines the [general] Law of Nature as " a
proposition proposed to the observation of, or impressed upon,
the mind with sufficient clearness, by the Nature of Things,
from the will of the First Cause, which points out that pos-
sible action of a rational agent, which will chiefly promote the
common good, and by which only the entire happiness of
particular persons can be obtained "? The former part of
' As held, e.g., by Grotius.
^ See p. 179. ^ See p. 189.
Richard Cumberland. 37
the definition contains the ' precept,' the latter the ' sanction ' ;
and the mind receives the ' impression ' of both from the
Nature of Things. Neither words nor any arbitrary signs
whatever are essential to a Law. Given a knowledge of
actions and their consequences, we have all that is needed.
With regard to the clearness that is to be looked for in the
Laws of Nature, Cumberland says : " That proposition is pro-
posed or imprinted by the objects with sufficient plainness,
whose terms and their natural connection are so exposed to
the senses and thoughts, by obvious and common experience,
that the mind of an adult person, not labouring under any
impediment, if it will attend or take notice, may easily observe
it".i There are such propositions. They are analogous to
the following : Men may be killed by a profuse loss of blood,
by suffocation, by want of food, etc.
These propositions, then, are given in human experience
with sufificient clearness. Is there any power behind them,
capable of enforcing obedience } The very fact that certain
consequences, good or bad, apparently always ensue upon cer-
tain classes of actions, would of itself suggest that this is the
case. But we can go further. The Law of Nature, as above
stated, points out the way to the common Good ; God must
desire the common Good ; therefore these [derived] proposi-
tions must be regarded as Laws of God — in which case there
can be no question as to the ' competent authority '. The
good or evil consequences which result from actions, must be
regarded as * sanctions,' divinely ordained. In a word, these
Practical Propositions, derived from experience, are not only
Laws, but Laws in the completest possible sense.
We are now quite prepared to understand Cumberland's
notion of Obligation. He says : " Obligation is that act of a
legislator by which he declares that actions conformable to his
law are necessary to those for whom the law is made. An
action is then understood to be necessary to a rational agent,
when it is certainly one of the causes necessarily required to
that happiness which he naturally, and consequently neces-
' See p. 192.
38 History of Utilitarianism.
sarily, desires." ^ Obligation is regarded as perfectly immu-
table, for it could change only with the Nature of Things.^
That anything in what is so vaguely termed the Nature of
Things ^ could change, Cumberland did not for a moment
suppose.
In treating of obligation, the author sometimes uses lan-
guage which might suggest determinism. It is to be re-
membered, however, that he is an uncompromising libertarian
— so far, at least, as it is possible to define the position of one
so little given to metaphysical speculation or the precise use
of metaphysical language. By the ' necessity ' and ' immuta-
bility ' of the Laws of Nature, he simply means that, if certain
acts are performed, certain consequences will necessarily
ensue, now and always. That the acts themselves, in the par-
ticular case, are determined, he would deny. We have already
seen that human error is explained by Cumberland in the same
way as by Descartes — i.e., as resulting from a rash use of
our Free Will, where we arbitrarily assent to that which is
not clear and distinct.
It might seem highly improbable that so prominent and
zealous a Churchman as Cumberland, in treating of the ' sanc-
tion ' of the Law of Nature, would fail to insist upon rewards
and punishments after death ; yet such is the case. In the
Introduction, he states that he has abstained from ' theological
questions,' and has attempted to prove his position from
' reason ' and ' experience '.^ The treatise as a whole bears
out this statement fairly well, it being understood that by
' theological questions ' Cumberland means those pertaining
to revelation. In one passage, he says : " Among these re-
wards [attending obedience to the Laws of Nature] is that
happy immortality which natural reason promises to attend
^ See p. 233 ; cf. p. 206. - See p. 226.
^ This is a good case to illustrate the ambiguity of the expression ' Nature of
Things '. Does the ' immutable Nature of Things ' mean certain physical and
other laws which remain constant ? Or does the ' immutability ' extend to the
natures of particular classes of beings ?
* See p. 34.
Richard Cumberland. 39
the minds of good men, when separated from the body " ; ^
but this is almost the only instance in which he directly refers
to the future life in connection with the ' sanction,' and it is
significant, perhaps, that even here he does not refer to future
punishments. Cumberland's reticence on this subject is by
no means difficult to explain, and it argues nothing against
his orthodoxy. In the first place, as we have seen, he wished
to confute Hobbes on his own ground. Moreover, he doubt-
less knew perfectly well that, for those who believed in im-
mortality, rewards and punishments after death would be
regarded as constituting by far the most important part of the
sanction, whereas, to those who were sceptical in the matter,
such considerations would not appeal at all.
But what Cumberland lost by confining himself to a con-
sideration of the consequences of actions that might be ex-
pected to ensue in this present life, he endeavoured to make
up by distinguishing sharply between (i) ' immediate ' [inter-
nal] and (2) ' mediate ' [external] consequences. The former
are emphasised considerably at the expense of the latter,
doubtless for the reason that here one might plausibly claim
greater certainty. The wicked may, in particular cases, ap-
pear to flourish in our own day, as they did in David's time ;
but the ' external ' consequences of actions are by no means
the only ones. By the ' internal ' consequences, Cumberland
might seem to mean simply the approval or disapproval of
conscience, but this is by no means the case. He says :
" The immediate connection between every man's greatest
happiness of mind, that is in his power, and the actions which
he performs to promote most effectually the common good of
God and men, consists in this : that these are the very actions,
in the exercise and inward consciousness whereof every man's
happiness (as far as it is in his own power) consists ". This
is supposed to be " after the same manner as we perceive a
connection between the health and unimpaired powers of the
body and its actions "? The case, then, is regarded as analo-
gous to the connection between feeling well and being well
' See p. 267. ' See p. 207.
40 History of Utilitarianism.
physically. If this seem like begging the question, it is to be
observed further that man can find free scope for the varied
activities (particularly mental) in which his happiness so largely
consists, only by acting for the common weal.
As regards the ' mediate ' effects, or external consequences
of actions, Cumberland acknowledges that we have here to do,
not with certainty, but with probability merely. Still it is a
very high degree of probability. In the long run, actions
tending to promote the common weal must lead to a maximum
of possible happiness for the individual agent ; actions against
the common weal, to a maximum of possible unhappiness. If
advantages are not to be procured in this way, i.e., by acting
for the common weal, they come under the head of ' things not
in otu: power '. The Divine moral government of human
affairs (here and now) is referred to as tending still further to
justify the author's position.
The treatment of this subject is considerably perplexed,
partly owing to the author's attempt to avoid the appearance
of harbouring egoism in his system — an attempt, it should be
added, which is not uniformly successful. From the contro-
versial point of view, he doubtless had good reason to insist
upon the greater importance of the internal sanction, and,
indeed, his general position may very well be in accord with
human experience ; but it is to be doubted if the distinction
will bear the weight which is actually put upon it in the
treatise. For, by employing it, Cumberland attempted to
prove the complete sufficiency of the ' sanction,' as given in
the present life, for every moral agent whatsoever.
It will be seen that the whole account of ' obligation '
brings out, in clear relief, the egoistic elements in the system.
Cumberland's theory of obUgation (so far as his explicit treat-
ment is concerned) is not essentially different from Paley's,
though it must be conceded that it is expressed in a much less
offensive way. One may surmise that this appearance of
egoism would have been more effectually guarded against,
had it not been for the fact that the jural treatment of moral-
ity involving emphasis on reward and punishment, was made
Richard Cumberland. 41
necessary by the author's desire to fight Hobbes on his own
ground.
Cumberland's deduction of the particular Laws of Nature
from the general Law, which we have thus far been consider-
ing, is by no means elaborate. It is contained in the three
short chapters : vi., " Of Those Things which are Contained ui
the General Law of Nature " ; vii., " Of the Original of Do-
minion and the Moral Virtues " ; viii., " Of the Moral Virtues
in Particular ".1 The last chapter, ix., " Corollaries," as the
name might suggest, does not properly belong to the system-
atic part of the treatise. We shall now notice the principal
points in the three chapters first mentioned.
Chapter vi., " Of Those Things which are Contained in the
General Law of Nature," is very short, and even so contains a
good deal that has been treated before. This is rather disap-
pointing, for it is just here that we should naturally look for
the most important part of the ' deduction '. Two questions
are proposed by the author: (i) What things are compre-
hended in the conmion Good } and (2) What actions tend to
promote it ? The answer to the first question contains nothing
new or to the present purpose. As regards actions tending to
promote the common Good, Cumberland divides them into
classes, each corresponding to the particular ' faculty ' of the
mind supposed to be principally involved. Hence we have
(i) acts of the Understanding, (2) acts of the Will and Affec-
tions, or acts of the Body determined by the Will. Under
the former head Cumberland treats of Prudence, which he
divides into {a) Constancy, and {b^ Moderation. Constancy,
again, may manifest itself either as Fortitude or as Patience ;
while Moderation implies Integrity and Diligence, or Industry.
Passing to ' acts of the Will ' enjoined by the Law of
Nature, these are all found to be included in ' the most ex-
' The first five chapters are : i., " Of the Nature of Things " ; ii., " Of Human
Nature and Right Reason"; iii., "Of Natural Good"; iv., "Of the Practical
Dictates of Reason " ; v., " Of the Law of Nature and its Obligation ". These
titles, however, as already said, do not give a very definite idea of the nature of
the contents of the several chapters.
42 History of Uti/itarianism.
tensive and operative benevolence '. The author says : " It
belongs to the same benevolence to endeavour that nothing
be done contrary to the common good, and to correct and
amend it if there has ; hence Equity [or Justice] is an essential
branch of this virtue ".^ This Universal Benevolence also
includes Innocence, Gentleness, Repentance, Restitution, and
Self-denial ; and, further, Candour, Fidelity, and Gratitude.
" In these few heads," says Cumberland, " are contained the
primary special Laws of Nature and the fundamental prin-
ciples of all virtues and societies ".^
In this connection, Cumberland asserts that some actions
may be regarded as morally ' indifferent,' but the term is mis-
leading. Those actions without which it is impossible to
obtain the end proposed are ' necessary ' ; those to which there
are others equivalent, i.e., equally calculated to conduce to
the common weal, are termed ' indifferent '. Every action,
then, may very well have a moral character ; and yet it may
be no more efficacious in promoting the ' greatest end ' than
certain other actions. Accordingly it may, in this sense only,
be termed ' indifferent '. These cases, we are told, leave room
for the greatest individual freedom ; also for positive laws
contracting such liberty within narrower bounds.
It will be seen that, however original and important ma}'
have been Cumberland's idea that the particular laws of moral
action, or Laws of Nature, could be deduced from one princi-
ple, viz., that requiring of all moral agents conduct that should
conduce to the common Good, his ' deduction ' of these particu-
lar Laws thus far contains little or nothing calling for remark,
unless it be the naive application of a more than usually
crude ' faculty psychology,' where he distinguishes between
acts of the Understanding and those of the Will and Affec-
tions. This, however, is not relevant to the present discussion.
The two remaining chapters, vii., " Of the Original of
Dominion and the Moral Virtues," and viii., " Of the Moral
Virtues in Particular," treat incidentally of a great variety of
1 See p. 309. '^See p. 311.
Richard Cu}?ibc7'/a)id. 43
topics, but are principally concerned with the Laws of Nature
which have to do with the distribution and tenure of property.
It will be remembered that Hobbes had maintained, though
not in so many words, that ' self-preservation is the first law
of nature ' ; and also, as regards property, that in a state of
nature each had a ' right ' to all — which, of course, means
only that each had a ' right ' to all that he could get and keep.^
Otherwise stated, self-preservation (or the conscious seeking
of one's own happiness) was regarded not only as a ' right,'
but as the only original spring of action, while brute force was
regarded as the only criterion. Possession was ten-\.er\\.\\s of
the law ; though, of course, this possession on the part of the
strongest could be only of the most temporary character,
owing to the (approximate) ' original equality ' of men.
Now, as regards the former, self-preservation, Cumberland
does not admit either that men have a primary and inalienable
right to preserve themselves, or that the desire of self-preserva-
tion is naturally their ruling motive. He had already said, in
Chapter i., " Of the Nature of Things " : " It cannot be known
that any one has a right to preserve himself, unless it be known
that this will contribute to the common good, or that it is at
least consistent with it. ... A right even to self-defence cannot
be understood without respect had to the concessions of the
Law of Nature which consults the good of all." - This is
nothing if not explicit ; but it is to be noticed that we are
here concerned only with the question as to what is to be re-
garded as the ultimate ethical principle. As regards our mode
of action, this very ' good of all,' which is the ethical ultimate,
demands that (in all ordinary circumstances) " every one should
study his own preservation, and further perfection "? The
degree to which one should subordinate one's own interests to
the common Good, depends, of course, upon circumstances.
That it may extend even to the sacrifice of one's life, Cumber-
land would have been the last to deny. In such a case he
' As a matter of fact, this hypothetical ' right to all things ' extended not only
to the material good things of life, but to everything whatever.
' See p. 67. » See p. 69.
44 History of Utilitarianism.
would have maintained his general thesis, that the good of all
and the good of each coincide, by insisting upon the benefits
already received by the individual at the hands of society.^
We have already seen that this does not really prove his point.
Passing then to Cumberland's deduction of the right to
personal property, we must remember that he was confronted
with Hobbes's doctrine that, in a state of nature, each had a
* right ' to all. His argument, which practically is, that so-
ciety could not exist without proprietorship in the case of at
least some things, however sound it may be in itself, can
hardly be called the conclusive answer to Hobbes that he
himself supposed it to be. The difference between the two
was primarily regarding the nature of man, and not so much
regarding the conditions under which society could exist. For
it was just Hobbes's contention that society could not exist in
what he chose to call a ' state of nature ' ; hence the absolute
need of founding the State, and such a state as the ' Leviathan '
that he described. The irrelevance of a good many of the
author's particular criticisms of Hobbes cannot but strike the
reader.
The controversial part of the treatise, however, is not that
with which we are mainly concerned, so we pass on to Cum-
berland's own deduction of the right to property. It is some-
what important to notice the exact form of the argument. " It
has been proved," he says, " that in the common happiness are
contained both the highest honour of God, and the perfections
both of the minds and bodies of men ; moreover, it is well
known from the Nature of Things that, in order to these ends,
are necessarily required both many actions of men, and uses of
things which cannot, at the same time, be subservient to other
uses. From whence it follows that men, who are obliged to
promote the common good, are likewise necessarily obliged to
consent that the use of things and labour of persons, so far as
they are necessary to particular men to enable them to promote
the public good, should be so granted them, that they may not
^ See, e.g., p. 27.
Richard Ciivtberland. 45
lawfully be taken from them, whilst the aforesaid necessity
continues ; that is, that those things should, at least during such
time, become their property and be called their own. But
such necessity continuing, by reason of the continuance of like
times and circumstances, a perpetual property, or right to the
use of things, and to the assistance of persons necessary, will
follow to each person during life." ^
It is to be noticed that there are two parts of this de-
duction : (i) the argument for the original partition of goods ;
(2) the argument for the permanence of that partition.^ These
should be carefully distinguished. It is precisely in the con-
fusion of the two that the obscurity of Cumberland's treatment
of property lies.
(i) As regards the (original) teniporajy right to the use of
things and the services of other people, there seems to be no
difficulty. Without some external things, the individual can-
not exist, still less be of any service to his fellow-men. More-
over, as the author says, " the same nourishment and necessary
clothing which preserves the life of one man cannot at the
same time perform the same office for any other ". Hence, in
practice, some of the things essential to the maintenance of
life must be divided in order to be used at all. This applies
absolutely, however, only to food and clothing. Cumberland
certainly has a great deal more than these in mind. Indeed,
he shows that in a state of nature, preceding the complete
division of things, frequent disputes would arise " where it
was not very evident what was necessary to each " ? These,
and also the sloth of those * neglecting to cultivate the common
fields,' would inevitably, he thinks, lead to the further division.
(2) But this division, having once been made, \s final, owing
to the assumed continuance of ' like times and circumstances '.
The too easy transition from (i) to (2) is the weak point in
the deduction. Some division had to be made ; a certain
division has actually been made ; and the complete and abid-
' See p. 313. Cf. pp. 64 et seq. This is put in the form of a Law on p. 315,
which, of course, involves nothing but a purely verbal change.
^ Involving inheritance, of course. ^ See p. 321.
46 Histo}'y of Utilitarianism.
ing justice of this division Cumberland accepts as a matter of
course. We need not discuss the division, he says, " because
we all find it ready made to our hands, in a manner plainly
sufficient to procure the best end, the honour of God and the
happiness of all men, if* they be not wanting to themselves".^
That there is any way radically to remove the hardships of
the present distribution (which certainly is not worse than it
was in Cumberland's time), it would perhaps be difficult to
maintain ; but the author's breezy optimism with regard to the
felicity resulting from the existing distribution, is a little amus-
ing, in the light of the economic problems of the present day.
The choice, according to his view, would seem to be between
the present system and " violating and overturning all settled
rights, divine and human, and endeavouring to introduce a
new division of all property, according to the judgment or
affections of [some] one man ".-
Indeed, Cumberland's argument for the existing distribution
of wealth is curiously analogous to that of Hobbes for the
absolute character of the then existing government. Hobbes
had practically said : Any government is better than none ;
choose between an absolute government (the only stable one)
and none at all. Cumberland, as we have seen, practically
says : Some division of property had to be made ; this actually
was made ; choose between this and " violating and over-
turning all settled rights ". In this connection, he remarks
that, with Grotius, he highly approves of that saying of Thucy-
dides : " It is just for every one to preserve that form of
government in the state, which has been delivered down to
him ".
According to Cumberland, then, our ultimate right to that
which we legally possess, under the existing order of things,
depends upon the fact that a recognition of the sanctity of
property is essential to the stability of society ; not so much
upon the fact that our property enables us to promote the
common good. If the latter were really the criterion, a partial
^ See p. 322, particularly the passage at the foot of the page.
2 See p. 323.
Richard CuTnberland. 47
redistribution of property every now and again might seem to
be the inevitable consequence. My only object in referring
to this is to call attention to the fact — somewhat important,
as it seems to me — that Cumberland's criterion for the distri-
bution of property applies only, or mainly, to the (hypothetical)
original partition of the same ; not to the actual distribution
as we now find it. And the (actual) ' original partition,' surely,
was made upon anything but ethical principles.
With the last chapter, viii., " Of the Moral Virtues in Par-
ticular," we are not here specially concerned, as the funda-
mental principles have already been considered. The mode of
treatment is sufficiently indicated by the following passage :
" The special laws of the moral virtues may, after this manner,
be deduced from the law of Universal Justice. There being a
law given which fixes and preserves the rights of particular
persons, for this end only, that the common good of all be pro-
moted by every one, all will be laid under these two obligations,
in order to that end : (i) To contribute to others such a share
of those things which are committed to their trust, as may not
destroy that part which is necessary to themselves for the
same end ; (2) to reserve to themselves that use of what is their
own, as may be most advantageous to, or at least consistent
with, the good of others." 1 Thus abstractly stated, the prin-
ciples may seem commonplace enough ; but it is characteristic
of the best side of Cumberland's ethical theory that, in carry-
ing them out, he preserves so true a balance between duties of
' giving ' and duties of ' receiving '. He himself says that, if
confusion be attributed to him by reason of his recognition of
the two classes of duties, the confusion must be attributed to
Nature herself. Here, again, as so often, he illustrates his
position by reference to what we know to be the conditions
necessary to the preservation and health of any organism.
His deduction of the particular virtues under each class, we
need not stop to consider.
Although Cumberland's ethical system has been treated
' See p. 329.
48 History of Utilitarianis77i.
topically throughout, in these two chapters, it seems desirable
to restate, as briefly as may be, the principal results of our
investigation. This is the more necessary on account of the
somewhat heterogeneous elements that enter into the system.
I. Hobbes had regarded man as a bundle of egoistic instincts,
and had practically denied the existence of Right Reason.
Cumberland insists, on the other hand, that the non-rational
side of human nature manifests altruistic as well as egoistic
tendencies ; and also that man is essentially a rational being.
Our sympathetic feelings are emphasised more when the author
is thinking of society as an organic whole, while the rationality
of man is usually brought out into strong relief when the dis-
cussion is regarding the individual. That the existence of
sympathetic feeling ' fits ' us for society is evident, of course.
Our rationality, on the other hand, ' fits ' us for society in a
double way: (i) It enables us to see our own good as indis-
solubly connected with the good of society, and so leads to
objectively moral conduct from ultimately egoistic motives ;
(2) it enables us to recognise and desire the Good in and for
itself — irrespective of the question as to whose good it may be.
The difference between these two parts which Reason plays
is important. The second is, perhaps, hardly consistent with
the general tendency of the system. Cumberland's view, th^t
benevolent feeling first came into human life as sexual love
and the parental instinct to protect the young, has been suffi-
ciently noticed ; as also his view that the kindly affections (re-
garded physiologically) tend toward the conservation of the
individual, while the contrary is true of the malevolent affec-
tions. It should also be kept in mind that, when opposing the
egoism of Hobbes, the author always attempts to prove, not
simply that man is, to a certain degree, benevolent ; but that
he must be so, from the nature of the human organism and its
relation to that greater organism, society, of which it is a
constituent part. Cumberland's treatment of the benevolent
feelings inevitably suggests the Evolutional view, but it is easy
to see that it is consistent with his own static view of things.
On the whole, we are left somewhat in doubt as to whether
Richard Cumberland. 49
the motive of the moral agent is ever wholly altruistic. At the
same time, as we have already seen, perhaps this is not one
of the things which we should criticise in the system, as the
question is a somewhat abstract one, which naturally did not
trouble Cumberland, whose aim throughout was eminently
practical. It was enough for him that we are practically altru-
istic in many of our actions, i.e., free from selfish calculations
regarding a probable reward.
II. Turning to the problem of the Good, we were obliged
to conclude that the Good is described, now in terms of ' pre-
servation ' or ' perfection,' now in terms of ' happiness '. As
regards the first set of passages. Professor Sidgwick probably
exaggerates the ambiguity of Cumberland's notion of ' perfec-
tion'. From this point of view, the Good is that which pre-
serves and perfects both mind and body. As regards the pas-
sages which seem to make ' happiness ' the end, we were
obliged to ask what was meant by ' happiness,' for the term is
very vaguely used by early ethical writers. It was found to
h& pleasure depending upon (i) the unimpeded (and effective)
normal activities of mind and body ; (2) a tranquil frame of
mind, which, in turn, depends upon {a) external circumstances,
(J)) the feeling that we have acted ' consistently,' {c) the con-
sciousness that we have acted for the common weal ; and (3)
a knowledge that others around us are happy. It will also be
remembered that Cumberland distinguishes between what is
' naturally ' and what is ' morally ' good. ' Natural ' good is
the ultimate for Ethics. On the other hand, only voluntary
actions which tend to that which is ' naturally ' good, are
' morally ' good. So much for the Good in general. Of
course, what Cumberland sets up as the (objective) end of all
truly moral action is the Good of all, or of as many as
possible.
III. As regards the Laws of Nature, we saw that the system
did not really need such a scaffolding, and, indeed, that it was
rather hampered than helped by it. At the same time, we had
to recognise that the external form of the system was practi-
cally determined by this conception ; also that it was here that
4
50 History of Utilitarianism.
we must look for Cumberland's application of his unifying prin-
ciple, i.e., his deduction of the particular virtues. Hobbes had
demanded that a Law should be ' clearly promulgated by a
competent authority ' ; and had denied that, in this sense, the
Laws of Nature were Laws at all. Cumberland, on the other
hand, is concerned to show that they are technically such.
They are ' clearly promulgated,' for the effects of actions are
uniform ; and we cannot doubt of the ' competent authority '
in this case, for it is none less than the First Cause, the
Author of Nature. The effects of actions were found to be
treated only in so far as they belonged to the present life ; but
a sharp distinction was made between the ' immediate ' [inter-
nal] and the ' mediate ' [external] effects, for the confessed
reason that ' mediate ' effects were somewhat uncertain. The
deduction of the particular Laws of Nature was found to be
hardly adequate, but, on the whole, consistent.
What shall be said of the system which we have been exam-
ining } Cumberland's philosophical style is radically bad, his
order of exposition almost uniformly unfortunate. Moreover,
a good many of his very numerous criticisms of Hobbes are
somewhat wide of the mark. It might seem as if there were
little use in attempting to revive interest in this practically
forgotten moralist. Yet the curious fact is, that Cumberland
alone, of the English ethical writers of his time, sounds modern,
as we read him to-day. Hobbes and Cudworth were greater
men ; More had a more charming personality ; but when we
read their works, we feel that Absolutism, Intellectualism, and
theological Mysticism, as foundations of ethical theory, belong
essentially to the past. Cumberland, on the other hand,
' builded better than he knew '. He was the first exponent, in
England, at least, of a tendency which for a long time practi-
cally dominated English Ethics. And even this is not all.
Though writing nearly two centuries before Darwin, he viewed
society as an organic whole. Perhaps no single phrase would
express his ideal so completely as ' the health of the social or-
ganism ' ; and yet we regard that formula as the peculiar prop-
Richard Cumberland. 51
erty of the present generation. Moreover, if he recognises
' preservation ' and ' perfection,' on the one hand, and ' happi-
ness,' on the other, as parallel principles, we must concede that
neither of these principles has definitely supplanted the other
even yet. Indeed — if one may venture to attribute anything
like unanimity to the constructive ethical hterature of the last
few years — it may be said that what is now being sought, more
than anything else, is some principle at once comprehensive
enough to combine these two seemingly antagonistic notions
in a higher synthesis, and definite enough to serve as the basis
of a coherent system of Ethics.
CHAPTER III.
SHAFTESBURY AND FRANCIS HUTCHESON : THEIR RELATION
TO UTILITARIANISM.
While we are certainly bound to recognise in Cumberland's
De legibus naturae, published in 1672, the first statement by
an English writer of the Utilitarian principle, it would be idle
to claim that the system of the Bishop of Peterborough is free
from ambiguity, or even internal contradictions. Indeed,
throughout the treatise ' perfection ' (in the sense of highest
development of the powers of mind and body) is regarded as
a principle parallel to that of ' the greatest happiness of all '.
It is only by noting the greater emphasis laid upon the Utili-
tarian principle, the greater actual use made of it in rationalis-
ing morality, that we are able confidently to place Cumberland,
where he belongs, at the head of the distinguished list of
English Utilitarian moralists.
We shall now attempt to trace the further development of
the ' greatest happiness ' principle. The first step might seem
to be an obvious one ; for Locke— whose Essay, it will be
remembered, was first published in 1689-90 — is popularly
regarded not only as a Utilitarian, but as the founder of Eng-
lish Utilitarianism. One can hardly understand the prevalence
of this mistaken view, particularly as no recognised authority
on the history of English Ethics seems really to have com-
mitted himself to such an interpretation of Locke. ^
^ It is to be admitted that Whevvell's treatment of Locke's system, at once
careless and somewhat partisan, would be almost sure to mislead the ordinary
reader. He takes no pains to distinguish between the supposed tendency of the
system of thought as a whole and what Locke actually set forth as his own
views on ethical subjects. At the same time, he does mention, toward the end
(52)
Shaftesbury and Francis Hutcheson. 53
The fact is that Locke, while he devoted the first book of
the Essay to controverting the doctrine of ' innate ideas ' (as he
understood it), is by no means opposed to Intuitional Ethics in
its more moderate form. To be sure, he holds that " good and
evil . . . are nothing but pleasure or pain, or that which
occasions or procures pleasure or pain to us ".^ If he had
actually worked out his ethical theory on this basis, we should,
of course, find him standing for acknowledged Hedonism;
but this he did not do. One has to gather his views on the
subject from works devoted to other matters, mainly from the
Essay and the Reasojiableness of Christianity. If the result
is not altogether satisfactory, we must be particularly careful
not to read into the philosopher's views on Ethics a consistency
not to be found there. On the one hand, he was not a little
influenced by the then almost universal conception of Laws of
Nature ; and, on the other, he seems to hold the contradictory
theses (i) that human reason is not able to arrive at proper
notions of morality, apart from revelation ; ^ and (2) that
moral, like mathematical, truths are capable of rigorous and
complete demonstration.^ Often, indeed, Locke is concerned
to show that the practice of virtue is conducive to happiness ;
but this, in itself, proves nothing. Nearly all his contempo-
raries, of whatever ethical school, did the same. It is wholly
characteristic, when he speaks of Divine Law as " the eternal,
immutable, standard of right "."* In fact, apart from certain
more or less doubtful corollaries from his philosophical system
— like his position that the truths of Ethics are capable of
quasi-mathematical demonstration — his ethical speculations
were mainly on the theological plane. In so far as this was
true, he did not, of course, definitely commit himself to any
particular ethical theory. It would thus hardly be too much
of his exposition, certain features of the ethical system proper which ought to
keep one from regarding it as standing for the ' greatest happiness ' principle. —
See Hist, of Mow Phil, in England, Lect. v.
^ Essay, Bk. II., ch. xxviii., § 5.
^ See, e.g., Reas. of Chr., Works, vol. VII., p. 141.
•" See, e.g., Essay, Bk. III., ch. xi., § 16.
^Reas. of Chr., Works, vol. VII., p. 133.
54 History of Utilitarianism.
to say that Locke had no ethical system at all, in the strict
sense of the word. This implies nothing whatever in disparage-
ment of the philosopher, but simply that he never gave to
Ethics a sufficient amount of consecutive attention to develop a
coherent system of his own. There is, of course, no doubt
that Empiricism, which Locke did so much to inaugurate, had
most important consequences for Ethics ; but these will best
be considered when we come to examine the earlier form of
Associationist-Utilitarianism.
The case of two other important English philosophers,
whose interests were pre-eminently ethical, viz., Shaftesbury
and Hutcheson, presents much more difficulty. While it
is quite unusual, and, as it seems to the present writer,
equally unjustifiable, to class them as Utilitarians,^ their
systems do stand in a relation to Utilitarianism sufficiently
close to require careful examination. And, unfortunateh-.
it is quite impossible adequately to treat this matter with-
out devoting to it more space than would be proper in a
History of English Utilitarianism. To do so, would mean to
exhibit in detail all sides of these complex systems, and then
to show the subordinate importance of their Utilitarian aspect.
We must therefore confine ourselves here to a brief, if not
somewhat dogmatic, presentation of what is, in itself, worthy of
much more elaborate treatment.
Two questions, m particular, occupied the ethical writers
of the period which we are considering : (i) What is the
' end ' of moral action ? (2) What is the nature of man,
and in what relation does this stand to the ' end ' ? But it
might very well happen — did constantly happen, in fact — that
different writers would give a very different emphasis to these
two questions, fundamentally related as they are. Thus
Shaftesbury ^ was so concerned with the question regarding
1 The relation of Hutcheson to Utilitarianism is much closer than that of
Shaftesbury, as we shall presently see.
2 The first edition of the Characteristics of Men, Manners, Opinions, Times,
was published in three volumes, in 1711. The following references are to the
second edition, published in 1714.
Shaftesbury and Francis Hutcheson, 55
the nature of man, and with his idea that virtue is ' natural,
and consists in a proper ' balance ' of the affections, that he
practically failed to give the first question, that regarding the
' end ' of moral action, explicit treatment. As a result, while
we find in his system by far the best refutation of Hobbes
which had appeared up to his time, it is particularly hard to
say exactly how he would have defined the Good.
But first, with regard to the nature of man. Nothing is
more absurdly fictitious, according to Shaftesbury's view, than
Hobbes's ' state of nature '. In the first place, we can find no
true starting-point for Ethics in the individual. Try as we
may, we still find him forming part of a system. ^ But, keep-
ing to the individual for the sake of the argument, "the
creature must have endured many changes ; and each change,
whilst he was thus growing up, was as natural, one as another.
So that either there must be reckoned a hundred different
states of nature ; or, if one, it can be only that in which nature
was perfect, and her growth complete"- Again, nothing is
so natural as that which conduces to preservation, whether the
creature in question be man or animal. Then, " if eating and
drinking be natural, herding is so too. If any appetite or
sense be natural, the sense of fellowship is the same." ^
We are thus prepared to see that the popular antithesis
between egoism and altruism — upon which any theory of
absolute egoism, like that of Hobbes, must be based — is
largely artificial. We may very well distinguish the ' natural '
[social, benevolent] affections from the ' self ' affections [love
of life, bodily appetites, etc.], and both of these from the
' unnatural ' affections [malevolence, etc.] ; * but only the last
are really bad. ' Self ' affections are not only permissible, but
necessary, while the ' natural ' affections may exist in excess,
and thus defeat themselves. Virtue, then, consists not so
much in a triumph of the one set of impulses over the other as
^Inquiry concerning Virtue, "Characteristics," vol. II., pp. i6 et seq.
- The Moralists, vol. II., p. 316.
"Freedom of Wit and Humour, vol. I., p. no.
* Inquiry, vol. II., pp. 86 et seq.
56 Histoiy of Utilitarianism.
in a proper ' balance ' between the two. As we have seen,
man finds himself part of a system from the very first. Since
he is originally a social being, he derives his greatest happiness
from that which makes for the existence of society and the
common weal. Hence the good of all tends to become realised
through the enlightened endeavours of each to attain his own
true happiness ; for vice, according to Shaftesbury, ultimately
springs from ignorance. Therefore " the question would not
be, Who loved himself, or Who not ? but Who loved and
served himself the rightest, and after the truest manner ? " ^
Virtue, then, consists in the harmony of the first two classes
of affections. But the necessary concomitant of virtue is
happiness, just as pleasure attends the right state of the phys-
ical organism. The good man is his own best friend, the bad
man his own worst enemy ; for every good act tends to har-
monise the affections, every bad act to derange them. 2
Whether happiness itself be the Good, we shall have to ask
almost immediately. Here we are only concerned with its
relation to virtue, as the necessary concomitant of the latter.
Before leaving Shaftesbury's treatment of the nature of man,
it will be necessary to consider his doctrine of a ' moral sense '.
The importance of this doctrine for the system is, of course,
variously estimated ; ^ but certainly it cannot by any means be
ignored. As the name would imply, the ' moral sense ' is
original. It is analogous to the faculty by virtue of which, as
Shaftesbury assumes, we are able in some measure to appre-
ciate the beautiful from the very first. But it is to be noted
that both these faculties require cultivation. Thus the ' moral
sense ' is hardly the infallible guide which Butler thought he
found in Conscience. It also differs from the latter in that it
seems to belong almost wholly to the affective side of our
nature. But though it acts, in a way, independently of reason,
' Freedom of Wit and Humour, vol. I., p. 121.
^Inquiry, vol. II., p. 85.
^Professor Sidgwick very justly says: "This doctrine, though characteristic
and important, is not exactly necessary to his main argument ; it is the crown
rather than the keystone of his ethical structure ".—See Hist, of Ethics, p. 187.
Shaftesbury and Fra7icis Hutcheson. 57
it is never in contradiction with the latter. On the contrary,
its deliverances may be vindicated by reference to reason and
experience. When it is perverted, this is through habitual
wrong action (which deranges the affections), or through super-
stition.
Turning now to the author's account of the ' end ' of moral
action, we are prepared for some ambiguity. Of course the
good of all must be the end, or must be implied by the end/
since the author begins with the conception of man as a social
being. But what is the Good ? Shaftesbury's frequent use of
the word * happiness ' is not in itself decisive. Happiness, as
we have just seen, is the necessary concomitant of the right
state of the being in question. This latter seems generally
to be regarded as the thing most important ; ^ at the same time,
it is impossible to deny that the author's interpretation of the
Good often seems clearly enough to be hedonistic.^ In Cum-
berland we found ' happiness ' and ' perfection ' as distinct, but
parallel principles. In Shaftesbury, on the other hand, we do
not find them thus in mechanical juxtaposition, but wrought
together, so that they appear as different aspects of the same
fact of moral health or harmony. Therefore, we have here a
system more difficult than even that of Cumberland to place
under one of the conventional modern rubrics. The good of
society is the test, indeed, but what this good is, Shaftesbury
nowhere quite clearly states. The system would seem to bear
at least a closer relation to the modern doctrine of ' Self-realisa-
tion ' than to Utilitarianism, and this, in spite of the author's
habitual emphasis of the affective side of our nature, at the
expense of the cognitive and volitional sides.* It will be re-
membered that he constantly insists upon the importance of an
harmonious development of the truly human nature, even
^ See, e.g., Inquiry, vol. II., p. 78.
^See, e.g., ibid., pp. 14 ef seq. Cf. Sidgwick, Hist. 0/ Ethics, p. 184, note.
^ See, e.g.. Inquiry, vol. II., pp. 99 et seq.
* This one-sidedness of Shaftesbury's system doubtless arose in part from the
fact that he was contending explicitly against Hobbes and implicitly against the
Intellectualists.
58 History of Utilitarianism.
where he is concerned to show that the practice of virtue is
conducive to the agent's own happiness, and seldom, if ever,
suggests definite hedonistic calculations as determining the
morality of a given action or class of actions. In what has
just been said, the complication arising from Shaftesbury's
theory of a ' moral sense ' has been purposely neglected. For
many this would at once determine the non-Utilitarian char-
acter of the system ; but it should be remembered that the
importance of this theory for the system as a whole is variously
estimated.
It is customary to regard Hutcheson's system ^ as the logical
development of Shaftesbury's ; but, while true in a sense, this
view requires important modification. Though we have
already found in Shaftesbury's system practically all the
elements that enter into Hutcheson's, the different em-
phasis which is given to two of these in the latter system
should be carefully noted. Shaftesbury, in his explicit opposi-
tion to Hobbes and his implicit opposition to the Intellec-
tualists, had tended to identify virtue with benevolence. At the
same time, his fundamental thought seems to have been that
virtue consists in the harmony of the ' natural ' and ' self '
affections. With Hutcheson, on the other hand, benevolence
becomes much more prominent, and is practically regarded as
the beginning and the end of virtue. Again, Shaftesbury had
assumed the existence of a ' moral sense,' but his system is
quite intelligible without it. On the other hand, it would
hardly be too much to say that Hutcheson's main object was to
prove the existence of a ' moral sense,' distinct from self-
interest.
Let us consider the ' moral sense ' first. This is defined as
" that determination to be pleased with the contemplation of
those affections, actions, or characters of rational agents, which
' The Inquiry concerning Beauty, Order, Harmony, Design and the Inquiry
concerning Moral Good and Evil appeared in 1725 ; the Essay on the Nature and
Conduct of the Passions and Affections, and Illustrations upon the Moral Sense,
in 1728, The System of Moral Philosophy was pubHshed posthumously in 1755.
Shaftesbtuy and Francis HtUclieson. 59
we call virtuous ". It is universal in distribution, immediate in
action, and original in character. We are obliged to assume
such a faculty, mainly because it is impossible to reduce our
moral judgments to considerations of self-interest. This
doctrine of a ' moral sense ' is not to be confused with that of
' innate ideas,' to which it bears " no relation ".^ The ' moral
sense ' requires education and development, like our other
faculties. In respect of importance, it appears to be designed
for regulating and controlling all our powers.^ It is to be ob-
served that this faculty approves always, and only, of benevo-
lence in the moral agent ; ^ also that " it gives us more pleasure
and pain than all our other faculties ".*
As we have just seen, benevolence, in this system, is the
very essence of virtue ; and (as with Shaftesbury) it is in the
truest sense ' natural,' not a subtle refinement of egoism.
Indeed, Hutcheson's extreme insistence on benevolence results
in a one-sidedness which cannot be overlooked. Yet the
author admits that the want of some degree of self-love would
be " universally pernicious," ^ and even holds that one may
treat oneself as one would a third person " who was a com-
petitor of equal merit ".^ He attempts to avoid the difficulty
— a real one for a system identifying virtue with benevolence- —
by showing that we may moralise our naive tendency to pursue
our own happiness by remembering always that a due regard
for it is necessary for the good of all. Again, he does not
claim, of course, that the benevolence in which virtue practi-
cally consists is felt equally for all men ; but rather likens it to
gravitation, which " increases as the distance is diminished "?
The relation between benevolence and the ' moral sense ' in
the system is now tolerably plain. The fact that we approve
benevolence, and nothing but benevolence, as virtuous, proves
the existence of the ' moral sense '. If we had no such faculty,
^Inquiry into the Original of our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue, second ed.,
p. xvi. Of course this is only Hutcheson's view of the matter.
^System of Moral Philosophy, vol. I., p. 6i.
^Inquiry, pp. 196 et seq. ^ Ibid., p. 242.
^ Ibid., p. 172. ''Ibid., p. 174. 'Ibid., p. 220.
6o History of Utilitarianism.
we should approve only what was advantageous to ourselves.
On the other hand, it is our ' moral sense ' that proves the
essence of virtue to consist in benevolence. We must avoid
confusion on one point, however : benevolence, as an impulse
to virtue, is quite distinct from the ' moral sense,' as a disposi-
tion to receive pleasure from the contemplation of virtue. We
do not act benevolently for the pleasure which we may thus
obtain. That would be a contradiction in terms.^
So much, then, for benevolence and the * moral sense,' as the
two most important aspects of man's moral nature. Taken
alone, however, they are not sufficient. Our natural benevo-
lence is a merely general tendency impelling us to conduct for
the good of our fellows, particularly those standing to us in the
closest relations of life. As such, it needs guidance. And
again, the ' moral sense ' — so far, at least, as we have yet
seen — simply approves of actions performed from benevolent
motives. Thus it approves of what is ' formally ' good,^ the
good intention. But when we are electing what course of
action we shall pursue, we are to aim at that which is ' materi-
ally ' good. Here it is still, perhaps, the ' moral sense ' that
gives us the clue, but for practical guidance we must depend
largely upon our cognitive powers, as employed with reference
to an external criterion.
It will be best to let the author give his own account of this
very important matter. " In comparing the moral qualities of
actions, in order to regulate our election among various actions
proposed, or to find which of them has the greatest moral
excellency, we are led by our moral sense of virtue to judge
thus : that in equal degrees of happiness, expected to proceed
from the action, the virtue is in proportion to the number of
persons to whom the happiness shall extend ; (and here the
dignity or moral importance of persons may compensate num-
bers) and, in equal numbers, the virtue is as the quantity of
the happiness, or natural good ; or that the virtue is in a com-
pound ratio of the quantity of good and number of enjoyers.
^ Inquiry, p. ii6.
-The distinction is made by Hutcheson himself. See System, vol. I., p. 252.
Shaftesbury and Francis Htitcheson. 6i
In the same manner, the moral evil, or vice, is as the degree
of misery, and number of sufferers ; so that, that action is best
which procures the greatest happiness for the greatest num-
bers ; and that worst which, in Hke manner, occasions misery." ^
This looks at first like Utilitarianism pure and simple ; but
Hutcheson is mainly interested in that which \s fonnally good,
the benevolent intention, and he develops a calculus, the object
of which is to show the degree of morality of a given action in
terms of the net benevolence of the agent, i.e., excess of
benevolence over self-interest. He begins with five ' axioms '.
For example : Let M = moment of good ; B = benevolence ;
and A = ability. Then M = B x Ar These apparently
simple ' axioms ' lend themselves to decidedly elaborate com-
putations, the ultimate object of which, in each case, is to
ascertain the value of B. It must always be remembered,
however, that M (the amount of happiness produced by the
action) is assumed in these computations as a known quantity.
Now M must be learned from experience, and the ' hedonistic
calculus ' of the Utilitarian must be employed to find it. Thus
the calculus referred to supplements, but does not supplant,
the ' hedonistic calculus '. In spite of the ' moral sense,' the
actual content of the moral laws would have to be largely
determined by Utilitarian methods.-^
It may still seem as if the system were Utilitarianism in
disguise — and Hutcheson does actually stand in a much
closer relation to the ' greatest happiness ' theory than does
Shaftesbury — ^but the matter is not so simple as would at first
appear. That which makes for happiness is the ' materially '
Good, to be sure ; but we have seen that " the dignity or moral
importance of persons may compensate numbers ". Moreover,
as might be expected, when the happiness of only one person
is under consideration, the qualitative distinction between pleas-
ures is regarded as absolute. The author says : " We have
an immediate sense of a dignity, a perfection, or beatific quality
in some kinds, which no intenseness of the lower kinds can
^Inquiry, p. 177. ^Ibid., pp. 183-188.
"Such is actually Hutcheson's procedure in many of his deductions.
62 History of Utilitarianism.
equal, were they also as lasting as we could wish "> And this
feeling of human dignity, we are told, is something which we
have quite independently of the ' moral sense '.-
It is further to be noted that, while Hutcheson came a good
deal nearer than Shaftesbury to stating the Utilitarian principle
(and was apparently the first English writer to hit upon the
exact Utilitarian formula), he also emphasised the doctrine of a
' moral sense ' much more strongly than Shaftesbury had done.
This results in a very considerable complication. The ' moral
sense ' is by hypothesis ultimate. Now, not only is it, accord-
ing to Hutcheson, the touchstone of virtue ; but from it, either
directly or indirectly, are derived the major part of our
pleasures and pains. Obviously this has an important bearing
upon the ' hedonistic calculus,' which we found to be logically
implied by the system. In computing the ' material ' goodness
of an action, we must take into account, not merely the
natural effects of the action, but these comphcated with the
much more important effects of the ' moral sense ' itself. The
result is that the ' hedonistic calculus,' as ordinarily under-
stood, is pushed into the background. Indeed, as we have
had occasion to notice, when Hutcheson actually develops a
' calculus,' it is to ascertain the amount of benevolence implied
by a given action, not the amount of happiness which may be
expected to result from it, this latter, curiously enough, being
assumed as a known quantity.
From what has been said, it will be seen that the system
which we have been examining is not properly Utilitarian. Of
course, if the author had been as predominantly interested in
the ' materially ' good as he actually was in the ' formally '
good, and had avoided certain minor inconsistencies, his system
would have closely resembled that of J. S. Mill; but, on
the one hand, we are not at liberty to neglect the emphasis
which he actually gave to the different sides of his system, and,
on the other, it is now generally admitted that J. S. Mill was
not a consistent exponent of Utilitarianism. In short, Hutche-
1 System, vol. I., p. 117. -Ibid., p. 27.
Shaftesbury and Francis Hutcheson. 63
son is the ' Moral Sense ' philosopher par excellence. To lose
sight of this, is to misinterpret his system. The g-eneral drift
of his argument is plain. If we approve or disapprove of
actions, we must do so from motives of self-interest or from
motives independent of self-interest. The author's first step is
to prove the disinterestedness of our moral judgments. This,
he thinks, shows conclusively the existence of a ' moral sense,'
and so vindicates his characteristic position.
It hardly need be said, that the two very suggestive systems
which we have been examining necessarily appear at a dis-
advantage in being compared with a type of ethical theory to
which they do not properly belong. Most certainly they are
not to be criticised merely for teaching more than can be com-
prehended within the bounds of the Utilitarian formula. Sub-
sequent ethical theory for a long time represented an increasing
degree of differentiation, which could only end in one-sidedness
all round. In our own generation, there is a marked tendency
to return to that more comprehensive view of man which
Shaftesbury, in particular, did so much to work out, and to
attempt a synthesis which shall do justice to our human nature
as a whole.
CHAPTER IV.
GEORGE BERKELEY, JOHN GAY, AND JOHN BROWN.
Those who are inclined to regard Utilitarianism as neces-
sarily irreligious in its tendency, would do well to examine
somewhat carefully the numerous ' replies,' explicit and im-
plicit, called forth by the writings of Shaftesbury and Hutche-
son. These ' replies * naturally represented various points of
view, but they were more similar in spirit than the reader of
our own day would be likely to expect The almost universal
verdict of those who opposed the ' Moral Sense ' ethics was,
that it claimed too much for human nature, i.e., that it assumed
a degree of unselfishness and a natural inclination toward
virtue on the part of the moral agent, which by no means
corresponded with the hard facts. Now it is highly important
to notice from what quarter these attacks for the most part
came. Mandeville, indeed, whose Fable of the Bees, or
Private Vices Public Benefits (17 14), represented the extreme
form of this view that Shaftesbury had paid too high a com-
pliment to human nature, was as far as possible from being
a theologian, though he cynically suggested that, by proving
the utter selfishness and insincerity of man (in his unregenerate
state), he had put himself on the side of orthodox belief. But,
as a matter of fact, by far the greater number of such protests
came from the theologians themselves. They thought, and
were right in thinking, that the ' Moral Sense ' ethics, in its
attempt to prove the perfect naturalness of virtue, had done
something to obscure the notion of moral obligation. In fact,
they commonly went to the extreme of believing that the
* aesthetic ' view of morality involved consequences dangerous
(64)
George Berkeley, John Gay, and John Brown. 65
to religion itself. For if the ultimate ground of obligation lay
in a refined sensitiveness to differences between right and
wrong actions, what should be said to a man who might affirm
that, just as he had no very good ear for music, he was unable
to perceive the ethical differences commonly recognised ?
Moreover, if the ' moral sense ' were sufficient, why did we
need religion at all ?
In short, a very large proportion of the earlier theological
opponents of the ' Moral Sense ' philosophers agreed in believ-
ing that self-interest was the ruling principle of human nature.
This being the case, all depended upon showing that it was
for the agent's interest to be moral. Now no amount of
argument could prove that this would always hold true, if we
should leave out of account the supernatural sanctions of
morality. Hence what we would now term ' Theological
Utilitarianism ' seemed the only natural position for orthodox
Christianity. It may seem a little strange to those who know
Bishop Berkeley only, or mainly, as the enthusiastic exponent
of ' immaterialism ' and the champion of orthodoxy against
the free-thinkers, that he should have been one of the very
first of the opponents of Shaftesbury to put this doctrine of
so-called ' Theological Utilitarianism ' into definite form. But
one has only to examine his sermon on " Passive Obedience "
(17 1 2) to see that this is the case. His principal object here,
as the full title of the sermon would indicate, was to empha-
sise the duty of complete submission to recognised civil author-
ity ; but he gives, near the beginning of the sermon, the most
definite statement to be found in his works of his theory of
the ultimate ground of moral obligation.^
The argument is as follows. Since self-love is the ruling
principle of human action, we naturally term things that make
for or against our happiness ' good ' or ' evil,' as the case may
be. " It is the whole business of our lives to endeavour,
by a proper application of our faculties, to procure the one
and avoid the other." At first, pleasures and pains of sense
are all that appeal to us ; but even on this plane experience
' See Works (Fraser's ed.), vol. III., pp. no et seq.
5
6^ History of Utilitarianism.
soon shows that we must often forego a present pleasure,
if we would avoid a greater future pain. " Besides, as the
nobler faculties of the human soul begin to display themselves,
they discover to us goods far more excellent than those which
affect the senses." This naturally impresses upon us still
further the lesson of self-control. But since all that is tem-
poral is ' less than nothing ' in comparison with that which is
eternal, and since we further learn by the ' light of nature '
that there is a Divine Being who alone can make us either
eternally happy or eternally miserable, it clearly follows that
we should implicitly obey the will of God. But what is the
will of God ? Since He is a Being of infinite goodness, He can
will nothing but that which is good. Further, since He can-
not Himself be conceived as standing in need of anything. He
must will the good of His creatures, and that alone. But this
we have seen to be happiness. And " as nothing in a natural
state can entitle one man more than another to the favour of
God, except only moral goodness ... it follows that, antece-
dent to the end proposed by God, no distinction can be con-
ceived between men. ... It is not therefore the private good
of this or that man, nation, or age, but the general well-being
of all men, of all nations, of all ages of the world, which God
designs should be procured by the concurring actions of each
individual."
How shall this ' great end ' of all human action be attained ?
Only two methods of divine moral government would seem
possible, (i) We might be left to do that which, in the
particular case, should seem likely to conduce to the public
good ; or (2) the Divine Being might enjoin " the observation
of some determinate, established laws, which, if universally
practised, have, from the nature of things, an essential fitness
to procure the well-being of mankind ; though, in their parti-
cular application, they are sometimes, through untoward
accidents, and the perverse irregularity of human wills, the
occasions of great sufferings and misfortunes, it may be, to
very many good men ". Against the first possible method,
Berkeley makes two objections. First, it is impossible
George Berkeley, John Gay, and John Brown. 67
accurately to foresee the consequences of our action in any
particular case ; and even if it were possible, such calculation
" would yet take up too much time to be of use in the affairs
of life ". And secondly, we should in this case be without an
infallible standard of conduct.
General rules, then, are absolutely necessary. How shall
they be ascertained ? Here Berkeley seems to follow Cumber-
land closely. " Whatsoever practical proposition doth to
right reason evidently appear to have a necessary connection
with the universal well-being included in it, is to be looked
upon as enjoined by the will of God." These propositions,
he goes on to show, may be called Laws of Nature, " because
they are universal, and do not derive their obligation from any
civil sanction, but immediately from the Author of nature
Himself ". Or again, they may be termed Eternal Rules of
Reason, " because they necessarily result from the nature of
things, and may be demonstrated by the infallible deductions
of reason ". Here Berkeley pauses to insist in the strongest
terms that these laws are to be observed in all cases whatever,
and at the expense of no matter what real or apparent hard-
ship to oneself or others. No exhaustive enumeration of the
Laws of Nature (or Laws of Reason) is attempted, but those
mentioned correspond to the commands of the Decalogue.
It will readily be surmised that this sermon would hardly
have been noticed at such length, but for a special reason.
While the argument is clear and tolerably consistent, it does
not represent any real advance upon Cumberland's treatment,
unless perhaps we may regard as such the tacit omission of
' perfection ' (of mind and body) as a principle parallel to that
of ' the greatest happiness of all '. The real significance of
the sermon lies in the fact that it expresses, with clearness and
precision, the view that almost inevitably commended itself
to those orthodox theologians of the day who thought they
detected dangerous tendencies in the ' Moral Sense ' ethics.
It will be necessary to examine Berkeley's ethical theory a
little further, in order that we may be able to distinguish from
it a theory stated anonymously nineteen years later, which was
68 History of Utilitarianism.
destined to exert a very marked influence upon the further
development of ethical speculation in England.
In the first place, it will be noticed that Berkeley accepts,
without any attempt at further analysis, the then current con-
ception of Laws of Nature. His treatment here, as already
indicated, is a pretty close reproduction of that of Cumberland.
This does not of itself make against the general Utihtarian
character of his doctrine, but it plainly tends to emphasise the
eternal and absolute character of particular moral laws in a
way that would hardly result from the mere consideration of
consequences. So long as the Laws of Nature were taken
with absolute seriousness, the belief in them tended to retard
the development of ethical theory ; and this quite apart from
the particular ' method ' of Ethics in question.
We have seen that Berkeley starts from the assumption that
self-interest is the universal spring of human action, and this,
would seem to differentiate his view from that of Cumberland ;
but Berkeley's writings are not quite free from ambiguity on
this point. He sometimes assumes the social nature of man,
without, however, attempting an a priori demonstration of the
necessity of altruism, as Cumberland had done. In this con-
nection, the question naturally arises, whether he recognised
qualitative differences between pleasures, and here again we
are left in uncertainty. This is rather curious, for a large part
of the Second Dialogue in Alciphron, or the Minute Philos-
opher {iy2)2), is devoted to a consideration of the question as
to what pleasures are most desirable. Sometimes he seems
to insist upon the dignity of human nature ; ^ but after all
the general drift of the argument is to show that the ' plea-
sures of imagination ' and ' pleasures of reason ' are greater,
or at any rate more permanently satisfactory, than the
* pleasures of sense '. It would not do to insist too much
upon his treatment here, however, for it might reasonably be
held that Berkeley is using an argumentum ad homineniy
since the argument is directed, for the most part, against those
^ See Works, vol. II., p. 80, Cf. an important passage on p. 89.^
George Berkeley^ John Gay, and John Brown. 69
who are gratuitously assumed to hold a particularly unworthy
view of what things are desirable for man.
Two other points may properly be noticed. In the first
place, Berkeley frankly depended upon the doctrine of future
rewards and punishments in a way that Cumberland had, pre-
sumably from controversial considerations, refrained from do-
ing. Henceforth this was to be the most characteristic feature
of the doctrine of the so-called ' Theological Utilitarians '.
Secondly, Berkeley states with admirable clearness two of the
three main reasons against depending upon the computation
of consequences in the particular case, viz.: (i) that it is im-
possible to predict the consequences of any particular action,
and (2) that at the moment of action there would be no time
for deliberate computations, even if such computations were
capable of yielding exact results. The other obvious reason
is, that at the moment of action self-interest is likely to be,
more than ever, a complicating factor in our moral judgments.
These three arguments were destined to play an important
part in Utilitarian discussions during the rest of the eighteenth
century. To those who favoured the Utilitarian doctrine,
they were regarded as a sufficient demonstration of the neces-
sity of ' general rules,' while to many of the opponents of
Utilitarianism, they seemed conclusive against the doctrine
itself.
It might seem highly improbable that an anonymous disser-
tation of only about thirty pages, prefixed to a translation,
actually by another hand, of a third writer's Latin work, should
be one of the most interesting and important contributions to
the early development of the ' greatest happiness ' principle.
Yet such undoubtedl)'- is the Preliminary Dissertation : con-
cerning the Fundamental Principle of Virtue or Morality, now
known to have been written by the Rev. John Gay, prefixed to
Law's translation of King's Origin of Evil. The first edition
(of the translation and the Dissertation) was published in 173 1 ;
the second, " revised and enlarged " — an almost exact reprint,
so far as the Dissertation is concerned — in 1732.
70 History of Utilitarianism.
A few dates should be kept in mind here. The first edition
of Shaftesbury's Inquiry concerning Virtue and Merit was pub-
h'shed in 1699 ; that of Hutcheson's Inquiry into the Original
of our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue in 1725. Hume's ethical
system first appeared in 1740, as the third book of the Treatise
of Human Nature, the other two books having been published
the year before. Gay's Dissertation, therefore, appeared six
years after Hutcheson's first ethical work, and nine years
before the corresponding work of Hume. It is interesting to
note that Gay's true successors, Tucker and Paley — for Hume
does not seem to have been influenced by him — belong to a
later generation. The Light of Nature Pursued was first
published in ly 62>-y 7, 2ind XhQ Aloral and Political Philosophy
in 1785.
We shall now turn to the Prelitninary Dissertation itself,
and give it the very careful examination which its importance
justifies. The author's own order of exposition, which is not
uniformly fortunate, will be followed substantially, except
where notice is given to the contrary. This is possible on
account of the brevity of the Dissertation, and desirable, on the
whole, as it will facilitate a comparison of the substance of this
remarkable essay — which is not, for most, readily accessible ^ —
with the other ethical works named above.
Gay begins by remarking that, though all writers on morality
have practically agreed as to what particular classes of actions
are virtuous or the reverse, they have at least seemed to differ
in their answers to the related questions : (i) What is the
' criterion ' of virtue ? and (2) What is the motive by which
men are induced to pursue it ? Both of these questions must
be considered, of course, in any treatment of Ethics, and the
author's own view is that the same principle, or the same set
of principles, will be found to solve both.
It is therefore indifferent which side of the moral problem
we consider first. But, before attempting anything constructive,
^ Since the above was written, the Dissertation has been reprinted in Mr.
Selby-Bigge's British Moralists (vol. II., §§ 849-887), but the text there followed
is that of the fifth edition (1781).
George Berkeley, John Gay, and John Brown, 71
Gay stops to notice a current view. Some hold that a rational
creature will choose only that which, on the whole, is calculated
to bring him most happiness ; further, that virtue does bring
the agent most happiness ; and that therefore it will be chosen
just in proportion as one is rational.^ Moreover, they hold
that whatever is an ' object of choice ' is ' approved of '. Gay
seems to object to this view mainly because it implies too great
a degree of self-consciousness on the part of the agent. He
admits that Hutcheson 2 has made abundantly plain : (i) that
most men do actually approve virtue without knowing why ;
and (2) that some pursue it even in opposition to their own
apparent advantage. But Hutcheson was not content with
emphasising the facts ; he had recourse to a ' moral sense ' to
explain moral approval, and a ' public or benevolent affection '
to explain apparently disinterested conduct. This, however, is
cutting the knot instead of untying it. We may very well be
practically benevolent and capable of forming what seem like
ultimate moral judgments, and yet these phenomena of our
moral life may be perfectly explicable without assuming un-
known ' faculties ' or ' principles '.
So much for the point of departure. We are now ready to
follow the author's own attempt at a solution of the problems
of Ethics. At the very beginning, unfortunately, he entangles
himself and his readers in a fruitless discussion regarding the
meaning of the term ' criterion,' which we may safely omit.^
In this discussion, however, he has occasion to define virtue,
and the definition — ^which he wrongly supposes would be
accepted by all, despite differences in ethical theory — is impor-
tant for his own treatment of Ethics. He says : " Virtue is
the conformity to a rule of life, directing the actions of all
rational creatures with respect to each other's happiness; to
which conformity every one in all cases is obliged : and every
* Here Gay carelessly speaks of virtue as being " always an object of choice "*
' Referred to as " the ingenious author of the Inquiry into the Original of our
Idea of Virtue ".
^ Gay's own use of ' criterion ' is not quite exact, as will be seen later ; but
the omitted discussion throws practically no light on his use of the word.
72 Histoiy of Utilitarianism.
one that does so conform is, or ought to be, approved of,
esteemed, and loved for so doing ".^ In justification of this
definition. Gay observes that virtue always implies some re-
lation to others. " Where self is only concerned, a man is
called ' prudent ' (not virtuous), and an action which relates
immediately to God is styled ' religious '." Again, as we have
already seen, whatever men may believe virtue to consist in,
they always assume that it implies ' obligation,' and that it
deserves ' approbation '.
Before treating directly of the ' criterion ' of virtue, the
author chooses to consider ' obligation '. This section ^ of the
Dissertation is so important — particularly with a view to sub-
sequent ethical theory, as represented by Tucker, Paley, and
Bentham — that the first two paragraphs may be quoted in
full.
" Obligation is the necessity of doing or otnitting any action
in order to be happy : i.e., when there is such a relation between
an agent and an action that the agent cannot be happy without
doing or omitting that action, then the agent is said to be
obliged to do or omit that action. So that obligation is evi-
dently founded upon the prospect of happiness, and arises
from that necessary influence which any action has upon pre-
sent or future happiness or misery. And no greater obligation
can be supposed to be laid upon any free agent without an
express contradiction.^
" This obligation may be considered four ways, according
to the four different manners in which it is induced : First,
that obligation which ariseth from perceiving the natural con-
sequences of things, i.e., the consequences of things acting
according to the fixed laws of nature, may be called natural.
Secondly, that arising from merit or demerit, as producing the
esteem and favour of our fellow-creatures, or the contrary, is
usually styled vij'tuous.^ Thirdly, that arising from the
^ See p. xxxvi. (second ed.). "^I.e., § ii.
' C/. Paley's Principles of Moral and Political Philosophy , Bk. II., ch. ii.
"* The confusion here is only in the form of expression.
George Berkeley, John Gay, and John Brown, y^
authority of the civil magistrate, cwz/. Fourthly, that from
the authority of God, religious."^
Gay proceeds to show that complete obligation can come
only from the authority of God, " because God only can in all
cases make a man happy or miserable ". A few paragraphs
further on the author is as explicit as one could wish on this
point — a very important one, as hardly need be remarked, for
the early Utihtarians, who, with the exception of Cumber-
land, Hartley, and Hume, agree in regarding the motive
of the moral agent as ultimately egoistic. He says : " Thus
those who either expressly exclude, or don't mention
the will of God, making the immediate criterion of virtue to
be the good of mankind, must either allow that virtue is not
in all cases obligatory (contrary to the idea which all or most
men have of it) or they must say that the good of mankind
is a sufficient obligation. But how can the good of mankind
be any obligation to me, when perhaps in particular cases, such
as laying down my life, or the like, it is contrary to my
happiness ? " ^
We are now prepared to return to the question regarding the
' criterion ' of virtue. Since complete obligation can come
only from God, the will of God is the immediate rule or cri-
terion,^ though not the ' whole will of God,' since virtue was
defined as ' the conformity to a rule directing my behaviour
with respect to my fellow-creatures '. But, as regards my
fellows, what does God will that I do .' From the infinite
goodness of God it follows that He must desire the happiness
of men. Hence He must will such conduct on my part as is
calculated to conduce to their happiness. Thus, the will of
God is the ' immediate criterion ' of virtue, but the happiness of
mankind is the ' criterion ' of the will of God. Hence we must
consider the consequences of actions, and from these deduce
all particular virtues and vices.
* Cf. Bentham's Principles of Morals and Legislation, ch. iii., particularly
§§ ii.-vi.
"^ See p. xli. (In the second edition one must look out for errors in paging-
The correct paging is given here.)
'Observe the ambiguity in the use of 'criterion,' referred to in note above.
74 History of Utilitarianism.
We now have in outline all the essential principles of Gay's
ethical system proper. The remainder of the Dissertation
consists in an attempt to furnish an adequate psychological
foundation for the principles above set forth. It will be
noticed that this second part ^ was as important for the de-
velopment of the Associationist Psychology as both parts
were for the development of early Utilitarian theory.
The author begins by remarking that man is a being capable,
not only of passively experiencing pleasure and pam, but of
foreseeing the causes of these and governing himself accord-
ingly. The ' end ' of action — that pursued for its own sake —
is pleasure. That which man finds calculated to produce
pleasure, he calls the ' Good,' and approves of it ; while his
attitude is precisely the contrary in the case of that which is
known to have painful consequences. Now Good or Evil,
when thought of, give rise to a proportionate present pleasure
or pain. This is called ' passion,' and the attending desire,
' affection '. Hence, by reflecting upon Good and Evil, desires
and aversions are excited which are (roughly) distinguished
as Love and Hatred. From these, variously modified, arise all
the other ' passions ' and ' affections '. It is a mistake to sup-
pose that these latter are implanted in our nature originally,
like our capacity for experiencing pleasure or pain.
When directed toward inanimate objects, the passions and
affections ^ are Hope, Fear, Despair, and its unnamed opposite.
As a matter of fact, however, our pleasures and pains depend
quite as much upon other conscious agents as upon inanimate
objects. Hence, as Gay says : " As I perceive that my happi-
ness is dependent on others, I cannot but judge whatever I
apprehend to be proper to excite them to endeavour to promote
my happiness, to be a means of happiness, i.e., I cannot but
approve it". Moreover, since others can be induced to act for
my happiness only by the prospect of their own future happi-
ness, I cannot but approve of " the annexing pleasure to such
^ This division of the Dissertation into two parts is not explicitly made by
Gay. At the same time his order of exposition inevitably suggests it.
' Gay makes no serious attempt to keep the two separate.
George Berkeley^ John Gay^ and John Brown. 7 5
actions of theirs as are undertaken upon my account ". And,
since we desire what we approve of,^ we desire the happiness
of those who have done us good. That in the agent (a volun-
tary action or series of such actions) which constitutes the
ground for the approbation and love just accounted for, is
called the ' merit ' of the agent ; the contrary, ' demerit '.
But here a difficulty arises. How can there be ' merit ' in
the action of another, when that action is performed (ulti-
mately) for the agent's own happiness ? The main reason why
this seems paradoxical, or worse, to common-sense is that
common-sense does not distinguish between an ' inferior ' and
an ' ultimate ' end. In by far the greater part of human
actions, it is an ' inferior ' end that the agent has in mind.
Thus, though the happiness of the agent is always the ' ulti-
mate' end, all that the beau immediately desires is to please
by his dress, and all that the student immediately desires is
knowledge. For any such ' particular ' end, we may, of course,
inquire the reason ; but to expect a reason for the ' ultimate '
end is absurd. " To ask why I pursue happiness, will admit
of no other answer than an explanation of the terms."
But, to proceed, when the ' particular ' end of any action is
the happiness of another, that action is ' meritorious '. On
the other hand, " when an agent has a view in any particular
action distinct from my happiness, and that view is his only
motive to that action, tho' that action promote my happiness
to never so great a degree, yet that agent acquires no tnerit ;
i.e., he is not thereby entitled to any favour and esteem ". It
makes a great difference, indeed, whether another aims at my
favour in general, or only at some particular end which he
has in view. " I am under less obligation {caeteris paribus)
the more particular his expectations from me are ; but under
obligation I am." 2
Gay concludes by noticing a possible " grand objection " to
his theory. It is this. The reason or end of action must
always be known to the agent ; otherwise, it would not actu-
' The apparent logical inversion here is Gay's. ^ See p. xlviii.
76 History of Uti litarianism.
ally be his motive. The problem here is not why one should
be grateful, but why one is so. As Hutcheson has shown,
the majority of mankind approve of virtue immediately, and
apparently without regard to their own interest. Must we not,
then, after all, assume that author's ' moral sense ' and ' public
affections ' .^
The reply given to this supposed objection is substantially
as follows. The matter of fact here appealed to has already
been admitted, and it is perfectly consistent with oUr theory.
" As, in the pursuit of truth, we don't always trace every pro-
position whose truth we are examining, to a first principle or
axiom, but acquiesce as soon as we perceive it deducible from
some known or presumed truth ; so in our conduct we do not
always travel to the ultimate end of our actions, happiness:
but rest contented as soon as we perceive any action subser-
vient to a known or presumed means of happiness. . . . And
these RESTING PLACES ^ are so often used as principles,
that at last, letting that slip out of our minds which first
inclined us to embrace them, we are apt to imagine them not,
as they really are, the substitutes of principles, but principles
themselves." Hence people have imagined ' innate ideas,'
* instincts,' and the like ; and the author adds : " I cannot but
wonder why the pecuniaiy sense, a sense of power and party,
&€., were not mentioned, as well as the moral, — that oi honour,
order, and some others "?
More exactly, the true explanation is this. " We first
perceive or imagine some real good, i.e., fitness to promote
our happiness, in those things which we love and approve of."
Hence we annex pleasure to the idea of the same, with the
result that the idea and the attendant pleasure become indis-
solubly associated. Gay's first example is the one which has
since become so well known in this connection, i.e., the love of
money. It is matter of experience that money, first desired
merely for what it will procure, sometimes itself becomes the
exclusive object of pursuit. In the same way knowledge,
^ The large capitals are Gay's, and they occur here only.
^ See pp. Hi., liii.
George Berkeley^ John Gay, and John Brovo^i. yj
fame, etc., come to be regarded as ends in themselves. Now
this principle is quite sufficient, he holds, to explain our dis-
interested practice of virtue, as well as certain perverted
tendencies of human nature.
As regards these latter, Gay treats in particular of envy,
emphasising the fact that we never envy those who are very
much above or below us, but rather those who may fairly be
regarded as in some sense competitors. The teleology is
plain, he thinks : the success of those with whom we either
directly or indirectly compete means less chance for ourselves.
" This," as he quaintly adds, " may possibly cast some light
upon the black designs and envious purposes of the fallen
angels. For why might not they have formerly had some
competition with their fellows ? And why may not such
associations be as strong in them as [in] us ? "
At the very close of the Dissertation the author barely
refers — though what he says is perfectly clear and to the
point — to another consideration which does much to make his
general (hedonistic) position plausible. It is not necessary,
he says, that we should form associations like those above
described for ourselves. We may very well take them from
others, i.e., " annex pleasure or pain to certain things or
actions because we see others do it, and acquire principles of
action by imitating those whom we admire, or whose esteem
we would procure. Hence the son too often inherits both
the vices and the party of his father, as well as his estate."
In this way we can account for national virtues and vices,
dispositions and opinions, as well as for what is generally
called ' prejudice of education '.
We should now probably agree that, even from the empiri-
cal point of view, the phenomena to which Gay refers would
have to be explained, not merely by 'association,' but partly
by heredity and partly by what we can hardly avoid calling^
the ' instinct of imitation '. Such considerations at once add
plausibility to the hedonistic aspect of Gay's system, and
suggest the important limitations of the principle of ' associa-
tion,' which he inclines to regard as all-sufficient. Perhaps it
yS History of Utilitai^ianistn.
was from a certain paternal tenderness for the infant prin-
ciple of ' association ' that Gay neglected to press an argument
which might have threatened to prove a two-edged sword.
The Dissertation was so distinctly a new departure that it is
difficult to avoid remarking at once upon Gay's relation to
subsequent ethical theory. How completely his position was
adopted by Tucker and Paley, will be evident to any one
acquainted with those writers who has carefully followed the
above. Here, however, we must rather attempt to show the
relation of the author of the Dissertation to those of his prede-
cessors who had been either directly or indirectly concerned
with the development of the Utilitarian principle.
Cumberland had seemed to make both ' the greatest happi-
ness of all ' and ' the perfection of body and mind ' the moral
end, and this without suspecting any difficulty in so doing ;
while Locke, though deeply interested in Ethics on the theo-
logical and practical side, and, in the general sense of the word,
a hedonist, could hardly be said to have a coherent ethical
system of his own. Shaftesbury and Hutcheson, on the other
hand, had done much for the development of English ethical
theory, but their relation to hedonism was only indirect. In
Gay's Dissertation we have, in its complete and unmistakable
form, what we later shall have to recognise as the first char-
acteristic phase of English Utilitarianism.^
^ It is important to remember that, while Hume, who published his ethical
system in its first form only nine years after the Dissertation, was incomparably
superior to Gay, both as a thinker and as a writer, he did not happen to state the
Utilitarian doctrine in the form which was destined first to be developed. Indeed,
it may be doubted if this was a matter of chance. Hume's system, much more
complex than Gay's, and, one may add, on a distinctly higher plane, was not
calculated to appeal to writers like Tucker, Paley, and Bentham, whose single
aim appears to have been simplicity of theory. All the writers just named form
a perfectly definite school (Bentham and most historians of Ethics to the contrary
notwithstanding), while the phase of Utilitarianism which Hume represents was
not further developed until comparatively recent times. Historically, then,
Hume stands outside the direct line of development, though he doubtless repre-
sents the Utilitarian position, as we now understand it, much more adequately
than any one else who wrote in his own, or even in the succeeding, generation.
George Bei'keley, John Gay, and Johi Brown. 79
Evidently the more particular comparison must be between
Gay and Cumberland, for these authors alone, up to this time,
had really stated the ' greatest happiness ' principle in fairly
scientific form. Cumberland, as we have just seen, defined
the Good, now in terms of ' happiness,' now in terms of ' per-
fection,' though the emphasis, on the whole, seems clearly
enough to be on the hedonistic aspect of the system. Gay, on
the other hand, consistently defined the Good as Happiness,
and Happiness as ' the sum of pleasures '. Moreover, though
he does not discuss the question of possible * qualitative dis-
tinctions ' between pleasures, it is evident that for him such
distinctions would have no meaning. This, again, is an ad-
vance upon Cumberland, for though the latter author by no
means commits himself to the theory of ' qualitative distinc-
tions,' and sometimes appears to hold the opposite view,
there is a serious ambiguity in his treatment which was almost
inevitable, considering that he practically carries through
Happiness and Perfection as co-ordinate principles.
As regards the motive of the moral agent, there is in Gay
no trace whatever of the confusion which is so striking in
Cumberland. It is true that Cumberland had held, what
Shaftesbury later made evident, that man is essentially a social
being and that the true Good must be a common good. His
actual treatment, however, is quite confusing; generally the
agent's motive in moral action seems to be regarded as altru-
istic, but sometimes the language used seems to imply at least
a very considerable admixture of egoism. In Gay, on the con-
trary, we find even a fictitious simplicity. All the phenomena
of moral action, as we have seen, are explained by the ' asso-
ciation of ideas ' and what has more recently been termed the
' law of obliviscence '. We begin as egoists, and, indeed,
throughout our lives we uniformly seek our own pleasures,
avoid our own pains. But it amounts to much the same thing
as if we were originally altruistic to a certain degree. For,
although our own happiness is always our ' ultimate ' end, it
is by no means always our ' proximate ' end. The system
theoretically allows for cases of extreme self-sacrifice.
8o History of Utilitarianism.
Whether it really affords a satisfactory explanation of these,
is a question which we hardly need enter upon here. The
present generation is not likely to make, or allow, extraor-
dinary claims for the unaided principle of ' association '.
So much for the treatment of the ' criterion ' of moral action
and of the motive of the moral agent by the two authors whom
we are comparing. Closely related to the latter question is
that of the ultimate meaning of ' obligation '. It will be re-
membered that Cumberland's treatment of obligation was not
altogether consistent with his system as a whole. Instead of
basing upon the essentially social nature of man and claiming
here, as generally elsewhere, a certain degree of altruism for
the moral agent, he merely tries to show that it is greatly for
the selfish advantage of any given individual to lead the moral
life, even when extreme sacrifices are demanded. This was
doubtless done in order to meet Hobbes on his own ground,
but the same reason led Cumberland to confine his arguments
to consequences that might be expected in this present life.
For obvious reasons, he does not make out a perfectly clear
case.
Gay was not hampered with any such controversial con-
siderations. His treatment is only too clear and consistent
throughout. " Obligation is the necessity of doing or omitting
any action in order to be happy. . . . And no greater obligation
can be supposed to be laid upon any free agent without an
express contradiction." This, of course, is the logical conse-
quence of his theory of the moral motive ; and he immediately
goes on to enumerate " the four different manners in which
[obligation] is induced ". These are precisely what appear
later as Bentham's four " sanctions ". But how can compiete
obligation (which common-sense demands) be vindicated if
we define obligation as has just been done ? Gay sees very
clearly that we must here depend upon the power and wisdom
of the Divine Being, " because God only can in all cases make
a man happy or miserable ". And there is no restriction to
rewards and punishments as given in this present life. This
position was, of course, adopted by Tucker and Paley, the
George Berkeley, John Gay, and John Brown. 8i
only difference being that Paley particularly insists upon
rewards and punishments after death. This whole question
as to the meaning of ' complete obligation ' for Utilitarianism
in its earlier form, would have to be discussed at some length,
if we were comparing Paley and Bentham with Gay and with
each other. Here it is enough to notice that, if we assume the
necessarily egoistic nature of the motive of the moral agent,
and at the same time attempt to preserve the absolute char-
acter of obligation. Gay's position is the only logical one,
In Cumberland we found some confusion in the use of the
expression ' Right Reason '. The author had evidently been
somewhat influenced by the intuitionists and intellectualists,
though he opposed most of their characteristic doctrines, and
this without really having worked out his own position in de-
tail. Nothing corresponding to this confusion is to be found
in Gay. He does, indeed, in one passage seem to distinguish
between Experience and Reason, but this is misleading, for he
immediately adds : " You either perceive the inconveniences
of some thing.s and actions, when they happen, or yon foresee
them by contemplating the nature of the things and actions ".
Reason here is evidently nothing but the faculty of predicting
upon the basis of past experience.
Again, in Cumberland we are constantly confronted with
the then almost universally current conception of Laws of
Nature. It is easy to show that the system does not really
depend upon this scaffolding, but that, on the contrary, it is
rather cumbered than helped by it. At the same time, this
conception of Natural Laws not only gives its name to Cum-
berland's treatise, but almost wholly determines its external
form. The reader hardly needs to be reminded that Gay's
remarkable essay is entirely free from such superfluities. One
point, however, should be noticed in this connection. Gay
refers, of course, to the Will of God as the ' immediate cri-
terion ' of morality ; but the Divine Will itself is determined
to that which will bring the greatest happiness to mankind, or,
as the author himself expresses it, " The happiness of mankind
is the criterion of the Will of God ". The Utilitarian prin-
6
82 History of Utilitarianism.
ciple, then, is clearly regarded as ultimate. It would be a
gross misunderstanding of Gay to class him with those who
make morality depend upon the arbitrary will of God.
It will be noticed that neither Cumberland nor Gay dis-
cusses the possibility of the ' hedonistic calculus '. Neither of
them seems to suspect any difficulty in the matter, and appar-
ently this had never been distinctly raised as an objection
to hedonism up to the time that we are considering. Perhaps
this was to be expected, for such refinements are likely to
belong to a later stage of ethical discussion ; but it does at
first seem rather strange that, while Gay was the earliest
consistent exponent of the Utilitarian principle, he did not
anywhere use the formula, ' the greatest happiness of the
greatest number '. Hutcheson, it will be remembered, had
used this very formula, though it does not for him express the
whole essence of morality, as it would have done for Gay ; and
Gay must have been familiar with Hutcheson's writings, for
he controverts them intelligently.
It would be quite too ingenious to suggest that Gay re-
frained from using the expression precisely because Hutcheson
had happened to use it. He seems to have been willing
to avail himself of all that he considered true in the Inquiry.
The only importance which really can be attached to the omis-
sion is this : Gay and his immediate successors ^ held clearly
and definitely to the view that, in the last resort, all human
motives are selfish. From this standpoint, the now accepted
formula is by no means so inevitable as it would be, if one
admitted the existence of disinterested sympathy and insisted
that this latter must be present in the case of all truly moral
action.
In taking leave of this remarkable essay, we should not for-
get that its full significance can be appreciated only after one
has taken the trouble to trace back many of what are com-
monly regarded as characteristic doctrines of Tucker and
^ With the exception of Hartley and Hume (whose treatment of ' sympathy '
is ambiguous in Book HI. of the Treatise, but who admits a certain degree of
native altruism in the Inquiry concerning the Principles of Morals).
George Berkeley, fohn Gay, and Jo kit Brown. 83
Paley to this their undoubted source. However much these
authors did to fill in the outline — and Tucker, at least, did a
very great deal — it must be granted that the whole outline
of Utilitarianism, in its first complete and unencumbered form,
is to be found in Gay's Preliminary Dissertatiofi.
It will readily be seen that Gay's importance for Ethics was
due, not merely to the fact that he stated the Utilitarian
doctrine for the first time m perfectly clear and unambiguous
form, but quite as much to the fact that he provided the doc-
trine with at least the essentials of a psychological foundation.
This first appearance of what we may call * scientific method '
in the literature of Utilitarianism, was destined to have most
important consequences. In truth, it is only when we take
these consequences into consideration, that we are able fully to
appreciate the very great difference between a production like
the sermon on " Passive Obedience" and the Dissertation. But,
before we proceed further in the direct line of our investi-
gation, it will be well to pause for a little, and, neglecting the
strict chronological order, notice a belated criticism of Shaftes-
bury which appeared about twenty years after Gay's remark-
able essay. The propriety of noticing this here will be
apparent from the fact, that the part of the Essays on the
Characteristics which we shall examine consists almost wholly
in the careful development of Gay's theory of the moral
motive.
It may be doubted whether this book, published in 175 1 by
the Rev. John Brown, has been at all generally appreciated
in recent years, though J. S. Mill and Professor Fowler have
spoken of it in the highest terms. ^ Indeed, it is one of the
very few controversial books of this period that can still be
read with satisfaction. Even the Bishop of Cloyne was by no
means always just or courteous to his opponents,^ but Brown
* It must have been popular at the time when it was published, for the third
edition was printed the year after the first.
^See, e.g., the Third Dialogue of Alciphron, where Shaftesbury's views are
criticised— particularly the passage in which Shaftesbury himself is described
under the name Cratylus.— Works, Eraser's ed., vol. II., p. 128.
84 History of Utilitarianism.
is almost uniformly so. Nor did this prevent him from being
one of the most effective critics of his generation. It will be
remembered that the Essays were three in number, the first
being on " Ridicule, considered as a Test of Truth " ; the
second, on " The Obligations of Man to Virtue, and the Neces-
sity of Religious Principle " ; and the third, on " Revealed
Religion and Christianity ". The second alone is to the
present purpose.
The author begins by remarking that, just as the rainbow
seems to the uninstructed to possess an ' original ' beauty, but
yet is as capable of scientific explanation as the more common-
place phenomena of nature, so virtue must not hastily be re-
garded as an ultimate, since it may be explained by reference
to the end to which all good actions conduce. He then pro-
ceeds to argue in a rather ingenious way that, while Wollaston,
Clarke, and Shaftesbury, each from his own point of view,
professed to vindicate the absolute character of virtue, they all
really introduced hedonistic considerations at the crucial point.
Moreover, he holds that " if we appeal to the common-sense
of mankind, we shall see that the idea of virtue hath never been
universally affixed to any action or affection of the mind,
unless where this tendency to produce happiness was at least
apparent ".^ The two following arguments for happiness
as the criterion of morality seem to the author particularly
convincing, (i) " Those very affections and actions which, n
the ordinary course of things, are approved as virtuous, do
change their nature, and become vicious in the strictest sense,
when they contradict this fundamental law of the greatest
public happiness. ' (2) " With such uncontrolled authority
does this great principle command us, that actions which are
in their own nature most shocking to every humane affection
lose at once their moral deformity, when they become sub-
servient to the general welfare, and assume both the name and
the nature of virtue." An example of the first would be an
act of dishonesty committed for the sake of one's own child ;
of the second, the execution of a notorious criminal by due
^ Essay II., § iii., p. 133 (first ed.).
George Bei'keley, John Gay, and John Brown. 85
process of law. Thus virtue is found to be nothing else than
" the conformity of our affections with the public good : or
the voluntary production of the greatest happiness ".^
There follows a rather severe criticism of Mandeville, which,
as a whole, does not concern us. One passage, however, is
interesting. Mandeville had insisted upon the extreme varia-
bility of moral ideas in different countries and in different
ages of the world. Without by any means denying all the
alleged facts, Brown argues that a sound critic would dis-
criminate. " If from the variety of opinions among mankind
as to some virtues or vices, he concluded these were variable ;
then from the universal agreement of mankind with regard to
other virtues and vices, he would conclude these w&rejixed and
invariable^ This, of course, is the natural reply ; but Brown
very pertinently adds : ' And 'tis evident that both their
consent and disagreement arise from the same principle " (i.e.,
regard for the common weal under existing circumstances).
In short, Shaftesbury and Mandeville, though representing
quite opposite points of view as regards the nature of virtue —
the one assigning to it an intrinsic, the other a wholly con-
ventional character — made the same fatal mistake of neglect-
ing the objective end of virtuous action, the recognition of
which alone can put morality on a safe foundation.
Having thus obtained a tolerably clear notion of what virtue
itself is, we are at once confronted with the question .- What
are the motives by which mankind can be induced to the
practice of it ? Here, as before, we must avoid sentimen-
tality. It will appear upon examination that " the only reason
or motive, by which individuals can possibly be induced or
obliged to the practice of virtue, must be the feeling immediate,
or the prospect of future private happiness ".- To the
followers of Shaftesbury, this will doubtless seem like an
' See § iii., p. 136. The author here definitely refers to " the Preliminary
Dissertation to Dr. Law's translation of King's Origin of Evil," and advises the
reader who is curious to examine further into this subject to consult both that
and certain of the translator's notes.
'^See § vi., p. 159.
86 History of Utilitarianism.
unworthy account of the matter ; but it is to be remarked
that the words ' selfishness ' and ' disinterestedness ' have been
used in a very loose and indeterminate manner. " In one
sense a motive is called disinterested, when it consists in a
pure benevolent affection, or a regard to the moral sense.
In another, no motive is disinterested ; for even in acting
according to these impulses of benevolence and conscience,
we gratify an inclination, and act upon the principle or im-
mediate feeling of private happiness." This becomes evident
from the fact that " a motive, from its very nature, must be
something that affects ourself. . . . Now what can possibly
affect ourself^ or determine us to action, but either the feeling
or prospect of pleasure or pain, happiness or misery 't " In-
deed, if we push the argument further, " 'tis evident, even to
demonstration, that no affection can, in the strict sense, be
more or less selfish or disinterested than another ; because,
whatever be its object, the affection itself is still no more
than a mode either of pleasure or of pain, and is therefore
equally to be referred to the mind or feeling of the patient,
whatever be its external occasion ".^ But, while all this is
true, the followers of Shaftesbury are perfectly right in holding
that, as sources of happiness, the benevolent affections clearly
have the advantage over those ordinarily termed selfish. The
preceding argument, which appears to have retained its co-
gency for many even to the present day, is open to the most
serious objection. It will call for special discussion, when we
come to consider the second form of Hume's ethical theory.
Here it has seemed to merit the explicit treatment that has
been accorded to it, for this is probably the most definite
statement that we have (up to the date of the publication of
Brown's book) of the view held practically in common by the
earlier Utilitarians.
We have now seen what virtue is, and what is the universal
character of human motives. There remains the crucial
question : " How far, and upon what foundation, the uniform
practice of virtue is really and cleai-ly connected with the
1 See § vi., p. 163.
George Berkeley^ John Gay, and John Brown. 87
happiness of every individual ? " And just here it is to be
noted that morahsts have made the serious mistake of dis-
cussing the ' sources of happiness ' too much in the abstract.
These are three : sense, imagination, and the passions. The
shghtest observation will convince us, however, that they are
of varying importance for different temperaments. " In some,
the pleasures and pains of sense predominate ; imagination
is dull, the passions inactive. In others, a more delicate frame
awakens all the powers of the imagination ; the passions are
refined, the senses disregarded. A third constitution is carried
away by the strength of passion ; the calls of sense are con-
temned, and imagination becomes no more than the necessary
instrument of some further gratification." ^ The differences
between moralists, with regard to their theory of the moral
motive, are thus susceptible of a psychological explanation.
Each has unconsciously appealed, and appealed only, to those
of like mental constitution with himself. And while this is an
important commentary on the majority of the ethical systems
that have come down to us, it shows in a rather startling light
their essential weakness. Morality is a very serious matter,
and it is important to the last degree that the motives
to right action presented shall be such as to appeal to all
men.
If we revert to the classification of temperaments just
adopted, it will be evident that those susceptible only, or
mainly, to pleasures and pains of sense will be quite oblivious
to aesthetic or benevolent considerations. Private interest
is all that can possibly appeal to them. In the case of the
second class, those of a distinctly aesthetic temperament, it
is to be remembered that a pronounced taste for the fine arts
argues little or nothing for sound moral perceptions. Some-
times, indeed, we are tempted to believe that the two are hardly
compatible. And even of the third class, for whom the passions
are the chief sources of pleasure, it must be said that, if we
find here the best of men, we also find the worst. We must
not avoid the difficulty by terming the baser affections ' un-
' See § vii., p. 169.
88 History of Utilitarianis7ii.
natural,' as Shaftesbury has done. Whether ' unnatural ' or
* natural,' they seem to be thoroughly rooted in far too many
cases, and it is not so certam as one would like to believe
that they are " a source of constant misery " to the agent, as
Shaftesbury claimed. There are, to be sure, rare cases.
" where the senses are weak, the imagination refined, and the
public affections strongly predominant ".^ In such cases,
virtue is indeed its own reward ; all right actions are then
spontaneous in the strictest sense. But how few these cases
are!
One touch alone was needed to complete the gloomy pic-
ture, and the author adds this with cool precision. Shaftesbury
had allowed himself to emphasise the external consequences
which naturally follow upon good and bad actions, though
this looks like deserting his characteristic position, that happi-
ness is essential to virtue and inseparable from it, while un-
happiness is equally bound up with vice. Waiving the matter
of consistency, however, this raises a general and very serious
question : Are moralists right in holding, as many of them
seem to do, that virtue is the parent of external happi-
ness just as vice undoubtedly is of external misery, and this
in the natural course of things? The fact seems to be that
the happy consequences which are commonly attributed to
virtue, belong not so much to positive virtue as to ' innocence '.
The man who indulges in no vices, and who never disregards
the rights of others, undoubtedly reaps a certain reward,
though it can hardly be claimed that this is proportionate to
the corresponding punishments which naturally attend vice
and crime. But this is as far as the argument holds. " If
we rigorously examine the external consequences of an active
virtue in such a world as this, we shall find, it must be often
maintained at the expense both of health, ease, and fortune ;
often the loss of friends, and increase of enemies ; not to
mention the unwearied diligence of envy, which is ever watch-
ful and prepared to blast distinguished merit. In the mean-
time, the innoxious man sits unmolested and tranquil ; loves
^ See ^ vii., p. i86.
Geoj'ge Berkeley, John Gay, and John Bi'own. 89
virtue, and praiseth it ; avoids the miseries of vice, and the
fatigues of active virtue ; offends no man, and therefore is
beloved by all." ^
Let us return, then, to the question how private and public
happiness may be shown to coincide. This agreement is neces-
sary in order to the realisation of the moral end, but impossible
in the natural course of things — except for the favoured few,
as we have seen. One thing alone can achieve for humanity
this all-important result : " the lively and active belief of an
all-seeing and all-powerful God, who will hereafter make them
happy or miserable, according as they designedly promote or
violate the happiness of their fellow creatures ' . " And this,"
adds the author, " is the essence of religion." - Here we find
Theological Utilitarianism stated in its most impressive form.
We are no longer, as when dealing with Berkeley, confronted
with Laws of Nature or of Reason, the ultimate ground of
which, to be sure, is Utilitarian, but which are to be accepted
as absolute and obeyed without any thought of further an-
alysis. The Good is the happiness of mankind ; and to this
we must actively contribute, according to our best knowledge
and abihty, at all times and under all circumstances. There
is no suggestion of difficulty in ascertaining what does contri-
bute to the common weal ; the real problem for Brown is :
How can we will what we perfectly well know to be for the
good of mankind, when this does not happen to coincide with
our private interest ""
It is to be noted that he does not base his argument upon
any theological dogma like that of the ' total depravity ' of
man in his natural condition. There are some, he admits, who
have a moral endowment such that they seem hardly to need
even the internal sanctions of religion, much less its external
sanctions. But these are very few. And what shall be said
of the vast majority, to whom neither the beauty of lioliness
nor considerations of disinterested benevolence directly ap-
peal 1 Morality is a matter of awful consequence, not merely
to the few, but to all men absolutely without exception. Must
' See § viii., p. 198, ••! See !} ix., p. 210.
90 History of Utilitarianism.
not the motives, then, be such as will appeal to all ? And if
so, nothing but religion, with its doctrine of rewards and
punishments after death — the rewards, in particular, being
insufficient in this life — can reclaim the world from the lamen-
table condition in which we find it. This argument, that the
sanctions of morality must be such as to appeal to all men,
may provoke a sneer, for the implication would seem to be
that the motives presented must be low enough to appeal
to all ; but Theological Utilitarianism has at least something
to say for itself on this point. In the case of those who have
made little or no progress in the moral life, the motive will
doubtless be low enough, if one please to call it so, since it will
amount to little or nothing more than a desire to ' flee the
wrath to come ' ; but it may be said of the stern law, not merely
of the old dispensation, but of the new as well, that it is ' a
school-master to lead us ' to something far better.
No comparison has been made between Brown's treatment
of Ethics and that of Gay, for this has not seemed necessary.
The most characteristic feature of the Dissertation, i.e,, the
psychological foundation of the system, and, in particular, the
explanation of the genesis of practical altruism, is not treated
at all, but for this we are directly referred by the author to the
Dissertation itself. The importance of Brown's work arises
from the fact that it is, in some respects, the best statement
we have of the Utilitarian doctrine, from the distinctly theo-
logical point of view. Paley afterward presented the theory
in a much more clear-cut and systematic form ; but it may be
doubted whether his clever formulas (often adapted from Gay)
do not on the whole detract from, rather than add to, the
real impressiveness of the position. It seems fair to assume
that Theologiccil Utilitarianism will never regain its former
importance ; but it represents a very significant, and perhaps
necessary, stage in the development of moral theory. Until
the student has brought himself to appreciate its force, such
as it is, he will find a difficulty in understanding much of what
is most characteristic in the English Ethics of the eighteenth
century.
CHAPTER V.
DAVID HUME.
We must not look for perfect continuity in the development
of Utilitarianism, even after the doctrine had once been clearly
enunciated. Two of the most prominent writers of the Utili-
tarian school, Tucker and Paley, were destined to carry out,
almost to the letter, the scheme of moral theory which Gay
had outlined in his Preliminary Dissertation of 1731 ; but
the next writer standing for the ' greatest happiness ' principle
appears to owe nothing to Gay. On the contrary, so far as
formative influences are concerned, Hume seems to have taken
his starting-point in Ethics from those who, like Shaftesbury
and Hutcheson, had maintained the existence of a ' moral
sense '.
This is by no means to say that Hume was himself a ' Moral
Sense ' philosopher. Quite as much as anything else, his
object was to show that what the ' Moral Sense ' writers had
professed to explain by merely referring to a supposed
' faculty,' could really be explained in a scientific way, accord-
ing to the most general principles of human nature. Still, his
primary contention was that morality was founded, not on
' reason,' as he expressed it, but on ' sentiment ' ; that our
starting-point in ethical discussions must always be the fact
of our approval of moral actions — a fact which could not, by
any possibility, be explained on purely rational principles.
In emphasising ' feeling ' at the expense of ' reason,' Hume
was clearly with the ' Moral Sense writers, and it is fair to
assume that he was historically, as well as logically, related
to them in this respect.
(91)
92 History of Utilitarianism.
Although Hume's writings are so much better known at
first hand than those of Cumberland and Gay — the most
prominent of his Utilitarian predecessors — it is more difficult
than might be supposed to present his views on Ethics in a
way to leave no room for misunderstanding. In the first place,
one has to keep in mind Hume's relation to the ' Moral Sense '
school, and avoid attributing either too much or too little
importance to this relation ; and, in the second place — what
is much more important — one has to decide, after the most
careful examination and comparison, whether one shall accept
his earlier or his later treatment of Etliics as the more
adequately representing his system.
As regards Hume's relation to the ' Moral Sense ' philos-
ophers, little need be said at present. It is worth noticing,
however, that the apparently complex character of his ethical
system has led some to believe that its general drift is some-
what ambiguous, and that to the end it holds a rather close
relation to the ' Moral Sense ' school.^ This view is, in my
opinion, by no means correct ; but as the mistake is a natural
one, a comparison may prove helpful. In the case of Hutche-
son, we found a moralist whose doctrine could hardly be under-
stood without comparing it carefully with the ' greatest
happiness ' principle. At the same time, we found that, in its
general tendency, it was radically distinct from that principle.
Exactly the opposite, it seems to me, is true in the case of
Hume. While he certainly was influenced by the ' Moral
Sense ' writers, ' utility ' is with him by no means a subsidiar)'^
principle, as with Hutcheson, but incontestably the basis of
his whole ethical system. This is a dogmatic statement ; but
its truth will, I think, become abundantly plain as we proceed
with our examination of Hume's treatment of the subject
The second difficulty which we noticed, that regarding the
two forms in which Hume has left us his ethical theory,
' See, e.^.. Professor Hyslop's Elements of Ethics, p. 84 ; also, for a much
more guarded statement, referring only to the later form of Hume's ethical
theory, see Mr. Selby-Bigge's Introduction to his edition of Hume's Inquiries
p. xxvi.
David Hnuie. 93
requires more immediate and altogether more serious atten-
tion. It will be remembered that his first treatment of Ethics
appeared as Book III. of the Treatise of Human Nature in
1740, the year after the publication of the other two books.
The Inquiry concerning the Principles of Morals did not appear
till 175 1, three years after he had published the hiquiry con-
cerning Human Understanding, in which he had presented, in
a more popular form, the substance of Book I. of the Treatise.
The story of Hume's chagrin at the poor reception which
his juvenile work met with, and of his explicit repudiation of
the Treatise in after years, as not giving his mature views on
philosophical subjects, is too familiar to admit of repetition.
Critics are now perfectly agreed that the Inquiry concerning
Human Understanding, however superior in style to the first
book of the Treatise, is an inadequate statement of the author's
views on metaphysics ; and, since one is bound to disregard
Hume's own judgment concerning the relative merits of Book
I. of the Treatise and the corresponding Inquiry, it is natural
that the Inquiry concerning the Principles of Morals should
have been estimated in much the same way, in spite of the
fact that Hume himself considered the second Inquiry as "of
all [his] writings, historical, philosophical, or literary, incom-
parably the best ". The present tendency plainly is either (i)
to regard the two statements of his ethical theory as practi-
cally equivalent, and therefore to prefer Book III. of the
Treatise merely as historically prior ; or (2) to hold that, in the
Inquiry concerning the Principles of Morals, as well as in the
Inquiry concerning Hiunan Understanding, there is an ob-
servable falling off in thoroughness of treatment which is by
no means compensated for by the undoubted improvement in
style.
I cannot believe that either of these views is correct. It
must never be forgotten that, in his later years, Hume was
perfectly right in regarding the Treatise of Human Nature as
a work abounding in serious defects, mainly such as betray the
youth of the author. It is in spite of these defects that the
book takes its place as perhaps the most remarkable single
94 History of Utilitarianism.
work in English philosophical literature. The common state-
ment that Book I. of the Treatise is to be preferred to the
first Inquiry because it is ' more thorough ' — while perfectly
true — might be misleading to one not equally acquainted
with both works. A great many of the perversely subtle dis-
cussions in the Treatise, which Hume ruthlessly pruned away
in revising it, were not only mere digressions, tending seriously
to confuse the reader, but they were, in themselves, by no
means uniformly convincing. To do away with many of
these discussions was in itself a real advantage ; but, un-
fortunately, Hume was not so much trying to improve the
book as trying to make it more acceptable. The result is that,
along with what was at once irrelevant and of doubtful validity,
he omitted much that was really essential to the adequate
statement of his peculiar views on metaphysics.
One would naturally expect to find much the same thing
true in the case of the Inquiry concerning the Principles of
Morals. As a matter of fact, however, in spite of what is
apparently the current view, I am strongly of the opinion that
the Inquiry is not only a clearer, but a better statement of
Hume's ethical theory than the third book of the Treatise.
Here the elimination has nearly always conduced to that really
consecutive treatment which is so important in any philosophi-
cal work, and nothing in the least essential to the system as a
whole seems to have been left out. Much more important for
us, however, is the fact that, in the second Inquiry, Hume
does away with the one exasperating ambiguity of his earlier
work, i.e., his treatment of ' sympathy '. Other comparisons
between the Inquiry and the corresponding book of the
Treatise will be made, as it becomes necessary. This, how-
ever, is so important that we must take account of it at the
very beginning.
In both the Treatise and the Inquiry — though the order
of exposition in the two works differs otherwise, in certain
respects — Hume begins with the fact of moral approbation.
He first shows — in the Treatise at considerable length ; in
the Inquiry more briefly, but perhaps as convincingly — that
David Hume. 95
moral approbation cannot ultimately be fomided upon prin-
ciples of mere reason. After thus clearing the ground, he
attempts to explain our approbation of moral conduct by refer-
ring, not to a supposed ' moral sense,' but to what he assumes
to be the springs of human action and the determining effects
of human experience.
Now the important difference between the standpoint of
the Treatise and that of the Inquiry^ just referred to, consists
in the radically different answers given in the two works to
the question : What are the springs of action — the funda-
mental tendencies of human nature? In the Treatise, these
are held to be (i) egoism, (2) limited altruism, and (3) ' sym-
pathy '. The relation between them is difficult to state in a
few words — indeed, so far as ' sympathy ' is concerned, diffi-
cult to state at all — but Hume's position in the Treatise
apparently is that human nature is essentially egoistic. As
regards altruism, he holds distinctly that we have no particu-
lar love for our fellow-beings as such.^ Our limited altruism
manifests itself only in the case of those standing to us in the
closest relations of life, and in a way which does not permit us
to suppose that it is an original principle of human nature,
strictly co-ordinate with the self-regarding tendency.
At this point Hume employs the rather mysterious principle
of ' sympathy '. For him, in his earlier work, as for many of
the later empiricists, ' sympathy ' is produced through the
' association of ideas '. His peculiar mode of explanation is as
follows — the point being to show that in this case an ' idea '
is practically converted into an ' impression '. The ' impression
of ourselves ' is particularly vivid, and by ' association ' it hap-
pens that a corresponding (though of course not equal) vivid-
ness is imparted to that which relates to ourselves. But other
human beings are similar to ourselves. This relation of ' simi-
larity ' makes us vividly conceive what concerns them, the other
relations of ' contiguity ' and ' causation ' \i.e., kinship here]
assisting in the matter. Thus our idea of another's emotion
1 Treatise, Bk. III., Pt. II., § i.
96 History of Utilitarianism.
may become so vivid as to give rise to the same emotion in
ourselves.^ In spite of its obvious ingenuity, this explanation
of ' sympathy ' is far from being satisfactory. One readily
sees that for Hume, as for the Associationist school in general,
' sympathy is left in a condition of unstable equilibrium,
liable at a touch to be precipitated into egoism pure and
simple.
This aspect of Humes system, in its earlier form, is the
more confusing for the reason that he never seriously attempts
to state the relation between our derived ' sympathy ' and our
fundamental self-regardmg tendency. The result is a degree
of theoretical confusion that can only be appreciated by those
who have read the Treatise with considerable care. It should
be observed that one does not here refer to the inevitable
ambiguity of the words ' egoism ' and ' altruism,' as ordinarily
used,2 but rather to the fact that Hume professes to explain —
almost in the sense of explaining away — what we ordinarily
understand by (general) ' sympathy,' without anywhere telling
us exactly what he claims to have reduced it to.
If Hume's treatment of ' sympathy ' were the same in the
Inquiry concerning the Principles of Morals as in Book III. of
the Treatise — which is apparently the careless assumption of
those who regard his position in the two works as identical —
we should need to examine the mysterious principle consider-
ably in detail. As a matter of fact, however, Hume seems to
have been keenly aware that his earlier treatment of ' sym-
pathy ' was a mistake, and a bad one ; and he gives us what he
would probably have regarded as the best possible antidote in
what he says on the same subject in the Inquiry. ^ There he
means by the word ' sympathy ' nothing essentially different
from the general benevolent tendency, the degree of which he
shows his good judgment in not attempting to define, but
1 See Treatise, Bk. II., Pt. I., § xi.
^ This ambiguity, of course, depends upon the unwarranted abstraction made
by those who speak as if ' egoism ' and ' altruism ' stood for two absolutely dis-
tinct tendencies of human nature.
' See, e.g., § V., pt. ii., et seq. ; also Appendix ii.
David Htmie. 97
which he regards as the foundation of the historical develop-
ment of morality.
The significance of this change can hardly be overrated.
It does away at once with an almost indefinite amount of theo-
retical confusion, and puts Hume on the right track just where
his historical, but not logical, successors — Tucker, Paley, and
Bentham — were destined to go astray. Nor must it for a
moment be supposed that Hume is here going to the other
extreme, and contending for the existence of a perfectly differ-
entiated ' altruism ' in our human nature, as opposed to an
equally differentiated ' egoism ' — as Hutcheson, for example,
had mistakenly done. He rather shows that, in the last
resort, this distinction resolves itself into an abstraction, and
holds, in language which Butler himself would have had to
commend : " Whatever contradiction may vulgarly be supposed
between the selfish and social sentiments or dispositions, they
are really no more opposite than selfish and ambitious, selfish
and revengeful, selfish and vain ". And one is almost startled
at the agreement with Butler, when he immediately adds : " It
is requisite that there be an original propensity of some kind,
in order to be a basis to self-love, by giving a relish to the
objects of its pursuit ; and none more fit for this purpose than
benevolence or humanity "?■
To conclude, then : in place of the three quasi-distinct (but
by no means co-ordinate) principles — egoism, limited aJtruism,^
and ' sympathy ' — which had been assumed in the Tteatise,
we have ' sympathy,' in the ambiguous sense first explained,
struck out in the Inquiry, and a human nature there assumed
which, as Hume sometimes has occasion to show, necessarily
implies at least a certain degree of the benevolent tendency,
alongside of the equally essential self-regarding tendency —
the two becoming differentiated, in so far as they do become
differentiated at all, only in the course of human experience.
^ See Inquiry, § IX., pt. ii. Butler's Sernihns upon Human Nature had been
published in 1726.
"^ Our limited altruism is mentioned here as a quasi-distinct principle, because
it implies another kind of association, i.e., by 'causation,' besides association by
' similarity ' and by ' contiguity,' which are involved in our general sympathy.
7
98 History of Utilitarianism.
While I am inclined to lay a great deal of stress upon this
change of position on the part of Hume, I cannot at all agree
with Mr. Selby-Bigge, when he says (in the brief, but mainly
admirable introduction to his edition of Hume's two Inquiries) :
"In the Enquiry {concerning the Principles of Morats] there is
little to distinguish his [Hume's] theory from the ordinary
' moral sense ' theory, except perhaps a more destructive use
of ' utility ' ".1 For, as Mr. Selby-Bigge himself points out,
even freer use is made of the principle of ' utility ' in the Inquiry
than in the Treatise. And I cannot at all follow him when he
adds : " It would be easy to draw consequences from this prin-
ciple which would neutralise the concessions made to benevo-
lence, but he [Hume] is content himself to leave it without
development, and to say in effect that utility pleases simply
because it does please ". Why the admission of a certain
undefined degree of native altruism and the use of the prin-
ciple of ' utility ' should be regarded as necessarily conflicting,
I have never been able to understand. As in most discussions
where abstract ' egoism ' and abstract ' altruism ' figure, the
supposed difficulty resolves itself into an ambiguity in the use
of words. Even if the hedonist, in order to be consistent, is
obliged to hold that one is always determined to act for one's
own pleasure,^ he is not therefore committed to egoism in any
offensive sense. If one derive pleasure from the pleasure of
others, one is just so far altruistic. Whether or not one does
derive pleasure from the pleasure of others, is solely a question
of fact; and the inevitable answer cannot properly be used
^ See p. xxvi.
* The expression ' determined to act for one's own pleasure ' is in itself seri-
ously misleading. Even when we are acting with a direct view to our own future
pleasure, it is, of course, the present pleasure attaching to the idea of our future
pleasure, not the future pleasure itself, which determines our action. And to
assume that no idea but that of our own future pleasure can attract us, manifestly
begs the whole question. In the text, however, I have attempted to show that,
even if the hedonist admit that, in his view, we always act for our own pleas-
ure, he is not committed to 'egoism,' in the derogatory sense. — All this, of
course, has nothing to do with the ultimate validity of hedonism, which the
present writer would by no means admit.
David Hume. 99
against ' Universalistic Hedonism ' or any other recognised
type of ethical theory.
Having considered the relation between the standpoint of
Book III. of the Treatise and that of the Inquiry concerning
the Principles of Morals, as regards the springs of human
action, we shall now proceed to an examination of Hume's
ethical system as a whole. In order to understand his mode
of procedure, either in the Treatise or in the Inquiry, one
should keep in mind the distinction, explicit in the former
work, implicit in the latter, between what he calls the ' natural *
and the ' artificial ' virtues. For instance, in the Treatise
Hume contends that justice is an ' artificial ' virtue, while he
regards benevolence, in its various forms, as ' natural '.^ By
' artificial ' he does not mean, as he explains, that which is a
superfluity in organised society ; on the contrary, he holds
that a recognition of justice is basal to all social life whatever.
He simply means that the utility which, as he is going to
show, all virtues have in common, is indirect in the case of
justice and other ' artificial ' virtues, while direct in the case of
all the so-called ' natural ' virtues.^ More particularly, he
means — what, to be sure, is not strictly true — that the effect
of the so-called ' natural ' virtues is immediately and always
an increase of happiness, while, in the case of justice, etc.,
this is manifestly true only in the long run.
This at first looks like one of the many fine distinctions
which Hume draws in the Treatise only to practically neglect
them in the Inquiry, and that to the manifest advantage of his
exposition. As a matter of fact, however, the position, though
unsound, is characteristic. While Hume does not directly
speak of ' artificial ' as opposed to ' natural ' virtues in the
Inquiry, he does not seem really to appreciate his mistake and
1 It will be seen that the term ' natural,' as here applied, is rather misleading,
since Hume does not admit native altruism in the Treatise.
-The other virtues beside justice which Hume designates as 'artificial' are
allegiance, modesty, and good manners. The ' natural ' virtues specified are
meekness, beneficence, charity, generosity, clemency, moderation, and equity. —
See Treatise, Bk. HI., Pt. HI., § i.
lOO History of Utilitarianism.
give up the distinction altogether. In both works he is pri-
marily concerned to show the relation of the several virtues to
what he recognises as the springs of human action, the funda-
mental impulsive tendencies of human nature. Now he holds
with much truth that, in the case of justice, for example, we
have no mere native impulses which of themselves are suffi-
cient to explain either the fact that we approve justice, or the
fact that we ourselves practise this virtue. But when he
comes to treat the so-called ' natural ' virtues, he seems to
assume — in the later as well as in the earlier work — that the
virtues in question are, on the one hand, the direct result of
our natural springs of action, and, on the other hand, that their
effects are immediately and always fortunate
Keeping in mind, then, this distinction, which, though not
consistently carried out, really determines in a general way
the form of exposition in both the Treatise and the Inquiry, we
are now prepared to notice Hume's more specific treatment of
the problems of Ethics. As will readily be seen, it is not
without significance that in the Treatise he considers justice
before benevolence, while in the Inquiry he does the contrary :
for in the Treatise he is concerned to prove, not only the
general utilitarian character of justice, but that it is ultimately
based on (practically) egoistic principles ; while in the Inquiry
he begins with the assumption that the measure of benevolence
is the measure of virtue, and that benevolence is good because
it results in the increase of human happiness. As I regard
the position taken in the Inqimy as more consistent and
more characteristic, for reasons sufficiently given above, I shall
mainly follow that work rather than the Treatise, in the present
account of Hume's proof of the utilitarian principle.^
Hume's treatment of benevolence in the Inquiry is very brief.
In fact, after he had. given up his peculiar view of ' sympathy,'
as worked out in the Treatise, he probably thought that little
remained to be said on the subject. The possibihty of such a
virtue could hardly have seemed to him to need proof, for in
1 Important differences of treatment in the two works will of course be noted.
David Hume. loi
this later work he had once for all assumed a certain degree
of altruism, as belonging to human nature ; and it must be
remembered that he did not seriously consider, or even dis-
tinctly recognise, the question how, given altruistic as well as
egoistic tendencies, the developed virtue of benevolence (as
distinguished from mere impulsive kindliness) was to be
explained.
Beginning, as he nearly always does, with our actual ap-
proval of moral actions, Hume remarks that the very words
we use to describe " the benevolent or softer affections " indi-
cate the universal attitude toward them. He says : " The
epithets sociable, good-natured, humane, merciful, grateful,
friendly, generous, beneficent, or their equivalents, are known in
all languages, and universally express the highest merit which
human nature is capable of attaining " )■ But Hume further
points out that, when we praise the benevolent man, there is
one circumstance which we always insist upon, i.e., the happi-
ness of others which inevitably results from his habitual mode
of action. Now, since benevolence does have this universal
tendency to make for happiness, it seems fair to assume that
utility forms at least a part of the merit of benevolent actions.
But the further we examine into the matter, the more utility
is found to be an adequate explanation of our approbation of
such actions, while other modes of explanation in a correspond-
ing degree lose their plausibility. The practically inevitable
presumption, then, is that utility is the sole ground of our
approbation of benevolent actions. It remains to be seen, of
course, whether it will prove sufficient to explain the other
great social virtue, justice, as well as a number of self-regard-
ing virtues which will be mentioned later.
Before leaving this present subject of benevolence, however,
it will be well to see how Hume's treatment of the virtue
accords with his mature view regarding the springs of human
action. It has been said that benevolent actions please on
account of their utility, meaning by this their tendency to
1 See Inquiry, § II., pt. i.
I02 History of Utilitarianism.
produce pleasure, either in particular individuals or in mankind
at large. Why does utility please, even when we have no
private interest at stake ? In Hume's earlier treatment of
Ethics, it was just here that he had been obliged to have re-
course to the principle of (derived) ' sympathy,' thus reducing
our apparent altruism to terms of something very like egoism.
In the present work, he expressly states that the selfish prin-
ciple is inadequate, and that the use of it by philosophers to
explain the phenomena of our moral life results from a love
of fictitious simplicity.^ Man does have an original altruistic,
as well as egoistic, tendency, the one being just as ' natural '
as the other. But this is not all. Hume further points out
that sensibility to the happiness and unhappiness of others
and moral discrimination keep pace with each other. It will
thus be seen that he makes the former, i.e., ' sympathy ' in its
ordinary sense, the foundation of moral development.
Now there is a difficulty here, already mentioned, which
Hume quite forgets to take account of in his treatment
of benevolence. How do we pass from the mere impulse to
benevolent action, whether strong or weak, to a virtue of
benevolence, which latter, of course, implies an objective stand-
ard .<• It must be admitted that, when Hume incidentally
tries to answer this question, somewhat later in the Inquiry,
his account of the matter, though interesting, is hardly ade-
quate. His view seems to be that human intercourse involves
meeting our fellows half-way ; that language is formed, not for
expressing that which is merely subjective, but that which
may, in a sense, be regarded as objective. He says : " The
intercourse of sentiments, therefore, in society and conversa-
tion, makes us form some general unalterable standard, by
which we may approve or disapprove of characters and man-
ners "? Here, apparently, we have the germ of Adam Smith's
characteristic notion of the ' ideal impartial spectator '.
After having argued that benevolence, as a virtue, is actu-
ally approved on account of its utility, Hume proceeds to the
' See Inquiry y Appendix ii. ^ Ibid., § V., pt. ii.
David Hume. 103
consideration of justice. His treatment of this virtue in the
Inquiry substantially corresponds to his previous treatment in
the third book of the Treatise, so far as his attempt is merely
to show its general utilitarian origin. Minor differences in
the two expositions need not detain us, but it may be well to
note in passing that here, as in the case of benevolence, we
ultimately are confronted with the question as to ' why utility
pleases,' and that the question would have to be answered
somewhat differently in the two works, in a way to correspond
to the different springs of action recognised. What has been
said regarding this question in the case of benevolence will, of
course, apply in all essential respects in the present ca^e of
justice.
At the beginning of his treatment of justice, Hume properly
enough remarks that all are so completely agreed as to the
utility of this virtue that nothing need be said on that score.
His object, of course, is to show, not merely that justice is
useful, but that its character as a virtue is determined wholly
by its usefulness. It should be noted that here, as in the third
book of the Treatise, Hume writes of justice as if the virtue
had a bearing only upon cases where external goods are in
question. Later we shall find reason seriously to object to
this view. Granting, however, for the present, that justice is
to be taken in this restricted sense, Hume's line of argument
is at least plausible. He says, as every one will remember,
that justice would have no meaning if there were either (i) an
unlimited supply of the goods in question, or (2) perfect gener-
osity in human nature. As a matter of fact, of course, most
external goods are limited in quantity ; and here, as in the
Treatise, Hume holds that the egoistic impulses predominate,
although he forsakes his former position to the extent of
admitting a certain degree of original altruism. Our natural
tendency, then, would be in the direction of appropriating
more than belonged to us. But, since the same tendency
is present in all others, society can only exist in a per-
manent form where property rights are to some extent
recognised.
I04 History of Utilitarianism.
Since justice has no meaning for Hume, apart from the
insufficient supply of external goods and the predominant self-
ishness of man, it might seem as if he would have us look for
a thorough-going utility in all the particular rules of justice.
As a matter of fact, however, he suggests that we do not need
to carry our analysis very far to see that these rules are some-
times, in the last resort, more or less arbitrary. Such cases
Hume attributes to the natural processes of the ' imagination,*
as determined by the all-important principle of the ' associa-
tion of ideas '.^ It must not be supposed that we really have
two principles operating here, utility and some arbitrary prin-
ciple — the two standing to each other in an unknown relation.
The (^//-important thing is that principles of some sort should
be recognised, where the ownership of property is concerned.
Beyond a certain point, Hume would seem to say, it makes no
very great difference how goods are apportioned, at least in
the hypothetical first instance — and it is there, mainly, that
the ' imagination ' is conceived to come in as a complicating
factor.2
Such, then, is Hume's actual treatment of justice reduced
to its lowest terms. Up to this point, we have admitted his
assumption that justice concerns only our pecuniary dealings
with others. But is this really true.^ In order not to misin-
' " Sometimes the interests of society may require a rule of justice in a par-
ticular case ; but may not determine any particular rule, among several, which
are all equally beneficial. In that case, the slightest analogies are laid hold of,
in order to prevent that indifference and ambiguity, which would be the source
of perpetual dissension. Thus possession alone, and first possession, is supposed
to convey property, where nobody else has any preceding claim and pretension.
Many of the reasonings of lawyers are of this analogical nature, and depend on
very slight connexions of the imagination." — See Inquiry, § III., pt. ii.
^ It is interesting to see how English ethical writers, from the time of Hobbes
to that of Paley, were unable to free themselves entirely from the conception of a
' state of nature ' and a ' compact ' made when men entered into society. With
those who accepted the doctrine, wholly or in part, we are not here concerned ;
but it will be found that those who expressly repudiate this view {e.g., Hume and
Paley) often lapse into a mode of speech which seems to imply it. An inter-
esting case will be found in Paley's Moral and Political Philosophy, Bk. III.,
Pt. II., ch. V.
David Hume. 105
terpret Hume's position, we must keep in mind that he treats
the obhgation of promises in connection with justice, and as
necessarily arising from it. But the ultimate reference is
always to external goods, and the two complications always
are the insufficiency of such goods and the excess of human
egoism. It will hardly be denied that, while justice should
always be differentiated as clearly as possible from benevo-
lence, its scope is inevitably much greater than Hume seems
prepared to admit. Let us suppose, for the moment, that
there were an unlimited supply of the good things of life, and
that, at the same time, human nature were as predominantly
altruistic as it often seems to be egoistic. Even in this
doubly millennial condition of things, it would still be abso-
lutely necessary, in order that society might exist at all, that
men should be able in some measure to depend upon each
other. It is only upon the basis of some definite expectations
that one can live with one's fellows from day to day. Even
in the family, justice of a sort would seem to be as necessary
as anywhere else — a necessary foundation for enlightened
benevolence.
We may now examine the remaining part of Hume's sys-
tematic treatment of Ethics. In considering this somewhat
briefly, we shall merely be following the author's own example.
And first we must notice Hume's general classification of the
virtues. In the Inquiry} as well as in the third book of the
Treatise^ he distinguishes between virtues which are (i) 'use-
ful to oneself,' e.g., prudence, constancy, good judgment, etc. ;
(2) * immediately agreeable to oneself,' e.g., magnanimity ;
(3) ' useful to others,' e.g., justice and benevolence ; and (4)
' immediately agreeable to others,' e.g., politeness, wit, and
cleanliness. Even a somewhat casual examination of this
classification will reveal its artificial character. At the same
time, before criticising Hume, it is important to see exactly
what he means. For instance, let us take the first class of
virtues, those ' useful to oneself ' — prudence, constancy, etc.
'See§§ VI., VII., VIII., IX.
•See Bk. III., Pt. III., § i. (end).
io6 History of Utilitarianism.
Hume does not by any means set himself the gratuitous task
of showing that these virtues are, as a matter of fact, useful to
oneself. The question really is : Why do I commend pru-
dence, etc., in another ? The value to the community of
prudence in the individual, even when exercised in his own
affairs, is not what is here emphasised, though that would
seem to be the most natural line of argument. Hume is
rather concerned to show, in his later work, that it cannot be
from motives of self-love that one commends prudence in
others. Indeed, he holds that it is more clearly impossible to
resolve moral approbation into self-love here than in the case
of justice. In his somewhat obscure account of this matter in
the third book of the Treatise, Hume had seemed to hold that
we unconsciously put ourselves in the place of the person sym-
pathised with, and, in a sense, feel for ourselves, rather than
strictly feel for him. On the other hand, in the Inquiry,
which we are here following, he explicitly abandons all such
speculations, and not only accepts, but emphasises, the fact
that an original altruistic tendency in human nature must be
admitted.
In distinguishing the virtues which are ' immediately a^ee-
able ' to oneself from those which are merely ' useful,' Hume
carelessly adopts a terminology which, in a writer less clear
than himself, might lead to confusion. Pleasure is the ulti-
mate test, of course, in one case as much as in the other —
the only difference being that in the second class of virtues,
as the name would imply, the pleasure is experienced immedi-
ately, while in the first class it results rather in the long run.
As a matter of fact, however, when all allowances are made,
one can hardly defend Hume in adopting a classification which
seems to explain magnanimity as a virtue, on the ground that
we approve it because it is immediately agreeable to its fortu-
nate possessor ! Virtues of the third class, justice and benevo-
lence, are perhaps naturally enough termed ' useful to others,*
though ultimately the distinction between the first two classes
of virtues (self-regarding) and the last two classes (other-
regarding) breaks down, even under Hume's own handling.
David Hume. 107
The fourth class of virtues, those ' immediately agreeable to
others ' — politeness, wit, cleanliness — are apparently not all
on the same plane, and further illustrate the difficulty of
making the distinction just noted.
In fact, this whole classification and treatment of the par-
ticular virtues, first adopted in the Treatise, and retained
without important revision in the Inquiry, seems out of place
in the latter work, since there Hume once for all admits an
original sympathetic tendency in human nature. It would
have been much more consistent for him to show that both
the self-regarding and the other-regarding virtues are ulti-
mately to be recognised as virtues, because they conduce to
the common weal, or — if we may use the phrase now so hack-
neyed, which had already, in Hume's time, been employed by
Hutcheson — ' the greatest happiness of the greatest number '.
No account of Hume's ethical system, however brief, can
afford to neglect the admirable Conclusion to the Inquiry, in
which he takes a comprehensive view of the issues which have
been raised and met separately, and makes a final plea for
the vaUdity of his general position.^ Like most of the
preceding chapters, or ' sections,' the Conclusion is divided
into two parts. The first and more important part of
the argument attempts in outline a sort of natural history
of morals, while the second part gives an account of the
ground of moral obligation. It will be found that the second
part is too much of the nature of an argumentum ad homifiem,
and fails to do justice to the spirit of the first part, to which
latter we shall principally direct our attention.
Hume begins by arguing that, whatever philosophers may
teach, we never actually continue to approve of any quality in
' See § IX. A less satisfactory form of the same argument may be found at
the end of Book III. of the Treatise (see §§ v. and vi.) ; but this may be safely
neglected here, not only because the whole argument is put in a more convincing
foMn in the later work, but also, and particularly, because the principle of
sympathy, or humanity, upon which the recognition of moral distinctions is
supposed ultimately to depend, is developed here, as throughout the Inquiry, in
a much more satisfactory manner than in the Treatise.
io8 History of Utilitarianism.
human nature, which does not at least appear to be either
useful or agreeable to ourselves or others. The apparent
approval of celibacy, fasting, penance, etc., is to be attri-
buted to superstition and false religion, and it is important
to notice that, in the course of a healthy intellectual and moral
development, such fictitious virtues are gradually transferred
to the opposite column, and placed in the catalogue of vices.
So far we have little but a reaffirmation of the author's general
position, marred somewhat by his continued use of the arti-
ficial division, just criticised, of moral actions into those which
give pleasure either directly or indirectly to oneself or others.
But now Hume pertinently points out that he has avoided
becoming entangled in the wearisome dispute concerning the
degrees of benevolence or self-love which prevail in human
nature. " It is sufficient for our present purpose," he says,
" if it be allowed, what surely, without the greatest absurdity
cannot be disputed, that there is some benevolence, however
small, infused into our bosom." No matter how faint these
generous sentiments may be thought to be, they must at any
rate direct the determinations of our mind where everything
else is equal, and " produce a cool preference of what is useful
and serviceable to mankind, above what is pernicious and
dangerous ".
The result is most important : " A moral distinction, there-
fore, immediately arises ; a general sentiment of blame and
approbation ; a tendency, however faint, to the objects of the
one, and a proportionable aversion to those of the other".
Avarice, ambition, vanity, and all the other passions which are
commonly, though improperly, comprised under the general
head of ' self-love,' are to be ruled out as wholly inadequate to
explain our original recognition of moral distinctions, not
because they are too weak, but because they have not a
' proper direction ' for that purpose. They wholly fail to
explain that principle of objectivity which we demand and
recognise in moral judgments. This implies some sentiment
which is at once common to all mankind, and so comprehensive
as to extend to all mankind, no matter how remote from our-
David Hume. 109
selves in space or time. Nothing but the sentiment of
humanity, here insisted upon, can reasonably be regarded as
the ultimate cause of the all-important phenomenon which
we are attempting to explain. An important auxiliary senti-
ment, however, which does much to re-enforce our strictly
moral sentiments, is to be found in that very love of fame,
which has so often been regarded as a merely selfish passion.
This tends to make us regard our own conduct objectively,
and to keep alive in us the highest ideals ; and it further begets
in noble natures that habit of self-reverence which is the
surest guardian of every virtue. ^
As already indicated, the second part of the Conclusion,
concerning the ground of moral obligation, is hardly in the
spirit of the first part. There the common feeling of humanity
had been treated as the ultimate ground of our recognition
of moral distinctions ; here one would naturally expect Hume
to take the same principle as a starting-point, from which to
revise the conception of moral obligation. As a matter of
fact, however, he mainly contents himself with commending
his system to those who hold the selfish theory of the moral
motive rather than his own. The principal question con-
sidered, then, is how far morality is for the interest of the
individual, abstractly considered, although in the course of
this very argument he makes the highly significant remark,
already quoted, that " whatever contradiction may vulgarly be
supposed between the selfish and social sentiments or dis-
positions, they are really no more opposite than selfish and
ambitious, selfish and revengeful, selfish and vain ".
Returning still again to his artificial classification of the
virtues, he does not, of course, have to prove that the virtues
which are such because they conduce either directly or in-
directly to the pleasure of the individual agent are for the
^The last paragraph of part i. of this section, in which Hume reverts to his
characteristic sceptical position, on the ground that " an hypothesis, so obvious,
had it been a true one, would, long ere now, have been received by the unani-
mous suffrage and consent of mankind," can hardly be regarded as significant
here, except, perhaps, as indicating the author's personal attitude.
I lo History of Utilitarianism.
individual's selfish interest, for that follows from the definitions
themselves. And he points out that it is really superfluous
to prove that the ' companionable virtues/ i.e., those ' immedi-
ately agreeable to others,' like good manners and wit, decency
and genteelness, are more desirable than the contrary qualities.
The only real problem arises in the case of justice, the typical
virtue of the remaining class, i.e., the class of virtues ' useful
to others '. That * honesty is the best policy ' is a good
general rule ; but how about the possible exceptions, where a
man may seem to be the loser by his integrity .'' Hume practi-
cally admits that he has no arguments of a strictly logical
kind with which to meet this real or supposed difficulty, but
rather lays stress upon the inward peace of mind, consciousness
of integrity, etc., which, as he says, " are circumstances very
requisite to happiness, and will be cherished and cultivated
by every honest man, who feels the importance of them ". It
will readily be seen that this appeal to our moral consciousness
hardly meets the theoretical difficulty — the self-imposed diffi-
culty of eighteenth century individualism — which was to show
that morality was for the advantage of the moral agent, not as
a social being, with no interests wholly separate from those
of society, but rather as an isolated centre of self-interest.
The only logical solution, from that point of view, was that of
the so-called ' Theological Utilitarians,' who frankly depended
upon the doctrine of rewards and punishments after death.
Such was Hume's system as actually worked out by him-
self. When we come to compare it with that of Gay — his
only predecessor who had stated the Utilitarian principle in a
perfectly unambiguous form — we see at once what an impor-
tant advance had been made in the development of ethical
theory. Gay's system had been as frankly individualistic, in
its way, as that of Hobbes ; but, at the same time, it had
avoided those offensive paradoxes of the earlier doctrine, which
had undoubtedly kept many from appreciating the plausibility
of the egoistic position. Indeed, it would be quite unfair to
put Gay and his successors {i.e., those Utilitarian writers who
David Hume. 1 1 1
maintained the egoistic character of the motive of the moral
agent) in the same category with Hobbes. Gay and the others
never employed egoism as a means by which to viUfy human
nature, but rather seem to have regarded it as a tempting
device for simplifying ethical theory. Moreover, they partly
succeeded in disguising its essentially unlovely character by
supposing the development of a derived ' sympathy ' through
the ' association of ideas '. Hume had at first allowed himself
to use * association ' in much the same way ; but the very fact
that his explanations in the Treatise are so much less clear
than those of Gay in the Dissertation^ suggests a lack of cer-
tainty in his own mind as to the validity of the method ; and,
as we have seen, he entirely gave up, in his later work, any
attempt to reduce the altruistic tendencies of human nature
to terms of something else.
Taken by itself, Hume's recognition and defence of original
altruism could not be regarded as an important contribution to
English Ethics. From the time of Cumberland to that of
Shaftesbury and Hutcheson, there had never been wanting
those who, from one point of view or another, opposed the
egoistic position of Hobbes. But of all those moralists, Cum-
berland alone can properly be termed a Utilitarian, and even
he, it will be remembered, had carried through ' the perfection
of mind and body ' as a principle parallel to that of ' the great-
est happiness of all '. Hume, then, was the first to hold the
Utilitarian doctrine in its unmistakable form and at the same
time to admit, and defend, the altruistic tendencies of human
nature.
Gay had vigorously, and more or less successfully, opposed
the ' Moral Sense ' theory, as held by Shaftesbury and Hutche-
son. While, however, he was greatly in advance of those
writers in clearness and simplicity of ethical theory, he by no
means equalled them in his grasp of the fundamental facts of
oiu- moral experience. Hume was as sure as Gay had been
that we must not explain the phenomena of our moral life by
referring them, or any part of them, to a special faculty like
the ' moral sense ' ; but he took a much broader view of human
1 1 2 History of Utilitarianism.
nature than Gay had done, and, from first to last, attributed
more importance to the part played by the affective side of
our nature in the formation of moral judgments. In fact, he
has sometimes been misjudged on account of this very catho-
licity of treatment. As we have had occasion to note, there
are even those who hold that he never quite departed from
the ' Moral Sense ' theory. I can only regard this view as a
serious mistake. We have seen again and again, that, while
he always begins with the fact of moral approbation, as
applying to a particular class of actions, it is his special
endeavour to show how this approbation arises, according to
the recognised principles of human nature. With all his faults
as a philosopher and as a moralist, Hume was far too scientific,
both in his ideals and his methods, to be guilty of any flagrant
form of ' faculty psychology '.
We can only speculate as to just what Hume's system might
have become, if the author had given up his artificial and
somewhat misleading classification of the virtues. It is fair
to remark, however, that, if he had been more thorough in his
revision of the third book of the Treatise, and had definitely
shown, what certainly was implicit in his system, that all the
virtues are such because they conduce to ' the greatest happi-
ness of the greatest number,' he would have stated the Utili-
tarian principle practically in its modern form. As it was, he
freed the doctrine from the unfortunate dogma that the motive
of the moral agent is always, in the last resort, egoistic. This
was a distinct advance upon Gay, which, however, was wasted
upon Tucker, Paley, and Bentham, all of whom reproduce the
position of the Dissertation. Even as stated to-day, the
' greatest happiness ' theory does seem likely to be accepted
as the final word of Ethics ; but it would hardly be too much
to claim that \\\& Inquiry concerning the Principles of Morals,
with all its defects and shortcomings, is the classic statement
of English Utilitarianism.
CHAPTER VI.
DAVID HARTLEY.
The first writer who made the attempt systematically to de-
velop the theory of the Association of Ideas, as outlined by
Gay, and to show, more in detail, the consequences of this
theory for Ethics, was the physician David Hartley. He
did this in his well-known Observations on Man, his Frame,
his Duty, and his Expectations, which was first published
in 1749. Probably no writer on philosophical subjects has
gained more from mere priority of publication. Even at the
present day, the Associationist theory is often called by his
name, although he was confessedly not the originator of
the theory, and developed it with a clumsiness which can
only be appreciated by those who know his book at first
hand. Ten years before the publication of the Observa-
tions, Hume had published the first two books of the
Treatise of Human Nature, in which, while apparently work-
ing in independence of Gay, he had not indeed treated the
principle of Association directly and at length, but had pre-
supposed it throughout, and with a perfect understanding of
its implications. By the time Hartley published, the theory
seems to have become, in a sense, pubhc property; and it
was probably this fact, almost as much as the undoubted
dulness of Hartley's style and the crudeness of his general
treatment, that caused the book to make so slight an im-
pression at the time of publication. Although the Associa-
tionist Psychology was so important for the further develop-
ment of English Utilitarianism that the early form of the
theory will soon have to be considered at some length, it will
C113) 8
114 History of Utilitarianism.
be more helpful to take Tucker, who published only nineteen
years later, as its exponent At the same time. Hartley can-
not with propriety be neglected : first, because of his tradi-
tional position in the history of the principle which we are
considering ; and, secondly, because he was not, as constantly
assumed, the typical early Associationist.
This misapprehension as to Hartley's real originality and
importance, however, is something for which he himself was
not at all responsible. If his manner is dry and uninteresting,
the tone of his treatise is modest and unassuming throughout.
For instance, in the Preface to his Obsei'vations, he says :
" About eighteen years ago I was informed that the Rev.
Mr. Gay, then living, asserted the possibility of deducing all
our intellectual pleasures and pains from association. This
put me upon considering the power of association. Mr. Gay
published his sentiments on this matter, about the same time,
in a Dissertation on the Fundamental Pi'inciple of Virtue pre-
fixed to Mr. Archdeacon Law's translation of Archbishop
King's Origin of Evil." Such a statement might seem
natural and almost inevitable, under the circumstances, but
Hartley's frankness in acknowledging his obligations to Gay
is in shining contrast to the strange reticence of some of his
more gifted successors.
The Introduction to Part I. of the Observations is per-
fectly clear and business-like — a very necessary guide, in fact,
through the arid tracts that are to follow. We shall do well
to note a few of the distinctions at once. Sensations and
ideas are clearly distinguished, and defined in what we would
now regard as the conventional way, except that they are
made to include pleasures and pains. The ideas which
resemble sensations are called ' ideas of sensation ' ; all the
rest are called ' intellectual ideas '. As will appear later,
ideas of sensation are the elements of which all the rest
are compounded. The faculties of the mind recognised are
memory, imagination (or fancy), understanding, affection, and
will. Only two of the definitions require further notice.
" The affections have the pleasures and pains for their objects;
David Hartley. 115
as the understanding has the mere sensations and ideas. By
the affections we are excited to pursue happiness, and all its
means, and to fly from misery, and all its apparent causes.
The will is that state of mind which is immediately previous
to, and causes, those express acts of memory, fancy, and bodily
motion, which are termed voluntary."
Now it must always be remembered that Hartley is con-
cerned to prove, not merely the association of ideas, but his
peculiar ' doctrine of vibrations,' by which he explains all
neural phenomena. The former is to explain our mental life
down to its smallest details; the latter is to explain the
necessary physiological accompaniments of all mental life.
While this frank recognition of, and insistence upon, the
physiological concomitants of our mental life must be re-
garded as an indication of the scientific spirit of Hartley,
his recklessness in elaborating his theory of vibrations far
beyond what neurological science in his own day (or, of course,
later) would justify, could only result in disaster. Wherever
he thinks he finds a mental law, he provides it with a parallel
hypothetical physiological law, until the reader holds his
breath at the audacity of this plodding and seemingly un-
imaginative scientist In our brief examination of Hartley's
psychological system, we shall, of course, neglect this ' deadly
parallel ' mythological neurology ; but, in so doing, we
must not forget that a part of the great crudeness which we
shall have to notice, was not improbably due to this fanciful
attempt to keep the mental and the physical series exactly
parallel
A few words, however, regarding the ' theory of vibra-
tions ' before we dismiss it altogether. We are told that
" the white medullary substance of the brain, spinal marrow,
and the nerves proceeding from them, is the immediate in-
strument of sensation and motion " }■ In the case of simple
sensations, we must suppose a simple vibration in this sub-
stance ; in the case of complex sensations, associated vibra-
tions. But " sensory vibrations, by being often repeated,
1 See Pt. I., prop, i., p. 5 (of " sixth edition, corrected," 1834).
1 1 6 History of Utilitarianism.
beget, in the medullary substance of the brain, a disposition
to diminutive vibrations, which may also be called vibrati-
uncles, and miniatures, corresponding to themselves respec-
tively".^ To the vibratiuncles, correspond simple ideas;
to associated vibratiuncles, complex ideas. There are also
' motory vibrations,' which contract the muscles and so cause
automatic movements ; while voluntary and semi-voluntary
movements must be explained by corresponding ' motory
vibratiuncles '. One might, perhaps, expect some theory
regarding the relation of mind and body from Hartley, since
he attempts so minutely to trace out the psycho-physical
parallelism. The nearest approach to such a theory seems
to be the following : " If we suppose an infinitesimal elemen-
tary body to be intermediate between the soul and gross
body, which appears to be no improbable supposition, then
the changes in our sensations, ideas, and motions, may corre-
spond to the changes made in the medullary substance, only
as far as these correspond to the changes made in the elemen-
tary body ".2 It was probably well that Hartley did not carry
his speculations further in this direction.
Leaving, then, this very debatable territory, let us examine
the essentials of Hartley's psychology proper. Sensations,
by being often repeated, leave certain vestiges, types, or
images, of themselves, which may be called ' simple ideas of
sensation '. But " any sensations, A, B, C, &c., by being
associated with one another a sufficient number of times, get
such a power over the corresponding ideas, a, b, c, &c., that any
one of the sensations, A, when impressed alone, shall be able to
excite in the mind b, c, &c., the ideas of the rest ".-^ After
this very clear statement of the general principle of association^
Hartley goes on to show, in the usual way, how simple ideas
go to form complex ones by means of association. That this
is true in very many cases, seems to him certain. The pre-
sumption, therefore, is that the same principle will hold
throughout our mental life, and that all our complex ideas
' See Pt. I., prop, ix., p. 37.
^Ibid., v., p. 22. -'Ibid., x., p. 41.
David Ha7'tley. 1 1 7
may finally be resolved into their constituent parts, i.e.,
simple ideas of sensation.
When we pass beyond mere sensation, and come to con-
sider our intellectual life, we are confronted, at the very
outset, with a conspicuous example of association. " Words
and phrases must excite ideas m us by association, and they
excite ideas in us by no other means." ^ After makmg cer-
tain obvious remarks on this score, the indefatigable writer
launches out into elaborate speculations regarding the origin
of language, not omitting to consider what language may
have been before and after the Fall of Man. i he language
of Paradise was presumably monosyllabic, as man's intel-
lectual nature had hardly yet been awakened. In this connec-
tion, the author remarks that " to set a value upon knowledge
considered in itself, and exclusively of its tendency to carry
us to God, is a most pernicious error, derived originally from
Adam's having eaten of the tree of knowledge ".- Rational
assent and dissent are explained by the author by means of
association. He says : " Rational assent then to any propo-
sition, may be defined, a readiness to affirm it to be true,
proceeding from a close association of the ideas suggested
by the proposition, with the idea, or internal feeling, belong-
ing to the word truth ".^ * Practical ' assent is nothing but
" the natural and necessary consequence of rational, when
sufficiently impressed ". It hardly need be pointed out that
association, as here invoked, explains nothing, since the
' idea, or internal feeling, belonging to the word truth ' is
taken for grcinted. Of course a single passage is likely to
caricature a writer's solution of a difficult problem ; but that
can hardly be claimed in the present case. The following
passage is perhaps the clearest and most plausible of many
to the same general purpose. " Now the cause that a person
afifirms the truth of the proposition twice two is finir, is the
entire coincidence of the visible or tangible idea of twice two
with that of four, as impressed upon the mind by various
^ See Pt. I., prop. Ixxix., p. 169.
-Ibid., Ixxxiii., p. 188. ^ Ibid., Ixxxvi., p. 204.
1 1 8 History of Utilitarianism.
objects. We see everywhere that twice two and four are
only different names for the same impression. And it is mere
association which appropriates the word truth, its definition,
or its internal feeling, to this coincidence. " ^
So much, in brief, concerning our purely intellectual life ;
but, according to Hartley, " our passions or affections can be
no more than aggregates of simple ideas united by associa-
tion "? This was, of course, the natural consequence of
regarding pleasures and pains as ' ideas '. It would be
quite hypercritical to raise the difficulty which modern
psychology might find here, as to whether feeling, as such,
is capable of revival in memory, like sense-perception, and so
capable of association. None of the early Associationists
dreamed of any such difficulty. Certainly no part of Hartley's
treatise is better known than his chapters on " The Six Classes
of Intellectual Pleasures and Pains "? These are the plea-
sures and pains (i) of imagination, (2) of ambition, (3) of
self-interest, (4) of sympathy, (5) of theopathy, and (6) of
the moral sense. Before considering these, however, and the
order in which they are developed, it will be best to notice
briefly Hartley's general account of the passions, which will
be found really to include his treatment of the will. Since
all the passions arise from pleasure and pain, the first and
most natural division is into ' love ' and ' hatred,' the former
arising from the thought of what gives us pleasure, the latter
from the thought of what gives us pain. But we axe so con-
stituted that pleasure and pain impel us to action. Thus
' active ' love becomes ' desire,' and ' active ' hatred ' aver-
sion '. These are the moving forces in man. Action is first
automatic : the child originally grasps at the attractive play-
thing or withdraws his hand from the fire that burns him
' from the mechanism of his nature ' ; but in time he learns,
partly by repetition of this mechanical process, and partly as
a result of imitating others or being instructed by them, to
^ See Pt. I., prop. Ixxxvi., p. 204.
^ Ibid., Ixxxix., p. 231. 'Ibid., xciv., pp. 262 et seq.
David Hartley, 1 1 9
pursue whatever he loves and desires, and to flee from every-
thing which he hates. ^
Now the logic of this might seem to be, that man must
always do what he likes and refrain from doing what he
dislikes — in other words, act always for the increase of his
own happiness or the diminution of his own pain. Hartley
recognises that this was a very common, perhaps the most
conmion, theory in his own day. But against this view he
declares unequivocally, though recognising no original prin-
ciple of sympathy. And this is what principedly distinguishes
him from all the other Associationists who attempted to
derive sympathy from something else. He holds that the
complicated phenomena of human action in no way counte-
nance " the notion of an essential, original, perpetual desire
of happiness, and endeavour to attain it "? Is sympathy
factitious .'' Well, so are several of the other principles on
which adults habitually act. This is his general position ;
the argiunents by which he sustains it will be noticed im-
mediately. After the preceding, little remains to be said
concerning the wiU. In a single passage, the author says
practically all he has to say about that faculty. " The will
appears to be nothing but a desire or aversion sufficiently
strong to produce em action that is not automatic primarily
or secondarily. At least it appears to me, that the substitu-
tion of these words for the word will may be justified by the
common usage of language. The will is therefore that
desire or aversion which is strongest for the then present
time." 3
In order to understand human volition, then, we must in-
vestigate the genesis of our ' intellectual affections,' for these
are much more important in determining us to action than
mere pleasures or pains of sense. Hartley outlines his whole
treatment in a long paragraph which it is necessary to quote,
since it not only throws the strongest light upon his view of
what actually determines the will in adult Hfe, but explams
' See Pt. I., prop. Ixxxix., p. 232.
^ See ihid., p. 233. ' See ihid.
I20 History of Utilitarianism.
his peculiar position, just mentioned, regarding sympathy,
and, in truth, suggests his whole ethical theory. He says :
" As sensation is the common foundation of all these, so each
in its turn, when sufficiently generated, contributes to gener-
ate and model all the rest. We may conceive this to be done
in the following manner. Let sensation generate imagina-
tion; then will sensation and imagination together generate
ambition ; sensation, imagination, and ambition, self-interest ;
sensation, imagination, ambition, and self-interest, sympathy;
sensation, imagination, ambition, self-interest, and sympathy,
theopathy ; sensation, imagination, ambition, self-interest,
sympathy, and theopathy, the moral sense : and, in an in-
verted order, imagination will new model sensation ; ambition,
sensation and imagination ; self-interest, sensation, imagina-
tion, and ambition ; sympathy, sensation, imagination, ambi-
tion, and self-interest ; theopathy, sensation, imagination,
ambition, self-interest, and sympathy ; and the moral sense,
sensation, imagination, ambition, self-interest, sympathy, and
theopathy : till at last, by the numerous reciprocal influences
of all these upon each other, the passions arrive at that
degree of complexness, which is observed in fact, and which
makes them so difficult to be analysed." ^
This quaint passage can hardly fail to provoke a smile ; but,
as already suggested, it is very significant in several ways,
(i) It throws light upon Hartley's otherwise inexplicable
classification of the ' intellectual affections '. A mere glance
would show that the classification was not psychological, but
developed with a view to Ethics. This passage, showing the
supposed genesis of the ' intellectual affections,' explains the
peculiar order in which the various classes of those affec-
tions appear in Hartley's list. Since all except pleasures
and pains of sensation were to be proved factitious, and
since sympathy was to be vindicated as no more factitious
than the others, this was the order correspondmg to the
supposed order of development. (2) That the develop-
ment itself, as here explained, is problematical in the ex-
' See Pt. I., prop. Ixxxix., p. 232.
David Hartley. i 2 i
treme hardly need be pointed out. The reader feels as
if he were being treated to a not over-skilful exhibition
of psychological sleight of hand. At least this remark
applies to the first part of the explanation, where the
ascent from pleasures and pains of sensation to those of
theopathy and moral sense is explained. And it may be added
that the author's more extended treatment of the same
subject makes the details of his theory hardly, if at all, more
plausible. But (3) the last part of the explanation, where
the author shows how the ' higher ' affections (however
generated) are bound to react upon the ' lower,' and make
them essentially different in the civilised adult from what
they would otherwise be, is calculated to make the discerning
reader somewhat lenient ; for it was just this very important
reciprocal influence which the Associationists, particularly
those of early date, were accustomed to neglect. But, unfor-
tunately, what Hartley gains in our estimation here, in one
respect, he loses in another. It was most important to call
attention to this reciprocal influence between one part or
side of our nature and all the rest ; but the resulting compli-
cation is greater than Associationism had the apparatus to
cope with. That was doubtless why this idea of Hartley's
was not carried further.
The * rule of life ' which Hartley lays down, has been so
completely foreshadowed by his psychological explanation
of our ' intellectual affections,' that there can be little doubt
that his ethical theory, in outline at least, anticipated this part
of his psychology. The two, in fact, as we find them, are
inseparable. The classification and explanation of our ' in-
tellectual affections ' furnishes the outline for his unsystem-
atic and decidedly clumsy treatment of Ethics proper.
Beginning with sensation, he shows, as might be expected,
that the pleasures of sensation ought not to be made a pri-
mary pursuit. 1 The reasons given for this are largely of the
obvious prudential kind; but he also resorts to a kind of
a priori reasoning from analogy, which is to become more
* See Pt. II., prop. 1., pp. 454 et seq.
122 History of Utilitarianism.
and more prominent as he proceeds with his treatment of
Ethics. That which is prior in nature is always less perfect
than that which is posterior ; but we have seen that pleasures
and pains of sensation are prior to the ' intellectual affec-
tions ' ; therefore they " cannot be supposed of equal value
and dignity with the intellectual, to the generation of which
they are made subservient ". Hartley is always true to this
belief in the qualitative distinctions between pleasures, which
forms an essential feature of his ethical system. Just as
sympathy, though factitious as regards its origin, is practically
co-ordinate with egoism, as a principle of human action, and
should be more than that ; so the distinction between ' higher '
and ' lower,' though explained in terms of development, is
to all intents and purposes an ultimate distinction, one of
kind and not of degree. Those who speak of Hartley in
general terms as the typical Associationist-Utilitarian, should
be very careful to recall these cases where his interpretation
of the logical consequences of his method was precisely the
reverse of that of his successors of whatever ethical school.
But if the pleasures of sense should not be made a primary
pursuit, neither should those of the imagination.^ Our re-
gard for these, as for the pleasures of sensation, should
be regulated by the precepts of benevolence, piety, and the
moral sense. The arguments advanced here are very
similar to those advanced with reference to sensible pleasures.
For instance, as sensible pleasures were presumably of less
worth than the intellectual, because prior, so here we have
to do with the earliest, and therefore presumably the lovv^est,
intellectual pleasures. And when the author comes to treat
of the pleasures and pains of ambition, much the same argu-
ments, adapted as the case requires (since we are one step
higher in the series), have to do service again. The prudential
arguments, also, are repeated with considerable emphasis in
each case.
If the remainder of Hartley's treatment of the ' rule of
life ' consisted merely in repeating, as he is bound to do,
' See Pt. II., prop. Iv., pp. 473 el ieq.
David Hartley. 123
almost the same arguments at each successive step, as show-
ing that the ' lower ' pleasures must be subordinated to the
' higher,' it would hardly be necessary to proceed with our
exposition, since the reader could readily anticipate the course
of the argument for himself. But a glance at the list of
' intellectual affections,' which Hartley takes as the outline
for his treatment of Ethics, will show that we still have to
deal with the relative value of the pleasures and pains of
' self-interest,' ' sympathy,' ' theopathy,' and the ' moral sense '.
Evidently we come here to the very core of his ethical system.
Neglecting the form of exposition, which, as just said, can
readily be surmised from the preceding, let us first examine
the position of self-interest in Hartley's system. Three kinds
of self-interest are recognised: (i) 'gross' self-interest, or
the pursuit of the means for obtaining the pleasures of sensa-
tion, imagination, and ambition ; (2) ' refined ' self-interest, or
the pursuit of the means for obtaining the pleasures of sym-
pathy, theopathy, and the moral sense ; and (3) ' rational '
self-interest, or the pursuit of such things as are believed
to be the means for obtaining our greatest possible happiness,
"at the same time that we are ignorant, or do not consider,
from what particular species of pleasure this our greatest
possible happiness will arise "}
Now, apart from the general criticism that the classification
as a whole is on a questionable principle, this very analysis
shows that to make one class of ' intellectual affections '
pleasures and pains of ' self-interest,' was absurd. There is
nothing in self-interest, by itself considered, to afford the
basis for a particular class of affections. ' Gross ' self-interest,
according to Hartley, is satisfied by the three ' lower ' classes
of pleasures, in the ascending order of sensation, imagination,
and ambition ; ' refined ' self-interest, by the three ' higher '
classes of pleasures, in the order of sympathy, theopathy, and
moral sense. It might be assumed, as a matter of course,
that Hartley would put ' refined ' self-interest upon a higher
plane than ' gross ' self-interest, since it must look for its
' See Pt. II., prop. Ixv., p. 491.
I 24 History of Utilitai'ianisin.
satisfaction to the * higher ' pleasures, just mentioned. He
does, indeed, show that ' gross ' self-interest being incompatible
with the pleasures of theopathy and the moral sense, is " an
insuperable objection to its being made our primary pursuit,"
— this quite apart from the fact, strongly urged, that it tends
to defeat itself. But when he comes to show that neither
should ' refined ' self-interest be made our primary pursuit, he
says : " Refined self-interest, when indulged, is a much deeper
and more dangerous error than the gross, because it shelters
itself under sympathy, theopathy, and the moral sense, so as to
grow through their protection ". Moreover, " the pride attend-
ing on refined self-interest, when carried to a certain height,
is of an incorrigible, and, as it were, diabolical nature "?-
What, then, one is moved to ask, can ' rational ' self-
interest (the third kind) mean, according to Hartley's system ?
Earlier in the book, he says of ' rational ' self-interest : " This
is the same thing with the abstract desire of happiness, and
aversion to misery, which is supposed to attend every in-
telligent being during the whole course of his existence "?
Now this ' abstract desire of happiness ' must be for the
pleasures within the reach of the agent, and there are no such
pleasures, except those already enumerated. There can be
no doubt that on this point Hartley is, even more than
ordinarily, confused. His clearest statement is the following :
" Rational self-interest may therefore be said to lie between
the impure motives of sensation, imagination, ambition, gross
self-interest, and refined self-interest, on the one hand, zmd
the pure ones of sympathy, theopathy, and the moral sense,
on the other ; so that when it restrains the impure ones, or
cherishes the pure, it may be reckoned a virtue ; when it
cherishes the impure, or damps the pure, a vice "?
This, of course, is hopeless. We only begin to understand
the author, when, in the course of his practical observations,
he says, e.g. : " However the gross or refined self-interest
' See Vl. II., prop. Ixv., p. 494.
-See Ft. I., prop, xcvi., p. 291.
'See Ft. II., prop. Ixv., p. 495.
David Hartley. i 2 5
may, upon certain occasions, be disappointed, the rational
one never can, whilst we act upon a principle of duty ". The
statement is confused, but Hartley probably means to say that
we must never act from considerations of purely personal
interest at all ; if we do our whole duty, our higher interest
will take care of itself. This comes out most clearly, when
Hartley explains his characteristic doctrine of ' self-annihila-
tion '. He proposes to mediate between the egoistic and
altruistic theories regarding the motive in moral action ; but,
as will be seen, he really declares for one side in the contro-
versy. His conclusion is as follows .- " The virtuous disposi-
tions of benevolence, piety, and the moral sense, and
particularly that of the love of God, check all the foregoing
ones, and seem sufficient utterly to extinguish them at last.
This would be perfect self-annihilation, and resting in God
as oiur centre. And upon the whole, we may conclude, that
though it be impossible to begin without sensuality, and sen-
sual selfishness, or to proceed without the other intermediate
principles, and particularly that of rational self-interest ; yet
we ought never to be satisfied with ourselves, till we arrive
at perfect self-annihilation, and the pure love of God." ^
We are now in possession of all that is really essential to
Hartley's system. We need not be thrown off the track,
even when, in treating of the pleasures of sympathy, the
author shows that these, on the one hand, increase those of
sensation, imagination, ambition, and self-interest, and, on the
other hand, unite with those of theopathy and the moral
sense ; and when he adds .- " They are self-consistent, and
admit of an unlimited extent : they may therefore be our
primary pursuit "? Of course, this is not what Hartley
really means to say, for he has just urged that ' refined ' self-
interest is even more dangerous (because more insidious) than
' gross ' self-interest. Hence, of course, the pleasures of
sympathy are by no means to be indulged in {qua pleasures)
without restriction. What he doubtless means is, that the
principle of sympathy is to be allowed perfectly free play.
' See Pt. II., prop, l.wii., p. 497. - Ibid., Ixviii., p. 498.
126 History of Utilitarianisfn.
The confusion results from Hartley's inveterate habit of
appealing constantly to egoistic motives, while holding all
the time that, not egoism, but self-annihilation is the true
principle of human action. Indeed, he says : " Since benevo-
lence is now proved to be a primary pursuit, it follows, that
we are to direct every action so as to produce the greatest
happiness, and the least misery, in our power. This is that
rule of social behaviour, which universal unlimited benevo-
lence inculcates." ^
It might seem as if, after all Hartley's logical inconsistencies,
he had ended by stating Utilitarianism in its modem form :
the ' greatest happiness of the greatest number ' the end
of moral action, and the motive of the agent, in very con-
siderable degree, at least, unselfish. But in the application
of his principles. Hartley halts far behind Gay and Hume.
He says : " It is impossible for the most sagacious and ex-
perienced persons to make any accurate estimate of the future
consequences of particular actions, so as, in all the variety
of circumstances which occur, to determine justly, which action
would contribute most to augment happiness and lessen
misery". Then, instead of showing, as Tucker and Paley
did later, that, owing to such difficulties, we must act, not
from computations in the particular case, but with a view to
the general consequences of given classes of actions, he lays
down ten rules, which amount really to shirking the considera-
tion of external consequences almost altogether. The first
rule is, that we follow the Scriptural precepts in the natural,
obvious, and popular meaning of them ; the second, that we
have great regard for our own moral sense, and that of others.
Hartley says : " This rule coincides remarkably with the
foregoing. They are together the chief supports of all that
is good, even in the most refined and philosophical, as well
as in the vulgar ; and therefore must not be weakened, or
explained away." The third rule, indeed, is that we are
to take account of consequences, and let such considerations
have some influence with us, but never in opposition to the
' See Pt. II., prop. Ixx., p. 504.
David Hartley. 127
first two rules. The other rules mentioned are purely prac-
tical precepts, and need not be considered here.
With characteristic infelicity, Hartley confuses his treat-
ment of the relation of Ethics to Religion by urging that the
love of God procures a pleasure superior in kind and degree
to all the rest, and that this is one important reason why it
should be our primary pursuit and ultimate end. Neglecting
this inconsistency, we may find Hartley's real meaning in the
first part of the same proposition, where he shows that " the
love of God regulates, improves, and perfects all the other
parts of our nature "}■ A very commonplace statement this,
it may be thought, and the following reflections are, on the
whole, far from intellectually illuminating ; but their dulness
should not blind us to one very important fact, viz., that
according to Hartley we need religion, not primarily because
we need to remain in constant fear of a God who has it in
His power to inflict unlimited punishments, or to bribe us with
rewards beyond computation, but because self-annihilation
and communion with God presuppose each other, are two
essential phases of our growth in moral perfection, so that at
the last feax is lost in love. An examination of the text would
perhaps show that Hartley is even less of a theologian than a
moral philosopher, in the sense of technical proficiency ; but
we can forgive much in the man who saw * through a glass
darkly ' what was beyond the vision of so many of the ac-
credited theologians of his own and later times.
Inseparably connected with Hartley's view of the relation
of Ethics to Religion, is his theory of the moral sense. As we
have just seen, he holds that we cannot determine the morality
of actions primetrily with respect to consequences ; but that
we must act always with a view to Scriptural precepts, taking
very particular pains to do nothing that shall blunt the moral
sense, either in ourselves or in others. When he comes to
consider the moral sense directly, he says that this " ought
to be made the immediate guide of our actions on all sudden
emergencies ; and therefore its pleasures may be considered
^ See Pt. II., prop. Ixxi., p. 514.
128 History of Utilitarianism.
as making part of our primary pursuit " } Since this con-
fusion is of the same kind that we have repeatedly noticed,
and since the author's real meaning is sufficiently plain, we
may properly neglect it.
For Hartley's clearest account of the genesis of the moral
sense, we must look to his earlier analysis of the pleasures
and pains pertaining to that faculty. After some rather
scattering observations, he concludes : " And thus we may
perceive, that all the pleasures and pains of sensation,
imagination, ambition, self-interest, sympathy, and theopathy,
as far as they are consistent with one another, with the frame
of our natures, and with the course of the world, beget in us
a moral sense, and lead us to the love and approbation of
virtue, and to the fear, hatred, and abhorrence of vice "? The
meaning seems to be, that the harmony of our other affections
in some way produces the moral sense ; but for Hartley, as
for others, the moral sense, when once it exists, exercises a
regulative function, one very important object of which is
to produce a harmony of all the other affections. We are
not reassured, when he immediately adds : " This moral sense
therefore carries its own authority with it, inasmuch as it
is the sum total of all the rest, and the ultimate result from
them ; and employs the force and authority of the whole
nature of man against any particular part of it, that rebels
against the determinations and commands of the conscience
or moral judgment ". Later in the book, Hartley says :
" The moral sense is generated chiefly by piety, benevolence,
and rational self-interest ; all of which are explicit guides of
life in deliberate actions " ; ^ but this only makes the con-
fusion worse. These vague and partly conflicting accounts of
the genesis of the moral sense are hardly calculated to give us
a firm conviction of its authoritative character. The difficulty
is not so much that it has in some way been developed in the
course of human experience, as that we are left so largely in
the dark as to how it was developed, and exactly what it is.
^ See Pt. II., prop. Ixxiv., p. 531.
2 See Pt. I., prop, xcix., p. 311. •' See Pt. II., prop. Ixxiv., p. 532.
David Hartley. 129
The preceding exposition will probably convince the reader
that Hartley's system is principally important, as being the
first elaborate attempt to work out the Associationist theory,
with reference both to Psychology and to Ethics. Of the
value of his contribution to Psychology, we shall be able
better to judge when we have examined Tucker's system.
Until then, indeed, we can hardly be said to have anything
with which to compare it. On the other hand, it is perfectly
clear that this first attempt systematically to develop As-
sociationism produced very little of permanent value for
Ethics. We have but to compare Hartley's treatment of
Ethics with the outline sketched by Gay, in order to see how
greatly inferior it is both in consistency and originality ; while
it goes without saying that Hartley contributed nothing to
ethical literature at all comparable in value with even the
first (and, in the present writer's opinion, inferior) version
of Hume's theory, which had been published as Book III.
of the Treatise nine years before the Observations. But,
more particularly, we must notice that Hartley was not the
typical Associationist-Utilitarian, as is frequently assumed.
Unlike any of that school who immediately followed, he held
(i) that there are qualitative differences between pleasures ;
(2) that ' derived ' sympathy, and not the pursuit of one's
own ultimate happiness, must be regarded as the true motive
in moral action ; and (3) that the consideration of conse-
quences should play a very subordinate part in determin-
ing the rightness or wrongness of actions. This last feature of
Hartley's system, indeed, nearly excludes him from the Utili-
tarian school altogether. Hutcheson actually conceded
almost, if not quite, as much to the importance of the conse-
quences of actions as did Hartley. The ethical part of the
Observations remains an instructive example of a truth with
which one is often impressed in the History of Philosophy :
that those who are the first to employ a new ' method ' are
often more blind even than their own contemporaries as to
its logical consequences.
CHAPTER VII.
ABRAHAM TUCKER.
Gay's Preliminary Dissertation — which, as we have seen,
appeared in 1731 as an essay prefixed to Law's translation
of King's Origin of Evil — had a most peculiar fate. Pub-
lished anonymously, it seems never to have been claimed by
the author, whose first name, even, is not generally known. ^
Though this remarkable essay was the first statement of
Utilitarianism in its completely differentiated form, Hume
does not mention it, or show that he was acquainted with it,
either in Book III. of the Treatise of Human Nature (1740)
or in the Inquiry concerning the Principles of Morals (175 1).
Hartley, indeed, with a scrupulousness which the more gifted
writers of his own and the succeeding generation might well
have imitated, did mention " the Rev. Mr. Gay " as having
suggested to him, through his reported views and his pub-
h'shed Dissertation, " the possibility of deducing all our in-
tellectual pleasures and pains from association ". This was
in the preface to the well-known Observations on Man, pub-
lished in 1749. Hartley's actual treatment of 'association,'
however, was quite different from that suggested by Gay,
while his particular applications of the principle to the solu-
tion of ethical problems differed still more from those to be
found in the Preliminary Dissertation.
' Whewell was probably right in thinking that he had identified him with
" John Gay, who took the degree of B.A. at Sidney College in 1721, and was
afterwards Fellow of the College ". See Lectures on the History of Moral
Philosophy in England, Lect. x. Other writers commonly follow Hartley's
example, and refer to him as " the Rev. Mr. Gay ".
(130)
Abraham Tucker. 131
But nineteen years after the publication of Hartley's
book — thirty-seven years after the publication of the Dis-
sertation itself — the first four volumes appeared of a work
entitled The Light of Nature Pursued {iy62,), published under
the obvious pseudonym of " Edward Search ". Here, to be
sure, we have no direct mention of Gay ; but the work con-
sists largely in the complete and systematic development of
the fundamental ideas of the Dissertation, as regards both
Psychology and Ethics. It would be difficult to mention two
ethical writers standing for almost exactly the same general
principles, who differ so much in style and method of treat-
ment as do Gay and Abraiiam Tucker. Not only was the
Preliminary Dissertation severely compressed and published
anonymously, but it was, in itself, a singularly impersonal
essay. Regarding the author, one can only infer that he
was a remarkably clear, logical, and original thinker, though
with hardly a reahsing sense of the complexity of the phenom-
ena of our moral life. In the case of Tucker, on the other
hand, in spite of his employment of a whimsical pseudonym,
the personality of the author is always before us. Indeed,
for purposes of illustration, he does not hesitate to refer to
his own courtship. We see him in his book for what he
actually was in life, an English gentleman of the old school,
full of humanity and good sense, and possessed of an infinite
leisure which one envies him far more than his wealth :
setting about his task each day with the consciousness that
he may devote the rest of his life to it, if he will ; now dis-
playing great keenness of insight in his treatment of psycho-
logical and ethical problems ; now indulging in fantastical
speculations like that regarding the ' vehicular soul ' ; now
concerned with the revision of theology according to the dic-
tates not of the head but of the heart ; and now discussing
current metaphysical problems with unbounded good nature,
it is true, but with an utter failure to comprehend their import
which reminds one of Dr. Johnson's classic refutation of
idealism.
In a word, we find in Tucker the almost perfect embodi-
132 History of Utilitarianism.
merit of old-fashioned English good-nature and good sense,
so long as he is concerned with the concrete realities of
human experience ; but when he ventures upon distinctly
metaphysical ground, we find this charming old gentleman
alternating between the complacent obstinacy of common-
sense and the wildest vagaries of a metaphysical dreamer.
His style is as diffuse as well could be, but is uniformly
clear, and his illustrations have sometimes been mentioned
as about the best in English ethical literature. It will readily
be seen that the portentous bulk of Tucker's work — the
conclusion was published posthumously in three volumes in
1777 — ^would alone make it impossible to follow the author
exactly, as regards order of treatment, even if one desired to
do so. But the lack of methodical arrangement in the
Light of Nature would make this undesirable in any case.
We shall, however, attempt to follow the main thread of the
argument which knits together the mass of material con-
tained in the first three or four of the seven octavo volumes.^
In order to understand Tucker's ethical system, with which
alone we are here primarily concerned, we must first examine
its psychological foundation. Moreover, it will be well to
do this in some detail, for the Light of Nature probably
contains a better account than any other single work of the
psychological views held practically in common by the older
school of Utilitarians. Tucker begins by once for all, and
confessedly, adopting Locke's psychology as the basis for
his own. He is fond of emphasising small differences on
occasion, but he never pretends to depart materially from his
master where fundamentals are concerned. And yet, it would
be grossly inaccurate to describe Tucker's psychology as
merely a reproduction of Locke's. The principle of the
Association of Ideas — hardly more than indicated by his
1 The whole work is divided into three Parts (not so called, however) of quite
unequal length. These are (i) " Human Nature," (2) " Theology," (3) " Lights
of Nature and Gospel Blended". The first two Parts are important, while the
third, though constituting almost exactly half the work, is of very minor conse-
quence. For brevity, these main divisions will be designated in future references
as Parts I., II., and III,
Abraham Tucker. 133
master,! and employed only to explain the vagaries of our
mental life — plays in Tucker's system the all-important part.
This makes it the more strange that he should omit all men-
tion of Gay, and speak of Hartley — whose Obset'vations on
Man had long been published — very seldom, and then almost
always to criticise him adversely. But if Tucker fails to confess
his obligations to these two writers, as modern literary courtesy
would seem to require, he does something to make up for it
by his constant references to Locke, for whom he seems to
have entertained an extravagant admiration. All of Hume's
philosophical works had, of course, appeared some time before
the publication of the first four volumes of the Light of
Nature; but his influence is difficult, if not impossible, to
trace. ^ As might be expected, moreover, Butler's Sermons
upon Huntaji Nature (1726), with their very suggestive treat-
ment of the psychology of desire, etc., were wasted on Tucker,
as, indeed, they were on all the earlier Utilitarians.
Having thus noticed Tucker's general relation to his pre-
decessors, we may profitably turn at once to his own treatment
of Psychology. The question of mental ' faculties ' he dis-
poses of, not very satisfactorily, in a few words. " Hence
we may reasonably gather that the mind possesses two
faculties ; one by which we perform whatever we do, and
another by which we discern whatever presents itself to our
apprehension. The former has usually been styled the Will,
and the latter the Understanding." -^ The author immediately
goes on to explain that he regards will as ' active ' and
understanding as ' passive '. As we shall have occasion to
notice later, however, this ' activity ' of the will is vaguely
^ This refers, of course, to Locke's explicit treatment of Association.
- We fail to detect Hume's influence just where it might be expected to show
itself. It would be anticipating to go into details, but one point will perhaps
serve to illustrate. In his treatment of the for him all-important principle of
Association, Tucker does not recognise the (at least apparent) difference be-
tween ' association by contiguity ' and ' association by similarity '. This had
been clearly done by Hume in the Treatise (1739; see Bk. I., Pt. I., § iv.), and
later in the Inquiry concerning Human Understanding (1748 ; see § III.).
'•' See Pt. I., ch. i., § 2 (second ed.).
134 History of Utilitarianism.
conceived by him. Though Tucker theoretically recognises
only the two faculties above named, he puts pleasure and pain
on an entirely different footing from other ' sensations ' and
' ideas '. The former always tend to make us do, or cease
from doing, something ; the latter cannot by themselves even
be conceived as having such an influence. We shall therefore
be justified in treating separately pleasure and pain, as well
as ' satisfaction ' and ' dissatisfaction,' which are employed
merely as more general terms. This will conduce to clearness
of exposition and do no violence to Tucker's own views. ^
And, first, let us consider his account of the cognitive side
of our experience. What is said concerning ' sensation ' and
' reflection ' ^ amounts to little more than a reassertion of the
general Lockean position with regard to the origin of our
knowledge. Hartley's influence, however, may also be de-
tected here, as, for instance, in the following peculiar passage :
" I have before declared that by the term ideas, I do not under-
stand the very perceptions of the mind, but the figure, motion,
or other modification, of some interior fibres, animal spirits, or
other substances, immediately causing perception ; which sub-
stances I have since called the mental organs ".^ This is
rather worse than Hartley himself — to whom, by the way, no
allusion is here made — but it is only fair to Tucker to say that
he does not follow up this attempt to translate the mental
into imaginary physiological terms, which so greatly detracts
from the value of Hartley's own work.
Tucker's account of ' association ' is more characteristic.
When ideas, originally obtained through * sensation ' or * re-
flection,' have co-existed in the mind a sufficient number of
times, they may combine in either of two ways : (i) by ' com-
position,' when they fuse, so as to form one single complex
idea ; (2) by ' association ' proper, " when they appear in
couples, strongly adhering to each other ". The most ob-
vious case of association is that between words and their
meanings. In fact, all the examples given are of what would
* See, particularly, Pt. I., chs. v., vi.
" See Pt. I., chs. vii., viii. '■' Ibid., ch. viii., § 3.
Abraham Tucker. 135
now be called ' association by contiguity,' as opposed to ' as-
sociation by similarity '. Here Tucker seems to follow
Hartley (1749) and neglect Hume (1739V Of course it was
later held by certain Associationists, that all cases of so-
called ' association by similarity ' could be reduced to terms
of what they assumed to be the more fundamental form,
' association by contiguity ' ; but — even apart from the appar-
ently insuperable difficulties in the way of such simplification
— this is a refinement of the Associationist doctrine with
which we are not concerned at present. If Tucker had left
the theory of ' association ' here, his treatment could not have
been regarded as really important. It would have been little
more than a popular version of what Hume had expressed
both more briefly and more exactly, and of what Hartley had
worked out in almost wearisome detail. But the author seems
to have in mind a teacher more suggestive, from his point of
view, than either of the others — the writer of the Disserta-
tion. For he immediately goes on to consider what he calls
■ trains '. Associations are by no means exhausted by the
cases where two ideas only go together. As a rule, several
ideas follow in succession, all having reference to some general
topic, and these Tucker calls a ' train '. The fact that such
' trains ' are the rule, and not the exception, is sufficiently
evident As to their origin, he says .- " Desire, curiosity,
amusement, voluntary attention, or whatever else carries the
notice frequently through a number of ideas always in the
same series, links them into a train "? Incidentally, the
author commits himself to the view, that we must recognise
cases where the connecting links are physiological rather than
mental, in other words to what, in comparatively recent times,
has become familiarly known as the theory of ' unconscious
cerebration '.
But even this is only preliminary to Tucker's main pur-
pose, though many rambling discussions intervene before
he again takes up what is really the thread of the present
^ Hume had, of course, clearly recognised both kinds of association.
2 See Pt. I., ch. x., § 3.
136 History of Utilitarianism.
argument. At length he says, following Gay almost exactly,
so far as the principle is concerned : " But daily experience
testifies that conviction will often remain after the grounds
of it have slipped out of our thought : whenever we reflect on
the thing proved, there occurs a judgment of its being true,
united in the same assemblage without aid of any proof to
support it ; and this many times after the proofs are so far
gone out of our memory that we cannot possibly recall them.
By this channel we are supplied with many truths, commonly
reputed self-evident, because though we know them assuredly
for truths, we cannot discover how we came by that knowl-
edge. In like manner we have store of propensities, gener-
ally esteemed natural, because we cannot readily trace them
to any other origin than that quality of affecting us, assigned
by nature to certain ideas. But having shown how translation
prevails in satisfaction, as well as assent, there will appear
reason to conclude, that we derive our inclinations and moral
senses through the same channel as our knowledge, without
having them interwoven originally into our constitution." ^
I have chosen to quote Tucker's own language here —
though it may require a few words of explanation, and though
the last passage carries us beyond his treatment of mere
cognition — for it shows at once what his position is, as re-
gards Intuitionism and the Moral Sense doctrine, and also
how exactly he follows Gay at this, the crucial point of his
whole argument. What Tucker means here, and what he
sufficiently explains elsewhere, though hardly in the proper
context, is practically as follows. Our thought proceeds, as
we have seen, not ordinarily by isolated ' associations,' but in
continuous ' trains '. Now, these ' trains ' may be, and fre-
quently are, repeated. And the more they are repeated, the
more two things tend to happen : (i) some part of the * train '
comes more and more to absorb our attention, while (2) —
what is equally important — the remaining parts gradually
drop out of consciousness. Thus, a, b, c, etc., may be the
original steps by which we reached some important truth, M.
1 See Pt. I., ch. xviii., § i.
Abraham J 7uker. 137
It might seem at first as if habit would tend to make indehble
the series as a whole. As a matter of fact, however, it does
nothing of the kind ; and this because the really interesting
thing is My and not the antecedent steps, which latter fall
more and more into the background until they may become
wholly forgotten. This, of course, will make M stand out as
a fictitious ultimate, e.g., as a particular ' intuitive ' truth.
Now this theoretically deceptive, but practically economical,
principle is what Tucker means by ' translation *. It applies
constantly, not only to the development of our cognitions,
but to that of our emotions and passions as well ; and in this
latter function, particularly, it becomes for Tucker the uni-
versal solvent of the difficulties of Ethics.
Let us now turn to the author's treatment of the affective
and volitional side of our nature. As we have already noted,
he recognises only two ' faculties,' Understanding and Will.
At the same time, his treatment of pleasure and pain could
hardly have been more distinct from his treatment of our
other perceptions, if he had assigned them to a third ' faculty,'
as was later done by members of the Associationist school.
So far, then, there is no difficulty ; but for Tucker, as for
other determinist Associationists, the will is little more than
the resultant of a psychic parallelogram of forces — the
' forces ' in the case being, of course, pleasurable or painful
perceptions. Thus, in treating of pleasure and pain, ' satis-
faction ' and ' dissatisfaction/ as constituting motives, we shall
necessarily be considering, at the same time, the more im-
portant part of what he has to say regarding the will.
We may profitably begin by raising Tucker's own question :
What is it that gives ' weight ' to our motives ? Certain
things attract us, others repel us. Why? The obvious
answer is, that the former suggest what we call ' pleasurable,'
the latter what we call ' painful ' experiences — for surely ideas,
merely as such, do not lead to action. But we must be more
careful in the use of language, if we would express the exact
truth. The author says .- " Pleasure in vulgar estimation
138 History of Utilitarianism.
stands opposed to business, duty, works of use and necessity :
yet in all these we feel some engagement, self-approbation
or complacence of mind, that carries us through with them.
Pleasures, usually so called, often lose their gust, they satiate
and cloy upon repetition, and nauseate instead of inviting.
Therefore Mr. Locke has fixed upon the term Satisfaction,
as being more extensive, comprehending all that complacence
we feel as well in business as diversion^ as well in the works
of prudence as in the starts of fancy." ^ This term ' satis-
faction ' is adopted by Tucker, and there he practically lets
the matter rest, though he says a good deal more by wa)' of
popular explanation and illustration.
It must not be supposed, however, that he is attempting to
evade a difficulty which he sees by the use of an ambiguous
term. For Rim, there is no other difficulty in the case than
this, that positive and unmistakable pleasures and pains are
less numerous than we are apt to suppose, and therefore not
sufficient to determine all our actions. It never seems to
occur to him as a possibility, that we can desire anything
qualitatively different from our own greater pleasure or less
pain. ' Satisfaction ' and ' dissatisfaction,' therefore, are
merely more general terms than pleasure and pain, in the
sense that they include even the lowest possible stages of these
latter, such as we habitually disregard in our ordinary experi-
ence. There is nothing to indicate that Tucker was even
acquainted with Butler's view, that the major part of our
desires, even those of sense, ' terminate in the object '. From
the latter point of view, so familiar at the present time, the
word ' satisfaction ' would of course take on an entirely dif-
ferent meaning from that just explained.
But, while Tucker never doubts that ' satisfaction ' and ' dis-
satisfaction ' alone can constitute a motive, he is not quite clear
as to how we are induced to seek our own future satisfaction,
avoid our own future dissatisfaction — and yet this, according
to his view, is precisely that in which all deliberate action
ultimately consists. He points out that " it is not very sstis-
1 See Pt. I., ch. vi., § i.
Abj'aliaiu Tucker. 139
faction, but the prospect or idea of it " that leads to action.
Indeed, he says : " Since, then, expectation is not the same
with the thing expected, it follows that we may pursue satis-
faction without being in a state of enjoyment, and fly uneasi-
ness without being in a state of suffering "} But if the idea of
satisfaction, not satisfaction itself, is what moves one, why
may not other ideas conceivably have the same effect ? Or,
if one adopt the altogether safer position, that it is the
' satisfaction ' attaching to some idea and not the idea attach-
ing to ' satisfaction ' that constitutes the motive, the question
immediately arises : Why may not ' satisfaction ' attach to
other ideas besides that of one's own future pleasure ? But
Tucker did not follow up this question, so fraught with danger
for one holding, as he does, that one can ultimately desire
nothing but one's own satisfaction.^
But if Tucker is somewhat confused on the question as to
what, exactly, constitutes a motive, he is not only consistent,
but perfectly explicit in the statement of his general hedon-
istic position. He will hear nothing of ' qualitative distinc-
tions,' as applying to pleasures and pains. He says :
" Satisfaction is always one and the same in kind, how much
soever it may vary in degree, for it is that state the mind is
thrown into upon the application of things agreeable ; and
whatever possesses that quality in equal degree, whether
meats and drinks, or diversion, or gain, or acquisition of power,
or reflection on past performances, fills it with the same con-
tent and complacence : wherefore the various species of
motives must be distinguished by the variety of vehicles
1 See Pt. I., ch. vi., § 5.
- In one passage, Tucker seems to be on the point of at least partially ex-
tricating himself from his confusion on this matter. He says that, in one
sense, " present satisfaction is the end we have constantly in view on proceeding
to action" (Pt. I., ch. vi., § 6). But he immediately explains that "the satis-
faction we propose in every exertion of our activity is that of the moment next
immediately ensuing, and this may be called present satisfaction without any
impropriety of speech". Clearly this does not enable the author to escape
from the theoretical difficulty mentioned above, though it does probably show
that he vaguely felt the difficulty.
140 History of Utilitarianism.
containing satisfaction ".^ These ' vehicles ' the author quite
arbitrarily, and rather inconsistently, reduces to ' pleasure,'
' use,' ' honour,' and ' necessity ' — terms which might prove
misleading, if his meaning were not otherwise clear. This
denial of ' qualitative distinctions ' between different classes
of pleasures and pains, sounds commonplace enough now,
for we are all agreed that it is the only consistent view for
hedonism ; but, while other English writers {^.g.■> Gay) had
held views from which this position alone was logically de-
ducible, Tucker was the first, so far as I am aware, to state
it in so many words.^
In his account of the ' genesis of pleasures,' Tucker is
true to his universally convenient principle of ' translation '.^
Nature gives us at first only the pleasures of ' sensation ' and
' appetite ' ; but soon ' reflection ' comes upon the scene, and
supplies us with the many and various pleasures which we call
' mental,' as distinguished from those which depend entirely
upon the condition of the body. These ' mental,' or so-called
' higher,' pleasures constitute by far the greater part of our
enjoyments in adult life, as any one will readily see from
his own experience. But they differ from ' pleasures of sense,'
not by any means qualitatively, but merely by virtue of the
complexity of the associations which they involve, and the
dropping out of the intermediate links which would otherwise
betray their lowly origin. In short, the * higher ' pleasures are,
as a class, more ' translated ' than the ' lower ' ones ; and the
' higher ' any individual pleasure is, the more ' translated ' it
will always on inspection prove to be.
But, while we can desire nothing but our own ' satisfaction,'
according to Tucker, we are often thwarted in our attempt to
secure that which we desire ; and hence arise the ' passions '.
We cannot follow the author through his explanation of the
genesis and development of the particular passions. Often,
perhaps usually, he is perversely ingenious. For example,
' See Pt. I., ch. xvi., § i.
^Others, of course — e.g., Hutcheson -liad explicitly maintained the contrary.
" See Pt. I., ch. xxii.
Abraham Tucker. 1 4 1
he says of revenge : " The desire of revenge is not a natural
but a translated desire : we first look upon it as a means of
procuring ease to ourselves, and security from injury ; but
having often beheld it in this light, the end at length drops
out of sight, and desire, according to the usual process of
translation, rests upon the means, which thenceforward be-
come an end whereon our views will terminate ".^ In other
words, revenge, so far from being an original tendency of
human nature, is to be regarded as a highly ' translated ' pas-
sion. And, as regards the other ' passions ' and ' affections ' —
the ' affections ' differing from the ' passions ' only in their less
degree of intensity — not only is the love of money derived,
as Gay had shown, but also that of liberty and power ; nay,
even the so-called ' instinct of self-preservation ' ! Surely this
must be regarded as the reductio ad absurdutn of the concep-
tion of mind as a tabula rasa, helped out by the principles of
' association ' and ' translation '.
Such explanations hardly do Tucker justice, and may best
be viewed as curiosities of his psychology ; but there is an-
other explanation, analogous to the above, which can by no
means be neglected, viz., the author's derivation of ' sym-
pathy ' by means of ' translation '. He says : " We are not
long in the world from our first entrance before we perceive
that our pleasures and pains depend much upon the actions
of those about us : on a little further progress, we discover
that their actions follow their disposition of mind, and after-
wards learn to distinguish those dispositions by certain marks
of them in their looks and gestures. This makes children
perpetually attentive to the motions and countenance of
persons into whose hands they fall : nor does there want an-
other cause to render them more so, for havmg but few
stores in their own imagination, they catch the ideas of other
people to supply themselves with employment. And in our
advanced years we cannot well carry on any business or
argument, or enjoy the pleasures of conversation, without
entering into the thoughts and notions of one another. When
1 See Pt. I., ch. xxi., § 6.
142 History of Utilitarianism.
we arrive at the use of understanding, the judgment of others
weighs with us as a just and natural evidence, inducing us to
judge accordingly ; but we have seen how the judgment of
expedience, frequently reiterated, transfers satisfaction upon
the measures so conceived expedient : and we purposely
imitate the ways and manners of our teachers, or other per-
sons whom we esteem more expert and knowing in an}'
matter than ourselves. Thus we acquire much of our sym-
pathy by inadvertent notice, and add more by design and
industry ; until custom in both ways has worked out trains
wherein imagination learns to run involuntarily and mechani-
cally. This appears most evident in compassion, for we can-
not help sympathising with distress, though we feel it painful
to ourselves, and know it can afford no relief to the party
suffering." ^
It has seemed best to quote this long passage in full, not
only because of the great importance of the matter in question
for Tucker's ethical theory, but also because the explanation
itself is by no means as simple and unambiguous as it seems
to be at first. In fact, this is a good example of the way in
which the author occasionally makes a number of fairly just
observations, without trying sharply to distinguish the prin-
ciples involved. As it stands, the explanation is open to
serious criticism. All is ostensibly due to habit and the
principle' of ' translation ' ; but an original curiosity and imi-
tative tendency have also been tacitly assumed, and, what is
much more important, the chasm between feeling like others
and feeling for them has apparently not been bridged over
at all. But it would be unjust to criticise this attempt to ex-
plain the derivation of ' sympathy,' without giving in the same
connection the author's explanation of the origin and growth
of ' love ' (in the most general sense). This explanation,
practically identical with Gay's, is a good deal more plausible
than the other, though not, perhaps, in the last resort much
more convincing. We first care for people because they give
' See Pt. I., ch. xix., § 2.
Abraham Tucker. 143
us pleasure ; and so, as Tucker observes, " a child's first love
is his nurse ". But when the association becomes fixed, the
person is loved ' disinterestedly,' as we say, that is, quite inde-
pendently of pleasure then afforded.^ Here, again, the state-
ments contain a certain modicum of truth. But why is it that
certain people do originally please us, while others do not ?
And, in general, why do we differ so much from each other
in our original likes and dislikes ? Precisely because we are
each a bundle of tendencies and predispositions, instead of
the receptive waxen tablet that Tucker, following Locke,
assumes.
As already indicated, Tucker has not much of a strictly
psychological character to say about the Will, except what
has necessarily been involved in the preceding. Will is the
' active ' side of mind, as opposed to Understanding, the
' passive ' side ; but he nowhere gives a clear account of what
is to be understood by mental activity. All the mechanism
of thought and feeling are explained by the principles of
' association ' and ' translation,' and nothing practically is
left for the will to do but to follow the strongest motives
thus supplied. The efficient force seems to be in the ' emo-
tions ' and ' passions,' cind also in the feelings of lesser in-
tensity. Particular passages might prove misleading. For
instance, in one of the earlier chapters of his work, Tucker
criticises Hartley for maintaining the essential ' passivity ' of
the mind. He says : " Thus the mind remains totally in-
active, reduced to one faculty alone, for the Will, which he
terms expressly a certain state of the vibratiuncles, belongs
to the ether, not to her : she sits a spectator only, and not an
agent of all we perform ; she may indeed discern what is doing,
but has no share in what is done .- like the fly upon the chariot
wheel, she fancies herself raising a cloud of dust, but contri-
butes nothing towards increasing it "? This, however, is
merely the protest of common sense against reducing the
mind to what our more modern theorists would call an ' epi-
1 See Pt. I., ch. xxi., § lo. - Ihid., ch. iii., § 2.
144 History of Utilitarianism.
phenomenon ' ; it implies no theory at all as to what the
mental activity contended for really is, or how this is related
to the ' passive ' side of the mind, which alone is treated in
detail or with any attempt at scientific precision.
Another passage, which occurs somewhat later in the book,
may properly be noted in this connection. The author says :
" To prevent mistakes, when I speak of the efficacy of motives
and of their moving the mind to exert herself, I desire it may
be understood that these are figurative expressions ; and I
do not mean thereby to deny the efficacy of the mind, or to
assert any motion, force, or impulse imparted to her from
the motives, as there is to one billiard ball from another upon
their striking : but only to observe that motives give occasion
to the mind to exert her endeavours in attaining whatever
they invite her to, which she does by her own inherent
activity, not by any power derived from them " ?- Taken by
itself, this passage might seem to make seriously against the
interpretation of Tucker's theory of the will here given. Read
in the light of his general treatment, however— in the course
of which he never even attempts to give an intelligible
account of the nature of mental ' activity ' — it will be found
to be of significance only as showing how difficult it some-
times is to make our author give an account of himself, when
he employs the terminology of a ' faculty ' psychology.
Indeed, there is little to detain us here, for nearly all that
Tucker says directly about the will refers to the metaphysical,
rather than psychological, question regarding the so-called
' freedom of the will '. Into this wearisome controversy, we
need not follow him. It is enough to remark that he is an
out-and-out determinist, and that he defends his position not
only with great vigour, but with very considerable skill. -
One should remember, however, that the arguments employed
here by Tucker were by no means so trite then as, in many
cases, they are now. In fact, owing to the great popularity
of his book. Tucker was probably not an unimportant factor
1 See Pt. I., ch. v., § 3.
^See, e.g., the whole of ch. v. (Pt. I.), on " Motives ".
Abraham Tucker. 145
in reducing the arguments for determinism to what we would
now regard as their traditional form.
Such, in brief, is the psychological basis of Tucker's ethical
system. Any attempt to give in a few pages the substance of
what in the original occupies several hundred, must neces-
sarily be somewhat unsatisfactory. At the same time, if
much has been lost, something at least has been gained.
One must remember that Tucker's style is almost unpardon-
ably diffuse — the chapter on " Satisfaction," for instance,
occupies nearly a hundred pages — and also that he makes little
pretence to methodical arrangement, so that the book itself
IS likely to leave a rather vague impression, unless it has
been read with considerable care. But at any rate, we have
been able to see, in sufficient detail, how Tucker followed up
the fruitful suggestions of Gay, whom he does not mention
at all ; and we have probably been led to suspect that, though
he seldom mentions Hartley except to criticise him adversely,
he had by no means failed to profit by the fact that he pub-
lished the first instalment of his own work nineteen years
after the appearance of the Observations on Man. Still, his
definite obligations to Hartley are not easy to make out,
while there is little or nothing in his treatment of psycho-
logical problems to suggest Hume's influence. Even his
direct obligations to Gay, though more than probable, could
hardly be proved. The fact is that Tucker was a writer of
very considerable originality in Psychology as well as in
Ethics ; and that the first part of his Light of Nature, though
far from corresponding to one's ideal of a scientific treatise,
was decidedly the best account of the Associationist Psychol-
ogy, which had appeared up to his time. Indeed, it might
reasonably be held that the later Associationists were a good
deal more successful in concealing, than in actually removing,
the defects of method which we have had to notice in this
part of Tucker's work.
10
CHAPTER VIII.
ABRAHAM TUCKER (continued).
As was almost inevitable, considering its psychological foun-
dation, Tucker's ethical system, to which we must now turn,
was radically opposed to Rationalism, Intuitionism, and the
' Moral Sense' theory. Locke, indeed, as we have had occasion
to notice, did not actually construct a system of Ethics upon the
basis of his own philosophy ; Tucker's system, on the other
hand, was the legitimate result of thoroughgoing Empiricism.
Before taking up the constructive side of his treatment of
Ethics, it may be well to consider, in a general way, his attitude
toward the three types of ethical theory just mentioned.
Tucker has little to say in direct criticism of the Rationalists.
We can readily surmise, however, what form his objections to
that ethical school would have taken, if he had been more ex-
plicit. First, according to his own theory of knowledge, he
would have had to deny the existence of any abstract faculty
of ' reason,' capable of discerning ultimate and absolute truth.
In one characteristic passage, he does say in so many words
that we must be content with ' moral certainty '. Secondly,
he always held, of course, that our recognition of moral dis-
tinctions could be adequately explained by experience.
Thirdly, he was as sure as Hume had been that what we call
' reason ' can never itself directly lead to action. It may
discover the means by which to attain some end ; but the end
itself must be otherwise supplied, viz., by the affective side of
our nature. This would plamly make a rationalistic system
valueless, even if it could be logically constructed.
As regards Intuitionism in general, Tucker's whole system
(146)
Abraham Tucker. 147
was intended largely as a confutation of those who refused
to go behind the mere facts of our moral experience, and who
would not even attempt to find a scientific explanation for
them. The ' Moral Sense ' theory, on the other hand, as the
particular form of Intuitionism which was most in evidence
among philosophical writers of this period, comes in for more
specific notice. Tucker criticises this theory much as Gay
had done in the Dissertation. He regards it as a mere
substitute for ethical theories based upon ' innate ideas,' the
existence of which latter Locke had once for all disproved
in the first book of his Essay. All the supposed phenomena
of the ' moral sense ' may be explained by experience, as
showing the expediency or inexpediency of particular classes
of actions. And the author holds consistently that we obtain
our first notions of moral good and evil, rather by observing
the conduct of others, than by reflecting upon our own.^ It
must not be supposed, however, that our so-called ' moral
sense ' is less valuable because acquired. Tucker is always
ready to emphasise the truth, sometimes forgotten in ethical
discussions, that as moralists we all begin, or should begin,
with the same facts of moral experience, and that to explain
these facts, when such a thing can be done, is by no means
necessarily to explain them away.
Let us now examine the author's attempt to place Ethics
upon what he regarded as the only sure foundation, viz.^
that of htuTian experience. He begins by raising the tradi-
tional question : What are we to regard, not merely as good,
but as the Ultimate Good ? And he indicates the general
character of his own solution as follows : " Upon perusal of
the chapter of satisfaction and those of the four classes of
motives, whoever shall happen to think they contain a just
representation of human nature, need not be long in seeking
for this summum bonum : for he will perceive it to be none
other than pleasure or satisfaction, which is pleasure taken
in the largest sense, as comprising every complacence of
^ See Pt. I., ch. xxiv., i^ 13.
148 History of Utilitarianism.
mind together with the avoidance of pain or uneasiness " y
As we have already seen, Tucker emphasises the so-called
' higher ' or ' intellectual ' pleasures at the expense of the
so-called ' lower ' ones. In this he agrees with Hartley ;
but, unlike Hartley, he holds that ' satisfaction ' is one, and
that concrete satisfactions differ only in degree. The sum
total of these concrete satisfactions is what we mean by
' happiness '. If any one would after all deny that happiness
is the Good, Tucker thinks he may be silenced by being
reminded that, as a matter of fact, it is the one thmg univer-
sally sought.
But while Tucker is an uncompromising hedonist, he fully
appreciates the importance of acting according to * general
rules,' and not seeking particular pleasures too eagerly, as if
ends in themselves. He thus describes the proper task of the
moralist : " As we cannot upon every occasion see to the end
of our proceedings, he will establish certain rules to serve as
landmarks for guiding us on the way. These rules, when
he has leisure and opportunity for mature consideration, he
will build on one another, erecting the whole fabric upon the
basis of sumniuni bonuvi before described. But because
their reference to the ultimate end cannot be continually
kept in mind, he will inure himself and everybody within
his reach, by such methods as he shall find feasible, to look
upon them as good in themselves, that they may become
influencing principles of action." ^ This is wholly character-
istic, and more important than might appear. It should
always be remembered that early Utilitarianism was not a
' calculating ' ethics, in the offensive and obviously imprac-
ticable sense of the words. Neither Tucker nor Paley, for
example, taught that we are to determine the morality of a
particular action by computing its probable effects in the
individual case. On the contrary, they both msisted that
we must act on general principles of expediency, not merely
because we are intellectually finite beings, but because we are
largely creatures of habit Bentham later seemed to hold,
' See Pt. I., ch. xxvii., § 2. ^ gee ihid., § 8.
Abraham Tucker. 149
not only that we may, but that we must, thus compute in the
individual case — instead of acting according to * general
rules ' of utility — but, if this was really his view, it was merely
one of that arrogant writer's improvements in Utilitarianism
which did so much to bring the doctrine into needless dis-
credit.
We have seen that Hutcheson, though not really a hedonist
himself, assumes without question the possibility of com-
puting with sufficient exactness the effects of different kinds
of actions, as regards their tendency to make for the general
happiness or unhappiness, and of thus determining their
' objective ' goodness or badness. In fact, up to this time
the difficulty regarding the ' hedonistic calculus ' seems hardly
to have been raised, except by Hartley. ^ It is characteristic
of Tucker's perfect frankness and honesty, that he should
emphasise, if not over-emphasise, this difficulty. For instance,
he says : " Our tastes, varying as much as our faces, make us
very bad judges of one another's enjoyments. . . . Nor do we
judge much better of our own pleasures, for want of being
well aware of their aptness to cloy upon repetition, and to
change their relish perpetually according to our disposition
of body or mind, or the circumstances we happen to stand in :
neither can we trust even experience itself in this case, for
because a thing has pleased us once, we cannot always be
sure it will do so again. . . . But if we make mistakes in esti-
mating pleasures singly, we commit more in computing the
value of a series of them taken collectively. . . . Therefore we
are forced to take our pleasures in the lump, and estimate
them upon view ; as a man who guesses at a flock of sheep
by the ground they cover, without being able to count them,
and who will do it very imperfectly, until he has gotten an
expertness by long and careful practice. For absent enjoy-
ments, whether past or future, being not actually existent,
we cannot hold them as it were in our hand to weigh them,
but must judge by the representative idea we have of them
m our imagination ; and we ordinarily determine their value
' Berkeley also had suggested the difficulty, but only in a very general way.
150 History of Utilitarimiisni.
by the degree of desire we feel in ourselves towards them." ^
This is decidedly interesting, for it shows that, while Tucker
himself was a thoroughgoing hedonist, he anticipated nearly
all the objections which anti-hedonists have so long been
accustomed to raise against the possibility of the ' hedonistic
calculus '.2 But it never seems to have occurred to the author
that computations of this sort, being so difficult, may be
impossible.
One point should be carefully noted in this connection.
When considering Hutcheson's relation to hedonism, we saw
that for him the ' hedonistic calculus ' would be considerably
complicated by the fact that the ' moral sense,' by hypothesis
ultimate, was itself, according to his view, the source of a
very great part of our pleasures and pains. Evidently there
is no corresponding complication for Tucker, since all of our
pleasures and pains are held by him to be derived from the
primary ones of ' sensation ' and ' reflection,' through the
agency of ' association ' and ' translation '.
There are two questions, obviously very closely related,
which every moralist must face : (i) What is the [objective]
Good ? (2) How is this calculated to appeal to the individual
agent .-' To decide either of these questions without reference
to the other — or, indeed, to give either undue emphasis — is
to make a mistake which is sure to be serious, and which
very well may prove fatal. The conspicuous weakness of the
early rationalistic systems is, that they give no intelligible
account of how that which is ideally right can be willed by
the agent. On the other hand, the early hedonists were so
deeply interested in this very question, that they were some-
what hampered in their treatment of the Good. Tucker is
no exception to the general rule. In fact, he sometimes
allows himself to use language which would seem to indicate
' See Pt. I., ch. xxii., §§ 11, 12.
* Except the very important one, which was not clearly recognised and
urged until a good deal later, that hedonistic values vary with the development
of moral character. Spencer makes effective use of this objection in his early
criticism of the Expediency Philosophy in Social Statics (1851).
Abraham Tticker. 1 5 1
that the Good is one's own happiness, without much refer-
ence to that of others. He says, for example, " nor would I
advise a man ever to deny himself, unless in order to
please himself better another time "} It is probably need-
less to say that passages like this do Tucker injustice. He
incidentally points out — in other passages too numerous to
quote, or even definitely to refer to — that we find our greatest
' satisfaction ' in the most intimate relations of life, where, of
course, a good deal of what we are apt to call ' self-sacrifice '
is necessarily involved. But the theoretical question regard-
ing the motive of the moral agent cannot be disposed oi by
merely referring to such passages, in however amiable a light
they may exhibit the author.
Tucker's explicit treatment of this question seems always to
imply that real disinterestedness must not be looked for any-
where. In what one is bound to recognise as a characteristic
passage, he says, in effect : Honesty is the best policy, and
if men were omniscient, a sense of honour would be need-
less.2 Understanding, of course, that the author here in-
dulges in some rhetorical exaggeration, let us attempt to see
exactly what he means. In the first place, it should be
stated that, throughout the First Part of the treatise, on
" Human Nature " — ^which might very well be supposed to
contain his final view of the matter — he confines himself to the
consideration of consequences which may be expected to
ensue in the present life and according to the natural coursfe
of events. For the moment, let us assume this to be his
ultimate view. What, then, does the passage just referred
to mean .? Hardly what it seems to say ; for an omniscient
rogue, surely, would be able to do much that was wrong
without suffering the consequences, while, on the other hand,
cases are not far to seek where perfect honesty has led to
disaster, even death itself.
Indeed, the case of Regulus is brought up early in the
First Part of the Light of Nature, and throughout the greater
portion of the Second Part that unhappy hero is kept on
' See Pt. I., ch. xxvii., S 6. '^ Ibid., xxiv., § 8.
152 History of Utilita7'ianism.
trial for ' imprudence ' ! Now, obviously no approximation
to omniscience on the part of Regulus would show that,
under the peculiar circumstances in which he was placed, it
was ' good policy ' for him to be ' honest,' if this present
life be all, and if ' good poHcy ' be equivalent to one's selfish
interest. As Gay had pertinently remarked : " God alone can
in all cases make a man happy or miserable " ; and obviously
He does not always, or perhaps usually, bestow adequate
rewards or inflict adequate punishments in this life — particu-
larly if by these we are to understand ' external ' rewards and
punishments. Such perfect distributive justice, which alone
can constitute ' complete obHgation,' according to this view
of the moral motive, must be looked for in the life to come.
The reader may be relieved to know that Regulus is finally
acquitted on this ground. In the interesting chapter on
" Re-enlargement of Virtue," with which Part II. on " Theo-
logy " ends, Tucker says that he has refrained before from
referring to rewards and punishments after death merely to
show that, in the last resort, we cannot afford to leave them
out of consideration. Concerning the particular case of
Regulus, he says : " Therefore now we may do ample justice
to Regulus, whom we left under a sentence of folly for throw-
ing away life with all its enjoyments for a phantom of
honour. . . . For he will now plead that it was not a phantastic
joy in the transports of rectitude, nor the stoical rhodo-
montade of a day spent in virtue containing more enjoyment
than an age of bodily delights, nor his inability to bear a
life of general odium and contempt, had his duty so required,
which fixed him in his resolution : but the prudence of the
thing upon a full and calm deliberation. Because he con-
sidered himself as a citizen of the universe, whose interests
are promoted and maintained by the particular members
contributing their endeavours towards increasing the quantity
of happiness, wherever possible, among others with whom
they have connection and intercourse. . . . He was persuaded
likewise that all the good a man does, stands placed to his
account, to be repaid him in full value when it will be most
Abraham Tucker. 153
useful to him : so that whoever works for another, works for
himself ; and by working for numbers, earns more than he
could possibly do by working for himself alone." ^
The passage just quoted might give a wrong impression,
if no reference were made to Tucker's peculiar theory regard-
ing ' equality,' set forth in a preceding chapter.^ Hitherto
this has been neglected, because it is one of the eccentricities
of his system, which has had no appreciable effect upon sub-
sequent ethical theory, and which the author does not succeed
in making even plausible. He holds that, of all the attri-
butes of God, ' equity ' is the one of which we have the
clearest conception. But from the * equity ' of God, he
claims, " it follows unavoidably that there must be an exact
equality of fortunes among us, and the value of each
person's existence, computed throughout the whole extent
of his Being, precisely the same ". And this, for him, means
even more than might appear. Not only are the inequalities
of external fortune to be made up in the future life : but the
evils resulting from our own wickedness are by no means to
have an indefinite duration. In some way, not sufficiently
explained, our natures are to be purified and our individual
accounts of happiness made to balance in the end. " After
Favour has had her course, and Justice been satisfied, it
remains that Equity should be satisfied too." ^ And equity
means an equal amount of happiness for each, apparently
regardless of the question of deserts. Probably Tucker
would say that, in the strict sense, we have no ' deserts,'
since our good or bad characters must be regarded as results
of the preceding course of events, which God has ordered
for some good purpose.* For the apparent evils in the world,
God Himself is in the last resort responsible ; and it must
be that He has ordained a final equality of happiness for all.
This rather crude form of Theological Universalism might
be neglected, but for the fact that Tucker tries partly to
^ See Pt. II., ch. xxxi., § 5.
- Ibid., ch. xxvii. ' Ibid., §§ 2, 4.
* He does say practically this in ibid., ^ 3.
154 History of Utilitarianism.
base upon it his argument for the reasonableness of altru-
istic action. Since the value of every one's existence is the
same, we must esteem every one alike, harbour no hatred,
work for the general fund of happiness, etc. " Hence follows
a general connection of interests throughout the imiverse, a
partnership in one common stock, which cannot be increased
or diminished in any individual without proportionably
afifecting the share of every other." ^ It is hardly necessary
to point out that such an attempt as this to bridge over the
chasm between egoism and altruism is foredoomed to failure.
The difficulty remains precisely where it was before.
Is Tucker's system, then, a ' selfish ' theory of morality ?
To a large and quite unnecessary extent, yes ; and yet I
think that both Tucker and Paley have often been misunder-
stood in this respect. The fact that nearly all men are practi-
cally ' sympathetic,' practically capable of some degree of
self-sacrifice, is fully recognised by both of them ; and they
further agree that, in the present life at least, our greatest
pleasures are derived from the exercise of the ' social affec-
tions '. Their view of concrete human nature, therefore, is
radically different from that of Hobbes, and not so very
unlike our own. What we are bound to object to, is their
futile attempt to explain ' sympathy ' as a mere product of
' translation '. Here they both followed Gay exactly, and
did not profit by the later form of Hume's ethical theory,
as found in the Inquiry concerning the Principles of Morals.
Now their choice in this matter was of the greatest import-
ance, for it determined the type of Utilitarian theory to which
they must always be assigned ; it identified them with the old
order, not the new. Tucker developed Gay's theory ; Paley
reduced Tucker's to concise and manageable form ; Bentham,
in fancied (or, at any rate, professed) independence of them
both, and of Hume as well, tacitly neglected the theo-
logical 2 sanction — ^which, as we shall see later, he was not
' See Pt. III., ch. xxxviii. (the concluding chapter of the work), § 3.
'^ The theological sanction is mentioned in all three of his slightly differing
lists of the sanctions, but does not play any part in his actual treatment.
Abraham Tucker. 155
in a position logically to do — and also introduced certain
refinements into the ' hedonistic calculus '. But all this
development and modification was external ; the theory was
one and the same at the core. It remained so until there was
a general return to Hume's later position, that a certain de-
gree of original altruism must be conceded to human nature.
Not until then could ' the greatest happiness of the greatest
number ' be regarded as (in part, at least) the motive as well
as the objective ' end ' of all truly moral action.
We have now examined all the fundamental principles of
Tucker's ethical system, and have attempted to see them in
their proper relation to each other. We may therefore pass
on immediately to his treatment of the particular virtues.
Here he is for once comparatively brief, and we may prof-
itably follow his example, for we are only concerned with
his consistency or inconsistency in the handling of his own
first principles, and his success or failure in deducing from
these what we all recognise as the rules of concrete morality.
Tucker, whose undoubted originality never shows itself in
felicitous order of exposition, begins by adopting the con-
ventional list of four ' cardinal virtues ' — Prudence, Fortitude,
Temperance, ajid Justice — and by translating the distinctions
thus made into terms of his own system. It is natural that
he should regard Prudence as the chief virtue, and as practi-
cally comprehending the others, which, as he says, " relate
to the removing three certain obstacles in our nature most
apt to disturb and stop us in the exercise of prudence ".^
' Moral prudence,' which is here meant, should be distinguished
from ' physical prudence '. The latter depends upon sagacity,
experience, etc. ; the former, on the other hand, consists in
" making the best use of the lights we have ". In most
cases where moral action is concerned, it is easy enough to
see what should be done ; what we most need to cultivate
in ourselves is a disposition actually to follow our own best
judgment.
' See Pt. I., ch. xxx., 45§ i et seq.
156 History of Utilitarianism.
As a matter of fact, Tucker does not succeed very well in
differentiating ' moral ' from ' physical ' prudence ; and his
general treatment of Fortitude (moral, rather than physical,
courage) and Temperance (self-control, in the most general
sense) contains little that is worthy of note. Incidentally,
however, when showing that by Fortitude he does not mean
mere physical courage, Tucker makes a remark which affords
an interesting commentary on his system. He says : " Now
we must acknowledge this insensibility a very useful quality
to the public, for without it, perhaps, we could not properly
man our fleets nor recruit our armies : yet is it so far from
deserving the name of virtue, that it seems scarce compatible
with the principal of them, I mean prudence, which grows out
of caution " } Two things must be noted with regard to
this interesting passage. First, it shows how completely
Tucker was committed to the view that virtue must make
not only for happiness, but for the happiness of the individual
moral agent. In fact, a possible conflict between public and
private interest is here suggested ; and the implication seems
to be that in such a case the latter must prevail, if we would
be truly virtuous ! But, secondly — what is quite as important
— the passage quoted suggests a theory which Tucker else-
where 2 sets forth regarding the teleology of moral appro-
bation, as actually bestowed. According to his view, we do
not by any means approve conduct in exact proportion to its
intrinsic Tightness — i.e., tendency to promote happiness. For
the conduct that is absolutely necessary, both for the in-
dividual and for society, largely takes care of itself — for
example, the mother may in all ordinary cases be depended
upon to care for her child. If she does this, we do not think
of approving her action ; but if she wholly neglects her child,
we are horrified. In a word, there is an economy of moral
approbation : we approve of actions necessary for the com-
mon good largely in proportion as this very approval is itself
necessary in order to get them done. Let us return to the
case of mere physical courage, which Tucker has said is not
' See Pt. I., ch. xxxi., § i. ^ Ibid., xxxiv., § 6.
Abraham Tticker. 157
a virtue ; but yet is apparently necessary for the public good.
It is easy to see what he would have to say of this, in order
to be consistent. We do not call physical courage (by itself)
a virtue, because we do not have to do so ; because the
supply is equal to the demand. But if, for any reason, the
supply should fall short, we might be driven into calling
brute courage even the chief of all the virtues — as our bar-
barous ancestors actually did.^
The treatment of Justice is much more satisfactory than
that of the three other ' cardinal virtues '. This more or
less resembles Hume's account of the same matter, but there
is nothing to prove a real dependence of Tucker's work upon
Hume's. Indeed, as regards mere form, Tucker's treatment
resembles Cumberland's rather more closely than it does
Hume's ; though here, again, there is nothing to prove direct
imitation. As the arguments here given for the Utilitarian
origin of the notion of justice are wholly the now familiar
ones, we may pass over them somewhat rapidly. Men have
to depend for their very existence, not to say comfort, upon
certain products of the earth. These, however, cannot be
used in common without constant disputes arising ; and,
moreover, the natural products of the earth will not suffice,
unless improved by human labour, and no one will work un-
less he knows that he is going to receive the benefits himself.
Certain rules, implying a mutual recognition of rights, would
insensibly arise, and lay the foundation for the institution
of private property. The obligation of truth and fidelity
may readily be explained in the same way, for without these
human intercourse and co-operation would be impossible.
The above arguments for the Utilitarian origin of justice
and veracity seem to Tucker so obvious that he does not
dwell upon themu It must not be supposed, however, that
the author regards the notion of justice as something which
^ There is doubtless a limited amount of grim truth in Tucker's view ; but I
do not think that what must be conceded on this point will be found to make
for any great degree of relativity in our moral judgments, or for Utilitarianism,
as against other systems.
158 History of Utilitarianism.
has to be developed anew in the experience of each in-
dividual. Our particular notions regarding what is just, are
almost always learned, or adopted, from the community in
which we live, so that the explanation given above refers
only to the ultimate origin of the notion under consideration.
But precisely because we do, to so large an extent} take our
ideas of justice on trust, our obligation to practice this virtue
appears to be the ultimate thing which common sense regards
it ; hence justice and ' interest ' are popularly contrasted.
But if we could see to the end, and know our true interest,
we should need no other guide. As it is, we have need
enough of the restraints of justice, and should never allow
ourselves to act against the general principles which men, on
the basis of an unconscious induction from experience, have
agreed in calling ' just '.
It is interesting to note that Tucker holds what we would
now agree in regarding as the consistent Utilitarian theory
of punishment. Indeed, he seems to believe, not only that
punishment should be applied according to Utilitarian prin-
ciples, but that it actually is so applied, at least in the great
majority of cases. To quote his own e.xpression : " The
law carries always a prospect forwards ".^ The logically
primary form of punishment, according to his view, is the
payment of damages for the injury done, whatever that may
be. But since, in many instances, reparation is impossible
from the nature of the case, punishment would naturally be
inflicted in order to prevent the repetition of the offence ;
and this (logically) derived form of punishment may be re-
garded as normal in the complicated relations of civilised
society. It follows, of course, from this point of view, that
punishment should not be more severe than the given case
requires, for that would mean so much gratuitous suffering
in the world ; but Tucker does not mention the reformation
of the criminal as an end to be held in view by the legislator
or judge. While he fails to recognise the hold which the
notion of ' retributive justice ' still retains even in the common
' See Pt. I., ch. xxxiii., S5 5.
Abraham Tucker. 159
law, he has a ready explanation for this notion, which he
regards as a manifest perversion of true, i.e.. Utilitarian,
justice. If we regard the law as a personality, as is some-
times done for convenience, we may bring the idea of punish-
ment under the idea of reparation, not to the party injured,
but to the law itself. But here the principle of ' translation '
comes in : we forget that we are merely employing a figure
of speech, when we speak of injury as being done to the
law itself, and regard this as a statement of the actual fact.
The obviously Utilitarian links in the chain of association
drop out of consciousness, and we come to regard the relation
between the infringement of law and punishment as logically
necessary, and not merely as extremely desirable, provided
that the pimishment inflicted be just and humane.
So far, the author believes he has shown that the general
rules of justice are founded upon utility, and upon that alone ;
and here, as always, he holds that the interested individual is
not a good judge as to the desirability of an infringement of
a general rule. But suppose it could be shown, in some par-
ticular case, that unjust conduct was certainly for the general
advantage ? Then we should have to consider the undoubted
mischief of a bad example. But suppose, further, that the
act in question could be concealed from all the world t Still
we should have to take into account the bad influence upon
the agent's own character. The result, then, is merely to
bring out what Tucker consistently holds throughout his
treatise, that moral actions must, on strictly Utilitarian prin-
ciples, be according to general rules, and not according to
any attempted computation in the particular case.
When the author comes to treat of Benevolence, he is
somewhat hampered by the fact that this virtue is not really
provided for by the old Greek scheme of the virtues which he
had happened to adopt. He tries to show that, strictly speak-
ing, benevolence would come under justice, since we must
put under the latter head " whatever we do for the benefit
or pleasure of others without [immediate] regard to our own ".
At the same time, he practically breaks loose from his classifi-
i6o History of Utilitarianism.
cation, and treats benevolence as a fifth ' cardinal ' virtue.
Indeed, he later suggests that benevolence may ultimately
be regarded as the root, and justice as the branch, although
it will be remembered that his actual treatment of justice
would not seem to corroborate this view. Of course, Tucker
does not here mean that benevolence itself is ' original,'
though he holds with Gay that, at the moment of action, one
must forget that one is determined by motives of self-interest.
The explanation is evidently to be found in the all-cogent
principle of ' translation '. What was previously said re-
garding the author's derivation of ' sympathy ' and ' love,'
will apply here, at least sufficiently for the present purpose.
In this connection. Tucker again refers to his theory of moral
approbation. He says : " As commendation and a return of
good offices tend to encourage benevolence, therefore it de-
serves them : for we have seen in a former place, that honour
and reward belong properly to where they will do most
service. But the reward must not constantly follow too close
upon the action, for then it will be apt to catch the eye, and
become the end expected at every performance, which will
render it selfish." ^
Tucker naturally has much to say in praise of benevolence,
but his treatment of this virtue after all rather tends to bring
out the egoistic elements in his system. It is needless to go
into details here, particularly as we have already discussed,
somewhat at length, the author's view regarding the motive
of the moral agent. It may be noted that — while he care-
lessly allows himself to say that, if benevolence were universal,
it would bring back the Golden Age — he is, nevertheless,
quite inclined to question the sentimental view that all would
be happy, if everyone were only good. In one characteristic
passage, he says .- " Were all our artisans and professors to
barter their knowledge and dexterity for a proportionable
degree of virtue, the world would suffer greatly by the ex-
change : we should all be ready, indeed, to help one another,
' See Pt. 1., ch. xxxiv., § 6.
Abraham Tucker. i6i
but could do no good for want of knowing how to go about
it ".1
We have already somewhat carefully compared Gay's out-
line of an ethical system, as given in the Dissertation, with
Cumberland's extended treatment of Ethics in his De legibus
naturae. We noticed in the Dissertation an unmistakable
departmre from the position of Cumberland in various im-
portant respects. It is needless to recapitulate here. What
is important to observe in the present connection, is the fact
that Tucker follows Gay as against Cumberland in every
case where we have had occasion to notice an important
difference in theory between those two authors. On the
other hand, it is hardly necessary for our present purpose
to compare Tucker's ethical theory at all minutely either with
that of Hartley or with that of Hume. One thing, however,
should always be remembered. We have seen that the
earlier form of (completely differentiated) Utilitarianism is
mainly distinguished from the later form by its different
treatment of the motive of the moral agent. It is interesting
to compare Gay, Hume, Hartley, and Tucker, in this very
important respect. Gay, of course, was the first to explain
apparent altruism as a development from egoism, by means
of the ' association of ideas ' and the further process which
Tucker afterward called ' translation '. According to his
view, we begin and end as egoists, though not in the sense
of Hobbes. Hume, in apparent independence of Gay,
developed in succession two quite different views of human
nature, as regards the origin of ' sympathy '. In the Treatise
he explains ' sympathy ' by the ' association of ideas,' and,
though his method of explanation is somewhat different from
that of Gay, the result at which he arrives is much the same,
for it amounts to treating egoism as the original, ineradicable
tendency of human nature, and apparent altruism as little
more than a development from egoism. But in the Inquiry
he entirely gives up any such attempt to reduce the one
1 See Pt. I., ch. xxxv., § 8,
II
1 62 History of Utilitarianism.
principle to terms of the other. Egoism and altruism are
there regarded as co-ordinate tendencies of human nature ;
not, apparently, in the sense that they are absolutely distinct
from each other, but rather in the sense that they are parallel
differentiations of something in our nature more aboriginal
than either. In taking up this later position, he anticipated
what we may call the later, as opposed to the earlier, Utili-
tarianism.
We have seen that Hartley interpreted the results of
' association ' and ' translation ' quite differently from his suc-
cessors. For in his view it is possible to forget oneself more
and more until one finally loses oneself in love for one's
fellow men. still more in love for God ; and in a similar way,
while our ' higher ' pleasures are regarded by him as de-
veloped from our ' lower ' ones, by increasingly elaborate
combinations at each step, he is unlike the others in re-
garding the ' higher ' pleasures as differing from the ' lower '
ones, not only in degree, but in kind. All this, of
course, would make Hartley difficult to classify, according
to the principle which we have adopted, if we should
regard his conclusions as the logical result of his own
first principles and of the method which he employs.
But this we can by no means do. In short, we find in
Hartley what we often find in pioneers of any new tendency
of philosophical thought, a writer who hardly appreciates
the full significance of the principles with which he deals.
Tucker, on the other hand, represents the return to Gay,
which was to characterise all the writers standing for what
we here call the earlier form of Utilitarianism. According to
this view, there are no qualitative distinctions between pleas-
ures, and altruism is merely a more highly developed {i.e.,
a more many-sided) egoism.
But if we must say that Tucker only filled in the outline
of ethical theory which Gay ^ had already supplied — and this,
^ Tucker's direct dependence upon Gay could hardly be proved. It should
be remembered that he published thirty-seven years later.
Abraham Tucke7'. 163
curiously, without giving credit for it, as we should have
expected — ^we are making a statement which, though true,
is by itself seriously misleading. If it be thought that little
skill or originality was required to follow out the line of
argument which the author of the Dissertation had sug-
gested, one has only to examine Hartley's well-known work
to be convinced of the contrary ; for though the Observa-
tions 071 Man is so largely a failure, from the point of view
both of psychological and of ethical theory, we have no right
to assume that the author was altogether a mediocre man.
In fact, it probably takes quite as much originality consist-
ently to develop a theory on the basis of a few suggestions,
as to provide the original scheme itself. The path was really
untried to a very large extent even after Hartley had done
his imperfect work.
Tucker is a writer whose actual ability and discrimination
we are apt greatly to underrate. His faults are almost fatally
calculated to obscure his merits. Not only was he recklessly
diffuse, but he was so utterly lacking in metaphysical talent
and training that the considerable part of his treatise which
he devotes to theological discussions is practically valueless.
But his skill and originality in the treatment of psychological
and ethical problems is in the most striking contrast to his
weakness as a theologian. Many passages in the Light of
Nature, which are likely to impress one as being rather
commonplace, are actually the first tolerably satisfactory
treatment of the topics in question from the Associationist
point of view ; so that, if Tucker was careless in not giving
credit to others, he is probably himself to be regarded as
' more sinned against than sinning '. Indeed, the defects in
his treatment of psychological and ethical problems will quite
commonly be found to be defects inherent in the Associa-
tionist theory itself, and not due to any individual weakness
or superficiality on his part. Moreover, while his far too
bulky treatise will doubtless continue unread by the general
student, it is to this that one must look for the first full state-
ment of the theory which Paley practically adopted entire,
164 History of Utilitarianism.
and made almost universally popular in his own generation
by his singular felicity as an expositor ; which Bentham and
his followers, on the other hand, chose to disregard, though
their own ethical theory is reducible to substantially the same
principles.
CHAPTER IX.
WILLIAM PALEY AND JEREMY BENTHAM.
It is customary to regard Bentham as the typical exponent
of Utilitarianism in its earlier form, while Paley, though
frequently given more credit than he deserves on the score
of originality, is generally classed as a ' theological ' moralist,
and therefore put on quite a different plane. For reasons
which will appear in the course of this chapter, the present
writer is obliged partly to dissent from this traditional esti-
mate of the two authors — and, in particular, from the opinion
that Bentham contributed anything essentially new to ethical
theory. Whether or not these reasons are sufficient, the reader
must, of course, decide for himself. But, in any case, it will
certainly be well for him to abstract as far as possible from
the populcir verdict regarding the theologian and the legis-
lative reformer, in order that he may be able to form an in-
dependent judgment as to the true position of each in the
history of English Ethics. The two are as different as
possible from each other in their attitude toward their pre-
decessors. In a well-known passage in the preface to his
only ethical work, Paley expresses with perfect frankness
his very great indebtedness to Tucker. ^ Bentham, on the
^ " There is, however, one work to which I owe so much, that it would be
ungrateful not to confess the obligation : I mean the writings of the late
Abraham Tucker, Esq. ... I have found in this writer more original thinking
and observation upon the several subjects that he has taken in hand, than in any
other, not to say, than in all others put together. His talent also for illustration
is unrivalled. But his thoughts are diffused through a long, various, and irregular
work. I shall account it no mean praise, if I have been sometimes able to dis-
(165)
1 66 History of Utilitarianism.
other hand, always writes as if he were the first propound er
of the Utilitarian principle. Indeed, in a conversation re-
corded by his disciple Bowring, he is made to speak as if his
only indebtedness to others consisted in the fact that he had
been deeply impressed by Dr. Priestley's incidental use of
the expression, ' the greatest happiness of the greatest num-
ber,' in his Treatise on Government (1768).^
The use which Paley made of the works of previous writers
can, for the most part, be easily determined, and may be
described sufficiently for our present purpose in a few words.
He reduced the unwieldy bulk of Tucker's hopelessly diffuse
Light of Nature to clear, definite, and — to his contemporaries
— convincing form. And, as we have just seen, he makes no
secret of his obligations to Tucker. By what seems a curious
fatality, however, he failed to mention Gay, exactly as
Tucker had done, though he, at any rate, evidently had the
Preliminary Dissertation constantly in mind. In fact, of
all the writers whom we have thus far considered. Hartley
is the only one, except the Rev. John Brown, who admits
definitely his obligations to Gay. But Paley's silence regard-
ing the Dissertation can hardly be interpreted as indicating
disingenuousness on his part, for his order of exposition,
totally different from that of Tucker — if, indeed. Tucker can
be said to have followed any definite order at all — is obviously
an adaptation of Gay's, and he sometimes reproduces passages
from the Dissertation almost word for word. Moreover,
as the Dissertation was always published as introductory
to the translation of King's Origin of Evil by Paley's own
patron, Bishop Law, his acquaintance with the book could
not possibly have been denied, and seems to have been tacitly
admitted.
On the other hand, it would be difficult, if not impossible,
to determine exactly Bentham's indebtedness to previous
pose into method, to collect into heads and articles, or to exhibit in more
compact and tangible masses, what, in that otherwise excellent performance, is
spread over too much surface." — See Moral and Political Philosophy, p. xix.
(i8i5 ed.). ' See Deontology, vol. I. (appendix), p. 300.
William Paley and Jeremy Bentham. 167
ethical writers. Like the school which he inaugurated, he
was singularly lacking in the historical spirit. Many of his
references to non-Utilitarian systems seem to imply an almost
startling ignorance of their true character, while he never for
a moment appears to admit, in his published works, that
others besides himself had stated the Utilitarian principle.
One is willing to believe that he was as nearly unacquainted
with the previous development of English Ethics as it was
possible for an intelligent writer on kindred subjects to be ;
but Utilitarianism had been so distinctly in the air for more
than a generation before he published h\s P rinciples of Morals
and Legislation that he could not possibly have failed very
substantially to profit by the fact.
Probably Bentham and his immediate followers alike be-
lieved that he was making an entirely new departure in his
attempt to treat Ethics without reference to theological con-
siderations.^ Indeed, this seems to have been the verdict
of most writers on English Ethics. It would be anticipating
to discuss the question of Bentham's originality at length
here, but it will be remembered that both Gay and Tucker
had avoided the theological reference, except where their
systems logically required it. For example, Gay had held
that complete obligation can come only from God, " because
God only can in all cases make a man happy or miserable ".-
Bentham found himself face to face with the same difficulty in
working out the Utilitarian doctrine. Perfect obligation to
follow the fundamental principles of morality was tacitly con-
ceded by him, as it is by practically all morahsts ; and obliga-
tion for Bentham, as for Gay, Tucker, and Paley, could mean
only that it must ultimately be for the agent's own interest
to be virtuous. The main difference, then, between his pro-
cedure and theirs, lies in the fact that he practically shirked
the difficulty that the ' sanctions ' are not sufficient in this
present life, and implied, rather than directly argued, that if
* The 'theological sanction' appears in Bentham's list, but he practically
neglects it in his treatment of Ethics.
^ See Dissertation, % ii.
1 68 History of Utilitarianism.
it is not for the individual's interest to be virtuous, as things
are now, it ought to be made so, and this by the very improve-
ments in legislation in which he was primarily interested.
But clearly his position as a reformer does not help him to
escape the very grave difficulty which besets every Utilitarian
system that assumes the selfish motive of the agent in moral
action. It therefore seems to the present writer that Ben-
tham's non-theological treatment of Ethics merely indicates
his individual attitude, and does not, in itself, represent an
advance in ethical theory. ^
Paley's direct treatment of Ethics is contained in his well-
known Principles of Moral and Political Philosophy, pub-
lished in 1785. This book is fatally easy to caricature, and
certainly it is not based upon the loftiest conception of human
nature ; but one must lay aside one's prejudices, as far as
possible, if only to understand the significant fact that it
was immediately adopted as a text-book in Cambridge Uni-
versity, and that it held undisputed sway there for a very
considerable time. And it must not be supposed that Cam-
bridge University was peculiar in its attitude toward the
question as to the foundation of morality. It merely
happened to represent, more exactly than Oxford, the pre-
vailing tendency of the time and country. Moreover, Paley's
treatise is by no means as disagreeable in tone as one might
be led to expect from the classic passages which are so sure
to be quoted by adverse critics. The author wrote with
great clearness and force, as well as with much good sense
and unruffled good temper. Indeed, his tone throughout
the Principles is really admirable, as compared with that
of Bentham in his corresponding works.
Paley's aim, like that of most writers on Ethics in his own
' Of course, the mere fact that he treated the Utilitarian doctrine from the
non-theological point of view, was an important influence in the direction of
completely secularising the doctrine ; but he nowhere shows how one can
dispense with the theological sanction in a system of Ethics where the motive
of the agent is assumed to be necessarily egoistic. This, in fact, is impossible,
if the notion of complete obligation is to be retained.
William Paley and Jeremy Benthavi. 169
time, was eminently practical. Ethics was of importance for
him, not primarily as a philosophical discipline, but as a help
toward right conduct. His treatment, therefore, is concrete
from the very beginning. After showing the insufficiency of
such codes as the ' Law of Honour ' and the ' Law of the
Land,' he raises the question : Do we find in the Scriptures
a complete rule of life 1 His answer, it will be remembered,
is, that the Scriptures were designed, not so much to bring
to our notice new rules of morality, as to enforce by sufficient
sanctions those already evident through natural reason.
This, of course, is characteristic, though not of the best
side of Paley's system. One is disappointed that he does
not call attention to the fact — important, if somewhat obvious
— that the Scriptures do not, of themselves, commit us to any
particular type of ethical theory.
Upon what, then, are we to depend, in directing our con-
duct in the complex relations of ordinary life '^. Paley will
not listen to the ' Moral Sense ' philosophers, whose char-
acteristic position he regards, not only as theoretically un-
sound, but as practically objectionable. His arguments
against the existence of a ' moral sense ' are what had already
become the familiar ones. In the main, he merely reproduces
what Gay and Tucker had said more clearly, because more
at length ; but he does justice to the importance of the almost
universal tendency to imitate which, in the case of young
children, he is inclined to call an ' instinct '. This neither
of the others can really be said to have done. But, apart from
its theoretical unsoundness, Paley regards the ' Moral Sense '
doctrine as pernicious in its tendency, because it leads to
arbitrariness in moral judgments. " Nothing is so soon
made as a maxim." ^ It is evident that he would have
objected equally to the position, that all we have to do is to
* follow conscience ' ; for he insists that what we really need
is some objective standard in Ethics, and that this can be
found only when we come to consider carefully the conse-
* See Bk. I., ch. v., p. 14 (1816 ed.).
I 70 History of Utilitarianism.
quences of our different classes of actions. For Paley, as
for nearly all writers on Ethics, the consequences of actions
are equivalent to their results expressed in hedonistic terms. ^
And he is perfectly explicit in his use of the word ' happiness '.
For him, as for both Gay and Tucker, happiness is merely a
' sum of pleasures ' ; and he also follows Tucker almost
verbally in his denial of qualitative differences between plea-
sures and pains.2 Like Tucker, again, he emphasises the
much greater importance of the so-called * higher ' pleasures,
and holds that the greatest permanent satisfaction is to be
found in the exercise of the ' social affections '.
The Good, then, is ' happiness,' in the sense of a ' sum of
pleasures,' or the decided preponderance of pleasures over
pains in a sufficiently long succession of human experiences.
Hence, in defining Virtue as " the doing good to mankind,
in obedience to the will of God, and for the sake of everlast-
ing happiness," ^ the author states in epitome all that is
absolutely essential to his system. His familiar and rather
unsavoury treatment of Obligation, as the being " urged by
a violent motive resulting from the command of another " *—
which, of course, is implied in the definition of virtue, just
quoted — -will be found, upon examination, to be an almost
literal reproduction of the corresponding passage in Gay's
Dissertation. Indeed, in this case, he certainly has not
improved upon the author whom he has imitated.
The only difference between ' prudence ' and ' duty,' ac-
cording to this theory of obligation, is that in the one case
we consider what we shall gain or lose in the present world,
' It is rather curious that non-hedonistic writers should so general!)- look
askance at all theoretical discussion regarding the good and bad consequences
of actions, as if to admit the importance of consequences were to play into the
hands of Hedonism. These consequences, of course, may be important to any
degree whatever ; only they may be explained as good or bad, not merely in
terms of Hedonism, but in terms of any other recognised form of ethical theory,
with the single exception, perhaps, of Intuitionism — and this would be an ex-
ception only when held in its naive form.
'•* See Bk. I., ch. vi., p. 17.
"Ibid., vii., p. 32. ■* See Bk. H., ch. ii., p. 44.
William Paley and Je^^etny Be^ttham. 1 7 i
while in the other case we consider also, and particularly,
what we shall gain or lose in the world to come.^ We have
seen that Gay and Tucker, starting with the same view that
human nature is essentially egoistic — mitigated, of course,
by the use of the principle of ' translation ' — had found it
impossible to vindicate objectively altruistic conduct without
taking the future life into consideration. Paley frankly rests
his whole system upon the theological doctrine of rewards
and punishments after death. What had been kept more
or less in the background by the other two writers, becomes
in his case most unpleasantly explicit. But while one is
sure to be repelled by this side of Paley's system, one must
be very careful not to confound the egoism of Paley with
the egoism of Hobbes. According to Hobbes, men are
essentially anti-social beings : in their * natural ' state, they
desire only the gratification of their passions and the sub-
jugation of their fellows. Paley, on the other hand, em-
phasises the fact, already made prominent by Tucker, that we
find our most lasting satisfaction precisely in the exercise
of the ' social affections '.- Indeed, if one read between the
lines in a work like Paley's, one cannot help seeing how
obscure, upon examination, the apparently evident distinction
between theoretical egoism and theoretical altruism becomes
— always supposing, of course, that man is regarded as origin-
ally a social being.^
The author's transition from his general definition of virtue
to his method of arriving at the rules of concrete morality,
is closely imitated from Gay.* It is hardly necessary to
trace the successive steps, as they are so generally familiar.
The rules of action must, according to the formula adopted,
result from the will of God. But what is the will of God ?
From the very conception of God as a being of infinite
' See Bk. II., ch. iii., p. 47. -See Bk. I., ch. vi., p. 25.
■" The egoism of Paley's system becomes offensive only by reason of his
constant reference to the theological sanction, as making it for the agent's
selfish interest to be moral. Tucker was much more careful in this respect.
* See Bk. II., chs. iv., v., and vi.
172 Hist 07'}' of U till tai^iani sin.
goodness, it follows that He must desire the happiness of
men ; and what we should thus a priori deduce from the
necessary character of God, is borne out by the numberless
beneficent contrivances in which nature abounds. The ob-
vious conclusion is, that the method of learning the will of
God concerning any action, by the ' light of nature,' is to
inquire into the general tendency of such actions to promote
or diminish the common happiness. Paley takes no pains
to use language that might be expected to conciliate his
opponents. He says .- " Whatever is expedient is right.
It is the utility of any moral rule alone which constitutes
the obligation of it." ^
Paley shows his good judgment in following Gay and
Tucker with regard to the necessity of acting according to
general rules,^ instead of attempting to show that we may,
at least roughly, compute the consequences in each particular
case. He does not, to be sure, treat the matter at length
and adequately, as Tucker had done ; but he puts it even
more concretely when he says, e.g. : " The particular conse-
quence of coining [counterfeiting] is, the loss of a guinea, or
of half a guinea, to the person who receives the counterfeit
money : the general consequence (by which I mean the
consequence that would ensue, if the same practice were gener-
ally permitted) is, to abolish the use of money ".-^ In this con-
nection, he is able to show that the principle of ' doing evil
that good may come ' is as obviously fallacious according to
Utilitarianism as according to non-Utilitarian systems.
It is needless, for our present purpose, to follow Paley
through his somewhat artificial classification of duties and
his deduction of the particular virtues.'* Some of his de-
ductions are rather more satisfactory than those of Tucker ;
' See Bk. II., ch. vi., p. 53.
"Ibid., chs. vii. and viii. "'Ibid., ch. viii., p. 60.
^ Paley recognises three classes of 'relative' duties (i.e., duties to others):
(i) 'determinate' (e.g., property, promises, etc.); (2) 'indeterminate' (e.g.,
charity, resentment, anger, etc.); and (3) those 'which result from the consti-
tution of the sexes'. Besides these, he considers: (4) duties to ourselves (e.g.,
self-defence) ; and (5) duties toward God (e.g., worship).
William Paley and Jeremy Bent ham. 173
but this is merely on account of his greater skill as an ex-
positor. On the whole, they are less adequate than those of
his predecessor. For the most part, he keeps clear of theories
which are incongruous with his own fundamental principle
of utility. But in one case, at least, he allows himself to
base his treatment upon the conception of ' natural rights '
in a way that Tucker, apparently, had always carefully
avoided doing. When treating of the duty of charity, he
says : " All things were originally common. No one being
able to produce a charter from Heaven, had any better title
to a particular possession than his next neighbour. There
were reasons for mankind's agreeing upon a separation of
this common fund ; and God for these reasons is presumed
to have ratified it But this separation was made and con-
sented to, upon the expectation and condition that every
one should have left a sufficiency for his subsistence, or the
means of procuring it : and as no fixed laws for the regula-
tion of property can be so contrived, as to provide for the
relief of every case and distress which may arise, these cases
and distresses . . . were supposed to be left to the voluntary
bounty of those who might be acquainted with the exigencies
of their situation, and in the way of affording assistance." ^
This would seem to imply an actual original compact, the
idea of which is expressly repudiated by Paley himself in
the latter part of his book. Examples like this are interest-
ing, as showing what a strong hold the related notions of
' natural rights ' and ' natural laws ' still had at the time that
we are considering, even upon an author like Paley. It
should be admitted, however, that such inconsistencies mean
less in Paley's case than they would in that of the average
ethical writer, for his interests were almost wholly practical,
and, where it was possible, he seems purposely to have
avoided all controversy with regard to current and generally
accepted theories, as being beside his purpose.
Brief as our review of Paley's system has been, it has
probably shown that the author was essentially a great ex-
1 See Bk. III., Pt. II., ch. v., p. 179.
174 History of Utilitarianism.
positor, and not the originator of anything really new in
ethical theory. There was, of course, the greatest difference
between the originality which Tucker displayed in working
out a fairly coherent ethical system upon the basis of the
outline suggested in Gay's Dissertation, and that which
enabled Paley to make almost universally popular for the
time what had been thus completely developed. At the
same time, here, as so frequently in the history of thought,
the clearest exponent of the principle in question receives
the popular credit, at the expense of those who had actually
originated the principle and worked it out.
We have confined ourselves entirely to an examination of
Paley's ethical treatise, and it is not at all necessary, for our
present purpose, that we should consider his other works,
which are not only very well known, but not in the least
calculated to modify one's impression of his system. But,
before leaving the author of the Moral and Political Phil-
osophy, it may be well to recall what manner of man he was.
Paley may have been rather too liberal in some of his views,
particularly on political subjects, to obtain the preferment
in the Church to which his very considerable talents seem to
have entitled him ; but, on the whole, he was a man pre-
eminently in touch with his time, for better and for worse.
He seems to have been free from strong feeling of any sort.
If one has to regret the lack of spirituality in his writings,
one must at least give him credit for abstaining from violent
polemics, and for writing in a straightforward and manly
way. Moreover, he made no extreme claims to originality.
It is true that he desired to be thought " something more than
a mere compiler," as he certainly was ; but even when he did
not explicitly acknowledge his indebtedness to others, he took
no pains to conceal it. He was not at all the type of man
who wastes energy in pushing personal claims of priority.
When we turn to Benthara, we soon find that we have to
do with a very different personality. Though brought up a
Tory, he was by temperament ' of the opposition ' — in all
William Paley and feremy Bentham. i 7 5
respects a Radical. He generall}' writes clearly, and not
without force ; but he constantly loses his temper, and even
goes out of his way to vilify those whom he opposes by
imputing to them interested motives.^ The result is that,
however much the reader may happen to sympathise with the
general tenor of his thought, he is almost sure to find his
works irritating in style and method. Yet it was this very
fervour of the reformer that commended Bentham so strongly
to certain young men of radical tendencies in his own day.
While Paley 's Moral and Political Philosophy met with extraor-
dinary success as a text-book, the author could not properly
be said to have founded a ' school '. His work rather made
explicit what had long been implicit in the ethical teaching
of his own University. Bentham, on the other hand, was
regarded, both by himself and by his immediate followers,
as the inaugurator of a perfectly new regime. The statement
of Whewell, that " The school of Bentham, for a time,
afforded as near a resemblance as modern times can show,
of the ancient schools of Philosophy, which were formed and
held together by an almost unbounded veneration for their
master, and in which the disciples were content to place their
glory in understanding and extending the master's prin-
ciples," 2 is doubtless an exaggeration, but hardly so mis-
leading as Mill would have us believe.^
In considering Bentham's ethical system, it is important to
decide, once for all, what works we should be prepared to
recognise as authoritatively representing his doctrine. Three
only need come under consideration : his Fragment on
Government (1776), his Principles of Morals and Legislation
(printed in 1780, but not published till 1789), and his pos-
thumous work, Deontology (edited by his literary executor,
Bowring, and published in 1834V Of these, the Fragment
^ See, e.g.. Principles of Morals and Legislation, ch. i., S xiii., note.
- See Lectures on the History of Moral Philosophy in England, Lect. xiii.
■^ See Autobiography , p. loi.
* A useful epitome of his ethical doctrine will be found in the Principles of
Legislation prefixed to the Theory of Legislation, first published bj- Dumont in
France.
176 History of Utilitarianism.
on Government, which deals only very incidentally with
ethical problems, is of importance for us only as indicating
the author's attitude at the time when it was published. It
is sufficient to note that, as early as 1776, he had adopted
the general position with which his name later became identi-
fied, and also that the tendency toward violent polemics,
which later became so disagreeable a feature of his workf,
was already clearly apparent. The Principles of Morals and
Legislation is by far the best known of the three works
mentioned, and it is upon this that expositions of Bentham's
ethical system are commonly based. But, while one can
clearly enough gather the author's general views on Ethics
from the first few chapters of this book, one should always
remember that it is primarily of Jurisprudence, and not of
theoretical Ethics, that Bentham is here treating. In the
case of a writer representing a really new principle in Ethics,
or one more difficult to expound in comparatively summary
fashion, this might lead to serious confusion, seeing that the
relation between Ethics and Jurisprudence must itself be
regarded as a vexed question. ^
The Deontology, then, is the only work which Bentham
wrote on Ethics proper. But here we are confronted with
a difficulty quite as serious as that just noted in the case of
his Principles of Morals and Legislation ; for the Deontology,
which was a posthumous publication, was not merely ' edited,'
in the ordinary sense, but (in part, at least) arranged from
Bentham's papers by his enthusiastic friend and admirer,
John Bowring, whom he had made his literary executor.^
The general impression seems to be, that Bowring took un-
1 For Bentham's distinction between the two, see Deontology, vol. I., ch. ii.,
p. 27. He says, in substance: "Where legal rewards and punishments cease
to interfere with human actions, there precepts of morality come in with their
influences. ... In a word, Deontology, or Private Ethics, may be considered
the science by which happiness is created out of motives extra-legislational —
while Jurisprudence is the science by which law is applied to the production of
felicity."
^ It appeared in 1834, two years after Bentham's death, and, so far as I am
aware, only one edition was printed.
William Paley and Jeremy Bent ham. 177
warranted liberties with the manuscripts, many of which had
been handed over to him during- Bentham's lifetime. But,
while it would be rash to assert the contrary, I am not aware
that any conclusive evidence to this effect has ever been
produced. 1 Indeed, most of the blemishes which are found
in the book, and which would make one willing to believe
that it had been changed here and there by another hand,
can be almost exactly duplicated from those of Bentham's
works which were published during his lifetime, and about
whose authenticity there has never been the shadow of a
doubt. Moreover, the style in many of the more important
passages, including some of the most disagreeable, is un-
mistakably Bentham's. It should be further noted that,
although there are two volumes of the Deontology — (i)
" Theory of Virtue " and (2) " Practice of Virtue " — the first
volume alone is of theoretical importance ; and it is mainly
with regard to the second volume, as it seems to the present
writer, that the question of authenticity arises.^
If the Deontology represented any material departure in
theory, or even in treatment, from the Principles of Morals
and Legislation, this question of authenticity would become
one of capital importance. This, however, is not the case ;
and, as the expositions in this book are by far the most
complete treatment of ethical problems to be found in Ben-
tham's works, it cannot properly be neglected. In fact, it
will be largely followed in the present exposition, because the
book is out of print and very rare, while an excellent reprint
of the Principles of Morals and Legislation is readily obtain-
able. At the same time, no distinctive opinion will here be
attributed to Bentham, for which warrant is not to be found
in his other works, and parallel references will be given in
all cases of importance.
^ It is probable that J. S. Mill was largely responsible for this general opinion.
^ The difference in style between the first volume and much of the second
volume is unmistakable. If Bowring was responsible for the literary form of
the second volume, as seems probable, since the style often resembles that
which he ordinarily uses, it is difficult to believe that he tampered much with
the first volume, which certainly reads like Bentham from beginning to end.
12
178 History of Utilitarianism.
Gay had remarked, at the beginning of the Dissertation,
that the theoretical differences between morahsts were less
than might appear. Indeed, he suspects " that they only
talk a different language, and that all of them have the
same criterion in reality, only they have expressed it in
different words ". The suggestion doubtless is, that we must
look for latent Utilitarianism in non-Utilitarian systems.
Paley — apparently following the Dissertation — expresses
himself in a similar way, but is more explicit. He says :
" ' The fitness of things,' means their fitness to produce happi-
ness ; ' the nature of things,' means that actual constitution
of the world, by which some things, as such and such actions,
jFor example, produce happiness, and others misery ; ' reason '
is the principle by which we discover or judge of this con-
stitution ; * truth ' is this judgment expressed or drawn out
into propositions ". And, again, Paley follows Gay in the
doubtful thesis that " This is the reason that moralists, from
whatever different principles they set out, commonly meet
in their conclusions ".^
Bentham, on the other hand, never mentions non-hedonistic
systems, except in terms of contempt The following pas-
sages — taken almost at random from the Principles and the
Deontology — speak for themselves. " The various systems
that have been formed concerning the standard of right and
wrong, may all be reduced to the principle of sympathy
and antipathy. . . . They consist all of them in so many
contrivances for avoiding the obligation of appealing to any
external standard, and for prevailing upon the reader to
accept of the author's sentiment or opinion as a reason for
itself." 2 " He who, on any other occasion, should say, ' It
is as I say, because I say it is so,' would not be thought to
have said any great matter : but on the question concerning
^ See Bk. II., ch. i., pp. 42, 43. The rather obvious reason why moralists
' meet in their conclusions ' is, that they begin by (at least provisionally) assuming
the same concrete moral principles, i.e., the prevailing ones of their own age
and country.
^ See Principles, ch. ii., § xiv.
William Pa ley and Jeremy Benthani. 179
the standard of morality, men have written great books,
wherein from beginning to end they are employed in saying
this and nothing else." ^ " The suminum bonum — the sovereign
good — what is it ? ... It is this thing, and that thing, and
the other thing — it is anything but pleasure — it is the Irish-
man's apple-pie made of nothing but quinces. . . . While
Xenophon was writing history, and Euclid giving instruction
in geometry, Socrates and Plato were talking nonsense under
pretence of teaching wisdom and morality." ^ * Moral sense,'
' common sense,' ' understanding,' * reason,' * right reason,*
' nature,' and ' nature's law,' ' natural justice,' natural equity,'
' good order,' * truth ' — " all these are but the dogmas of men
who insist on implicit obedience to their decrees ".^
Unlike his Utilitarian predecessors, then, Bentham becomes
nervous, and often violent, at the mere mention of the term
' summum bonum ' ; but his own treatment of the question
as to the fundamental ground of morality is in all essential
respects identical with theirs. Not only does he, of course,
regard happiness as the true Good, but his argimients to
substantiate this view are those which had long been familiar
before he wrote. Indeed, in the Principles of Morals and
Legislation, he can hardly be said to argue the matter at all ;
but rather assumes dogmatically the Utilitarian criterion of
morality. The Good is ' happiness ' and ' happiness ' is
merely the ' sum of pleasures,' as Gay and Tucker had held.
Moreover, there are no ' qualitative distinctions ' between
pleasures, as Tucker had explicitly taught — all concrete
differences being reducible to differences of intensity and
permanence. Not only does each seek his own happiness,
but each is incomparably the best judge of what will make
for his own happiness, as Tucker had been at pains to point
out. Like Tucker, again, Bentham remarks that the words
' pleasure ' and ' pain ' are likely to prove misleading in ethical
discussions, because they seem to imply too much, and sug-
gests ' well-being ' and its contrary as convenient substitutes,
^ See Deontology, vol. I., ch. i., p. 9.
"^ Ibid., ch. iii., pp. 39, 40. 'Ibid., ch. iv., p. 71.
i8o History of Uiilita7'ianisfn.
more general in meaning — just as Tucker had suggested the
terms ' satisfaction ' and ' dissatisfaction ' }
Of course Bentham is not to be blamed for not developing
the hedonistic conception of the Good beyond what had been
done, e.g., by Paley — for the simple reason that Paley and
his predecessors had already stated Hedonism in perfectly
unmistakable terms. But even in 1834, Bentham's ardent
disciple, Bowring, was able to write: "It was in 1785 that
Paley published his Elements of Moral and Political Phil-
osophy. He mentions the principle of utility, but seems to
have no idea of its bearing upon happiness. And if he had
any such idea, he was the last man to give expression to it." '^
Then follows a passage of personal abuse which it is the more
unnecessary to quote, as Whewell has already done so in his
Lectures.
But it might seem at first as if there were a difference
between Bentham, on the one hand, and Gay, Tucker, and
Paley, on the other, inasmuch as Bentham once for all
adopted the formula, ' the greatest happiness of the greatest
number,' as the comer-stone of his system. In other words,
the previous Utilitarian systems — except Cumberland's,
Hume's (in its later form), and Hartley's ^ — had assumed that
all motives were ultimately selfish, while Bentham's, by virtue
of its very formula, suggested devotion to one's fellow men.
It cannot be too strongly insisted, however, that there is no
theoretical difference between the four authors on this ques-
tion regarding the motive of the moral agent. Bentham
used the ' greatest happiness ' formula because he was a
reformer — obviously a fortuitous circumstance from the point
of view of theoretical Ethics. Certainly none of the authors
just mentioned had emphasised more strongly than Bentham
does the necessary egoism of the individual. For instance,
1 See Deontology, vol. I., chs. iv. and v.
2 See appendix on " History of the Greatest Happiness Principle," by
Bowring, Deontology, vol. I., p. 310.
' Which, however, is so peculiar that its Utilitarian character might, with
some show of justice, be denied.
William Paley and Jeremy Benthain. i8i
he says : " A man, a moralist, gets into an elbow-chair, and
pours forth pompous dogmatisms about duty — and duties.
Why is he not listened to ? Because every man is thinking
about interests.'' And again : " To prove that the immoral
action is a miscalculation of self-interest — to show how
erroneous an estimate the vicious man makes of pains and
pleasures, is the purpose of the intelligent moralist ".^ In-
deed, Bentham is at a disadvantage here, as compared with
the others, because he is nowhere quite explicit with regard
to the origin of sympathy and its place in his system. It
may be well to note, in this connection, that he consistently
holds that " the good produced by effective benevolence
is small in proportion to that produced by the personal
motives ".
Not only, then, is the Good pleasure, according to Ben-
tham's view ; but the good immediately sought is not the
pleasure of ' the greatest number,' but rather one's own.
How may the good of each and the good of all be shown to
coincide } For clearly they must coincide, if a multitude of
self-seeking individuals are capable of working out a common
good. This is a question which had been discussed, not only
by the earlier Utilitarians, but by writers like Shaftesbury
and Hutcheson, who could not properly be classed with them.
Indeed, up to this time, the non-Utilitarian writers seem to
have had better success than the Utilitarians in their attempts
to reconcile public and private interest. It is unnecessary to
recapitulate here what has been discussed at length in the
proper connection. For our present purpose, it is enough
to notice that Bentham did not profit by the suggestions of
those who, like Cumberland and Shaftesbury, had attempted
to demonstrate the necessarily organic character of society.
Though adopting the ' greatest happiness ' formula, his logi-
cal position is distinctly that of eighteenth century Individu-
alism.
From this point of view, rewards and (more particularly)
' See Deontology, vol. I., p. 12.
1 82 History of Utilitaria^iism.
punishments, or, as Bentham chooses to call them, ' sanctions,'
must be looked to, in order to effect this reconciliation.
Bentham's list of these ' sanctions ' differs somewhat, as re-
gards their number, in his various works bearing upon Ethics.
In the Fragment on Government^ three are mentioned : (i)
the ' political,' (2) the ' religious,' and (3) the ' moral '. In
the Principles of Morals and Legislation, four are recog-
nised : (l) the 'physical,' (2) the 'political,' (3) the 'moral'
or ' popular,' and (4) the ' religious '} In the Deontology,
Bentham succeeds in distinguishing five 'sanctions': (i) the
' physical ' {i.e., natural consequences, abstracting from one's
relations to other human beings) ; (2) the ' social ' or ' sym-
pathetic ' {i.e., consequences which result from one's personal
or domestic relations) ; (3) the ' moral ' or ' popular ' {i.e.,
public opinion) ; (4) the ' political ' or ' legal ' ; and (5) the
' religious ' or ' superhuman '?• It is to be doubted if he
improved matters by trying to distinguish sharply between
(2) and (3) ; indeed, he himself hardly insists upon the separa-
tion. If we neglect this rather fine distinction, and regard
the list of ' sanctions ' in the Principles of Morals and Legis-
lation as his complete list, an interesting comparison suggests
itself. For this list of ' sanctions ' — often regarded as par-
ticularly characteristic of Bentham — is identical with that
given by Gay in the Dissertation.
It might be imagined by one who knew the early Utili-
tarians only at second hand, that Bentham's treatment of the
particular virtues, as following from the Utilitarian principle,
must be more definite and consistent than that of his prede-
cessors ; but, if anything, the contrary is true. Indeed, if we
go so far as to rule out the Deontology altogether as un-
reliable — as I am not myself prepared to do — we must admit
that Bentham never even attempted to give a systematic
treatment of the particular virtues. The Fragmejit on
Government, of course, contains nothing of the kind ; and,
in the Principles of Morals and Legislation, where he wds
^ See ch. iii. 2 ggg ^qJ j^ (.j, ^jj
William Pa ley and Jeremy Bent ham. 183
writing mainly from the point of view of Jurisprudence, he
very properly omitted any such treatment of the virtues.
In the latter work, when writing of the distinction between
Ethics and Jurisprudence, he merely remarks that the virtues
may conveniently be divided into those of (i) ' prudence,'
(2) ' probity ' [justice], and (3) ' beneficence ' }
In the Deontology^ then, upon which we must here depend,
Bentham begins by dividing virtue into two branches: (i)
' prudence,' and (2) ' effective benevolence '. Quite after the
manner of Cumberland, ' prudence ' is regarded as having its
seat in the understanding ; ' effective benevolence,' principally
in the affections. ' Prudence,' in turn, is divided into (<a;) ' self-
regarding,' and (Jj) ' extra-regarding ' ; while ' effective bene-
volence,' again, is either (a) ' positive ' (i.e., productive of
positive pleasure) or (d) ' negative ' (i.e., calculated to diminish
pain).2 The latent confusion here, which Bentham might
easily have avoided by retaining his earlier classification,
hardly needs to be pointed out ; indeed, the distinctions thus
made are practically unmanageable. In his actual treatment
of the virtues, he seems to use the term ' prudence ' only in the
first sense. This was, perhaps, almost inevitable ; but the
result is, that he is at a very serious disadvantage, not only
as compared with Hume, but as compared with Tucker and
Paley, in his treatment of what was for them all the funda-
mental virtue — Justice. In fact, Bentham's deduction of the
particular virtues, so far as he considers them at all, is so
manifestly weak, that one must charitably conclude that this
part of the Deontology was — by him, at least — unfinished.
If our knowledge of Ethics were confined to what is con-
tained in the Deontology, we would have to agree most
emphatically with Bentham, when he says : " Though the
Linnaeus of Natural History has appeared in the world, and
restored its chaos into order and harmony, the Linnaeus of
Ethics is yet to come ".^
' See ch. xvii., § 6.
^See vol. I., ch. i., pp. 15, 16; also chs. xi., xii., xiii., and xiv.
•^ See Deontology, vol. I., ch. xv., p. 202.
184 History of Utilitarianism.
One important topic — Bentham's treatment of the hedon-
istic calculus — remains to be considered. Here, if anywhere,
we must look for originality in Bentham's treatment of ethical
problems. We have seen that both Tucker and Paley taught,
not only that we could not predict consequences in any
particular case exactly enough thus to determine the right-
ness or wrongness of the proposed action ; but also that
there are obvious reasons, from the Utilitarian point of view,
why we should not attempt to do anything of the kind. In
other words, we must confine ourselves, in the main, to a
consideration of the ' general ' consequences of different
classes of actions, and thus act upon a basis of ' general rules '.
We further saw that both authors were willing enough that,
at the time of action, the agent should regard the moral law
as an end in itself.
To Bentham, on the other hand, this probably would have
seemed a pitiful subterfuge. He apparently holds that we
not only may, but must compute in the particular case, and
be largely determined by such computations. And, if there
be virtue in terminology, he elaborated a formidable instru-
ment for the hedonistic calculus. ^ The value of pleasures
and pains must be estimated in terms of their ' intensity,'
' duration,' ' certainty,' ' proximity,' and ' extent '. But this
is not all. A pleasure or pain may be ' fruitful ' or ' barren,'
' pure * or ' impure '. Of the distinctions thus made, the first
five hardly require explanation. ' Extent ' may properly be
put by itself, as it refers merely to the number of individuals
concerned. It is the multiplier, and not the multiplicand.
' Certainty ' and ' proximity,' as the words would imply, refer
only to the probability or improbability of the pleasures or
pains being experienced, so that in the last resort ' intensity '
and ' duration ' are all that have to be considered. So far,
Bentham's treatment of the hedonistic calculus in the Deon-
tology corresponds exactly to his treatment in the Principles
of Morals and Legislation. We have to be more careful,
^ See, in particular, Deontology, vol. I., ch. iv.
Williain Pa ley and Jereviy Bent ham. 185
however, in the case of ' fecundity ' and ' purity '. In the
Principles, the ' fecundity ' of a pleasure or pain is defined as
" the chance it has of being followed by sensations of the
same kind : that is, pleasures, if it be a pleasure : pains, if
it be a pain ".^ Its ' purity,' on the other hand, is defined as
" the chance it has of not being followed by sensations of
the opposite kind : that is, pains, if it be a pleasure : plea-
sures, if it be a pain ". In the Deontology, the author says :
" A pleasure or a pain may be fruitful or barren. A pleasure
may be fruitful in pleasures, or fruitful in pains, or fruitful in
both ; and a pain, on the contrary, may be fruitful in plea-
sures or pains, or both." ^ As regards ' purity,' he says in the
same work : " A pleasure is considered pure, in the degree in
which it is unaccompanied by counterbalancing pains — a pain
is pure, in the proportion in which it is unaccompanied by
counterbalancing pleasures " ?
It will readily be seen that, as used in the Principles,
' fecundity ' and ' purity ' both refer to the future. Given a
pleasure or a pain, we call it ' fruitful,' if it is likely to be
followed by other affections of the same kind ; ' pure,' if it
is not likely to be followed by other affections of the opposite
kind. In the Deontology, as will be noted, the same terms
are used, but with a somewhat different signification. The
' fruitfulness ' or * barrenness ' of the particular pleasure or
pain is here regarded as its productiveness or unproductive-
ness of future affections — whether of the same or of the
opposite kind, or of both. ' Purity ' and ' impurity,' on the
other hand, apparently refer merely to the unmixed or mixed
character of our affections, i.e., pleasure without pain, or
pain without pleasure. I do not understand that Bentham
necessarily commits himself to the dubious position that we
have states of consciousness which are at the same time
pleasurable and painful. It is enough that, in some cases,
circumstances are such that our consciousness vibrates back
^ See ch. iv., § iii.
■^ See vol. I., ch. iv., p. 62. ^ See ibid., p. 76.
1 86 Hisloiy of Utilitarianisfn.
and forth between pleasure and pain with rapid alternation.
Roughly speaking, we might say that pleasures and pains
experienced under such conditions were ' impure/ in Ben-
tham's sense. Perhaps it may seem finical to criticise Ben-
tham's choice of technical terms ; but it will be seen that the
word ' fecundity,' as here applied, is rather misleading, as it
almost inevitably suggests a causal relation between plea-
sures and pains themselves, which the author could not have
intended.
After thus considering the general aspects of pleasure-
pain, Bentham gives an elaborate classification of pleasures
and pains in both the Principles and the Deontology. In the
Deontology, \h^ list is as follows: (i) pleasures and pains of
sense, (2) pleasures of wealth, with the corresponding pains
of privation, (3) pleasures of skill and pains of awkwardness,
(4) pleasures of amity and pains of enmity, (5) pleasures of
good reputation and pains of ill-repute, (6) pleasures of power,
(7) pleasures of piety, with their contrasted pains, (8) plea-
sures and pains of sympathy or benevolence, (9) those of
malevolence, (10) those of memory, (11) those of imagination,
(12) those of expectation, and (13) those of association. The
list given in the Principles is practically the same, except that
still another class of pleasures is added, i.e., those of relief.
Such minor differences may be neglected ; but Bentham him-
self pertinently points out that " Of the whole list of pains
and pleasures, two classes only regard others — they are those
of benevolence and malevolence. All the rest are self-
regarding." 1 It goes without saying that this list is a purely
arbitrar}^ one, having no warrant in Psychology, and that it
is hardly, if at all, calculated to assist us in the actual com-
putation of pleasures and pains. In fact, the list is mainly
interesting, because it illustrates particularly well a limitation
of Bentham's which has often been pointed out, viz., his
narrow and mechanical view of human nature.
Such, then, was Bentham's treatment of the hedonistic
' See vol. I., ch. iv., p. 66,
William Pa ley and Jeremy Bent ham. 187
calculus. Without entering on any more general criticism of
Bentham's Utilitarianism, we are now prepared to ask two
questions : (i) Were the refinements which he introduced of
practical importance ? (2) Was he right in holding, as he at
least seemed to do, that we should largely depend upon such
computations as we can make in the individual case ? The
first question need not detain us long. The distinctions which
we have just been examining seem, on the whole, to be help-
ful, though the particular words used to designate them do
not always appear to be the best that might have been chosen.
Any such related technical terms, which tend to abbreviate
discussion, are likely to have considerable currency ; and this
has undeniably been true of those under consideration. At
the same time, I fail to see that anything essentially new was
contributed by Bentham even here, except the terms them-
selves ; for all the distinctions are rather obvious, and ap-
parently they had all been (at least, implicitly) recognised
before.
The second question, viz., whether Bentham was right in
holding, as he at least seemed to do, that we may, and must,
compute the probable consequences (including, of course, the
remote consequences) in the particular case, and act accord-
ingly — is in itself more important ; but it hardly seems to
admit of serious debate. For the question, of course, is not
whether the moral agent is to take the probable consequences
of his contemplated act into consideration — every sane man,
whatever his ethical creed, is likely to do that — but whether
such particular computations are to take precedence of general
rules. Since we are not omniscient, we cannot predict with
certainty the consequences of any action taken by itself.
Moreover, it is important that we should not make the
attempt : first, because we have not sufficient time for elabo-
rate computations in a particular moral exigency ; and
secondly, because we are in no proper frame of mind to judge
impartially in those cases where our own interests are to any
important extent at stake.
In truth, all this is so evident that one might be tempted to
1 88 History of Utilitarianism.
believe that Bentham has commonly been misunderstood on
the point in question ; but to the present writer this seems
hardly possible. There is no doubt, of course, that in the
Principles of Morals and Legislation the hedonistic calculus
is employed in the interest of ' general rules,' since the laws
which the author has in mind would necessarily, qua laws,
be general in their application. In the Deontology, however,
where the object is to guide the individual agent in his moral
life, computations in the particular case seem, not merely
often, but generally, to be suggested, while there is no
single passage in the book which insists upon the importance
of general rules, as opposed to such particular computations.
The passages illustrating this general drift of the argument
are far too numerous to quote. The following, which may
fairly be regarded as typical, will probably suffice. Bentham
says : " The province of Deontology is to teach him [the
moral agent] a proper arithmetic, is to lay before him a fit
estimate of pain and pleasure — a budget of receipt and dis-
bursement, out of every operation of which he is to draw a
balance of good ".^ And again the author says .- " Vice may
be defined to be a miscalculation of chances : a mistake in
estimating the value of pleasures and pains. It is false moral
arithmetic ; and there is the consolation of knowing that, by
the application of a right standard, there are few moral
questions which may not be resolved with an accuracy and a
certainty not far removed from mathematical demonstra-
tion." 2
It is evident, however, that Bentham's attempt to reduce
our moral judgments to a series of problems in ' moral
arithmetic ' was not a success, and tended to put the Utili-
tarian doctrine itself in a false light. In fact, it would hardly
be too much to say that Bentham blundered into an unten-
able position here, which his Utilitarian predecessors had
had the good judgment to avoid. Of course, it is sometimes
^ See vol. I., ch. xiv., p. 192.
-See vol. I., p. 131. For other passages illustrating this general line of
argument, see, e.g., ibid., pp. 60, 68, 79, 84, 118, 156, 168, 190, 269.
William Paley and Jeremy Bentham. 1 89
held that, since such particular computations are, on the one
hand, impossible, and, on the other hand, dangerous to
attempt. Utilitarianism as a system falls to the ground. The
argument, however, does not seem at all conclusive. To say
that we must act according to ' general rules,' is merely to
recognise that we are finite beings ; and surely this evident
fact does not make for or against any particular form of
ethical theory. Indeed, we must be very careful not to cite
the concrete difficulties of our moral experience, as if they
disproved the validity of ethical theories different from our
own. No ethical theory can help us in such cases ; we must
rather depend upon what may fairly be called ' moral tact '.
As Kant long ago pointed out in another connection, there
can be no rules for the application of rules.
We have now examined with some care all that seems
really essential in Bentham's ethical system. The results of
our examination may be summed up in a few words. Ben-
tham's conception of the Good was in all respects identical
with that of his Utilitarian predecessors ; and his adoption
of the * greatest happiness ' formula did not imply a departure
from what had become the traditional view of the Utilitarians,
that the motive of the agent is uniformly egoistic. Moreover,
he did not go beyond the others in showing how, in the
natural order of things, public and private interest coincide ;
but depended wholly upon the four ' sanctions ' which Gay
had already distinguished. The ' theological sanction,' in-
deed, though named by him in each of his three lists, is practi-
cally disregarded in his treatment of Ethics. His actual pro-
cedure in this respect was doubtless an important influence in
secularising Utilitarianism, but this was mainly due to his
reputation as a writer on Jurisprudence. It is always to be
remembered that, with his selfish theory of the moral motive,
he was not himself in a position to explain complete obliga-
tion without reference to rewards and punishments after death.
His deduction of the particular virtues, again, was clearly
inferior to that which we find in the works of Tucker and
Paley — not to mention Hume, whose work was, of course, on
IQO History of Utilitarianism.
a very different and altogether higher plane. This, however,
was at least partly due to the fact that he was treating
primarily of Jurisprudence in his completed works. Indeed,
the one important respect in which Bentham departs from his
predecessors is in his dubious attempt to reduce Ethics to
* moral arithmetic,' in the grimly literal sense. This, however,
cannot be regarded as a real advance in ethical theory, but
quite the contrary. The inevitable conclusion, then, seems
to be that Bentham contributed almost nothing of importance
to Ethics, considered strictly as such, though he unquestion-
ably did more than any of his contemporaries to bring the
Utilitarian theory into popular ethical discussions. In fact,
there were very special reasons why he was constitutionally
unfitted to transform the older Utilitarianism, which, as a
mere theory, had already been completely developed before
he wrote, into anything like the modern form of the doctrine.
These fatal limitations would have to be considered here, but
for the fact that J. S. Mill has performed the task once for
all in his classic essay on Bentham (1838), to be duly examined
hereafter, which perhaps may itself, without exaggeration,
be said to mark the transition from the eighteenth century
Utilitarianism to that of the present time.
CHAPTER X.
JOHN STUART MILL.
In the last chapter, Paley and Bentham were considered
together, in order that it might be evident how essentially
similar their distinctively ethical views really were. It is, how-
ever, equally certain that to their own generation, and quite
as much to themselves, they must have seemed to stand for
very different, if not antithetical, tendencies. Paley, indeed,
had held somewhat liberal, though by no means radical,
views on politics, which probably stood in the way of his
rapid advancement in the Church ; but this was purely ac-
cidental. Berkeley, as will be remembered, had expressed
similar ethical views in his sermon on " Passive Obedience,"
although his main purpose was to urge upon his hearers an
attitude toward the powers that be, very different from that
which Paley later advocated in his Political Philosophy. And
it is not easy to say that one was more consistent than the
other. There was nothing in the doctrine of so-called
' Theological Utilitarianism,' either in its earlier or in its later
form, which logically demanded of its adherents either a con-
servative or a liberal attitude toward the State. This must
have been partly recognised by Paley's contemporaries, as
otherwise his Moral and Political Philosophy would never
have enjoyed such almost universal popularity.
Bentham, on the other hand, was first, last, and always a
reformer and a radical. This was the light in which he was
regarded both by his contemporaries and by himself. Such
being the case, it was perfectly natural that he should develop
anti-theological tendencies, for the influence of the Church,
(191)
192 History of Utilitarianism.
on the whole, was strongly in the direction of conservatism.
Here again, however, the relation between political attitude,
on the one hand, and religious and ethical theory, on the other,
was largely a fortuitous one. Religious orthodoxy easily
may, and often does, go with political heterodoxy, while the
contrary combination is still more frequent. So far as the
anti-theological (or at least non-theological) side of Bentham's
doctrine is concerned, there can be no serious question. But
it certainly seemed to Bentham himself and to most of those
immediately associated with him in the reform movement,
that the principle of ' the greatest happiness of the greatest
number,' in the technical sense of the formula, was the neces-
sary foundation of their schemes of practical reform. They
hardly realised that those holding ethical theories radically
different from their own might consistently enough admit
that ' the greatest happiness of the greatest number ' is, under
all ordinary circumstances, the true end of co-operative social
action.
In truth, we should now probably agree in holding, not only
that our attitude toward religion does not necessarily commit
us for or against radicalism, liberalism, or conservatism, but
also that any political attitude consistent with the ordinary
notions of ' good morals,' which we all hold practically in
common, is logically compatible with any recognised form of
ethical theory. We agree that the common good should be
the end of all governmental action ; and we further agree, in
the main, as to what concrete things are good. There are
two respects, however, in which we may differ to almost any
extent. First, we may differ as to how the concrete good of
society is practically to be attained (in other words, in political
' opinions ') ; and secondly, we may differ as to the abstract
terms in which the concrete ' good ' is to be defined (difference
in ethical and political theory). The mistake of Bentham
and his followers was in assuming a logical relation between
theoretical Ethics proper and practical methods of government.
It would be quite outside our present purpose to trace
the fortunes of the so-called ' Bentham school '. None of
John Stuart Mill. 193
the writers thus designated, whether properly or improperly,
can be said to have really contributed to theoretical Ethics,
with the very important exception of J. S. Mill ; and all of
Mill's more important writings on Ethics were published after
the well-known essay on Bentham (1838), which shows in the
most unmistakable way that he was thus early very far from
being a mere disciple of the older moralist. In truth, it will
be remembered that, in an often-quoted passage in the Auto-
biography, Mill denies outright that there was any ' Bentham
school,' in the sense ordinarily understood. His contention
is that the purely personal influence ot his father, James Mill,
was greater than that of Bentham, though he acknowledges
that his father's total influence was very considerably less.
He says : " The influence which Bentham exercised was
by his writings. Through them he has produced, and is
producing, effects on the condition of mankind, wider and
deeper, no doubt, than any which can be attributed to my
father. He is a much greater name in history. But ray
father exercised a far greater personal ascendency." ^ He
then goes on to indicate circumstantially the various channels
of his father's influence. The first impression might be that
Mill considerably overrated this influence ; but the facts, so
far as they are generally accessible, seem on the whole to
bear out his statement of the case. One has only to read
any of the authoritative accounts of the elder Mill's life ^ to
see how closely and continuously he was in touch with the
men who were most prominently engaged in this liberal
propagandism, and how he was regarded by them. But all
this is really a digression, and we shall best proceed at once
to an examination of the ethical doctrine of J. S. Mill himselT,
after giving necessary attention to the formative influences
of his childhood and early youth.
The strange experiment which James Mill tried in the
^ See pp. loi et seq.
2 See, in particular, the valuable life of James Mill by Professor Bain; also
the second volume of Mr. Leslie Stephen's admirable work on the Utilitarians.
»3
194 History of Utilitarimiism,
education of his eldest son has been described so often, and
from such different points of view, that it would be almost
an impertinence to speak of it here at any length. It will
be remembered that James Mill, himself one of the busiest
of men, irritable and somewhat harsh by nature, constantly
engaged in literary work (which, perhaps, less than any other
admits readily of systematic interruption), undertook to be
his son's only schoolmaster from the very beginning. That
he accomplished the seemingly impossible, is doubtless an
interesting fact, for it exhibits in a most striking light the
remarkable intellectual endowments of both father and son.
But this was, perhaps, the most costly education of which we
have definite record, not less for student than for teacher.
If the victim had been one whit less than he was, he very well
might have been ruined for life by the forcing process that he
was put through. We do not refer merely to the fact that
he began the study of Greek at three, and other similar studies,
ordinarily considered to belong to a secondary, rather than
to a strictly primary education, at a correspondingly early
age. It is, we believe, reported of Mill's gifted contemporary,
Thirwall, that he began to read Latin at three and Greek
at four. But the future Bishop and historian of Greece was
doubtless most fortunate in being permitted the conventional
education of his class, after this startling exhibition of infant
precocity. Mill, on the contrary, utterly lost his boyhood,
with all the humanising effects of normal early associations.
As a natural result, in after years he never quite found his
fellowmen.
The particular studies to which J. S. Mill devoted himself
in his early years, were not essentially different from those
which formed the staple of higher education at that time —
except that he was made to give some attention to Political
Economy, which was then still an infant science. The
peculiarity in his case lay in the fact that the ground covered
was unusually large, and that these studies were pursued
under the private tuition of his father and, for the most part,
at an extremely early age. But in another aspect, much
John Shtaid Mill. 195
more important for us, his early training was, as he himself
points out in the Autobiography, for the time and country
in which he lived, almost unique. He was brought up from
the first without any religious belief, in the ordinary accepta-
tion of the term. James Mill had, indeed, begun his career
with a theological training ; but he soon found it impossible
to retain his early religious views. His son points out that
his difficulties had been " moral, still more than intellectual ".
" He found it impossible to believe that a world so full of evil
was the work of an Author combining infinite power with
perfect goodness and righteousness." ^ Moreover, he seems
to have held that positive religion was distinctly detrimental
to good morals, on the ground that it was a fatally convenient
pretext by which to justify the existing order of things, in-
volving, as this does, so many evils that may be remedied.
Morality, he believed, must cease to be a matter of mere
tradition and be founded upon some definite objective prin-
ciple.
The glimpse of James Mill's private views on Ethics and
Religion that is afforded in this part of the Autobiography
is decidedly interesting. The following passage is particu-
larly significant. " In his views of life he partook of the
character of the Stoic, the Epicurean, and the Cynic, not in
the modern, but the ancient sense of the word. In his
personal qualities the Stoic predominated. His standard of
morals was Epicurean, inasmuch as it was Utilitarian, taking
as the exclusive test of right and wrong, the tendency of
actions to produce pleasure or pain. But he had (and this
was the Cynic element) scarcely any belief in pleasure. . . .
He thought human life a poor thing at best, after the fresh-
ness of youth and of unsatisfied curiosity had gone by. . . .
He would sometimes say, that if life were made what it might
be, by good government and good education, it would be worth
having : but he never spoke with anything like enthusiasm
even of that possibility." ^
1 See p. 39. '^ See pp. 47 et seq.
196 History of Utilitarianism.
We are so constantly reminded of the complex character
of J. S. Mill's ethical system, that it is most interesting to
find sentiments like these attributed by him to his father.
The sentences quoted are even more significant in their proper
context. Almost as interesting as this (at first sight) para-
doxical combination of theoretical hedonism with practical
asceticism, is the sense of irremediable evil in the world which
we find liere. Both of the Mills were inclined to regard
not unfavourably the Manichaean doctrine. J. S. Mill took
a much less despondent view than his father of the possi-
bilities of the race ; but he never, at least in his mature years,
entertained anything like Bentham's breezy, if somewhat
shallow, optimism.
The influence of Bentham himself upon J. S. Mill was, of
course, partly personal and partly philosophical. The elder
Mill was already a friend of Bentham, when his son was but
three years of age, and the precocious child and youth met
the reformer frequently and on familiar terms. It was prin-
cipally through his writings, however, that Bentham influenced
Mill. There is an interesting passage in the Autobiography,
m which the author tells how, when reading in the direction
of law as a boy of fifteen or sixteen, he became acquainted
for the first time with Bentham's doctrine in its technical
form, as interpreted by Dumont in the Traite de Legislation}
Unfortunately, however, it seems to have been the worst in
Bentham, as well as the best, that attracted his early admira-
tion ; for he cites in particular the chapter in which Bentham
impatiently dismisses all non-hedonistic theories as dogmatism
in disguise. If Mill had at this time been better read in
ethical literature, it might have occurred to him that, in the
very chapter cited, Bentham shows himself a good deal more
of a dogmatist than the men whom he criticises ; and that
his cheerful ignorance of nearly all systems opposed to his
own, as shown here and elsewhere, is perhaps the most amaz-
ing phenomenon of the ethical literature of his day. But one
^ See p. 64.
John Stuart Mill. 197
must remember that Mill had read no modern philosophy at
this time. It was after this, according to his own account,
that he became acquainted even with English writers like
Locke, Berkeley, Hume, Hartley, and Brown. ^ This being
the case, one is rather puzzled to understand why, when he
wrote the Autobiography, Mill should have taken his juvenile
impressions of Bentham so seriously. He says, e.g. : " I now
had opinions ; a creed, a doctrine, a philosophy ; in one among
the best senses of the word, a religion ; the inculcation and
diffusion of which could be made the principal outward purpose
of a life "?
For several years Mill seems to have remained almost
wholly under the influence of Bentham's writings and his
father's personality, and, in the enthusiasm of youth, he doubt-
less developed much of that spirit of partisanship which in
after years he so much deprecated. The first step in the
direction of what he calls his ' youthful propagandism ' was
the foundation of the " Utilitarian Society ". This was in
the year following that in which he first became acquainted
with Bentham's writings. The fact is of interest merely
because this was the first time that the word ' Utilitarian '
had been used by hedonists themselves, as representing their
doctrine. In a passage often quoted, Mill says : " I did not
invent the word, but found it in one of Gait's novels, the
Annals of the Parish, in which the Scotch clergyman, of whom
the book is a supposed autobiography, is represented as warn-
ing his parishioners not to leave the Gospel and become utili-
tarians. With a boy's fondness for a name and a banner I
seized on the word, and for some years called myself and
others by it as a sectarian appellation. ... As those opinions
attracted more notice, the term was repeated by strangers
and opponents, and got into rather common use just about the
time when those who had originally assumed it, laid down
that along with other sectarian characteristics." ^
Passing over Mill's very circumstantial account of his early
1 See p. 69. 2 See p, 67.
•^ See pp. 79 et seq, ; cf. Uiilitarianism, p. 9, note.
198 History 0/ Utilitarianism.
achievements as a writer, during the two years following the
foundation of the first Westminster Review in 1824 — which,
as a mere tour de force on the part of a youth who had not
yet attained majority, are perhaps the most striking feature
of his whole literary career — we shall pause to notice only
one more stage of his mental history, as given in the Auto-
biography. At length, in the autumn of 1826, the young
writer had to pay the penalty for his abnormal education and
life experience up to that time. His own account of what he
calls " A Crisis in my Mental History " is perhaps the best
known chapter in the Autobiography, and so calls for no re-
production here. For some months all sources of satisfac-
tion seemed for ever dried up for this ' disquisitive young man,'
as Peacock had called him soon after he made his appearance
at the India House — this martyr, one would be inclined to
add, of a monstrous training. With capacities of almost the
highest order, and living among those who, of all Englishmen
at that time, had the word ' freedom ' oftenest on their lips,
J. S. Mill had in reahty lived under quite as narrow and
tyrannical a regime as fell to the lot of the average young
school-man of the Middle Ages. It was, perhaps, not alto-
gether to his discredit that he had serious doubts, at the time
of which we speak, as to whether life was worth living. With
considerable confidence we may answer for him, that such a
life as his own had been up to this time was scarcely to be
reckoned so. This period of unrest and inner conflict was of
some months' duration ; but in the end it was decided that
the world should lose a singularly perfect calculating-machine
and gain another human philosopher.
We may now take leave of the Autobiography (1873), and
trace the development of Mill's views on Ethics from his
earlier published writings. Unfortunately he never wrote a
detailed treatise on the subject. Apart from the well-known
Utilitarianism (1863), we have to depend upon miscellaneous
essays or upon chapters in his various works, where the ex-
pression of his own views on Ethics is incidental rather than
John Stuart Mill. 199
the main purpose. This is in itself a serious disadvantage,
but the diflficulty is greater than this alone would indicate.
After his early course in rigorous Benthamism, and the crisis
in his mental life which we have just considered, he drifted
insensibly away from many of his earlier tenets, without by
any means realising the extent of the divergence of his later
from his earlier views. This being the case, it will be neces-
sary to consider his various writings which bear upon Ethics
separately, in spite of the obvious inconvenience of this
method.
And first, it will be desirable to see how, after he became
an independent ethical writer, he chose to define his posi-
tion toward Paley and Bentham. Unfortunately, we have
to depend, for his estimate of Paley, upon his not very satis-
factory essay on Professor Sedgwick's Discourse on the
Studies of the University of Cambridge (1835).^ This does
not by any means exhibit Mill at his best ; for the most part,
the essay reads like a mere apology for the position of
Bentham. It will be remembered that the Discourse itself
attracted a very great deal of attention at the time, and had a
most important influence toward modifying the whole scheme
of philosophical studies at Cambridge. Most students of
Ethics at the present day, having heard so much of the Dis-
course before reading it, are probably at a loss to understand
why it should have exerted such a considerable influence. It
makes no philosophical pretensions whatever, being written
more in the form of a sermon than that of even a popular
lecture on philosophy. But it was an earnest and most effec-
tive protest, from the point of view of an English churchman
of this period, against the tendencies of English Empiricism,
as represented by Locke ; and, in particular, against the
ethical system of Paley. It is rather startling to find that
Locke was being taught at this time without any special
notice being taken of his lineal successors of the English
Empirical school. Moreover, the criticism of Paley, to which
^ London Review, April, 1835.
200 History of Utilitarianism.
by far the most important part of the Discourse is devoted,
is anything but fair, and certainly does not show that Pro-
fessor Sedgwick appreciated the strength (such as it was) of
Paley's position. But, after all abatements, the Discourse
brings out with a good deal of force the fact, which must long
have been more or less definitely appreciated, that Paley's
system did not really do justice to the higher, more ideal side
of the Christian doctrine. In this connection, Professor Sedg-
wick undertakes to criticise the hedonistic position in general ;
although it must be admitted that this part of the Discourse
is far from being either clear or convincing.
Now, in the essay which we are considering. Mill does an
unconscious injustice to Professor Sedgwick, albeit we must
confess that the latter's friends were largely to blame for
the misunderstanding. In short, he seems to assume through-
out that the Discourse is a philosophical disquisition, and that
it is to be criticised accordingly. This will perhaps partly
account for the unfortunate tone of the essay, even of the part
which directly refers to Paley, and with which alone we are
here concerned. Mill says : " Of Paley's work, though it
possesses in a high degree some minor merits, we think, on the
whole, meanly "} One reason for this, perhaps, is, that Mill
appreciates Paley's position as little, or almost as little, as
Professor Sedgwick himself had done. For instance, he says :
" In the first place, he does not consider utility as itself the
source of moral obligation, but as a mere index to the will
of God, which he regards as the ultimate groundwork of all
morality, and the origin of its binding force. . . . The only
view of the connection between religion and morality which
does not armihilate the very idea of the latter, is that which
considers the Deity as not making, but recognising and
sanctioning, moral obligation." ^
The first sentence quoted would seem to indicate that,
according to Paley, morality is essentially arbitrary in its
character — depending ultimately upon the mere will of God.
^ See Dissertations and Discussions (first ed.), vol. I., p. 114.
■ See ibid., p. 125.
fohn Stuart Mill. 201
This is a point which we have already discussed in connection
with Gay's Dissertation, which Paley follows here exactly.
According to the selfish theory of moral action, complete
obligation could indeed come only from the will of God,
because God alone has it in His power to provide adequate
rewards and punishments. But it was precisely the point of
the argument of both Gay and Paley, to show that the will
of God was not arbitrary in this case, but rather that the
Divine Being was necessarily determined to will that human
beings should perform such actions as would be conducive
to the greatest happiness of all — which alone, according to
their view, could be regarded as the true Good. Their idea
of the objective end of all moral action was precisely the same
as that of Mill himself,^ the difference between their position
and his being, of course, that they depended to a large extent
upon supernatural sanctions, the belief in which seemed to
Mill, on the other hand, worse than useless. In the last
chapter, we saw that Bentham, at any rate, had no logical ob-
jection to urge against the Theological Utilitarians on this
point. Mill, on the contrary, seems already to assert the
existence of a certain degree of altruism as the necessary
foundation of morality. What is implicit here, becomes per-
fectly explicit in his later teaching.
Mill further objects to Paley that throughout his conclu-
sions are the starting-point of his premises. " His book is one
of a class which has since become very numerous, and is likely
to become still more so — an apology for commonplace. . . .
He took the doctrines of practical morals which he found
current." ^ A little further on. Mill adds : "If he had started
from any other principle, we have as little doubt that he would
have arrived at the very same conclusions ". This arraign-
ment is by no means so serious as the writer seems to sup-
pose. If Paley began by accepting the notions of morality
which were almost universally current in his time, and
attempted to rationalise them, he did v/hat any moralist in a
^ Mill saw his mistake later. Cf. ibid., pp. 345, 346 ; also vol. II., p. 455.
- See p. 128.
202 History of Utilitarianism.
similar position should do. The corrective use of Ethics must
come later. Whether or not one is a reformer by nature and
education, it is dangerous to begin with an eccentric morality
of one's own. It may very well be true that, if Paley had
' started from any other principle,' he would have reached
the ' same conclusions '. We have no reason to assume, how-
ever, that the ' conclusions ' were not his honest convictions
with regard to what things were right and what wrong. If
our concrete notions of right and wrong were as likely to
waver or to change as our purely theoretical views concerning
a possible science of Ethics, the case would be a serious one
indeed. In short, as we saw at the beginning of this chapter,
the acceptance of Hedonism, whether theological or non-theo-
logical, does not by any means commit one for or against any
of the radical views with regard to government and society
which appealed to Mill so strongly at this time.
We have allowed ourselves to say of this essay that it reads,
for the most part, ' like a mere apology for the position of
Bentham '. To Mill himself such a characterisation would
doubtless have seemed unjust. In the Autobiography he says :
" And here, I imagined, was an opportunity of at the same
time repelling an unjust attack, and inserting into my defence
of Hartleianism and Utilitarianism a number of the opinions
which constituted my view of those subjects, as distinguished
from that of my old associates. In this I partially succeeded,
though my relation to my father would have made it painful
to me in any case, and impossible in a Review for which he
wrote, to speak out my whole mind on the subject at this
time." 1 The last sentence quoted is particularly significant.
Though nearly thirty years of age, and a writer for serious
periodicals during almost half of this time, Mill was not yet
in a position to say quite what he thought, or all that he
believed, for fear of calling down upon his head the paternal
wrath. This is not said in any spirit of ridicule. On the
whole, the younger Mill was right, even apart from his filial
feelings. He was obliged constantly to co-operate with his
' See p. 20I.
John Stuart Mill. 203
father, not only in the daily work of the India Office, but in
the reform movement which they both had so much at heart.
Any breach between them would have been a serious matter,
from a public no less than a private point of view. How
great this restraining influence really was, may be sur-
mised by those who will take the trouble to compare this
essay with the one on Bentham (1838), which was published
two years after James Mill's death, and to which we shall
almost immediately proceed.
But, before leaving this essay on the Discourse, it is fair
to ask : Where are we to look for those ' new opinions ' of
Mill, which distinguished him from his former associates .''
The mere fact that the young writer, with his wider interests
and sympathies, now and again expressed himself as neither
Bentham nor James Mill would have done, is not to the point,
for we cire here concerned merely with abstract ethical theory.
There is, however, one divergence from the older ' greatest
happiness ' theory which is of real, and even considerable,
importance. This is with regard to the motive of the moral
agent. Unfortunately, Mill is not quite fair to Professor
Sedgwick here. He says : " The remainder of Mr. Sedgwick's
argument — if argument it can be called — is a perpetual
ignoratio elenchi. He lumps up the principle of utility —
which is a theory of right and wrong — ^with the theory, if
there be such a theory, of the universal selfishness of man-
kind. We never know, for many sentences together, which
of the two he is arguing against ; he never seems to know
it himself. He begins a sentence on the one, and ends it on
the other. In his mind they seem to be one and the same." ^
As against many anti-Utilitarian writers of the present day,
this would be perfectly legitimate and most damaging criticism ;
but Professor Sedgwick was hardly to be blamed for connect-
ing the Utilitarian doctrine with the selfish theory of moral
action, for this latter had been as strongly insisted upon by
Bentham as by Paley, and, indeed, in quite as offensive
' See Dissertations, vol. I., p. 154.
204 History of U ti litarianism.
terms. Mill was quite right in refusing to follow his im-
mediate predecessors in this matter, but at any rate he ought
to have given due notice of the fact. It must have been rather
provok-ing to Professor Sedgwick and his friends, that Mill
should blame him for not making a distinction which —
except by Hume (in the second form of his theory) and by
Hartley (whose treatment of Ethics had been too confused
to influence his immediate successors) — had never been
clearly made up to this time by prominent writers on the
Utilitarian side.
The essay on Bentham (1838) ^ is, in every way, far more
important than that which we have just been considering.
For one at all acquainted with the history of English Ethics,
and, in particular, with Bentham's writings, it is perhaps the
very best introduction to Mill's own system. With all its
remarkable qualities, however, this essay is rather a strange
production. One is not surprised that it should have puzzled
and irritated both friends and enemies. While professing,
and doubtless intending, to put Bentham on a very high
pedestal, Mill in reality proved himself a most dangerous
idol-breaker. He begins by characterising Bentham as " the
great subversive, or, in the language of continental phil-
osophers, the great critical, thinker of his age and country,"
— ' the great questioner of things established '. But Ben-
tham's positive qualities, according to Mill, were even more
important. Though not a ' great philosopher,' he was a
' great reformer in philosophy,' one of the ' great teachers
and permanent intellectual ornaments of the human race '.
This is a very large claim. How is it established 1 It seems
that Bentham " introduced into morals and politics those
habits of thought and modes of investigation, which are essen-
tial to the idea of science ; and the absence of which made
those departments of inquir\', as physics had been before
Bacon \sic\ a field of interminable discussion, leading to no
result "? But more particularly : " Bentham's method may
^ London and Westminster Review, August, 1838.
^See Dissertations, vol. I., pp. 339 et seq.
John Stuart Mill, 205
be shortly described as the method of detail ; of treating
wholes by separating them into their parts," etc. If it be
asked whether this method was after all so very original, Mill
replies : " Whatever originality there was in the method— in
the subjects he applied it to, and in the rigidity with which
he adhered to it, there was the greatest. Hence his intermin-
able classifications. Hence his elaborate demonstrations of
the most acknowledged truths." Those who are at all familiar
with Bentham's ' interminable classifications ' (often enough
on no apparent logical or psychological principle) and his
' elaborate demonstrations ' of the commonplace, will hardly
agree that it is here that we must look for the secret of his
strength.
In truth, as Mill admits : " The generalities of his philos-
ophy itself have little or no novelty : to ascribe any to the
doctrine that general utility is the foundation of morality,
would imply great ignorance of the history of philosophy,
of general literature, and of Bentham's own writings. He
derived the idea, as he says himself, from Helvetius ; and it
was the doctrine no less, of the religious philosophers of that
age, prior to Reid and Beattie. We never saw an abler de-
fence of the doctrine of utility than in a book written in
refutation of Shaftesbury, and now little read — Brown's
Essays on the Characteristics. ... In all ages of philosophy,
one of its schools has been utilitarian — not only from the time
of Epicurus, but long before. It was by mere accident that
this opinion became connected in Bentham with his peculiar
method." ^ But, as if to bewilder the reader completely,
Mill adds two or three pages further on : " This [peculiar
method of Bentham's], which he calls the exhaustive method,
is as old as philosophy itself. Plato owes everything to it,
and does everything by it ; " etc. In short, this ' great re-
1 See ibid., pp. 345, 346. Cf. with Mill's previous remarks on Paley, whose
system is practically the same as that of Brown. See also a passage in the
essay on Whewell {Dissertations, vol. II., p. 455), where Mill speaks of several
writers, "all of whom, as explicitly as Bentham, laid down the doctrine that
utility is the foundation of morals ".
2o6 History oj (Jtititai^ianism.
former of philosophy ' was such, not because he had anything
in Ethics really new to impart, for hedonism is as old as
philosophy ; but rather by virtue of his peculiar method, that
of ' detail ' — which, in turn, is acknowledged to be as old as
philosophy, or at least as old as Plato. The novelty, appar-
ently, consisted merely in applying this ' exhaustive method '
to the problems of morals and legislation as they appeared
to the hedonist. Apart from rhetoric, this apparently means
that Bentham insisted upon a more definite treatment of par-
ticular legal or ethical problems than was common among his
contemporaries. So far he was undoubtedly in the right, and,
as Mill points out, exercised a salutary influence upon his
opponents as well as upon his followers. But can we agree
that this constitutes him a ' great reformer ' m moral phil-
osophy ? In truth, method has been a sort of fetish through-
out a large part of the development of modern, as well as of
ancient, philosophy. The really important question with re-
gard to any particular philosopher is not : What method has
he followed } but : What has he actually accomplished, or put
others in the way of accomplishing, by virtue of his method ?
When Mill tries to answer the question, as to what Bentham
did thus actually accomplish, he concedes almost everything
that Bentham's bitterest opponents would need to claim. He
very properly remarks that the success of one who attempts
the adequate treatment of Ethics " will be proportional to two
things : the degree in which his own nature and circumstances
furnish him with a correct and complete picture of man's
nature and circumstances ; and his capacity of deriving light
from other minds ".^ In the last respect, he admits that Ben-
tham was lamentably deficient. " His writings contain few
traces of the accurate knowledge of any schools of thinking
but his own; and many proofs of his entire conviction that
they could teach him nothing worth knowing. For some of
the most illustrious of previous thinkers, his contempt was
unmeasured." All ethical theories differing from his own,
he dismissed as ' vague generalities '. Mill very suggestively
' See pp. 350 et seq.
John Stuart Mill. 207
remarks : " He did not heed, or rather the nature of his mind
prevented it from occurring to him, that these generahties con-
tained the whole unanalysed experience of the human race ".
And then Mill proceeds to show, in an admirable passage too
long to be quoted, that he who thus neglects, not only the
speculations of previous moralists, but ' the general opinion
of mankind ' on moral subjects, cannot take even the first
necessary step toward a truly objective treatment of Ethics.
One of the two most important qualifications for a moral
philosopher, then, Bentham utterly lacked, according to his
former disciple. Did he possess the other qualification ?
Was he able, from the completeness of his own experience
and from sympathy with the many sides of human nature,
to make up what he lost by this ignorant contempt for pre-
vious thinkers ? No, we are told : " In many of the most
natural and strongest feelings of human nature he had no
sympathy ; from many of its graver experiences he was alto-
gether cut off; and the faculty by which one mind under-
stands a mind different from itself, and throws itself into the
feelings of that other mind, was denied him by his deficiency
of imagination ".^ His knowledge of human nature was not
only wholly empirical, but with " the empiricism of one who
has had little experience. . . . Other ages and other nations were
a blank to him for purposes of instruction. . . . His own lot was
cast in a generation of the leanest and barrenest men whom
England had yet produced ; and he was an old man when a
better race came in with the present century. He saw ac-
cordingly in man little but what the vulgarest eye can see ;
recognised no diversities of character but such as he who runs
may read." And again : " Nothing is more curious than the
absence of recognition in any of his writings of the existence
of conscience, as a thing distinct from philanthropy, from
affection for God or man, and from self-interest in this world
or in the next ". But even this is not all. Not only does he
overlook the moral part of man's nature, in the strict sense of
the term, the desire of perfection or the feeling of an accusing
1 See pp. 353 et seq.
2o8 History of Utilitarianis^n.
conscience ; " he but faintly recognises, as a fact of human
nature, the pursuit of any other ideal end for its own sake ".
The ' sense of honour,' ' love of beauty/ ' love of order,' ' love
of power,' ' love of action ' — " none of these powerful con-
stituents of human nature are thought worthy of a place
among the ' Springs of Action ' '.
Such was Bentham's theory of the world. What will it
accomplish for Ethics ? Mill says : " It will do nothing for
the conduct of the individual, beyond prescribing some of the
more obvious dictates of worldly prudence, and outward pro-
bity and beneficence ".^ That very important part of Ethics,
moral ' self-education,' is left out entirely. As regards one's
attitude toward society, " a moralist on Bentham's principles
may get as far as this, that he ought not to slay, burn, or
steal " ; but, apparently, not much further. Such a doctrine
" will enable a society which has attained a certain state of
spiritual development, and the maintenance of which in that
state is otherwise provided for, to prescribe the rules by which
it may protect its material interests. It will do nothing (ex-
cept sometimes as an instrument in the hands of a higher
doctrine) for the spiritual interests of society ; nor does it
suffice of itself even for the material interests." In short,
Bentham's philosophy can only " teach the means of organ-
ising and regulating the merely business part of the social
arrangements. . . . He committed the mistake of supposing
that the business part of human affairs was the whole of them ;
all at least that the legislator and the moralist had to do
with." Bentham's services in the field of Jurisprudence and
of practical reform are spoken of in the last part of the essay
at considerable length and with (at least partly) deserved ap-
preciation ; but Mill has already allowed himself to say what
is manifestly true, and what takes away much from the force
of his eulogium. " A philosophy of laws and institutions, not
founded on a philosophy of national character, is an absurdity.
But what could Bentham's opinion be worth on national
character .^ How could he, whose mind contained so few and
^ See pp. 363 et seq.
John Stuart Mill. 209
so poor types of individual character, rise to that higher
generalisation ? " ^
This essay has been noticed at such length, and, as far as
possible, reproduced in Mill's own words, for two reasons.
First, in spite of its simple, though partly unconscious, severity,
it is in the main a perfectly just criticism. At the present day,
two generations after this essay was published, many of the
criticisms are such as would be almost sure to occur to a writer
on ethical theory ; but it has seemed best not to weaken the
force of the criticisms by putting them in terms of the
commonplace of current ethical discussion. What Mill has
done once for all, does not need to be done again in a neces-
sarily far less satisfactory manner. Secondly, as already said,
this essay is perhaps the very best introduction to Mill's own
system, seeing that some of the most important of Mill's own
contributions to Ethics may be directly deduced from it. One
might even say that, just as Mill here cuts himself loose from
the narrow and partisan traditions of Benthamism proper, so
the hedonism of the nineteenth century here takes final leave
of much that was most characteristic of the hedonism of the
eighteenth century. This is not to say that Mill himself
founded a new school. From beginning to end, he met with
serious, and (from the point of view of logical consistency)
sometimes well-grounded, opposition from the Utilitarians of
his own generation. But he did something far better than
found a new school ; he raised the whole plane of ethical
discussion, and did much to show what the points at issue
really were. The hedonists, on the one hand, finally took the
trouble to try to understand their opponents, while, on the
other hand, it gradually dawned upon the opponents of hedon-
ism, that the stock arguments against Paley and Bentham
would not suffice against Utilitarianism in its regenerated
form.
Mill's essay on Coleridge (1840)2 should always be read
in connection with the one on Bentham, though greatly in-
' See p. 366.
'^London and Westminster Review, March, 1840.
14
210 History of Utilitarianism.
ferior to that in most respects. The weakness of the essay
may be described in a word : it is an external criticism from
beginning to end, by one who regarded Coleridge merely as
the typical conservative, as opposed to Bentham, the typical
progressive philosopher. This conveniently shows how
dangerous it is to estimate a philosophical method by its real
or supposed practical consequences. In respect to practical
reforms, Bentham was indeed for, as Coleridge was against,
many innovations ; but when we consider how the two stand
with regard to the development of speculation in England,
we find that Mill's estimate is almost the exact contrary of
what we would now probably agree in regarding as the truth.
Though neither was strictly an original philosopher — though,
in fact, there is very little propriety in calling Bentham a
philosopher at all — the type of Utilitarianism for which Ben-
tham stood was certainly the logical result of the whole pre-
vious development of English Empiricism ; while Coleridge, if
he originated little, did much to bring his countrymen to
understand and appreciate those German modes of thought
which, for better or for worse, were destined to change the
whole face of English philosophy in little less than two
generations. In short, if Coleridge was a reactionary in his
views on Church and State, he was to some extent a prophet
of the future in his rejection of the traditional English Em-
piricism and his (not always critical) acceptance of German
methods in philosophy ; while Bentham's treatment of Ethics
(in which alone he enters the field of philosophy proper) may
almost be regarded as the reductio ad absurduin of English
Empiricism working, not only in opposition to, but in prac-
tical ignorance of, the principles of the Critical Philosophy.
But if Mill's criticism of Coleridge is unsatisfactory, ^ in
that he failed to appreciate the real significance of Coleridge's
1 In the last part of the essay, Mill makes the rather peculiar confession that,
" of Coleridge as a moral and religious philosopher (the character which he
presents most prominently in his principal works), there is neither room, nor
would it be expedient for us to speak more than generally ". (See Dissertations,
vol. I., p. 458.)
John Stuart Mill. 2 1 1
position in the English philosophy of the day, one can find
no fault whatever with the tone of the essay which we are
examining. It is more than courteous throughout, and, so
far as the writer's intentions are concerned, appreciative.
Indeed, there are passages which almost surprise one by what
is conceded to the opposite school. This may have been
partly due to Mill's early, and somewhat intimate, acquaint-
ance with Frederick Maurice and John Sterling, both of whom
were, of course, very decidedly under the influence of Cole-
ridge. In the Autobiography, Mill admits that both of these
young men had been of ' considerable use ' to his development,
while he says of the latter : " With SterHng I soon became very
intimate, and was more attached to him than I have ever been
to any other man ".^ For Mill, then, Coleridge was the great
awakener of the spirit of philosophy " within the bounds of
traditional opinions "? Bentham had asked of every doctrine :
Is it true ? Coleridge asks : What does it mean ? Both types of
mind are necessary, if there is to be intellectual or spiritual
progress. " Whoever could master the premises and combine
the methods of both, would possess the entire English phil-
osophy of his age." ^ The great danger in philosophy is
that one will mistake a part of the truth for the whole. As
the French Eclectics held, in controversies both sides are apt
to be right in what they affirm, wrong in what they deny.
This frank recognition of the claims of a thoughtful con-
servatism is especially significant, when we remember what
had been the early formative influences in Mill's case. Unlike
his father and Bentham, he saw clearly that if we would im-
prove upon the past, we must begin by understanding it, and
by learning from it. In this connection, Mill pays a very high
compliment to what he calls the ' Germano-Coleridgean '
school. He says : " They were the first (except a solitary
thinker here and there) who inquired with any comprehensive-
ness or depth, into the inductive laws of the existence and
growth of human society. . . . They thus produced, not a piece
^ See Autobiography, p. 154.
2 See Dissertations, vol. I., pp. 393 et seq. 'Ibid., p. 397.
2 1 2 Histojy of Utilitarianism,
of party advocacy, but a philosophy of society, in the onh
form in which it is yet possible, that of a philosophy of his-
tory ; not a defence of particular ethical or religious doctrines,
but a contribution, the largest made by any class of thinkers,
towards the philosophy of human culture." ^
If Mill is to be criticised here, it must certainly be for con-
ceding, not too little, but too much to those who had attempted
to formulate a Philosophy of History. Indeed, as criticism of
the school of thought which he is examining, this is not
calculated to impress the reader ; but, considered from an-
other point of view, it is most important for those who would
understand the difference between the new Utilitarianism
(which practically dates from these earlier writings of Mill)
and the old. The older form of the doctrine had been abstract
in the extreme. Man had been considered as an isolated
unit, moved in all respects by considerations of his own
pleasure-pain, which, of course, made his social relations ex-
traneous. This was, indeed, the natural view for those who
started from, and throughout depended upon, the analytical
method. But writers like Mill began to see that morality, like
everything else, had had a development ; that there were
' laws of permanence ' and ' laws of progress ' for society :
and that our theorising in Ethics, in order to be sound, must
be based upon at least a general comprehension of these
laws.
This transition from the abstract to the (at least partially)
concrete method of treatment was of the greatest importance
for Utilitarianism. It is true that the doctrine rapidly lost
much of its original simplicity, that many of its defenders,
prominently Mill himself, fell into more or less palpable con-
tradictions ; but the compensations were great. More and
more the doctrine came into touch with the historical and
with the truly scientific spirit ; more and more it was made
to square with the moral consciousness ; and if the result
does not seem to most of us to have been a triumph for the
1 See p. 425.
John Stuart Mill. 213
doctrine itself, it has certainly been to advance ethical theory,
and to show that the original hard and fast distinction between
hedonistic and non-hedonistic theory was based upon a mis-
conception. In short, we have learned as much from Mill
and his successors as from their antagonists, that, if we would
know the truth about Ethics, we must go back to Bishop
Butler, and base our theory, not upon one side of human
nature, but upon human nature as a whole.
That this interest in what he was content to call by the
rather vague name ' Philosophy of History ' was by no means
a passing phase in Mill's own intellectual development, is
shown by several of his best known essays published shortly
after that on Coleridge, viz., M. de Toqueville on Democracy
in America (published later in 1840), Michelefs History of
France (1844), and Giiizot's Essays and Lectures on History
(1845). It would be quite aside from our purpose to examine
these essays at all in detail, but a few things may properly be
noted. While Mill regards England as decidedly behind the
continent in the scientific writing of history (though he has the
most cordial, and, indeed, somewhat uncritical, praise for
Carlyle's French Revolution^, it is evidently the current his-
torical literature of France, rather than of Germany, with
which he is thoroughly acquainted at first hand. This takes
away something from the force of his frank preference for the
current French histories. Mill recognises three stages ^ in
the evolution of historical method: (i) the naive stage, which
is characterised by constantly reading present conceptions
into the past ; (2) the merely accurate stage, which describes
the facts as nearly as possible as they were, but without enter-
ing at all elaborately into the causes of progress or decadence ;
and (3) the ' scientific ' stage, where these causes are them-
selves subjected to the most thorough investigation. It is
this third stage that the author has generally in mind when
he speaks of the ' Philosophy of History,' though he hardly
uses the term with perfect consistency. If these essays con-
^ See Dissertations, vol. II., pp. 124 et seq.
2 14 History of Utilitarianism.
tain little or nothing that is strictly original, and nothing
directly applying to Ethics, it is certainly interesting to find
the late disciple of Bentham making clear to his countrymen,
as Michelet and others (not holding a brief for the Church)
had made clear in their historical writings, how enormous had
been the debt of Europe during the Middle Ages to the
Catholic Church. Hardly less interesting is it when, in the
essay on Guizot, he says that, when the history of the Middle
Ages comes to be adequately treated, it will be universally
recognised " that at no period of history was human intellect
more active, or society more unmistakably in a state of rapid
advance, than during a great part of the so much vilified
feudal period ".^ Plainly Mill is no longer under the spell
of the eighteenth century.
In speaking of the later essays mentioned above, we have
left unmentioned the fact that, as the reader will remember.
Mill's System of Logic had been published in 1843. The
sixth book of the Logic, which appears to have been written
in 1 840, dealt with the " Logic of the Moral Sciences ". This
will call for careful consideration later, but first it will be
desirable to notice Mill's well-known essay, Dr. Whewell on
Moral Philosophy (1852).^ This is quite different in tone
from the essays which had immediately preceded it. For the
most part, those had been decidedly appreciative of ten-
dencies of thought very different from those to which the
author had been subjected in childhood and early youth ;
and, if the essay on Coleridge is hardly a success as a sym-
pathetic study, it is at least a good deal more conciliatory
in tone than the one on Bentham, which had been published
in the same periodical {London and Westminster Review)
two years before. In this essay on Whewell, it must be con-
fessed that Mill's tolerance breaks down. This may have
been partly due to the fact that his marriage with Mrs. Taylor
had taken place the year before, and that her mfluence here,
as certainly later, had been in the direction of confirming
^ See Dissertations, vol. II., p. 273.
^ Westminster Review, October, 1852.
John Stuart Mill. 215
him in the earlier and more uncompromising form of his
doctrine. But it should also be remembered that Whewell's
writings were specially calculated to arouse a polemical atti-
tude in a critic belonging to the Utilitarian school, for, doubt-
less without in the least intending it, he had managed to give
his contemporaries a lamentably warped and distorted notion
of what Utilitarianism really was.
With most of Mill's particular criticisms of Whewell, we are,
of course, not here concerned ; but two of them have an im-
portant bearing upon the general question as to the end of
moral action, and so demand notice. Whewell had allowed
himself, in a rather rhetorical passage, to use some very
characteristic question-begging epithets. As Mill says : " He
appropriates to his own side of the question all the expressions,
such as conscience, duty, rectitude, with which the reverential
feelings of mankind towards moral ideas are associated. . . .
Dr. Whewell is assuming to himself what belongs quite as
rightfully to his antagonists. We are as much for conscience,
duty, rectitude, as Dr. Whewell. The terms, and all the
feelings connected with them, are as much a part of the ethics
of utility as of that of intuition. The point in dispute is,
what acts are the proper objects of those feelings ; whether
we ought to take the feelings as we find them, as accident or
design has made them, or whether the tendency of actions
to promote happiness affords a test to which the feelings of
morality should conform. In the same spirit. Dr. Whewell
announces it as his opinion, as the side he takes in this great
controversy, ' that we must do what is right, at whatever cost
of pain and loss '. As if this were not everybody's opinion ;
as if it was not the very meaning of the word right. The
matter in debate is, what is right, not whether what is right
ought to be done. Dr. Whewell represents his opponents as
denying an identical proposition, in order that he may claim
a monopoly of high principle for his own opinions. The same
unfairness pervades the whole phraseology." ^
It cannot be too strongly insisted that, while Mill expresses
' See Dissertations, vol. II., pp. 459, 460.
2 1 6 History of UtilitaHanism.
himself with perhaps needless emphasis, he is perfectly right
here, not only as against Whewell, but as against the question-
begging procedure of many later anti-hedonistic writers. The
facts of our moral experience are what they are ; their ex-
planation is quite a different matter. Since our principal
interest here is historical, however, it may be well to pause a
moment, in order to see how it was possible that contemporary
writers of such undoubted intellectual eminence as Mill and
Whewell should be at issue on so seemingly simple a matter.
The fact is, that the Utilitarianism which Mill is here uphold-
ing is something quite different from the narrower Utilitarian-
ism of the preceding generation, to which (hardly with justice)
Whewell had continued to direct his criticisms. It is
broader and deeper, more in touch with the ordinary moral
and religious consciousness. But there was some excuse for
the Utilitarians of the earlier generation, if they were inclined
to look a little askance at the vocabulary of conventional
ethical discussion, inasmuch as these very terms were being
constantly thrust in their faces, as if they were in themselves
conclusive arguments against any attempt at a scientific ex-
planation of the moral life.
Not less suggestive than the preceding, is Mill's answer
to Whewell's contention that Utilitarianism must fall to the
ground, because we cannot calculate all the consequences of
any action. This, unfortunately, is too long to be quoted at
large ; but the general line of argument may be gathered
from the following. " If Dr. Whewell can point out any
department of human affairs in which we can do all that would
be desirable, he will have found something new. But because
we cannot foresee everything, is there no such thing as fore-
sight.-* . . . Dr. Whewell, in his zeal against the morality of
consequences, commits the error of proving too much.
Whether morality is or is not a question of consequences, he
cannot deny that prudence is ; and, if there is such a thing
as prudence, it is because the consequences of actions can
be calculated Prudence, indeed, depends on a calculation of
consequences of individual actions, while for the establish-
John Stuart Mill. 217
ment of moral rules it is only necessary to calculate the
consequences of classes of actions — a much easier matter." ^
But if it be urged that, even so, Utilitarian morality seems to
admit of possible exceptions to its own general rules, Mill
shows that it is in no worse case than other forms of ethical
theory. He says : " That the moralities arising from the
special circumstances of the action may be so important as to
overrule those arising from the class of acts to which it
belongs, perhaps to take it out of the category of virtues into
that of crimes, or vkc versa, is a liability common to all ethical
systems "?
What Mill says here is quite true, but he might easily have
made his case even stronger. An ethical writer who shuts
his eyes to the evident fact, that a conscientious moral agent
is sometimes confronted with duties, both of the highest order,
which apparently conflict, hardly deserves the attention of
any serious reader. And yet there is a manifest tendency,
even at the present time, for non-hedonistic writers to point
triumphantly to these concrete difficulties of the moral life
(which, of course, may be distressing in the extreme to a really
conscientious person), as if, in themselves, such difficulties were
a refutation of Utilitarianism. Nothing could be more ridi-
culously unfair. The difficulties just referred to, be it ob-
served, are practical before they are theoretical — i.e., the
question what is right in this particular case arises before the
question why is the one action or the other right. The
theoretical difficulty, therefore, arises for any system of Ethics
which attempts to explain our moral life. To say that these
difficulties of actual moral experience are not difficulties for
one's own particular type of ethical theory, is in itself enough
to condemn the theory utterly. In cases like those just men-
tioned, is the Self-realisation theory, e.g., one whit better
off than Utilitarianism ? Certainly not. The question of
' more ' or ' less,' ' whole ' or ' part,' is much more extensive
than that of the hedonistic calculus. If it is difficult, in these
' See Dissertations, vol. II., pp. 473, 474. - See p. 477.
2 1 8 History of Utilitarianism.
hopelessly perplexing cases, to say which of two possible
courses of action will bring more happiness to the greater
number, is it easier to say which conduces more to self-realisa-
tion ? Merely to put the question, is to answer it.
But while there is no logical justification for using against
Utilitarianism the practical difficulties of our moral life — which
are bound to remain difficulties for any form of ethical theor>'
worthy of the name — there is an historical explanation for this
still prevailing tendency, which is rather interesting. In spite
of the undoubted variety of ethical theory which appears
in the course of the development of English Ethics, the per-
ennial conflict, almost down to the time that we are consider-
ing, had been between the various forms of Intuitionism and
those of Hedonism. Now the earlier Intuitionism tended to
refer back to a few convenient ' first principles,' and discount
explanations ; while Utilitarianism, with all its faults and
weaknesses, which certainly were many, did try to provide
explanations. The result was that the ' burden of proof '
was constantly shifted to the side of the Utilitarian. If he
could not explain away the difficulties outstanding, then In-
tuitionism was supposed to hold the field. In the past two
generations, we have pretty generally outgrown this naive
method of argument (which the present writer would by no
means attribute to thoughtful Intuitionists of the present day),
seeing that it is generally admitted, that it is incumbent on one
form of ethical theory not less than another to offer explana-
tions that shall be satisfactory to the scientific intelligence.
CHAPTER XI.
JOHN STUART MILL {continued).
Having traced the development of Mill's views on Ethics,
by means of the Autobiography and his contributions to
various periodicals, from his first stage of enthusiastic Ben-
thamism to what proved his relatively permanent, if not
strictly final, position, we are now prepared to give careful at-
tention to his later writings, which, though in no case amount-
ing to a systematic treatment of Ethics, have at least the
substantial advantage of being constructive and not merely
critical. And first we have to notice Book VI. of his System
of Logic, "On the Logic of the Moral Sciences". Here,
indeed, as regards the chronological order, we have to retrace
our steps. In the last chapter, it seemed best to include our
mention of the essays on Michelet (1844), Guizot (1845), ^-^^^
Whewell's Moral Philosophy (1852), in order that the critical
essays, later as well as earlier, might be considered together.
The sixth book of the Logic was probably written in 1840,
i.e., in the same year as the essays on Coleridge and De
Toqueville. The Logic was not published, however, till 1843,
and we shall use the text of the standard eighth edition
(1872).
Mill begins his treatment of the " Logic of the Moral
Sciences " by remarking that, while we are practically agreed
as to the method of investigation to be employed where the
physical nature of man is concerned, this is by no means the
case where the laws of mind, and especially those of society,
are in question. In truth, it is even a matter of controversy
whether these are capable of strictly scientific treatment.
(219)
2 20 History of Utilitarianism.
But if we are really in earnest with these sciences, true scien-
tific method must be applied here also ; and general scientific
method is always one and the same thing. Now, Mill says,
" at the threshold of this inquiry we are met by an objection,
which, if not removed, would be fatal to the attempt to treat
human conduct as a subject of science. Are the actions of
human beings, like all other natural events, subject to invari-
able laws ? " 1
This, of course, raises the whole controversy concerning the
freedom of the will, which, from at least the time of Pelagius,
has divided both the philosophical and the religious world.
We find one side holding the doctrine of necessity, which
regards human volitions and actions as necessary and inevi-
table ; while the other side " maintains that the will is not
determined, like other phenomena, by antecedents, but deter-
mines itself ; that our volitions are not, properly speaking, the
effects of causes, or at least have no causes which they uni-
formly and implicitly obey "? Mill complains of the mislead-
ing terms in which these doctrines are commonly set forth ;
and. in particular, he objects to the use of the word ' necessity,'
as standing for determinism. Correctly understood, the doc-
trine called ' Philosophical Necessity ' is merely this : that if
we could know perfectly the motives present in the agent's
mind, and also his character and disposition, we would be able
to predict his action in a given case, just as we would be able
to predict any physical event, if we could know all the con-
ditions. Now our assurance of this does not conflict in the
slightest degree with our ' feeling of freedom,' so constantly
appealed to in this controversy. We may be free, and yet it
may be practically certain to those who know us best, how
we will use our freedom in a given case. And if this be true
in the simpler cases, why would it not also be found true in
the more complex ones, if only the observer could have an
adequate knowledge of the character and circumstances ?
Thus far, as will be seen, Mill's argument is merely the con-
^ See Logic, vol. II., p. 419. -Ibid., p. 421.
John Stuart MilL 221
ventional one for determinism. At this point, however, he
attempts to silence the scruples of the libertarian in a rather
peculiar way. What really troubles the libertarian, he thinks,
is the idea of compulsion commonly associated with the idea
of causality. We feel that we are not compelled, as by some
magical force, to obey a particular motive ; and we are quite
right. " But neither is any such mysterious compulsion now
supposed, by the best philosophical authorities, to be exer-
cised by any other cause over its effect." ^ In short, reduce
the conception of causality to that of invariable sequence, and
Mill seems to think that little or nothing remains, to which
the libertarian can object. It is rather difficult to take this
quite seriously. Most certainly it is proper, when discussing
freedom of the will, to clarify our ideas as much as possible
on the general subject of causality ; but the plain fact is, that
what libertarians have always mainly objected to in deter-
minism (whether rightly or wrongly), has been the putting of
physical and mental causality on the same plane. It will
readily be seen that, however we might see fit to modify our
general conception of causality, this difficulty would remain
exactly what it was before.
Mill goes on to show, by the usual Hne of argument, that
determinism and fatalism are two very different doctrines ;
but he rather surprises one, almost at the beginning of his
discussion, by remarking that the determinist (or ' necessi-
tarian,' as he calls him), " is apt to be, with more or less of con-
sciousness on his part, a fatalist as to his own actions, and to
believe that his nature is such, or that his education and
circumstances have so moulded his character, that nothing can
now prevent him from feeling and acting in a particular way,
or at least that no effort of his own can hinder it " ? This is
not an isolated instance of the facility with which Mill can at
times confuse metaphysical issues. And in this particular
case, the effect is, quite needlessly to detract from the force
of his own argument. In short, he confuses fatalism (the
1 See p. 423. 2 gee p, 425.
222 History of Utilitarianism.
doctrine that what is to happen will happen, all ordinary
causes to the contrary notwithstanding) with a view which he
attributes to many determinists regarding the unchangeability
of individual character. li. has often been shown — in recent
years, e.g., by Fouillee ^ — that the doctrine of fatalism does
not arise from too much, but from too little, attention being
paid to the ascertainable causes of human actions. Now the
class of determinists to which Mill refers, and which can hardly
have been as large as his language would seem to indicate,
were doubtless wrong in over-emphasising the ' unchange-
ability of character ' ; but this does not at all make them
fatalists. They, as much as Mill himself, were in search of
the ascertainable causes ; they, as much as he, were prepared
to admit that actual effort in opposition to the unfortunate
tendencies of one's own character would have its effect : they
simply made the serious mistake of exaggerating what we may
call the ' inertia ' of individual character.
But, while Mill's discussion is hardly satisfactory as a treat-
ment of the metaphysical question of freedom, it throws an
interesting light upon his own ethical theory, for he goes, if
anything, to the extreme in his view of the extent to which
we may change our own characters. He begins by very
properly remarking that, while the individual's character is
formed by his circumstances, " his own desire to mould it in
a particular way, is one of those circumstances, and by no
means one of the least influential ". And he proceeds to
show that we are exactly as capable of making our own
character, if we will, as others are of making it for us. Later
he makes the more original remark that, "if we examine
closely, we shall find that this feeling, of our being able to
modify our own character if we wish, is itself the feeling of
moral freedom which we are conscious of".^ And he con-
cludes this phase of the discussion by making the following
suggestive observation. " The free-will doctrine, by keep-
^ See ha liherte et le diterminisme, ch. ii.
- See p. 427.
John Stuart Mill. 223
irig in view precisely that portion of the truth which the word
Necessity puts out of sight, namely the power of the mind to
co-operate in the formation of its own character, has given to
its adherents a practical feeling much nearer to the truth
than has generally (I believe} existed in the minds of necessi-
tarians. The latter may have had a stronger sense of the
importance of what human beings can do to shape the char-
acters of one another ; but the free-will doctrine has, I believe,
fostered in its supporters a much stronger spirit of self-
culture."
Now what shall be said of the possibility of a science of
human nature ? In the preceding discussion, according to
Mill, we have seen no reason for denying that human actions
take place according to laws. But any class of phenomena,
subject to laws, is legitimate subject-matter for a science.
The mere difficulty of ascertaining all the laws, is not as seri-
ous as might at first appear. Take the case of meteorology:
Nobody doubts that the phenomena with which this science
attempts to deal are subject to law ; and the extreme com-
plexity of the phenomena, and the resulting difficulty of ascer-
taining the precise nature of the particular laws involved,
does not by any means keep the scientist from making them
the object of most careful research. This, to be sure, is the
case of a very imperfect science ; but we need not look
far to find a science midway between this condition of ex-
treme imperfection and the relative perfection of the more
developed physical sciences. The theory of the tides, 'Tidol-
ogy,' as Dr. Whewell proposes to call it, is a convenient
example. What depends on the attraction of the sun and
moon is perfectly understood, and the results can be accurately
predicted even tor an unknown, but definite, part of the earth's
surface. But circumstances of a local nature, like the char-
acter of the sea-bottom, the degree of confinement from
shores, the prevailing direction of the winds, etc., come in to
complicate. These can be partly calculated and allowed for,
but not completely, with the result that the actual tides in
given places do not precisely agree with our predictions.
224 History of Utilitarianis^n.
Still the approximation is sufficient to make ' Tidology * not
only a science, like meteorology, but a science largely avail-
able in practice, as meteorology has not (or in Mill's day had
not yet) become.
Now this is all that is, or should be, meant by sciences
that are not ' exact sciences '. Once having admitted that
human actions are conformable to law, there is no reason
why the science of human nature should not, in time, become
as much of a science as ' Tidology '. And one thing should
never be forgotten. Even if the science of human nature
could conceivably become perfect, which is absurd, certain
prediction could be made only on the basis of complete data
in the given case, which, of course, we never can have. We
must not, therefore, underrate the probable usefulness of this
proposed science, which, for obvious reasons, must to the end
remain imperfect. Mill says : " An approximate generalisa-
tion is, in social inquiries, for most practical purposes equi-
valent to an exact one : that which is only probable when
asserted of individual human beings indiscriminately selected,
being certain when affirmed of the character and collective
conduct of masses ".^
After giving a brief outline of his own psychological views,
which need not detain us, since it consists merely in the
reaffirmation of the general principles of the traditional As-
sociationist school (particularly as represented by James Mill's
Analysis of the Phenomena of the Human Mind), Mill passes
on to a consideration of * Ethology,' the proposed new ' science
of the formation of character '. And first he calls attention
to what he has already, when treating of induction, had
occasion to call ' empirical laws '. Such a law is " an uni-
formity, whether of succession or of coexistence, which holds
true in all instances within our limits of observation, but is
not of a nature to afford any assurance that it would hold
beyond those limits "?■ General observations on human
affairs, collected from common experience, are precisely of
this nature. The really scientific truths which we are seek-
' See p. 434. ■^ See p. 448.
John Stuart Mill. 225
ing, however, are not these ' empirical laws,' but the causal
laws which explain them. The ' empirical laws,' in fact, are
at best almost always a more or less vague statement of the
complex result of the operation of two or more laws of the
scientific kind.
What, then, is the proper method of investigation for Ethol-
ogy ? Nobody who realises the extreme complexity of the
phenomena to be explained can be seriously in doubt. Taken
by itself, the inductive method would be almost useless, by
reason of the amount of material to be treated and the result-
ing confusion. The deductive method, surely, which sets out
from general laws (in this case, those of mind), and verifies
their consequences by specific experience, is alone applicable.
In fact, there are but two methods of discovering the laws of
nature, the deductive method just mentioned and that of
experimentation. But experimentation is obviously impos-
sible here, and, if possible, experiments could not be per-
formed with any approach to scientific accuracy. The
deductive method, then, is our only resource. Mill says:
" The laws of the formation of character are, in short, deriva-
tive laws, resulting from the general laws of mind ; and are
to be obtained by deducing them from those general laws ;
by supposing any given set of circumstances, and then con-
sidering what, according to the laws of mind, will be the
influence of those circumstances on the formation of char-
acter ".1 This new science, then, is to be called Ethology, or
the Science of Character. It is the science which corresponds
to the art of education in the widest sense, including the for-
mation of national or collective character, as well as in-
dividual. If the possible results in this direction are not all
that could be desired, we must remember that a degree of
knowledge far short of the power of actual prediction, is often
of much practical value. " It is enough that we know that
certain means have a tendency to produce a given effect, and
that others have a tendency to frustrate it." ^
1 See p. 457. '^ See p. 458.
15
226 History of Utilitarianism.
The relation between Ethology and Psychology must always
be kept clearly in mind. Mill says : " While on the one hand
Psychology is altogether, or principally, a science of obser-
vation and experiment, Ethology, as I have conceived it, is,
as I have already remarked, altogether deductive. The one
ascertains the simple laws of Mind in general, the other traces
their operation in complex combinations of circumstances.
Ethology stands to Psychology in a relation very similar to
that in which the various branches of natural philosophy
stand to mechanics. The principles of Ethology are properly
the middle principles, the axiomata media (as Bacon would
have said) of the science of mind : as distinguished, on the
one hand from the empirical laws resulting from simple ob-
servation, and on the other from the highest generalisations." ^
And, in this connection. Mill naturally quotes Bacon's famous
observation, that the axiomata media of every science prin-
cipally constitute its value.
Such, then, is the greatly needed science of Ethology, with-
out which, in Mill's view, there can be no truly scientific
Sociology. The remainder of the sixth book of the Logic is
devoted to a criticism of what the author regards as false
methods, and an elaboration of what he regards as the true
method, of the latter science. But we cannot follow Mill
further in this direction. As would be surmised, since Ethol-
ogy is regarded as the necessary connecting-lmk between
Psychology and Sociology, the proper method of Sociology
is held to be deductive also — " not," as the author explains,
"after the model of geometry, but after that of the more
complex physical sciences ".-
It is hardly necessary to state that Mill had to give up his
project of founding the new science of Ethology, and that
this made impossible the further, and more considerable, task
of writing a work on Sociology along the lines laid down in
the last part of the sixth book of the Logic. Such being the
ease, it may seem needless to have examined Mill's treatment
' See p. 458. 2 See pt 488.
John Stuart Mill. 227
of the Logic of the Moral Sciences at such length. This has
been done, however, for a very definite reason. It will be
remembered that the first draft of the sixth book of the Logic
was probably written in 1840, only two years after the publi-
cation of the important essay on Bentham. In that remark-
able but perplexing critique, Bentham's great merit in Ethics
was held to have been his attempt to apply ordinary scientific
method to the subject matter of that science. It was not
claimed that the net result of his attempt was specially im-
portant, but the attempt itself was regarded as little less than
epoch-making. It might seem to one reading the essay on
Bentham without reference to Mill's other works, that the
writer was here giving rather perfunctory praise to the elder
moralist, whom he felt obliged in most respects to criticise so
severely. But Mill's own perfectly serious attempt in the
same general direction, which we have just been considering
a good deal in detail, proves conclusively the contrary. To
be sure, the science of Ethology was not to be a substitute
for Ethics ; but it was once for all to furnish that discipline
with a strictly scientific basis. And in that sense (indirectly,
if not directly), Ethics was at last to come within the scope
of true scientific method.
Mill's inevitable failure here was, perhaps, as instructive
as success in some other direction would have been. For
success in this direction was found to be impossible, not
from any individual fault or weakness on the part of Mill,
but from the nature of the case. Whatever, in the last
analysis, Ethics may be thought to be, one may hold with
perfect confidence that it is not a natural science merely,
nor an art founded upon a natural science — which is as far
as possible from implying that it does not need to take
cognizance of all the facts of moral experience and develop-
ment that can pwDssibly be obtained. In short, Mill had not,
any more than the Evolutionists later, discovered a new
' method,' which was to revolutionise Ethics. And it can
hardly be thought fanciful to suggest, that the essential
barrenness of the method outlined in this part of the Logic,
2 28 History of Utilitarianism.
and Mill's lack of success in carrying out even the initial
step in constructing, at least in outline, the new science of
Ethology, was one important reason why he never undertook
to write a systematic treatise on Ethics.^
In following the development of Mill's ethical views, it
seems necessary here to depart from the order of publication.
The reason will appear from the following passage, taken from
the ' Introductory Notice' prefixed by Miss Helen Taylor to
three of Mill's essays, Nature^ The Utility of Religion, and
Theism, first published (together) in 1874, the year following
Mill's death. " The two first of these three Essays were
written between the years 1850 and 1858, during the period
which intervened between the publication of the Principles
of Political Economy [1848], and that of the work on Liberty
[1859] ; during which interval three other Essays — on Justice,
on Utility, and on Liberty — were also composed. Of the five
Essays written at that time, three have already been given to
the public by the Author. That on Liberty was expanded into
the now well-known work bearing the same title. Those on
Justice and Utility were afterwards incorporated, with some
alterations and additions, into one, and published under the
name of UtilitM'ianisni [1863]. The remaining two — on
Nature and on the Utility of Religion — are now given to the
public, with the addition of a third — on Theism — ^which was
produced at a much later period. . . . [This last] was written
between the years 1868 and 1870, but it was not designed as
a sequel to the two Essays which now appear along with it,
nor were they intended to appear all together." This definite
statement, from one who had such exceptional opportunities
to know the exact facts of the case, must be accepted as
authoritative. And the information which it conveys is in-
teresting. The essay on " Nature " and that on the " Utility
of Religion " may confidently be attributed to the period dur-
^ It is rather strange that this chapter was not thoroughly revised, after MilJ
had given up the projected science of Ethology as an impossibility.
John Stuart Mill. 229
ing which the first draft of Liberty and that of Utilitarianism
were written. Moreover, since these two essays were appar-
ently not recast, like the others, they may properly be con-
sidered first.
When Mill wrote the essay on " Nature," he must already
have given up the project of writing a book on Ethology, for,
according to Professor Bain.^ his disappointment in this re-
spect was what led him to go on with the Political Economy,
which, as will be remembered, was published in 1848. Thus
much, at any rate, his position must have changed since the
time when he wrote the sixth book of the Logic. What he
seems to have proposed to himself, in writing the essay which
we are to examine, was neither to attack the defunct doctrine
of Laws of Nature, nor precisely to attack Natural Theology,
but to clear up, as far as might be, what he regarded as the
fatally ambiguous, and often question-begging, use of the
concept * nature ' in ethical speculation. How, then, is the
word ' nature ' actually used in philosophical discussions .''
In one definite and justifiable sense, it may be taken to mean
" the sum of all phenomena, together with the causes which
produce them; including not only all that happens, but all
that is capable of happening ; the unused capabiHties of causes
being as much a part of the idea of Nature, as those which
take effect "? But ' nature ' is constantly used in a popular
sense, as opposed to that which is ' artificial '. This obviously
conflicts with the preceding (strictly scientific) definition, ac-
cording to which art is as much a part of nature as anything
else, since it is a part of the universal world-process.
Such being the two principal senses of the word ' nature,'
in which sense, if either, is it used to convey ideas of com-
mendation, approval, and even moral obligation ? For that
the word is thus used, even at the present time, seems to Mill
beyond question. He says : " Though perhaps no one could
now be found who, like the institutional writers of former
1 See J. S. Mill : a Criticism, p. 79.
2 See Three Essays on Religion, p. 5.
230 History of Utilitarianism.
times, adopts the so-called Law of Nature as the foundation of
ethics, and endeavours consistently to reason from it, the
word and its cognates must still be counted among those
which carry great weight in moral argumentation " } It looks
at first, indeed, as if we were confronted with another actual
use of the word ' nature ' at the very threshold of our investi-
gation. "All inquiries are either into what is, or into what
ought to be : science and history belonging to the first divi-
sion, art, morals, and politics to the second. But the two
senses of the word Nature first pointed out, agree in referring
only to what is." Mill does not, however, admit a third use
of the word here. He says : " Those who say that we ought
to act according to Nature do not mean the mere identical
proposition that we ought to do what we ought to do. They
think that the word Nature affords some external criterion
of what we should do . . . they have a notion, either clearly
or confusedly, that what is, constitutes the rule and standard
of what ought to be." ^ Such, then, is the view which is to
be examined in the present essay.
Now, when we are told to ' follow nature ' in moral conduct,
is * nature ' understood in what we have called the first, or
philosophical sense } Manifestly not, for then the admonition
would have no meaning. We must follow nature, in this sense,
whether we will or no. The only moral precept that could
be given from this point of view would be, ' study nature ' ;
and, however, important this precept may be, it can only lead
to intelligent moral action. Right moral action, to be sure,
implies this, but also a great deal more. Clearly we have no
criterion of right conduct afforded here. But how would it
be, if we should take ' nature * in the second sense, as stand-
ing for that which takes place without human intervention }
Here the precept ' follow nature ' would be worse than super-
fluous and unmeaning ; it would be palpably absurd and self-
contradictory. Mill says : " If the artificial is not better than
the natural, to what end are all the arts of life } To dig, to
^ See Three Essays on Religion, p. 11. ^ See p. 13.
John Stuart MilL 231
plough, to build, to wear clothes, are direct infringements of
the injunction to follow nature. . . . All praise of Civilisation,
or Art, or Contrivance, is so much dispraise of Nature ; an
admission of imperfection, which it is man's business, and
merit, to be always endeavouring to correct or mitigate.' ^
We must evidently look further, if we would understand the
real hold which this vague principle still has in the minds of
thinking men. Mill argues that this principle in the last re-
sort depends upon the view that, since nature is the work of
God, we may and do find in nature distinct traces of a divine
moral order, which, of course, it is our duty to imitate. Here,
obviously, we come to close quarters with Natural Theology.
But before proceeding further, we must divest ourselves of
certain preconceptions. We are often reminded of the awe
which thoughtful men feel in the presence of some of the
mightier aspects of nature. This awe, however, has no
strictly moral significance ; in fact, we feel it most, when view-
ing (at a sufficient distance) the phenomena of nature which
are most capable of inflicting harm upon man. After this
brief warning, the author comes to close quarters with the
essential question at once ; and his arraignment of ' nature,'
taken as a moral order, is rather striking, if somewhat rhetori-
cal and not wholly relevant
He says : " In sober truth, nearly all the things which men
are hanged or imprisoned for doing to one another, are nature's
everyday performances. Killing, the most criminal act re-
cognised by hiunan laws. Nature does once to every being
that lives ; and in a large proportion of cases, after protracted
tortures such as only the greatest monsters whom we read of
ever purposely inflicted on their living fellow-creatures. . . .
All this, Nature does with the most supercilious disregard
both of mercy and of justice, emptying her shafts upon the
best and noblest indifferently with the meanest and worst ;
upon those who are engaged in the highest and worthiest
enterprises, and often as the direct consequence of the noblest
^ See pp. 20, 21.
232 History of Utilitarianism.
acts ; and it might almost be imagined as a punishment for
them. . . . Next to taking Hfe (equal to it according to a high
authority) is taking the means by which we live ; and Nature
does this too on the largest scale and with the most callous
indifference. A single hurricane destroys the hopes of a
season ; a flight of locusts, or an inundation, desolates a dis-
trict ; a trifling chemical change in an edible root, starves a
million of people. . . . All which people are accustomed to
deprecate as ' disorder ' and its consequences, is precisely a
counterpart of Nature's ways. Anarchy and the Reign of
Terror are overmatched in injustice, ruin, and death, by a
hurricane and a pestilence." ^ The argument that all things
are nevertheless ' for the best,' is not applicable here ; for,
if we are to imitate nature, it must be the nature that we
know, and not the hidden ways of a mysterious Providence.
Moreover, if good sometimes comes out of evil in the natural
course of things, it must not be forgotten that this is quite
as often the case with human crimes ; and, still further, it must
be recognised that it happens as frequently that evil comes out
of good. On the whole, however, good produces good, and
evil, evil. ' To him that hath shall be given.'
The inevitable conclusion for Mill is, that the order of
nature, as we know it, is not a moral order — or, at any rate,
only partially such. If an omnipotent God can will happiness,
and does will misery, there is but one legitimate conclusion.
But suppose that God has willed virtue instead of happiness.
Then we can only say that His purpose has been equally
frustrated. The natural theologians have failed lamentably
in that they have proved practically nothing by trying to prove
too much. " The only admissible moral theory of Creation
is that the Principle of Good cannot at once and altogether
subdue the powers of evil, either physical or moral ; . . . but
could and did make [man] capable of carrying on the fight
with vigour and with progressively increasing success." This
is evidently said by Mill, not in irony, but in perfect good
^ See pp. 28-31.
John Stuart Mill. 233
faith, for he goes on to show that this view, whether specula-
tively tenable or not, would really satisfy our moral nature.
He even goes so far as to add : " And I venture to assert that
such has really been, though often unconsciously, the faith
of all who have drawn strength and support of any worthy
kind from trust in a superintending Providence ".^
But if only a part of the order of nature, at any rate, can
be as the Divine Being intended, it becomes highly im-
portant to discover what part. It would be most natural to
point out those primitive impulsive tendencies in man which,
not altogether fortunately, liave received the name ' instincts '.
Apart from the very serious difficulty of saying just what are
* instincts,' however, it remains true that nearly every respect-
able attribute of humanity is the result, not of instinct, but
of a victory over instinct. Only in a highly artificialised
condition of human nature, could the notion grow up, that
goodness was natural. Indeed, the victory over fear, one of
the most powerful emotions of human nature, shows how
artificial is the condition even of the savage. Sympathy,
though in a sense natural, requires a great deal of cultivation.
Veracity, one of the highest virtues, is plainly artificial, for all
savages are liars. And the same might be proved of all the
other virtues.
And here we come to what, for Mill, is the gist of the
whole matter. He says : " If it be said, that there must be
the germs of all these virtues in human nature, otherwise
mankind would be incapable of acquiring them, I am ready,
with a certain amount of explanation, to admit the fact. But
the weeds that dispute the ground with these beneficent germs,
are themselves not germs but rankly luxuriant growths, and
would, in all but some one case in a thousand, entirely stifle
and destroy the former, were it not so strongly the interest
of mankind to cherish the good germs in one another, that
they always do so, in as far as their degree of intelligence
{in this as in other respects still very imperfect) allows. . . .
1 See p. 39.
234 History of Utilitarianism.
Even those gifted organisations which have attained the like
excellence by self-culture, owe it essentially to the same cause ;
for what self-culture would be possible without aid from
the general sentiment of mankind delivered through books,
and from the contemplation of exalted characters real or
ideal ? This artificially created or at least artificially perfected
nature of the best and noblest human beings, is the only
nature which it is ever commendable to follow." ^ Mill con-
cludes from the above and similar arguments, that " con-
formity to nature, has no connection whatever with right and
wrong ".^
If it were worth while, one could easily show that this
essay is by no means a complete success as a piece of destruc-
tive criticism. Of the two senses which Mill allows to the
word ' nature,' the first or ' scientific ' sense is by no means
a common one in actual philosophical discussions — least of all
in ethical discussions — while the second meaning of the word,
in which it is merely opposed to ' artificial,' is left ambiguous.
If by natural, in this sense, we are to mean only what is his-
torically aboriginal, it is easy to prove that nothing of any
value in human life as we know it, particularly in the moral
life, is natural. But Shaftesbury had long ago shown the
absurdity of this use of the word ' natural '. In short, Mill
is unconsciously unjust to the real or supposed theory which
he is attempting to controvert, in his very statement of the
problem ; and if the theory had possessed more vitality, it
would hardly have been damaged by such criticism : but there
are two respects in which the essay is important, as defining
the author's own point of view.
First, this is the clearest statement we have of Mill's atti-
tude toward Natural Theology, with the exception of the
essay on Theism, also published in this volume, but belong-
ing, as already explained, to a much later period, and there-
fore less valuable as a commentary upon his strictly ethical
writings. He maintains, as we have seen, that the order of
^ See pp. 53, 54. 2 ggg p_ 52.
John Shcart Mill. 235
nature is not a moral order, but that, on the contrary, it
abounds in what we should condemn most strongly, if we
could know that it was the result of intention accompanied
by absolute power. If, then, there be a God of Nature
(divinely good, as we must on other grounds suppose). He
must be finite, and not infinite, as the theologians feel bound
to assume. In short, we must suppose that there are two
conflicting powers in the world, one making for good and
one making for evil. In this case, it will be our duty and
privilege to ally ourselves with the beneficent power ; and we
can have the assurance that, however, slight our influence
may be, it will really count, and count on the right side. All
this is hypothetical, however ; the implication seems to be
that there is not a sufficient basis for even such a Natural
Theology. On the other hand, it must be admitted that, if
such a theory does not wholly satisfy the mind, it does satisfy
the heart. There is nothing in it which, like the conventional
Natural Theology, is repugnant to our highest moral ideals.
In the essay on Theism, Mill's last work, he remains constant
to this view as to the moral aspect of the Manichasan doc-
trine — ^which, it will be remembered, he distinctly attributes
to his father in the Autobiography — the difference being, that
in the latter essay he seems to take a good deal more seriously
the general arguments for Theism.
Secondly, we must notice the bearing of this essay upon
Mill's view of human nature and the possibility of moral
development. This is not quite easy to state in exact terms.
The author is so concerned to disprove the theory that the
order of nature is essentially a moral order, that he very
nearly goes to the extreme of regarding it as not merely a
non-moral, but what we might call an anti-moral, order. In
other words, it looks as if he regarded the great forces of
nature as making for evil decidedly more than for good. But
if the general conditions and efficient forces, as much in man
himself as in the external world, are so strongly set against
the moral order, how can any artificial process of cultivating
the good and eliminating the evil in human nature, such as
236 History of Utilitarianism.
that which Mill describes, be regarded as sufficient? The
author seems to forget that, though cultivation may accom-
plish much, soil and climate, and, more particularly, the
original nature of the plant, are most important considerations.
Moreover, if we must employ this analogy, whence did the
desire to cultivate arise ? In the passage above quoted, Mill
has seemed to refer this to a tendency on the part of each to
encourage in others conduct calculated to conduce to his own
good. This was perfectly consistent with the older Utili-
tarianism, which admitted of an extreme separation between
the objective end of moral action and the motive of the moral
agent ; but such a view is hardly consistent with Mill's theory,
which admits a certain primitive altruistic tendency in human
nature. In short, it seems as if Mill, in arguing against a
somewhat naive form of Natural Theology, has overstated his
case, with results distinctly detrimental to his own ethical
system.
Let us now turn to the essay on the " Utility of Religion,"
which, as already explained, belongs to the same period as
that which we have just been considering. The purpose of
this essay may be stated in a few words. If the dogmas of
religion must be regarded as certainly true, the ' utility ' of
religion follows as a matter of course. Our eternal weal or
woe depends upon our making it the guide of our lives. But
in a sceptical age like our own, when the theoretical grounds
of religious belief are freely investigated and by many found
wanting, such an inquiry can by no means be regarded as
gratuitous. Of course, it would be gratuitous, if we had
passed from perfect faith to complete doubt or negation ;
but nobody claims that this is the case. Now in this condition
of uncertainty as regards the theoretical grounds of religion,
it is natural that theologians should, perhaps unconsciously,
insist more and more upon the supposed fact of our absolute
need of religion as a moralising power, and that they should
hold that this indirectly affords a strong presumption of its
truth. Mill's purpose, then, is to investigate the questions .-
John Stuart Mill. 237
(i) Is religion really, at the present time, as great a moralising
power as is constantly assumed ? (2) Even if so, is it the only
power capable of producing the desired results.
The keynote of the whole discussion is struck in the follow-
ing remark by the author. " It is usual to credit religion
as such with the whole of the power inherent in any system
of moral duties inculcated by education and enforced by
opinion." ^ The point, of course, is, that morality has almost
always been taught in connection with religion during the
past, so that we cannot assume, without further argument,
that an equally systematic non-religious moral education
would not produce equally good results. Mill first insists
upon the enormous influence of authority upon the human
mind. " Authority is the evidence on which the mass of man-
kind believe everything which they are said to know, except
facts of which their own senses have taken cognizance."
But next we have to consider the power of education. This,
the author confidently holds, is almost boundless. He even
goes so far as to say : " There is not one natural inclination
which it is not strong enough to coerce, and, if needful, to
destroy by disuse ". And he immediately adds, what, of
course, is most important to his argument : " In the greatest
recorded victory which education has ever achieved over a
whole host of natural inclinations in an entire people — the
maintenance through centuries of the institutions of Lycurgus
— it was very little, if even at all, indebted to religion. . . .
The root of the system was devotion to Sparta, to the ideal
of the country or State." If we would understand the possi-
bility of such a phenomenon, we must try to realise the full
meaning of public opinion. " The love of glory ; the love of
praise ; the love of admiration ; the love of respect and
deference ; even the love of sympathy, are portions of its
attractive power. . . . The fear of shame, the dread of ill-
repute or of being disliked or hated, are the direct and simple
forms of its deterring power." Moreover, "when once the
^ See p. 77.
238 History of Utilitarianism.
means of living have been obtained, the far greater part of the
remaining labour and effort which takes place on the earth,
has for its object to acquire the respect or the favourable
regard of mankind ; to be looked up to, or at all events, not
to be looked down upon by them ".^
Turning from this great and almost compelling force of
public opinion, let us examine what is peculiar to religious
teaching. It is not without significance. Mill thinks, that
preachers and religious writers are always complaining of the
inconsiderable effect that religious motives have, in ordinary
life, and this in spite of the tremendous penalties denounced.
The plain fact of the matter is, that the vagueness of men's
ideas of future retribution and their belief that, if they repent
before death, they will escape punishment altogether, take
away a great part of the terrors that might be expected to
attach to such a doctrine. When a strong present tempta-
tion arises, therefore, it is natural that it should often prevail.
But Mill does not dwell upon this aspect of the question, which
he rightly terms " the vulgarest part of it ". He is more
than ready to admit that the higher advocates of religion are
far from regarding it as " an auxiliary to the thief-catcher
and the hangman ". " In their view of the matter, the best of
mankind absolutely require religion for the perfection of their
own character, even though the coercion of the worst might
possibly be accomplished without its aid." ^
But just here Mill is guilty of serious, though doubtless
unintentional, unfairness to his opponents. He wrongly
identifies the position which he has just stated, in terms that
no one could object to, with the theory that moral truth can
be revealed only by religion. It hardly needs to be pointed
out that there is no necessary connection between these
views. One may perfectly well believe — many do believe —
that the essential principles of moral conduct, so far at least
as our human relations are concerned, may be demonstrated
quite apart from religion, and yet hold that, while religion is
1 See p. 87. 2 See p. 95.
Joh7i Stuart Mill. 239
by no means needed as " an auxiliary to the thief-catcher and
the hangman," it is of inestimable value as affordmg a hope,
which no mere examination of the facts of human experience
could wholly justify, that good will finally prevail over evil, and
that the struggle itself, even when it seems to be a losing one,
is not wholly in vain. Mill himself says somewhat later :
" So long as human life is insufficient to satisfy human aspira-
tions, so long there will be a craving for higher things, which
finds its most obvious satisfaction in religion ".^
The author admits that some Christian precepts seem to be
on a higher plane than any which have preceded them. But
he argues that this benefit has been gained once for all. Pre-
cepts like the ' new commandment to love one another ' have
become the common property of humanity, and could only
be lost by a return to primeval barbarism. Moral truths of
any sort are strong enough in their own evidence to retain the
belief of mankind, when once they have acquired it. The
supposed supernatural character of moral truths, moreover,
is a positively dangerous view in one important respect, for
it keeps us from analysing and criticising our moral principles,
and separating the good from the bad. At the same time,
Mill admits that " the value ... of religion to the individual,
... as a source of personal satisfaction and of elevated feelings,
is not to be disputed " ; and we saw, at the end of the last
paragraph, that he was capable of defining that value in most
appreciative terms.
But is rehgion the only source of such satisfaction } Do
we, in particular, have to assume personal immortality, in
order to obtain such satisfaction } If individual life is short,
that of the species is long. " Its mdefinite duration is practi-
cally equivalent to endlessness ; and being combined with
indefinite capability of improvement, it offers to the imagina-
tion and sympathies a large enough object to satisfy any
reasonable demand for grandeur of aspiration." By referring
to the sentiment of disinterested devotion to the Republic,
' See p. 104.
240 History of Utilitarianism,
which existed for many generations among the Romans, who
were otherwise a selfish people, Mill argues that the love of
that larger country, the world, may be nursed into similar
strength, both as a source of elevated emotion and as a prin-
ciple of duty. As this moral education progresses, men will
think less and less of definite personal rewards or punish-
ments, and more and more of the approbation of the highest
moral natures, whether among the living or the dead. " For,"
as the author very truly remarks, " the thought that our dead
parents or friends would have approved our conduct is a
scarcely less powerful motive than the knowledge that our
living ones do approve it " ; and the thought that Socrates, or
Antoninus, or Christ would have sympathised with us and
have approved our actions, " has operated on the very best
minds, as a strong incentive to act up to their highest feel-
ings and convictions ".^
And here follows one of the most impressive passages to be
found in Mill's philosophical writings. " To call these senti-
ments by the name morality, exclusively of any other title,
is claiming too little for them. They are a real religion ; of
which, as of other religions, outward good works (the utmost
meaning usually suggested by the word morality) are only
a part, and are indeed rather the fruits of the religion than
the religion itself. The essence of religion is the strong
and earnest direction of the emotions and desires towards an
ideal object, recognised as of the highest excellence, and as
rightfully paramount over all selfish objects of desire." ^
This is the climax of the argument, and here the essay might
will have ended. Mill's following apology for the Religion
of Humanity, and his attempt to show its superiority to any
form of supernatural religion, is by no means calculated to
bring conviction. But we must never forget the seeming
paradox with which we are here confronted, viz., the fact that
it was an agnostic who first brought the Utilitarian doctrine
into closest touch, not only with our moral, but with our
' See p. log.
John Stuart Mill. 241
religious consciousness. There is one characteristic remark,
after the author has said all that he can for the Religion of
Humanity. Speaking of the one " real and valuable con-
solation " which the sceptic loses, the hope of a reunion in
the life to come with the friends whom he has lost here, Mill
says : " That loss, indeed, in neither to be denied nor ex-
tenuated. In many cases it is beyond the reach of comparison
or estimate ; and will always suffice to keep alive, in the more
sensitive natures, the imaginative hope of a futurity which,
if there is nothing to prove, there is as little in our knowledge
and experience to contradict." ^ After this concession to our
human feelings, however, he remarks that one of the great
Eastern religions offers, not immortality, but annihilation, as
the end supremely to be desired ; and he concludes the essay
by saying : " It seems to me not only possible but probable,
that in a higher, and, above all, a happier condition of human
life, not annihilation but immortality may be the burdensome
idea ; and that human nature, though pleased with the present,
and by no means impatient to quit it, would find comfort and
not sadness in the thought that it is not chained through
eternity to a conscious existence which it cannot be assured
that it will always wish to preserve ".
^ See p. 120.
16
CHAPTER XII.
JOHN STUART MILL {continued).
It will be remembered that we have rehable testimony to
the effect that the essays on " Nature " and on " The UtiHty
of ReHgion," which we have been examining, were written at
about the same time as Mill's well-known book On Liberty,
published in 1859. If this were not the case, it would be
natural to assign them to a somewhat different period ; not
because the Liberty, which we are now to consider, exactly
contradicts what we have seen to be the doctrine of the two
other essays, but because it seems to represent the develop-
ment of an earlier tendency of the author's thought. It hardly
need be pointed out how different Mill's whole treatment of
religion was from what would have been possible for an
eighteenth century writer of either party. Agnosticism with
a keen appreciation of at least much that is essential to re-
ligion, would have sorely puzzled a reader of even the preced-
ing generation. Still less would Mill's idea of the perfectibility
of an originally unpromising human nature, and the possibility
of merging one's individual interests in the general interests of
society, not merely present but future, have met with a sym-
pathetic response at an earlier time. Hartley, indeed, had
thrown out such a suggestion, though in a crude form, but
his immediate successors had let this idea severely alone. The
essay on Liberty, on the other hand, though decidedly of the
nineteenth century in certain essential respects, which will
be considered in due time, to all intents and purposes takes
eighteenth century individualism as its starting-point. In
short, the difference in tone between the essays on " Nature "
(242)
John Shmrt Mill. 243
and " The Utility of Religion," on the one hand, and the book
On Liberty, on the other hand, was the difference between
emphasising the social character of man as agamst individual-
ism and emphasising the claims of the individual as against
society.
This difference in tone, which it is much easier to recognise
than to describe in exact terms, makes it somewhat important
to fix the date of the composition of the book. Fortunately
Mill himself has given us very exact information, in the Auto-
biography, as to both the time and the circumstances of its
composition. He says : " During the two years which im-
mediately preceded the cessation of my official life, my wife
and I were working together at the Liberty. I had first
planned and written it as a short essay in 1854. It was in
mounting the steps of the Capitol, in January, 1855, that the
thought first arose of converting it into a volume. None of
my writings have been either so carefully composed, or so
sedulously corrected as this. After it had been written as
usual twice over, we kept it by us, bringing it out from time
to time, and going through it de novo, reading, weighing, and
criticising every sentence. Its final revision was to have been
a work of the winter of 1858-9, the first after my retirement,
which we had arranged to pass in the South of Europe."
After speaking of the death of his wife, he says : " After my
irreparable loss, one of my earhest cares was to print and
publish the treatise. , . . The Liberty was more directly and
literally our joint production than anything else which bears
my name. . . . The whole mode of thinking of which the book
was the expression, was emphatically hers. . . . My great readi-
ness and eagerness to learn from everybody, and to make room
in my opinions for every new acquisition by adjusting the old
and the new to one another, might, but for her steadying
influence, have seduced me into modifying my early opinions
too much." 1
The dates given above may, of course, be accepted with
^ See Autobiography, pp. 250-252.
244 History of Utilitarianism.
perfect confidence, for not only is the author himself the
witness, but the circumstances under which the book was
written were obviously such as to impress themselves indelibly
upon his memory. But what has just been quoted raises a
general question of considerable interest : Was Mill's intellec-
tual debt to his wife such as he would give us to understand,
here and in other well-known passages in his writings ? Con-
clusive evidence one way or the other would, of course, be
practically impossible to obtain, since we have no reason to
believe that there are existing manuscripts which would
decide the matter ; but it may safely be assumed that, when
Mill expressed himself as he does in the present instance, the
emotional element came in to such an extent as makes it
necessary to take his statements with very great caution.
But while Mill's strictly intellectual debt to his wife was
almost certainly far less than he himself would lead us to
suppose, there is no question whatever that her influence
upon his development was considerable. In the passage
quoted from the Autobiography , her influence is described as
a ' steadying ' one, which kept Mill from departing too far
from his earlier position. One may doubt whether the adjec-
tive is well chosen. So far as one can trace her influence in his
writings, it would seem rather to have been merely reaction-
ary. The difference in tone between the essay on Whewell
(1852) and the immediately preceding essays has been noted.
This was certainly not an improvement, but may plausibly
be traced to his wife's influence, since their marriage had taken
place the preceding year. In the Liberty, on the other hand,
there is much less asperity of tone to criticise, but the apparent
difference in the general drift of this book from that of his
other writings of the same period may not unreasonably be
attributed to the fact that his wife's influence comes out much
more strongly here. At any rate, here, if anywhere, we must
look for her influence, since Mill tells us definitely that the
central idea of the essay was primarily hers rather than his
own.
The problem of this little book is clearly developed by Mill
John Stuart Mill. 245
in the introductory chapter. The old struggle between liberty
and authority was at first between subjects, or some class of
subjects, and the government. It might have seemed as if this
conflict would necessarily cease, when what we call ' self-
government ' became, for a given nation, an accomplished fact ;
but the event has shown that this is by no means the case.
The reason is that the ' people ' who exercise power are not
always the same people over whom it is exercised. In truth,
the tyranny of majorities is perhaps the most dangerous of all
tyrannies. Society tends " to fetter the development, and, if
possible, prevent the formation, of any individuality not in
harmony with its ways, and compel all characters to fashion
themselves upon the model of its own " } Restraints of some
kind are, of course, absolutely necessary ; without them
neither life nor property would be safe. But how far should
society interfere with the action of the individual ? Govern-
ments, as a matter of fact, act upon no settled principles.
The likes or dislikes of a particular society at a particular time
decide the matter. Now, Mill tells us, the object of this essay
is to assert one very simple principle, viz., " that the sole end
for which mankind are warranted, individually or collectively,
in interfering with the liberty of action of any of their number,
is self-protection. . . . His own good, either physical or moral,
is not a sufficient warrant." ^
The following chapters, as will be remembered, are devoted
to " The Liberty of Thought and Discussion," " Individuality,
as One of the Elements of Well-being," " The Limits to the
Authority of Society over the Individual," and " Applications ".
It should be noticed at the outset that one of these chapters,
at least, the first mentioned, is not as closely connected with
the general thesis as might appear. Mill's defence of freedom
of discussion, on grounds of general utility, is not essentially
different from what any enlightened Englishman might write
at the present day on the same subject. It differed from con-
^ See Liberty, p. 13 (third ed.).
2 See pp. 21, 22. Mill explains that this principle applies only to civilised
adults.
246 Hisitoiy of Utilitarianisni.
temporary discussions, only in that the principle was rather
more strongly emphasised. In short, Mill's argument does not
necessarily depend upon the individualistic principle, which it
is the main purpose of this essay to maintain. In the chapter
on the " Limits to the Authority of Society," on the other
hand, this principle is naturally brought out with perfect clear-
ness. Even when we agree with Mill's conclusions, however,
which is not difficult in most cases, the arguments employed
are hardly convincing to one who sympathises with the general
trend of ethical theory at the present day.
This chapter is, in fact, an interestmg example of ' putting
the new wine into old bottles '. We have already several times
had occasion to notice how far Mill had departed from the
older Utilitarian school, in holding to the original character
of sympathy, and therefore to the possibility of strictly dis-
interested action. And yet, the present discussion depends
almost entirely upon the distinction between the self-regarding
and the other-regarding virtues — the question being : In how
far, if at all, have we a right to enforce upon others conduct in
accordance with the self-regarding virtues ? When a man's
conduct is, even in an inferior degree, anti-social. Mill admits
that we have a right to coerce him ; but when he gives himself
up to bestial excess, like habitual drunkenness, he claims that
we have no such right — unless, of course, this makes him
transgress the recognised rights of others. But the recogni-
tion of primitive sympathy would seem logically to break down
this hard and fast barner between self-regarding and other-
regarding virtues, even if the general Utilitarian principle,
properly understood, had not done so already. If man must
be regarded as really a social being from the first, it may,
indeed, be convenient to use some such classification of the
virtues as that just mentioned ; but the classification should
always be regarded as a convenience only, and never as the
basis for an argument. As a member of society — and Mill
would have been the first to recognise social obligations — a
man of bestial tastes and habits is worse than useless ; in fact,
he may become a positive menace to society, in proportion to
John Stuart Mill. 247
his position in life and to his still unextinguished talents.
Mill, indeed, partly recognises all this, but not to the extent
of seeing how largely it vitiates his argument. It is hardly
necessary to explain that what has just been said is not
intended as an argument for the too paternal interest of the
State in the habits of its citizens. The desirability of such
control is a practical question, to be decided in each case on its
own merits ; in truth, no government could possibly afford to
decide such questions on purely abstract principles. There
is a good deal of legislation to-day that would have been
branded as ' socialistic ' thirty years ago. This is not, we may
surmise, because we are becoming converted to socialism,
but because the mere word ' socialism ' has less terrors for us
than it once had, and because we tend more and more to
decide each question, as it comes up, on its own merits, only
taking care not to establish dangerous precedents.
If the essay on Liberty had contained nothing different from
what we have thus far noticed, it could hardly have been re-
garded as permanently important, except as pointing out the
real danger to democracy which lies in the almost inevitable
tyranny of public opinion. But by far the most original and
important part of the essay is the third chapter, " Of Individu-
ality, as One of the Elements of Well-being ". It is here
that Mill's discussion of the general question of Liberty brings
him into closest relation to Ethics proper. What is particularly
interesting, however, is the fact that the arguments advanced
in this chapter, whether good or bad, have a much looser
relation to the general individualistic position of the book
than would at first appear. It will be remembered that, in
the preceding chapter, Mill had been vindicating perfect free-
dom of speech. Here he comes to the question, how far
freedom of action should be permitted. Nobody pretends that
actions should be as free as opinions. The individual should
not make himself obnoxious to others ; but in matters that do
not primarily concern others, individuality should by all means
assert itself. " As it is useful that while mankind are imper-
fect there should be different opinions, so is it that there should
248 History of Utilitarianism.
be different experiments of living ; that free scope should be
given to varieties of character, short of injury to others ; and
that the worth of different modes of life should be proved
practically, when any one thinks fit to try them." ^ So far
Mill is saying no more than might be urged from quite various
points of view in favour of such freedom of action as will keep
society from a condition of stagnation ; but from this point
onward, throughout the chapter, he takes for his text the
saying of Wilhelm von Humboldt that " the end of man, or
that which is prescribed by the eternal or immutable dictates
of reason, and not suggested by vague and transient desires, is
the highest and most harmonious development of his powers
to a complete and consistent whole " ; and that therefore the
object " towards which every human being must ceaselessly
direct his efforts, and on which especially those who design to
influence their fellow-men must ever keep their eyes, is the
individuality of power and development ".^
It hardly need be pointed out that a good deal more is im-
plied by this passage from von Humboldt than the assertion
of the importance of individuality as such. And Mill himself,
almost unconsciously, as it would seem, does a good deal to
work out the principle to its logical conclusion. For instance, he
says : " Among the works of man, which human life is rightly
employed in perfecting and beautifymg, the first in importance
surely is man himself. . . . Human nature is not a machine to be
built after a model, and set to do exactly the work prescribed
for it, but a tree, which requires to grow and develop itself on
all sides, according to the tendency of the inward forces which
make it a living thing," ^ And again, he says : " ' Pagan self-
assertion ' is one of the elements of human worth, as well as
' Christian self-denial '. There is a Greek ideal of self-
development, which the Platonic and Christian ideal of self-
government blends with, but does not supersede. It may be
better to be a John Knox than an Alcibiades, but it is better
to be a Pericles than either ; nor would a Pericles, if we had
^ See p. loi. 2 See p. 103. ' See pp. 106, 107.
John Stuart Mill. 249
one in these days, be without anything good which belonged
to John Knox."^ Passages like this almost seem to imply
that self-development is an end in itself, without direct refer-
ence to hedonic results, either to oneself or to others. While
it would be unjust to insist too strongly upon the inconsistency
of such passages with Mill's general hedonistic position, it is
necessary always to keep them in mind as tending to show
how complex his ethical theory really was. What Mill did not
see was, that if one take this principle of self -development
seriously, it by no means lends itself to the purposes of in-
dividualism, or even to those of hedonism.
In passing to the well-known Utilitarianism, first printed
in Eraser s Magazine in 1861, and reprinted (without changes)
in book form in 1863, we come, of course, to Mill's most com-
plete statement of his mature views regarding Ethics. After
our rather careful examination of his previous ethical writings,
however, we shall find little that is strictly new here, and, since
this small volume is more universally famihar than any other
book in the whole literature of English Utilitarianism, it would
be gratuitous to reproduce its arguments in any detail. It
seems best, therefore, to take up the principal points of the
essay as briefly as may be, and to see in each case, on the
one hand, how this last statement of Mill's ethical views cor-
responds with his own earlier treatment and that of his
immediate predecessors, and, on the other hand, how it corre-
sponds with the recognised Utilitarian theory of the present
'day.
It is probably significant that in the " General Remarks,"
with which Mill prefaces his treatment, there is no parade of
scientific method. He says : " The intuitive, no less than what
may be termed the inductive, school of ethics, insists on the
necessity of general laws. They both agree that the morality
^ See p. H2. It will doubtless occur to the reader that the examples which
Mill gives here are the reverse of instructive. John Knox presumably was not
lacking in 'Christian self-denial,' but he had in addition a rather unusual amount
of what might, not unfairly, be termed ' Pagan self-assertion'.
250 History of Utilitarianism.
of an individual action is not a question of direct perception,
but of the application of a law to an individual case. They
recognise also, to a great extent, the same moral laws ; but
differ as to their evidence, and the source from which they
derive their authority." ^ Mill seems no longer to be labouring
under the delusion, that the thorough-going application of
Bentham's ' method of detail ' is sufficient to solve the diffi-
culties of Ethics ; on the contrary, by this time the real issues
are pretty well cleared up in his mind. He does, however,
insist upon one very important point, when he says, regarding
non-hedonistic systems : " I might go much further, and say
that to all these a priori moralists who deem it necessary to
argue at all, Utilitarian arguments are indispensable ".^
This is a claim which, in various forms, had been ad-
vanced by nearly all Mill's Utilitarian predecessors, and, such
being the case, one may well give it a final scrutiny. It would
be easy to brush this aside as an unproved assumption, but, in
the opinion of the present writer, it is rather more than that.
The fact is, that the very moralists who have spoken most
scornfully of the ' doctrine of consequences ' have without ex-
ception found it extremely difficult, if not impossible, to leave
consequences altogether out of account. By some strange
fatality, however, the opponents of Utilitarianism have suc-
ceeded in putting themselves in the wrong by almost univer-
sally conceding to the Utilitarians that, z/" consequences are ta
be regarded, they must be construed in hedonistic terms. There
was nothing to do, then, from this point of view, but to deny
that the lightness or wrongness of actions depends to any large
extent upon their consequences — with the unfortunate result
above indicated. For, no matter how ' internal ' one's concep-
tion of morality, one cannot safely deny that the ' conse-
quences ' of actions may be important to any degree whatever.
To overlook or deny this fact, is to blind oneself to one of the
most serious aspects of the moral life. But these good or bad
consequences are by no means necessarily such, merely be-
1 See p. 3. -See p. 5.
John Stnart MilL 251
cause of the happiness or unhappiness which they imply.
They may consistently be shown to be good or bad, because
they tend for or against whatever one may regard as of
supreme importance in the moral life.
Mill next goes on to explain " What Utilitarianism Is ".
He begins by defining utility as happiness, and happiness as
' pleasure, and the absence of pain '. In the same way, un-
happiness is defined as ' pain, and the privation of pleasure '. ^
{ That concrete desirable things are as numerous for Utilitarians
I as for others, he very properly insists ; but holds, of course, \r^C)
that they are "desirable either for the pleasure inherent iri~l yr,^ /
themselves, or as means to the promotion of pleasure and, [^^ ^
the prevention of pain ". Moreover, he remarks that " there
is no known Epicurean theory of life which does not assign
to the pleasures of the intellect, of the feehngs and imagina-
tion, and of the moral sentiments, a much higher value as
pleasures than to those of mere sensation " } But just here
Mill makes his famous distinction. He does not agree with
traditional Utilitarianism in holding that this superiority of
mental over physical pleasures is due to their greater per-
— manence, safety, uncostliness, etc., but insists that pleasures
are essentially different in kind (or value) as well as in degree.y
Quite in the spirit of Hutcheson, he appeals to that " sense of
dignity, which all human beings possess in one form or other,
and in some, though by no means in exact, proportion to their
higher faculties, and which is so essential a part of the happi-
ness of those in whom it is strong, that nothing which con-
flicts with it could be, otherwise than momentarily, an object
of desire to them "? Moreover, he says : " If it may possibly
be doubted whether a noble character is always the happier
for its nobleness, there can be no doubt that it makes other
people happier, and that the world in general is immensely
a gainer by it ".^
Since nothing in Mill's ethical writings has been so thor-
oughly discussed as this admission on his part of qualitative
1 See p. II. -Seep. 13. =* See p. i6.
m^ CvntrAdt(J> himself
252 History of Utilitarianism.
distinctions between pleasures, and since there is perfect agree-
ment at the present day among competent critics, of whatever
ethical convictions, as to the inconsistency of this view with
his general hedonistic position, it would be an impertinence
to argue the matter again here. The inconsistency, in truth,
may be expressed in a word : If all good things are good in
proportion as they bring pleasure to oneself or others, one
cannot add to this statement that pleasure itself, the assumed
criterion, is more or less desirable in terms of something else
{e.g., human dignity) which is not pleasure. At the same time,
it would be a grave mistake to suppose that this was merely
one of Mill's many careless slips. The inconsistency is not
superficial, it is vital. In this very chapter, when criticising
the way in which Utilitarianism has commonly been presented,
Mill has said : " To do this in any sufficient manner, many
Stoic, as well as Christian elements require to be included "}
And we have seen how, in the most important chapter of the
Liberty, he appropriates von Humboldt's impressive statement
of the all-importance of self-development as an essential con-
stituent of well-being.
Mill next considers the objection that happiness cannot be
the end, because it is unattainable in this life. Incautiously
admitting, as it would seem, that the burden of proof is on
his side, he enters upon a brief and rather superficial argu-
ment for (hedonistic) optimism. Into this, we need not follow
him. As might be expected, he exaggerates, as usual, the
power of education to alter the manifestations of human nature,
particularly in the direction of sympathy and intelligence.
Even poverty and disease, as implying acute suffering on the
part of large numbers, are to disappear. It is hard to see
why hedonists have so commonly admitted that the concrete
difficulties of the moral life are difficulties for them, more than
for others. In the present case of optimism versus pessimism,
it would be a simple matter to show that hedonism is no better
and no worse off than any other recognised form of ethical
See p. II.
John Stua^'t Mill. 253
theory. For surely there are as many possible forms of
optimism and pessimism as there are possible definitions of
the Good. And it may be observed that, if happiness is by no
means universal, it is probably quite as frequent a phenomenon
as moral perfection.
On the other hand, Mill is undoubtedly right, when he
shows the absurdity of objecting to Utilitarianism as a ' god-
less doctrine,' and says : " Whatever aid religion, either natural
or revealed, can afford to ethical investigation, is as open to the
Utilitarian moralist as to any other ". He might very properly
have added, what he has elsewhere pointed out, that, as a
matter of fact, Theological Utilitarianism was for a long time
the common orthodox view, as against those who held various
forms of the ' Moral Sense ' theory. He is also right, as against
those who brand Utilitarianism as the doctrine of ' expedi-
ency,' since this is plainly a question-begging epithet as
here applied ; but he is plainly careless when, speaking of the
virtue of truthfulness, he says : " Yet that even this rule,
sacred as it is, admits of possible exceptions, is acknowledged
by all moralists ".^ How about Kant, whom he has under-
taken to criticise in the first chapter ?
Somewhat earlier in this chapter, Mill considers a question
that would more properly come up for discussion in the next
chapter, where he treats of " The Ultimate Sanction of the
Principle of Utility". And he is again careless in the way
just noted. He is answering the supposed objection that the
Utilitarian doctrine is too high in its demands. " They say
it is exacting too much to require that people shall always act
from the inducement of promoting the general interests of
society. But this is to mistake the very meaning of a standard
of morals, and to confound the rule of action with the motive
of it. It is the business of ethics to tell us what are our
duties, or by what test we may know them ; but no system
of ethics requires that the sole motive of all we do shall be a
feeling of duty. ... It is the more unjust to Utilitarianism that
J See p. 33.
2 54 History of Utilita7'ianism.
this particular misapprehension should be made a ground of
•objection to it, inasmuch as Utihtarian moralists have gone
beyond almost all others in affirming that the motive has
nothing to do with the morality of the action, though much
with the worth of the agent." ^
In the first place, it hardly need be remarked that a very
important system of Ethics, just mentioned, which Mill has
criticised in the course of his " General Remarks," does hold
precisely that " the sole motive of all we do [if it is to be
strictly moral] shall be a feeling of duty ". It may, indeed,
with considerable justice be retorted, ' so much the worse for
Kant ' ; but Mill betrays his lack of an intimate knowledge of
modern ethical literature, when he allows himself to make
sweeping statements with so little caution. But in the second
place, and more particularly, has Mill a right to appropriate
the argument of the earlier Utilitarians, that the motive has
•nothing to do with the morality of the action ? That was
part and parcel of what we may call the extreme ' dualism '
of their ethical theory : their contention that the end of moral
action and the motive which leads to it must be different,
since one can will only one's own happiness. But, as we have
seen, it was Mill's great merit to revive Hume's view (as given
in the second form of his ethical system), and show that man
is originally sympathetic, and that therefore he can, to a
certain extent, directly will the common good, although other
motives do, as a matter of fact, generally come in to com-
plicate.
In the next chapter, to which, as already said, this discus-
sion properly belongs. Mill shifts his position and says —
speaking of the psychological basis of the feeling of obliga-
tion — " But there is this basis of powerful natural sentiment ;
and this it is, which, when once the general happiness is recog-
nised as the ethical standard, will constitute the strength of
the Utilitarian morality. This firm foundation is that of the
social feelings of mankind. . . . The social state is at once
^ See p. 26.
John Shtart Mill. 255
so natural, so necessary, and so habitual to man, that, except in
some unusual circumstances, or by an effort of voluntary ab-
straction, he never conceives himself otherwise than as a
member of a body ; and this association is riveted more and
more, as mankind are further removed from the state of savage
independence." ^ Of course, this is Mill's true, and only con-
sistent, position ; but it at once separates him from the
eighteenth century Utilitarians, whose characteristic argu-
ments, for that reason, he has no right to use. And how does
the last part of the passage just quoted square with Mill's
conception of the ' natural ' as developed in the essay on
" Nature," apparently written at about the same time } This
unconscious shifting of the point of view, in the course of
an argument of any length, or in different writings, even of
the same period, makes Mill a somewhat obscure writer on
Ethics to those who take the trouble to read him carefully.
But, in the present case, there can be no doubt as to what
Mill really means. Earlier in this same (third) chapter, when
distinguishing between the ' external ' and the ' internal ' sanc-
tions of morality, he says : " The principle of utility either has,
or there is no reason why it might not have, all the sanctions
which belong to any other system of morals. Those sanctions
are either external or internal. Of the external sanctions it
IS not necessary to speak at any length. . . . The internal
sanction of duty, whatever our standard of duty may be, is one
and the same — a feeling in our own mind ; a pain, more or
less intense, attendant on violation of duty, which in properly
cultivated moral natures rises, in the more serious cases, into
shrinking from it as an impossibility. This feeling, when
disinterested, and connecting itself with the pure idea of
duty, and not with some particular form of it, or with any of
the merely accessory circumstances, is the essence of Con-
science. . . . The ultimate sanction, therefore, of all morality
(external motives apart) being a subjective feeling in our own
minds, I see nothing embarrassing to those whose standard
^ See p. 46.
256 History of Utilitarianism.
is utility, in the question, What is the sanction of that particu-
lar standard ? We may answer, The same as of all other moral
standards — the conscientious feelings of mankind." ^ These
' conscientious feelings of mankind,' however, are of course
not regarded by Mill as intuitive. In the last resort, the feel-
ing of duty depends upon that powerful natural sentiment,
social feeling or sympathy, which we have been examining.
This, then, and nothing else, is " the ultimate sanction of the
greatest-happiness morality " ?
The fourth chapter of the Utilitarianism treats " Of What
Sort of Proof the Principle of Utility is Susceptible " — a ques-
tion which might very properly have been considered first.
After making the obvious remark, that questions of ultimate
ends do not admit of proof, in the ordinary acceptation of the
term, the author indicates the general drift of his argument,
very concisely, as follows : " No reason can be given why the
general happiness is desirable, except that each person, so far
as he believes it to be attainable, desires his own happiness.
This, however, being a fact, we have not only all the proof
which the case admits of, but all which it is possible to require,
that happiness is a good : that each person's happiness is a
good to that person ; and the general happiness, therefore, a
good to the aggregate of all persons. Happiness has made out
its title as one of the ends of conduct, and consequently one of
the criteria of morality." - But to prove it to be the sole
criterion, it is necessary to show that people never desire any-
thmg else. It will be seen that the method by which Mill
would prove the general principle of utility is closely analogous
to that by which Hume tried to prove the Utilitarian character
of the particular virtues.
In the main. Mill's arguments are the conventional ones of
Associationist-Utilitarianism, and so do not call for special
examination. His position, of course, is defined by his often-
quoted remark in this chapter, that " desiring a thing and find- 'A \;^
ing it pleasant, aversion to it and thinking of it as painful, are \
1 See pp. 40-42. ^ See p. 50.
John Stuart Mill. 257
t phenomena entirely inseparable, or rather two parts of the
same phenomenon ". One of his explanations, however—
the crucial one, since he depends upon it to show that the
Utilitarian theory provides for the fact, that the virtuous man
may will that which is contrary to his own happiness — requires
careful consideration. He says : " The distinction between
will and desire ... is an authentic and highly important psy-
chological fact ; but the fact consists solely in this — that will, , .
like all other parts of our constitution, is amenable to habity ' /\
and that we may will from habit what we no longer desire for
itself, or desire only because we will it. It is not the less true
that will, in the beginning, is entirely produced by desire ;
including in that term the repelling influence of pain, as well
as the attractive one of pleasure." ^
This is perhaps all the more instructive, because it only
brings out what is latent in the traditional Associationist-
Utilitarian theory of the will. What, then, does this often
reiterated theory mean ? Suppose we leave out of account,
Jor^the moment, the question how this ' habit ' of the will has
arisen, and accept the facts as we seem to find them. Lest
it be thought that the above quotation is ambiguous in its
admissions, the reader is reminded that just before Mill has
said : " In case of an habitual purpose, instead of willing the
thing because we desire it, we often desire it only because we
will it "? Now this cannot be a case where habit makes a men-
tal process unconscious or only semi-conscious, because we still
hear of desire and will. And that being the case, pleasure-
pain must still, just as at the beginning of our conscious ex-
perience, come in as determining factors. Only here pleasure
and pain attach respectively to actions in accordance with, or
against, certain tendencies of the will (call them ' habits/ if
you please) that we have to recognise as facts, however they
may be explained.
This, then, would appear to be the meaning of the common,
though seemingly paradoxical, statement that we desire a
1 See p. 60. 2 ggg p jg_
17
258 History of Utilitarianisiu.
thing at present because we will it. In other words, there are
certain things toward which our nature, as at present con-
stituted, tends. To let our nature, in these respects, have its
way, produces pleasure ; to balk our nature, in these respects,
produces pain. But this is a very different thing from saying
that at present we necessarily act for pleasure, or the avoid-
ance of pain, as such. When Mill says that will goes back
to desire (in the sense of desire for pleasure), this can, accord-
ing to his own statement, be only historically true. We had
no such tendencies as the ones just noticed at first ; these are
' habits ' that have developed as a result of our acting, in the
first place, solely for pleasure and the avoidance of pain.
Now suppose we do not agree that the character was
a tabula rasa at first ; but hold rather that some of the tend-
encies which are so apparent in adult life were potentially
present at the beginning — ^what becomes of this traditional
form of the hedonistic theory of desire ? In short, in how far
does this theory depend upon the extremely dubious tabula
rasa assumption ? It is hardly necessary to say that the
above is not intended as a summary refutation of the general
doctrine of hedonism, but as an attempt to state a really serious
difficulty which constantly presents itself, when one is dealing
with the apparently simple ana unambiguous theory of the will
held practically in common by the Associationist-Utilitarians.
At the same time, when the full force of this difficulty is appre-
ciated, one has taken the first and most important step toward
recognising the substantial truth of Butler's analysis of desire,
which does so much to transform the problems of Ethics.
It will be remembered that we have the reliable testimony
of Miss Helen Taylor, Mill's step-daughter, in her preface to
the posthumously published Three Essays on Religion (1874),
that the long chapter on Justice, which concludes the little
volume we are examining, was first composed as a separate
essay. We are told that this essay on Justice and another on
Utility, written at about the same time, " were afterwards
incorporated, with some alterations and additions, into one,
and published under the name of Utilitariajiisni ". While this
John Stuart Mill. 259
chapter is a most admirable exposition of Justice, from the
Utilitarian point of view, it will hardly require extended
notice here, first, because it is little more than a consistent
application of the traditional Utilitarian method, and secondly,
because it is perhaps as familiar as any chapter in Mill's
philosophical writings.
The general drift of the argument may be indicated very
briefly. In all ages of speculation, one of the strongest ob-
jections to the Utilitarian doctrine has been found in the
absolute character which common sense has attributed to
Justice. Since this has been so long the stronghold of In-
tuitionism. Mill accepts it as a test case. In the first place,
he analyses the notion of Justice with some care, and in a way
that partly reminds one of Professor Sidgwick's later and much
more elaborate analysis in the Methods of Ethics. The ques-
tion then arises, whether the feeling or sentiment which
attaches to the idea of Justice is such as would have originated
in considerations of general expediency. And Mill bluntly
states his thesis as follows : " I conceive that the sentiment
itself does not arise from anything which would commonly,
or correctly, be termed an idea of expediency ; but that,
though the sentiment does not, whatever is moral in it does ".^
The author's preceding analysis has shown that the two
essential elements in the sentiment of Justice are: (i) the
desire to punish a person who has done harm, and (2) the
knowledge or belief that there is some definite individual, or
individuals, to whom harm has been done. Now the desire
to punish is held by Mill to be " a spontaneous outgrowth
from two sentiments, both in the highest degree natural, and
which either are or resemble instincts ; the impulse of self-
defence,^ and the feeling of sympathy ". The former has
nothing moral in it, when considered apart from the social
sympathies, to which it should be subordinated. If, on the
^ See p. 76.
^ This should be distinguished from Mr. Spencer's ' instinct of personal
rights' (Social Statics, 1851), which is also supposed to be helped out by
sympathy.
26o History of Utilitarianism.
other hand, it be morahsed by sympathy for others, it will be
brought into play only when conformable to the common good
— in which case, the Utilitarian test is inevitable.
But we are constantly told that Utility is an uncertain
standard, that we must obey the immutable dictates of Justice,
which are self-evident, and therefore independent of the fluctu-
ations of private or public opinion. Here Mill suggests what
would seem to be the obvious line of argument, though it had
been practically overlooked both by the orthodox Intuitionists
and by Mr. Spencer in Social Statics (185 1). We have no
right whatever to assume that the notion of Justice is free from
ambiguity. Indeed, Mill says : " So far is this from being the
fact, that there is as much difference of opinion, and as fierce
discussion, about what is just, as about what is useful to
society "} After citing a number of cases which go to prove
this contention, he argues that an external standard of some
kind is absolutely necessary, and that the only practicable
standard is Social Utility. This is by no means to assign to
Justice a minor place in the moral code. Mill says in conclu-
sion : " Justice remains the appropriate name for certain
social utilities which are vastly more important, and therefore
more absolute and imperative, than any others are as a class
(though not more so than others may be in particular cases) ;
and which, therefore, ought to be, as well as naturally are,
guarded by a sentiment not only different in degree, but also
in kind ; distinguished from the milder feeling which attaches
to the mere idea of promoting human pleasure or convenience,
at once by the more definite nature of its commands, and by
the sterner character of its sanctions ".2
^ See p. 82. It will be remembered that Professor Sidgwick, though by no
means wholly opposed to Intuitionism, comes to much the same conclusion in
\v\% Methods of Ethics.
^ See p. 96. All of Mill's writings bearing at all directly upon Ethics have now
been noticed, with the exception of the last of the posthumously published Three
Essays on Religion, the rather long essay on " Theism '". Even a brief examina-
tion of this may safely be omitted here, in spite of the pathetic interest which
attaches to this last, if also least satisfactory, of the author's many philosophical
writings. Though rather more systematic than the other two essays, on " Nature '*
John Stuart Mill. 261
In estimating the significance of Mill's position in the de-
velopment of English Utilitarianism, it is particularly impor-
tant that we should keep in mind both the nature of his early-
environment and training, and the various changes that his
ethical views underwent even after the important essay on
Bentham (1838), which marks the beginning of his really
independent work in Ethics, and therefore the beginning of
a new phase of Utilitarian theory. Quite apart from what
may be thought of the unique pedagogical experiment which
was performed upon Mill by his father, in place of the con-
ventional school and university training of his generation, it
must be counted a distinct misfortune, on the whole, that he
inherited ready-made his earliest views on Ethics and Politics,
as well as on Psychology. Not that these views were neces-
sarily, or probably, further from the truth than those which
he would have adopted, if left to himself ; but it is nothing
less than pathetic, when we view the situation at this distance,
that the young apostle of freedom and reform should have
lived in an atmosphere such that anythmg like real intellectual
freedom was for himself an impossibility.
Mill began writing for various periodicals as early as 1824,
and on "The Utility of Religion" — which cover much the same ground, but
which appear to have been written more than ten years earHer — it does not, like
them, belong to a period when Mill was doing important work, and so is of much
less value as a commentary upon his other writings bearing more directly upon
Ethics. Moreover, as Miss Taylor states in the preface to the volume in which
it appears, this last essay was not revised by the author, as it certainly would
have been before he himself would have given it to the world. But even apart
from this, just in proportion as the treatment is more elaborate than that in the
two earlier essays, it shows Mill at a disadvantage, for he was never less at
home than in these theological discussions. The difference in tone between
this last essay and the two others, which has often been commented upon, is
undeniable. Mill is at the end much more sympathetic toward Theism than he
had been at any previous time — a fact which did not fail to suggest edifying
reflections when the Three Essays on Religion were first published. But this
apparent change of personal attitude affects his treatment of the arguments
themselves less than might be expected. The principal difference is that, in
the essay on Theism, he concedes more than he had in the others to ' The
Utility of Religion'. Properly speaking, Mill remained an agnostic to the last,
but with an increasing appreciation of the ethical value of religious ideals.
262 Histoiy of Utilitarianism.
while still a mere boy, but for the next twelve years the
opinions which he expressed could from the nature of the case
be only partly his own — or his own, in the sense that they
were largely accepted from others — although at first they
appear to have been surrounded with all the halo of youthful
enthusiasm. His father, the stern task-master of his child-
hood, was the tacitly recognised censor of all that he wrote.
The nature and degree of this control is evident, when one
compares the essay on Sedgwick's Discourse (1835) with the
very different essay on Bentham (1838). Indeed, Mill himself
says of the former essay in the Autobiography, in a passage
previously quoted : " My relation to my father would have
made it painful to me in any case, and impossible in a Review
for which he wrote, to speak out my whole mind on the sub-
ject at this time " } The very important essay on Bentham,
then, pubhshed two years after his father's death, was at once
his ' Declaration of Independence ' and his first noteworthy
contribution to Ethics.
In the exercise of his newly asserted freedom, Mill ex-
pressed himself regarding the fatal shortcomings of Ben-
thamism with an emphasis which he might possibly have
avoided later. And as he is generally right in this destructive
part of the essay, the result is one of the most damaging
critiques in the whole range of English ethical literature. But
while his whole moral personality revolted against the hide-
bound doctrine which had done so much to fetter his own
earlier development, he still made a very high claim for Ben-
tham. Though not a ' great philosopher,' he was to be re-
garded as a ' great reformer in philosophy,' since he was the
lirst to apply ' scientific method ' to the treatment of moral
problems, from the hedonistic point of view. This does not,
of course, mean what it might mean to us now, for Bentham
was as innocent of any intimate knowledge of the Biology
or the Psychology of his day, as he was of the previous de-
velopment of ethical theory. The ' scientific method,' or
^ See p. 201.
John Stuart Mill. 263
' method of detail/ as Mill sometimes calls it — ^which in one
passage he admits to be " as old as philosophy itself " —
consisted in the employment of elaborate analysis and classi-
fication in place of what Bentham and his followers doubtless
regarded as the barren, semi-rhetorical method of the past.
Mill's description of the ' scientific method ' which he attri-
butes to Bentham in this essay is extremely vague, if not
partly self-contradictory ; but one cannot doubt the sincerity
of his praise of the elder moralist for what he attempted in
this direction, since in Book VI. of the Logic, on " The Logic
of the Moral Sciences," which appears to have been begun
about two years later, he himself made a much more elaborate
attempt to provide a ' scientific ' foundation for Ethics, by
developing in outhne the idea of a new science, ' Ethology,' or
the ' Science of the Formation of Character '. The inductive
science. Psychology, was to be the ultimate foundation ; and
the new science, Ethology, necessarily deductive, because of
the complexity of the data with which it would have to deal,
was to form the necessary connecting-link between Psychol-
ogy, on the one hand, and Sociology, on the other, the latter
also, of course, being conceived as necessarily deductive in its
method.
It was highly characteristic of Mill's more than catholic
acceptance of partly conflicting principles, that in 1840, when
he was beginning to work out, more or less on the lines of
Benthamism, this hopelessly abstract, and therefore practically
valueless ' scientific method ' for the treatment of the moral
sciences, he should also have published the essay on Cole-
ridge, in which he seems to be meeting what he calls the
' Germano-Coleridgean ' school fully half-way. And still more
significant is the fact that Mill retained this chapter in his
Logic to the end, and therefore long after he had given up
the proposed science of Ethology as impracticable — which
meant the implicit surrender of the whole position.
After the very appreciative essay on Coleridge, just men-
tioned, and the equally sympathetic essays on De Toqueville
(1840), Michelet (1844), and Guizot (1845), which show that
264 History of Utilitarianisin.
Mill was coming more and more to appreciate the significance
of the historical method, not only for itself, but for its bearing
upon the moral sciences, and which therefore indicate a still
further divergence from the spirit of Benthamism — which had
been above all things unhistorical — one is hardly prepared
for the very severe essay on Whewell (1852), parts of which
sound almost like the very early essay on Sedgwick's Discourse
(1835). Making due allowance for the fact that Whewell
had justified rather severe criticism by his use of ' question-
begging epithets/ etc., this essay seems really to indicate a
partial and temporary reaction toward the earlier phase of
Mill's thought, while he was still under the spell of Bentham.
As explained in the proper context, this change of attitude
may plausibly be attributed to the influence of Mill's wife,
whom he had married the year before, and whose influence,
where it can be located, seems always to have been in the
direction of confirming him in the earlier and more uncompro-
mising form of his doctrine.
The two posthumously published essays on " Nature " and
on " The Utility of Rehgion " (probably written between 1 848
and 1859) by no means show Mill at his best in philosophical
argumentation : but they serve to bring out in an interesting
way, first, his partial acceptance of the Manichaean doctrine,
which in the Autobiography he attributes to his father, at
least in the sense that the elder Mill entertained it as a specu-
lative possibility ; and secondly, his almost naive belief in the
perfectibility of human nature — and this, in spite of the fact
that, according to his own account of the matter as here given,
the great forces not only in external nature, but in man him-
self, are strongly set against the moral order. In the latter
essay, in particular, he urges that religion, as ordinarily under-
stood, is by no means the indispensable moralising factor that
it is commonly assumed to be, though his attitude toward re-
ligion in this essay, as in nearly all of his later writings, is
partly one of appreciation for the ideals it represents. In
fact, he would apply the name ' religion ' to the higher morality
for which he himself pleads, for he says : " The essence of
John Stuart Mill. 265
Teligion is the strong and earnest direction of the emotions
and desires towards an ideal object, recognised as of the
highest excellence, and as rightfully paramount over all selfish
objects of desire ".^
In the case of the Liberty (1859) — which belongs to about
the same period, though it was probably written somewhat
later — we again find evidence of conflicting tendencies in Mill's
intellectual development. The main idea of the essay, which
he distinctly attributes to his wife, is the assertion of the rights
of the individual as such, almost in the sense of eighteenth
century Individualism. But the argument in the chapter on
" Individuality, as One of the Elements of Well-being " (by far
the most important one for Ethics) really depends upon the
implicit assumption that harmonious self-development is prac-
tically an end in itself, an assumption which carries him far
beyond what at least seemed to be his original thesis, and
by no means in the direction of consistent Utilitarianism.
When we finally turn to the Utilitarianism (1863), we find
little that is strictly new, but much to confirm us in the opinion
that the partial divergence from the Utilitarian method, which
had been so noticeable in some of Mill's previous ethical writ-
ings, was not a matter of chance, depending upon the nature
of the particular discussion, but indicative of tendencies which,
if they had been completely developed, would have meant the
practical surrender of the Utilitarian position itself. The
classic instance, of course, is Mill's emphatic assertion of the
existence of ' qualitative distinctions ' between pleasures. As
already pointed out, this must be very carefully distinguished
from the author's many careless slips in the course of particu-
lar arguments. It was a distinct and most important con-
cession, if not to Intuitionism, at least to the ideal of the
harmonious development of the human personality, as an end
in itself.
But over against this most important concession to non-
hedonistic ethical methods, must be placed Mill's not infre-
^ See p. 109.
266 History of Uiilitarianisin.
quent employment of arguments which properly belong to the
older type of Utilitarianism, and not to the more modern
form of the doctrine which he had himself done so much to
inaugurate. A typical example, which we have noticed in the
Utilitarianism, is the way in which he appropriates the char-
acteristic argument of the earlier Utilitarians, that the motive
has nothing to do with the morality of the action, considered
in itself. This is a manifest inadvertence, since in the next
chapter, as we have seen, sympathy is regarded — quite con-
sistently with Mill's general position, and that of all the later
Utilitarians — as " the ultimate sanction of the greatest happi-
ness morality . So, too, in the essay on " Nature," he had
allowed himself to argue for the ' artificial ' character of all
the virtues, which, according to his view as there expressed,
would never have come into being, " were it not so strongly
the interest of mankind to cherish the good germs in one
another ". This, of course, is the familiar argument of the
older type of Utilitarianism, which logically results from the
assumption that all motives are ultimately selfish. In the
Utilitarianism, on the other hand. Mill avoids this confusion
of the two points of view in the corresponding discussion.
Though the moral feelings are " not innate, but acquired,"
in his own opinion, " they are not for that reason the less
natural ". And he adds : " It is natural to man to speak, to
reason, to build cities, to cultivate the ground, though these
are acquired faculties ".^ This, of course, means that man is
a social (and therefore partly sympathetic) being from the
first, and that therefore civilisation and morality are ' natural '
and not merely ' artificial ' — which is the exact contrary of
the position which Mill had carelessly taken not long before
in the other essay, on " Nature ".
But this almost mechanical combination of the old and the
new, which one so often discovers in Mill's ethical writings,
must not blind us to the fact, that to him we owe the modern
form of Utilitarianism more than to any other single influence.
* Cf. Three Essays on Religion, p. 53, and Utilitarianism, p. 45.
John Stuart Mill. 267
Indeed, these inconsistencies were doubtless in the first in-
stance largely due to the fact that he was a pioneer in the new
ethical movement. His incautious admission of ' qualitative
distinctions' between pleasures has, of course, been avoided
by later writers of the same school ; but it would hardly be
possible to estimate the extent of his influence in the direction
of humanising the Utilitarian doctrine, and making it square
with the highest concrete moral ideals. The social nature of
man, and the complexity of that nature, were recognised by
him almost from the first, and though he never himself ac-
cepted the theory of organic Evolution, he did much to pre-
pare his contemporaries to recognise the importance of the
idea of development as applied to Ethics. In his hands, the
older analytic Utilitarian method was gradually transformed
into the synthetic method of to-day. And not least re-
markable is the fact, that this professed agnostic did more
than any of his theological predecessors to bring Utilitarianism
into touch with the higher, more ideal side of religion.
Seldom, indeed, has a personahty counted for more in the
whole history of Ethics.
From first to last critics have dwelt altogether too much
upon the manifest inconsistencies in Mill's ethical writings,
and have failed to do anything like justice to the perfect
candour and broad-mindedness that made him take serious
account of the very facts of our moral experience which pre-
sented the most serious difficulties to his own ethical theory.
Just because of this fair-mindedness, this constant endeavour
to do justice to our moral nature as a whole — not because of
his inconsistencies, as some would hold — Mill belongs, not
merely to the Utilitarians, but to those who have found the
Utilitarian theory insufficient, and have attempted to transcend
it, while doing full justice to the measure of truth which it
contains.
CHAPTER XIII.
HERBERT SPENCER.
After the publication of the Origin of Species (1859), ^^ ^^^
inevitable that the idea of evolutional development should
sooner or later be applied to morality. In truth, it appeared
to certain writers of the following two or three decades that
the theory of Evolution afforded a perfectly new method of
Ethics, from which the most important results might confi-
dently be expected. Nothing could be more natural ; but it
happened in this case, as generally, when epoch-making
theories are exploited, that the collateral issues were at first
somewhat confused. We have seen that Mill was grievously
disappointed, when he earlier made the attempt to apply
* scientific method ' to the subject-matter of Ethics. This was
not because Ethics is a discipline which cannot permit of the
same rigorous analysis that we employ in the case of the
physical sciences, but because the writer on Ethics primarily
attempts, what the physical scientist, qua scientist, can never
for a moment permit himself — an evaluation, as opposed to a
mere explanation, of the facts with which he has to deal. In
a similar way, we have quite generally, if only somewhat
gradually, come to see that the idea of development according
to law, while of great importance for Ethics, as tending to
bring into prominence a multitude of facts that had previously
been far too generally neglected, does not of itself inform us
as to the worth or meaning of life, or as to the essential nature
of morality. Not that the work of the so-called Evolutional
moralists has by any means been in vain. Quite as much as
any other recent school, they have helped to broaden the whole
(268)
Herbert Spencer. 269
field of ethical discussion. But their contribution has mainly
been to the data of the science ; they have by no means sup-
plied it with a new and definitive method.
It would, of course, be wholly apart from the purpose of
this book to examine Evolutional Ethics as such. In spite
of the varying tendencies represented by the writers usually
assigned to this school, they all agree in differentiating their
method more or less sharply from that of traditional Utili-
tarianism. Their most prominent representative, however,
can by no means be neglected, partly because he enjoys a
popular reputation second to none among the English hed-
onists of the latter part of the nineteenth century, but more
particularly because his ethical theory is much less dependent
upon the Evolutional method which he adopts than is com-
monly recognised. It will be remembered that Mr. Spencer's
first book having a bearing upon Ethics was published eight
years before the Origin of Species, his last only nine years
ago. During these forty-two years, most of which have been
devoted to other subjects, his views on Ethics have naturally
undergone some modifications, yet there is an underlying con-
sistency which one misses m the ethical writings of J. S. Mill
— and this, although Mr. Spencer shows a frankness equal to
that of Mill in pointing out the modifications of his doctrine
of which he is himself conscious.
In truth, a special reason for considering his ethical writings
at length in this connection is, that his doctrine is presented
in what may be called a pre-Evolutional form in Social Statics
(1851), as well as in a form ostensibly depending upon the
theory of Evolution in the Principles of Ethics (1879- 1893).
A comparison of the later with the earlier form of the system
is as interesting as it is instructive. Moreover, the extreme
claims for Evolutional Ethics, made in the Data of Ethics
(1879), are considerably diminished before the completion of
the Principles. We must not anticipate on this point, but no
passage in Mr. Spencer's works does more credit to his single-
minded love of truth, all his own former prepossessions to the
contrary notwithstanding, than that in the Preface to his con-
270 History of Uiilitarianism.
•eluding contribution to Ethics, Negative Beneficence and
Positive Beneficence (1893), where he says : "The Doctrine of
Evolution has not furnished guidance to the extent I had
hoped. Most of the conclusions, drawn empirically, are such
as right feelings, enlightened by cultivated intelligence, have
already sufficed to establish."
The earliest draft of Mr. Spencer's ethical theory is to be
found in the first, or theoretical, portion of his well-known
Social vS/<a:/zVj' (1851), and also in the concluding chapters of
the same book. The long, but rather unsystematic. Introduc-
tion is mainly devoted to a severe criticism of the Doctrine
of Expediency, the gist of which is as follows. All men seek
a guide for conduct, but a practical guide in the form of a
general principle seems to remain a desideratum. The Doc-
trine of Expediency (Bentham's principle of ' the greatest
happiness of the greatest number ') has indeed been confidently
recommended as such a guide ; but a rule, principle, or axiom,
in order to have any theoretical or practical value, must have a
definite meaning. We must therefore take it for granted that,
when Bentham announced ' the greatest happmess of the
greatest number ' as the canon of social morality, he supposed
mankind to be unanimous in their definition of ' greatest
happiness '.
"This was a most unfortunate assumption," says Mr. Spencer,
■" for no fact is more palpable than that the standard of happi-
ness is infinitely variable. In all ages — amongst every people
— by each class — do we find different notions of it entertained."
After giving a number of rather striking examples, he says :
" Generalising such facts, we see that the standard of ' greatest
happiness ' possesses as little fixity as the other exponents
of human nature ". And he goes on to show that the reason
for this is simple enough. Happiness signifies a gratified
state of all the faculties. The gratification of a faculty is
produced by its exercise, provided that the exercise be propor-
tionate to the power of the faculty. But the faculties of men
-differ as regards their ratio to each other in each case ; more-
Herbert Spencer. 271
over, there is in each a different balance of desires. " Conse-
quently the notion of happiness must vary with the disposi-
tion and character ; that is, must vary indefinitely." According
to the author's view, this leads to the inevitable conclusion
that " a true conception of what human hfe should be, is
possible only to the ideal man. . . . And as the world yet
contains none such, it follows that a specific idea of ' greatest
happiness ' is for the present unattainable." ^ But even if
we were agreed as to what constitutes the ' greatest happiness,'
there would yet remain the unwarranted assumption that it
is possible for the self-guided human judgment to determine,
with something like precision, by what methods it may be
obtained. In support of this latter position, Mr. Spencer
mentions a number of cases of mistaken legislation. And he
characteristically adds : " But why cite individual cases ? Does
not the experience of all nations testify to the futility of these
empirical attempts at the acquisition of happiness .^ What is
the statute-book but a record of such unhappy guesses 1 or
history but a narrative of their unsuccessful issues ? " ^
Here, in fact, the drift of the argument changes somewhat.
The author proceeds to criticise the Expediency Philosophy
less as a method of Ethics than as a mistaken political theory.
A fatal objection to this theory is, that it assumes the eternity
of government, while in reality government is not essential,
but incidental. " Daily is statecraft held in less repute. . . .
As civilisation advances, does government decay. To the bad
it is essential ; to the good, not. ... Its continuance is proof
of still-existing barbarism." ^ Note, then, the predicament
of the Expediency Philosophy : " A system of moral phil-
osophy professes to be a code of correct rules for the control of
human beings. . . . Government, however, is an institution
originating in man's imperfection ; an institution confessedly
begotten by necessity out of evil. . . . How, then, can that be
a true system of morality which adopts government as one of
its premises ? "
1 See Introduction : ' The Doctrine of Expediency,' ^ 2.
^ See ihid., % 3. '■^ See ibid., % 4.
272 History of Utilitarianism.
Mr. Spencer sums up his objections as follows : " Of the
Expediency Philosophy it must therefore be said, in the
first place, that it can make no claim to a scientific character,
seeing that its fundamental proposition is not an axiom, but
simply an enunciation of the problem to be solved.
" Further, that even supposing its fundamental proposition
were an axiom, it would still be inadmissible, because expressed
in terms possessing no fixed acceptation.
" Moreover, were the Expediency theory otherwise satisfac-
tory, it would be still useless ; since it requires nothing less
than omniscience to carry it into practice.
" And, waiving all other objections, we are yet compelled
to reject a system, which, at the same time that it tacitly
lays claim to perfection, takes imperfection for its basis." ^
The rest of the Introduction is taken up with a vindication
of the Moral Sense doctrine in a qualified form. This we may
pass over somewhat rapidly, both because the author's views on
the subject were at this time very imperfectly worked out, and
because they later were fundamentally changed. The drift of
the argument is as follows. It seems probable that the moral
law of society, like its other laws, originates in some attribute
of human nature. Answering to each of the actions which
we need to perform for the sake of physical health, we find in
ourselves some prompter called a desire. May we not there-
fore assume that there is also some inner tendency or principle
impelling us to morality, i.e., a Moral Sense ? It is not enough
to disprove the existence of such an instinct, to insist upon
what are properly to be regarded as perversions of the instinct.
All instincts may be perverted. Moreover, even the disciples
of Bentham are, in the last resort, obliged to depend upon an
intuition of this much derided Moral Sense for the foundation
of their own system. In truth, only the hopelessly prejudiced
can fail to recognise, on every hand, the workings of such a
faculty.
" But how, it may be asked, can a sentiment have a percep-
' See Introduction : ' The Doctrine of Expediency,' § 5.
Herbert Spencer. 273
tion ? How can a desire give rise to a moral sense} Is there
not here a confounding of the intellectual with the emotional ? "
Mr. Spencer admits that the objection — which, as will be seen,
he states very clearly — seems a serious one, and would be
fatal, were the term ' sense ' to be understood in its strictest
acceptation. Indeed, his answer to the objection is by no
means convincing. The problem, as he himself points out, is
to explain " how from an impulse to behave in the way we call
equitable, there will arise a perceptioji that such behaviour is
proper — a conviction that it is good ". He says : " This instinct
or sentiment, being gratified by a just action, and distressed
by an unjust action, produces in us an approbation of the one,
and a disgust towards the other ; and these readily beget
beliefs that the one is virtuous, and the other vicious " }
Speaking of the Moral Sense and Intuitional schools of Ethics,
he says : " Unsuccessful as these writers have been in the
endeavour to develop a philosophical morality, all of them, if
the foregoing reasoning be correct, have consulted a true
oracle. Though they have failed to systematise its utterances,
they have acted wisely in trying to do this. An analysis of
right and wrong so made, is not indeed the profoundest and
ultimate one ; but, as we shall by-and-by see, it is perfectly in
harmony with that in its initial principle, and coincident with
it in its results." One other passage is well worth reproduc-
ing : " If Bentham is right in condemning Moral Sense, as an
' anarchical and capricious principle, founded solely upon in-
ternal and peculiar feelings,' then is his own maxim doubly
fallacious. Is not the idea, ' greatest happiness,' a capricious
one } Is not that also ' founded solely upon internal and
peculiar feelings '.''... At the worst therefore, in so far as
want of scientific precision is concerned, a philosophy founded
on Moral Sense, simply stands in the same category with all
other known systems." ^
Such are the principal ideas of the Introduction, expressed
largely in the author's own words. Before proceeding with
' See Introduction : ' The Doctrine of the Moral Sense,' § 5.
- See ihid., § 6.
18
2 74 History of iltilitarianisin.
our examination of the rest of the book, in so far as that is
necessary for our purpose, it will be well to pause for a little,
in order to grasp the fundamental conception upon which
both the critical and the (at least implicitly) constructive part
of the Introduction depend. It would be quite possible for
a careless reader to mistake the drift of Mr. Spencer's earlier
criticism of what he terms the Expediency Philosophy. His is
not one of the familiar attempts to show in detail the difficulties
attending the hedonistic calculus. If such were the case, it
would have been wholly unnecessary to reproduce his criticism
at such length. As a matter of fact, his point of view is not
easy to define in brief terms, but it plainly depends upon
his conception of the perfect man in a perfect society, as the
necessary postulate in a scientific system of Ethics. This
paradoxical conception, which has remained to the end an
important feature of Mr. Spencer's ethical theory, will later
require careful consideration. Here we are concerned with it
only as affording his point of departure in criticising Utili-
tarianism. His meaning seems to be, that a direct computation
of the consequences of actions, in terms of happiness and un-
happiness, can never afiFord the foundation for a scientific
Ethics, not merely, or principally, because experience shows
that individuals derive pleasure or pain, as the case may be,
from very different things ; but because it is absolutely certam,
on general principles, that every advance in morality in-
volves a shifting of the scale of hedonistic values. Other-
wise expressed, individuals and nations are constantly, if
generally very slowly, discarding one scale of hedonistic
values for another, previously assumed to be ultimate, and
this in proportion to the development of moral character.
Reduced to its lowest terms, this means that hedonistic values
vary as moral character varies.
By many ethical writers of the present day, this is regarded
as perhaps the strongest argument for holding that, m some
sense or other, character or personality is the ultimate for
Ethics, and not happiness. Mr. Spencer, however, does not
seem to entertain this view even as an abstract possibility ;
Herbert Spencer. 275
but, assuming that moral values must ultimately be interpreted
in hedonistic terms, without anything like a careful examina-
tion of other types of ethical theory, he concludes that only
the scale of hedonistic values that would appeal to the perfect
man in a perfect society (in which alone, apparently, he could
exist) is the true scale of such values. Apparently, then,
this postulate of the perfect man in a perfect society, however
great the difficulties which it involves, is far from being a
merely arbitrary and eccentric assumption on the part of the
author, in this earlier exposition of his ethical theory ; he
seems here to regard it, rather, as the only possible salvation
of hedonism. Nothing could well be more instructive than
such an implicit criticism of hedonism itself, coming from
one of its most prominent and able advocates. It is rather
important to remember that this view, when first set forth by
Mr. Spencer, was held in connection with the Moral Sense
doctrine. Such an intuitional adjunct to his system would
tend to prevent that further analysis which might have sug-
gested to him, that he was really making hedonism depend
upon some other undefined principle. It is probably signifi-
cant that Mr. Spencer's later criticisms of Utilitarianism vary
considerably in method from this earlier and, in the present
writer's opinion, much more effective one.
We have now to see how the principles of the Introduction
are worked out in the earlier and later parts of the
body of the book, the intermediate portions not being to the
present purpose, as they have not to do with theoretical
Ethics. The title of the first chapter, " Definition of Mo-
rality," is somewhat misleading. Instead of attempting
clearly to differentiate the subject-matter of Ethics from
that of other sciences or disciphnes, the author insists still
further upon the necessity of regarding the moral law as the
law of the perfect man. He argues that a system of pure
Ethics cannot recognise evil, or any of those conditions which
evil generates. Indeed, he says : " It entirely ignores wrong,
injustice, or crime, and gives no information as to what must
be done when they have been committed. It knows no such
276 History of Utilitarianism.
thing as an infraction of the laws, for it is merely a statement
of what the laws are. It simply says, such and such are the
principles on which men should act ; and when these are
broken it can do nothing but say that they are broken," '
And he argues in justification of this position, that he is merely
putting Ethics on the same plane with the several sciences.
The geometrician, e.g., has to assume that the various figures
with which he deals are perfect each after its kind. In a
similar way, physiology treats of the functions of our different
organs in their normal state ; it has nothing to say of disease
or any of the problems arising in connection with disease.
It does not seem to have occurred to Mr. Spencer that such
comparisons amount to little more than figures of speech,
unless re-enforced by arguments which, in his own treatment,
are not forthcoming. Even apart from the important dis-
tinction between the normal and the abnormal, the method
of the sciences is necessarily abstract in a sense that is
not always appreciated by those who triumphantly point to
science as that which describes things or events as they are or
take place in the concrete, the principal reason being that the
scientist has to take one thing at a time. A given physical
law, e.g., states what would take place under certain definite
conditions, abstracting from all other complicating conditions.
In this sense, science is quite as abstract as Mr. Spencer
would make it ; but one must carefully observe that the ab-
stractions of the scientist, if legitimate, are always perfectly
clear. We are never left in doubt as to what is meant by
a perfectly straight line or a perfect curve of a particular
order ; nor do we fail to understand the physicist, when he
tells us that things would happen exactly thus and so in the
external world, if the conditions specified were the only
conditions present. But the perfect man is an abstraction
of an entirely different kind — an abstract and ultimate ideal,
the true meaning of which, at any given stage of ethical
reflection, can be only very vaguely indicated. To say, then,
1 See Pt. I., ch. i., § 3.
Herbei4 Spence7-. 277
that the very possibility of a scientific Ethics depends upon
our beginning with, and perpetually referring to, an ideal
which by no possibility can be made perfectly definite, is
surely to put Ethics itself in a most dangerous position.
Moreover, an Ethics which should refuse to take account of
moral evil as well as moral good, and to define the relations
of those standing for the good to those responsible, so far as
human beings are responsible, for the evil in the world, would
surely have little to do with what we all understand by moral
conduct. One must hasten to remark that Mr. Spencer's
own ethical system is by no means such as to come under
this necessarily sweeping condemnation, but we must clearly
recognise the danger of the methodological principle with
which he starts out.
The next topic treated is " The Evanescence of Evil ".
Here biological science affords the point of departure, although
it must be remembered that the author was not yet writing
in the light of modern evolutional theory. ^ All evil results
from the non-adaptation of constitution to conditions. But
evil perpetually tends to disappear ; adaptation is going on
all the time. This universal law of physical modification
is the law of mental modification also. Now the best condi-
tion of society plainly requires that each individual shall have
such desires only as may be satisfied without trenching upon
the ability of other individuals to obtain like satisfaction.
Of course, we are not thus perfectly adapted at present ;
and the principal reason is, that we retain certain traits that
were necessary in the original predatory life of the race.
All sins of men against each other, in the last resort, reduce
to sacrificing the welfare of others to one's own. This was
once necessary, but is no longer so. We are still in the pro-
^ Of course ' adaptation of constitution to conditions ' conveniently indicates
the general direction of evolutional development ; but what is most characteristic
in modern evolutional theory is the attempt to show how such adaptation is
brought about — what are the ' factors of evolution,' and how they operate. It
is hardly necessary to say that no account of the ' factors of evolution ' is given
in Social Statics, which, as we have seen, was published eight years before the
Origin of Species.
278 History of Utilitarianism.
cess of adaptation to the changed conditions. Progress, which
can only consist in such adaptation, is not an accident, but
a necessity.^ The behef in human perfectibiHty merely
amounts to the belief that man will finally become completely
suited to his mode of life. " Thus," to quote Mr. Spencer's
own words, " the ultimate development of the ideal man is
logically certain — as certain as any conclusion in which we
place the most implicit faith ; for instance, that all men will
die." 2
Various things might be said regarding this decidedly sum-
mary treatment of the problem of evil. Even admitting the
unproved assumption that there is nothing in any sense
essential in morality, but that it consists merely in the com-
plete adaptation of the individual to his environment, it is
plain that the biological analogy is misleading, particularly
when made to do service as an argument. In the first place,
complete adaptation to environment, in the case of any given
species, is always rather an ideal than a fact The most we
can say is, that there is always a tendency toward such com-
plete adaptation. But secondly, adaptation of an animal
species to its environment means adaptation to relatively
permanent and comparatively simple physical conditions. On
the other hand, adaptation of man to his environment — if, as
is here certainly the case, man is to be regarded as more than
a mere physical organism — means indefinitely more than this.
Even physically considered, his environment is subject to
constant, and sometimes radical, change as the result of his
own exertions, in his capacity as an intellectual being capable
of devising means to the attainment of his desired ends. But
what we may call his ' psychical environment ' is much more
important, and this plainly is subject to almost endless modi-
^ It is rather curious that Mr. Spencer has never questioned the legitimacy
of this optimistic assumption. In the later form of his system, where he pro-
fesses to depend upon the theory of Evolution, Evolution itself is always re-
garded as that which makes for ' progress '. But how about the phenomena
of ' degeneration ' ? (C/. the book on that phase of Evolution by Professor
E. R. Lankester.)
2 See Pt. I., ch. ii., §4.
He7^bert Spencer. 279
fication. Every stage of intellectual or moral progress or
decadence on the part of the social group to which he belongs
means a change in what we here call the ' psychical environ-
ment '. To say that, in the last resort, this constantly chang-
ing psychical environment is wholly dependent upon physical
environment, would really be practically to beg the whole
question ; and what the complete adaptation of man to his
total environment, psychical as well as physical, would
mean — that, surely, would be a problem for omniscience
itself.
Having thus cleared the ground, and acquainted us with
his own fundamental postulates, in large part, at least, Mr.
Spencer proceeds to a still further criticism of the Expediency
Philosophy, as introductory to the constructive portion of the
book, which is immediately to follow. He says : " If, instead
of proposing it as the rule of human conduct, Bentham had
simply assumed ' greatest happiness ' to be the creative pur-
pose, his position would have been tenable enough. Almost
all men do in one way or other assert the same. . . . The doc-
trme is taught by all our religious teachers ; it is assumed
by every writer on morality : we may therefore safely con-
sider it as an admitted truth." ^ But he goes on to show that
it is something quite different to assume that ' greatest happi-
ness' should be Xh^ immediate Kxva oi va2iV\. That has been
the fatal error of the Expediency Philosophers. " They have
not observed that the truth has two sides, a Divine side and
a human side. ' We, as human beings, must confine ourselves
to the attempt to ascertain the general conditions, by con-
forming to which this greatest happiness may be obtained.
First and foremost among these conditions is the social
state itself. There is really no option as to whether we shall
live in or out of society ; that is decided for us. Now it is
evident that, in order to realise the greatest sum of happi-
ness in society, men must be such that " each can obtain
complete happiness within his own sphere of activity, without
1 See Pt. I., ch. iii., § i.
28o History of Utilitarianism.
diminishing the spheres of activity required for the acquisi-
tion of happiness by others ".^ This, then, is the first and
most fundamental of those fixed conditions to the attainment
of greatest happiness, necessitated by the social state ; and it
is the fulfilment of this condition which we express by the
word Justice. But this non-interference is not all that is re-
quired, though in itself more important, as we shall see later,
than any other single principle whatever. We must add :
" The human constitution must be such as that each man may
perfectly fulfil his own nature, not only without diminishing
other men's spheres of activity, but without giving unhappi-
ness to other men in any direct or indirect way ". This may
be called Negative Beneficence. Later we shall see that this
principle needs to be kept quite separate from the preceding.
But further, the sum-total of happiness will be greatly in-
creased, if men are so constituted that each, in addition to the
pleasures that come to him immediately, can sympathetically
participate in the pleasurable emotions of all others. The
observance of this condition of happiness may be called Posi-
tive Beneficence. But even still the enumeration is incom-
plete. Another principle must be recognised, which, indeed,
has been tacitly presupposed throughout. " Lastly," says Mr.
Spencer, " there must go to the production of the greatest
happiness the further condition, that, whilst duly regardful
of the preceding limitations, each individual shall perform all
those acts required to fill up the measure of his own private
happiness." ^
Such, then, are the conditions absolutely requisite, in order
to the attainment of greatest happiness. The author says .
" We have no need to perplex ourselves with investigations
into the expediency of every measure, by trying to trace out
its ultimate results in all their infinite ramifications — a task
which it is folly to attempt. Our course is to inquire con-
' Later in Social Statics appears the more exact formula for the same prin-
ciple : " Every man has freedom to do all that he wills, provided he infringes
not the equal freedom of any other man " (see Pt. I., ch. vi., § i).
2Pt. I., ch. iii., §2.
Herbert Spencer. 281
cerning such measure, whether or not it fully recognises these
fundamental necessities, and to be sure that it must be proper
or improper accorduigly. Our whole code of duty is com-
prehended in the endeavour to live up to these necessities." ^
If it be objected that the foregoing classification of the con-
ditions needful to greatest happiness is in some degree arti-
ficial, the author admits that, under a final analysis, all such
distinctions as those above made must disappear ; ^ but he
insists that similar criticisms may be passed upon all classifi-
cations whatever.
At length we have, in briefest possible outline, the essentials
of Mr. Spencer's own ethical system, in its earlier form.
And it will be seen at a glance that, however much he may
have changed his mind on special points, he has employed
the same classification and, roughly speaking, the same method
to the end. This, then, is the ' scientific ' method, which we
are to accept and rigorously to carry out, in place of the
discredited Expediency Philosophy. We must now inquire,
and that very carefully, whether we have here a really new
theory, or the unconscious revival of an old one. We have
been told that we must not pursue the greatest happiness
directly, for that would mean committing ourselves to the
perfectly hopeless task of computing exactly the consequences
of actions in the particular case ; we must rather act with a
view to the fundamental conditions of the greatest happiness,
or, in other words, according to certain general rules. So far,
it must be denied emphatically that the doctrine above set
forth is new. In truth, it would be possible to show a rather
startling similarity between this earlier, pre-Evolutional form
of Mr. Spencer's ethical theory, in which he recognises the
greatest happiness of man as the Divine Idea in creation, and
the later form of so-called Theological Utilitarianism. Both
theories recognise the Divine Idea, or creative purpose, as
being the greatest happiness of man ; both show that for
1 Pt. I., ch. iii., § 2.
2 He admits this verbally, but is inconsistent in his peculiar treatment of
Justice, as will be seen laler.
282 History of Uiiiitarianism.
very practical reasons, reasons of utility itself, one must act
according to general rules, which plainly make for the common
welfare, and not either follow the will-o'-the-wisp of selfish
gratification or entangle oneself with special problems of
what Bentham only too aptly termed ' moral arithmetic '.
But we must be warned by some of the author's own mis-
takes, and not carry a tempting comparison too far. The
reader has doubtless already noted Mr. Spencer's insistence
upon the all-importance of Justice. This, to be sure, does not
in itself differentiate his treatment of Ethics from that of
preceding hedonistic writers. In fact, any sane moralist is
pretty sure to recognise the extreme importance of the prin-
ciple of Justice, however defined, and to grant it a certain
primacy over other principles. But it is to be noted that
Mr. Spencer — unlike earlier, or indeed later, hedonistic writers
— first, practically identifies the principle of Justice with that
of non-interference with the free activities of others, and
secondly, gives to the principle a special intuitive character,
as will be explained immediately, which comes very near to
putting it on a plane by itself, i.e., making it differ from other
ethical principles, not only in degree, but in kind. This last
feature of the author's treatment was perhaps not urmatural,.
considering the rather vague and confusing Intuitionism of
his earlier ethical position ; but it is hardly necessary to re-
mind the reader that this same discrimination in favour of
Justice, which makes it in a sense more ultimate than even
hedonism itself, is fully as characteristic of Mr. Spencer's later
as of his earlier treatment. At the proper time, this very
serious difftculty in the system which we are examining will
have to be squarely met ; here it is mentioned merely by way
of anticipation.
At the beginning of Part II. of the Social Statics, which
immediately follows the discussion which we have been con-
sidering, the author attempts to deduce his fundamental
principles somewhat less abstractly for the benefit of those
who may find the previous argument difficult to follow. This
attempted simplification of the same general argument we
Herbert Spencer. 283,
may, of course, safely omit. But in this connection we shall
find stated, more clearly than elsewhere in this book, the
exact relation between the primary principle, Justice, and the
secondary principles. Prudence, Negative Beneficence, and
Positive Beneficence. Mr. Spencer says : " Justice imposes
upon the exercise of faculties a primary series of limitations,
which is strictly true as far as it goes. Negative beneficence im-
poses a secondary series. It is no defect in the first of these that
it does not include the last The two are, in the main, dis-
tinct ; and, as we have just seen, the attempt to unite them
under one expression leads us into fatal errors." ^ Then, after
repeating that the secondary laws are greatly inferior, as re-
gards exactness, to Justice, he says : " Not being able to
define specifically the constitution of the ideal man, but being
able to define it generically only ... we are quite incompetent
to say of every particular deed whether it is or is not ac-
cordant with that constitution. Or, putting the difficulty in
its simplest form, we may say, that as both of these supple-
mentary limitations - involve the term happiness, and as
happiness is for the present capable only of a generic and
not of a specific definition, they do not admit of scientific
development. Though abstractedly correct limitations, and
limitations which the ideal man will strictly observe, they
cannot be reduced to concrete forms until the ideal man
exists." ^ The last passage, in particular, is important. The
supplementary principles, of whatever sort — and these are
three, according to Mr. Spencer, Prudence, Negative Benefi-
cence, and Positive Beneficence — are subordinate to Justice,
not only because they lack the definite, intuitive character of
Justice, but because they all equally involve the conception
^ See Pt. II., ch. iv., § 4. (It should be noted that the chapters are numbered
continuously, without regard to the part to which they belong.)
^ The supplementary principles directly referred to, as the context would
show, are due regard for one's own welfare (Prudence) and Negative Benefi-
cence. What Mr. Spencer says in this passage would, of course, apply with
equal force to Positive Beneficence.
•' See ihid., § 5.
284 History of Utilitarianism.
■of happiness, which latter is capable only of a generic, and not
a specific, definition — until the advent of the perfect man.
Before passing on to the latter part of the Sociat Statics —
for of course we are not here concerned with the numerous
chapters in which the author applies his fundamental prin-
ciples to the solution of special political and social problems
— it will be well to notice a few passages in what he calls his
" Secondary Derivation of a First Principle ". He is here
concerned to show that there is in man a special faculty by
virtue of which he tends both to assert his own rights and to
recognise the rights of others. As might be expected, this
faculty turns out to be the Moral Sense itself, exercising its
most characteristic function. Mr. Spencer definitely lays
down and defends the thesis, that " this first and all-essential
law [Justice], declaratory of the liberty of each limited only
by the like liberty of all, is that fundamental truth of which
the moral sense is to give an intuition, and which the intellect
IS to develop into a scientific morality ". He then says :
" From the above accumulation of evidence it is inferred that
there exists in man what may be termed an instinct of per-
sonal rights — a feeling that leads him to claim as great a
share of natural privilege as is claimed by others — a feeling
that leads him to repel anything like an encroachment upon
what he thinks his sphere of original freedom ".^ Somewhat
later he adds : " Seeing, however, that this instinct of personal
rights is a purely selfish instinct, leading each man to assert
and defend his own liberty of action, there remains the ques-
tion — Whence comes our perception of the rights of others } "
In general, Mr. Spencer agrees with the method adopted
by Adam Smith in his Theory of Moral Sentiments, where, of
course, this and other important phenomena of our moral life
are explained by the principle of Sympathy. But he makes
the following criticism of Smith's actual treatment -. " Not re-
cognising any such impulse as that which urges men to
maintain their claims, he did not see that their respect for the
1 See Pt. II., ch. v., § 2.
Herbert Spencer. 285
claims of others, may be explained in the same way. He
did not perceive that the sentiment of justice is nothing but
a sympathetic affection of the instinct of personal rights —
a sort of reflex function of it. . . . It was elsewhere hinted,
that though we must keep up the distinction between them,
it is nevertheless true that justice and beneficence have a
common root, and the reader will now at once perceive that
the common root is — Sympathy." 1 It is further argued that,.
if our perceptions of justice are generated in the way alleged,
" it will follow that, other things equal, those who have the
strongest sense of their own rights, will have the strongest
sense of the rights of their neighbours ". Of course it is not
claimed that this is absolutely true, but only that, " in the
average of cases, we may safely conclude that a man's sense
of justice to himself, and his sense of justice to his neighbours,
bear a constant ratio to each other " ?
The passages above quoted contain, perhaps, the most
satisfactory statement to be found in the Social Statics regard-
ing that constitution of human nature, by virtue of which the
moral law is at once to be apprehended and gradually realised.
They also throw an interesting light upon Mr. Spencer's
earlier conception of the Moral Sense. We have already seen
that this has to do mainly with the one ethical principle which
is perfectly free from ambiguity, and therefore capable of
strictly scientific development — Justice. And we are now led
to see, what has probably been suspected by the reader
hitherto, that, in its operation, the moral sense manifests itself
more as an instinct (implying an impulsive tendency) than as
a faculty of abstract moral intuitions. In fact, the author is.
always comparing it with the instincts which lead us to satisfy
our various bodily wants.
It is difficult to see, from the hints afforded, how this funda-
mental tendency of human nature, primarily impulsive m
character, is capable of such development as to make possible
a scientific Ethics. Is it too much to suggest that, here
1 See Pt. II., ch. v., § 5. - See ibid., % 6.
2 86 History of Utilitarianism.
again, Mr. Spencer is partly misled by his dependence upon
biological analogies? Most assuredly the moralist, of what-
ever school, should take the most careful account of those
forces of human nature which make for conduct. But those
same forces, or tendencies, of human nature, no matter how
fundamental, must be morally justified, if justihed at all, by
showing that they make for the ultimate end of conduct, the
Summuvi Bonum. Logically, the only escape from an Ethics
of the Good is to stop with naive Intuitionism, the essential
characteristic of which is an implicit denial that the several
parts of the moral law can be rationalised by being brought
under a single higher principle. And this, without question,
is the very antithesis of scientific ethical method. In the
earlier form of his system, at any rate, Mr. Spencer seems to
run great risk of becoming entangled with two ultimates :
Justice, considered as an absolute principle, which therefore
needs no further justification, and Happiness, considered as
an ultimate, though an ultimate not capable of exact compre-
hension ; and two methods, the one Intuitive, the other
Hedonistic — and this quite apart from his questionable inter-
pretation and explanation of the Moral Sense itself.
As already suggested, it would be quite apart from our
present purpose to consider Mr. Spencer's own applications of
his first principle, or axiom, of freedom from interference, i.e.,
Justice, to prove the several rights upon which he so strongly
insists — the rights of life, personal liberty, use of the earth,
property, exchange, free-speech, etc. Nor are we concerned
with his discussions (in Part III), also from the point of view
of Justice, interpreted as the principle of non-interference,
regarding the proper constitution of the State. It may be
doubted whether any prominent writer belonging strictly to
the present generation would attempt the solution of so many
practical problems, mainly of state-craft, by the application of
a single abstract principle. So far from being a matter of
strict logic, such application is necessarily a matter of in-
dividual judgment, even allowing, for the sake of the argu-
ment, the validity of the first principle assumed. An interest-
Hei'bert Spencer. 287
ing illustration of this rather obvious truth may be found in
the author's earlier treatment of the land question, where,
quite contrary to his later judgment in the matter, he advo-
cates the nationalisation of land, on the ground that a mon-
opoly of land-ownership by individuals interferes with the
equal freedom of others.
Part IV. of the Social Statics, which concludes the work, is
essentially different in character from what precedes. Not
that the views set forth are incompatible with those which we
have already examined ; but what the writer here attempts is
something radically different. He says : " Social philosophy
may be aptly divided (as political economy has been) into
statics and dynamics ; the first treating of the equilibrium of
a perfect society, the second of the forces by which society is
advanced towards perfection. . . . Hitherto we have concerned
ourselves chiefly with the statics, touching upon the dynamics
only occasionally for purposes of elucidation. Now, however,
the dynamics claim special attention." ^ The treatment here
given, however, is both very brief and quite unsystematic, a
last word being devoted to various subjects. Hence, pro-
bably, the title of the long chapter which practically consti-
tutes this final part of the book — " General Considerations ".
The course of civilisation, we are told, could not have been
different from what it has been. What might have been in
the abstract {i.e., according to a different scheme of creation),
we cannot say. " But given an unsubdued earth ; given the
being — man, appointed to overspread and occupy it ; given
the laws of life what they are ; and no other series of changes
than that which has taken place, could have taken place." -
The primitive man had to be a savage, for it was his function
to clear the earth of races endangering his life and occupy-
ing the space required for mankind. It was necessary that he
should have the desire to kill, and that he should be devoid
of sympathy, or possess but the germ of it. A thoroughly
civilised community could not be formed out of men qualified
1 See Pt. IV., ch. xxx., § i. ^ See ibid., % 2.
288 History of Utilitarianism.
to wage war with the pre-existing occupants of the earth.
The barbarising of colonists, who live in close contact with the
lower races, is universally admitted. The gist of the matter
is : the primitive man had to be one whose happiness was
obtained largely at the sacrifice of the happiness of others.
But we have already seen that the ultimate man must be
one who can obtain happiness without deducting from the
happiness of others. Moreover, we have seen that progress,
what we call ' moral progress,' is a necessary law. Why, then,
does the needed adaptation to new conditions, in which pro-
gress consists, take place so slowly ?
The reason is, that the new conditions themselves have
arisen but slowly. Warfare between man and the creatures
at enmity with him has continued up to the present time, and
over a large portion of the globe is going on still. The
destructive propensities which inevitably thus arise, are per-
petuated by the custom of game-preserving. But, what is
more important, the old predatory instinct is in a sense self-
maintained for it generates between men and men a hostile
relationship, similar to that which it generates between men
and inferior animals. In short — and here we come to the
earlier statement of one of the author's most characteristic
views — human character has changed slowly, because it has
been subject to two conflicting sets of conditions. " On the
one hand," to use his own words, " the discipline of the social
state has been developing it into the sympathetic form ; whilst
on the other hand, the necessity for self-defence partly of man
against brute, partly of man against man, and partly of so-
cieties against each other, has been maintaining the old un-
sympathetic form." 1 The two codes thus resulting are, of
course, what the author in his later writings terms the ' ethics
of amity ' and the ' ethics of enmity '. Only when warfare
has largely ceased, can the former code, which is to develop
into the code of the perfect man, have a normal, and reason-
ably rapid, development
^ See Pt. IV., ch. xxx., § 3.
Herbert Spencer. 289
At this point Mr. Spencer somewhat compHcates his argu-
ment by showing that warfare itself has had its uses, even on
the social side. For what are the pre-requisites to a conquer-
ing race ? Numerical strength or improved methods of
warfare, both of which are indications of advancement.
" Evidently, therefore, from the very beginning, the conquest
of one people over another has been, in the main, the con-
quest of the social man over the anti-social man ; or, strictly
speaking, of the more adapted over the less adapted." But
we must very carefully observe what may at first seem to the
reader a rather fine distinction. Mr. Spencer says : " Whilst
the injustice of conquests and enslavings is not perceived,
they are on the whole beneficial ; but as soon as they are felt
to be at variance with the moral law, the continuance of them
retards adaptation in one direction, more than it advances it in
another : a fact which our new preacher of the old doctrine,
that might is right, may profitably consider a little ".^
Before sympathy arises, indeed, hero-worship plays a
humanising part. It is found among all savage and bar-
barous peoples, as well as among those of higher development.
Indeed, without such a check upon anti-social propensities, it
is difficult to see how many primitive societies could exist.
But we must recognise it for what it is : "a sentiment which
leads men to prostrate themselves before any manifestation
of power, be it in chief, feudal lord, king, or constitutional
government, and makes them act in subordination to that
power ". In proportion to the lack of moral sense, will be the
degree of such submission to mere authority. This, in fact,
is absolutely necessary. Where reverence for the moral law is
lacking, reverence for mere authority must take its place ;
otherwise there would be complete lawlessness or barbarism.
In short, as the author says : " We must admit that this power-
worship has fulfilled, and does still fulfil, a very important
function, and that it may advantageously last as long as it
can ".2 All this is quite as characteristic of the later, as of the
1 See Pt. IV., ch. xxx., § 4. - See ihid., §§ 6, 7.
19
290 History of Utilitarianism.
earlier, form of Mr. Spencer's ethical theory. He consistently
holds throughout, that what he calls the ' pro-moral ' paves
the way for the strictly moral, the latter, of course, being an
ideal to which humanity tends always to approximate, rather
than an accomplished fact. The civilised races are at present
in an intermediate position, and the radical confusion to be
found in their ethical ideals is largely to be explained by the
essential inconsistency between the ' ethics of amity ' and the
' ethics of enmity '.
Perhaps it may seem that a disproportionate amount of
space has been devoted to this rather minute reproduction
and criticism of the earlier, and confessedly inadequate, state-
ment of Mr. Spencer's ethical theory. Such a mode of treat-
ment, however, has seemed necessary for two principal reasons.
First, the Social Statics, in its original and complete form, is
now withdrawn from circulation, being superseded by a re-
vised and greatly abridged edition (1892), which is almost
useless for our present purpose. Secondly, there is a
special reason for presenting the earlier form of the system
in detail, before considering the later form. Far more ade-
quately than any other single writer, Mr. Spencer is commonly
supposed to represent Evolutional Ethics. It is generally
assumed, alike by friendly and adverse critics, that his success
or failure in solving the problems of Ethics is due principally
to his rigorous application of Evolutional principles. But it"
is highly important, in an historical and critical examination
like the present one, not to take things for granted. We shall
have to look as carefully for similarity as for dissimilarity
between the later and the earlier form of this important
system, remembering always that the earlier form, which has
just been reviewed, appeared eight years before the publica-
tion of the Origin of Species, and that, whatever its merits,
we have found it to be nothing if not highly abstract in char-
acter. And one must not, by any means, permit oneself here
that hopelessly vague use of the word ' Evolution ' which
makes it stand merely for continuous development according
Hei'bert Spencer. 291
to some undefined law or laws. That is what the scientist
very properly criticises in some writers who constantly urge
that we must go back to the early Greek philosophers to find
the first Evolutionists. The theory of Evolution, from which
Evolutional Ethics takes its name, is, of course, the modem
scientific theory of the development of organic forms by means
of certain more or less definitely determined ' factors of
Evolution,' as Mr. Spencer has called them. And it is hardly
necessary to point out that, of ethical systems really depend-
ing upon the theory of Evolution, one which should employ
the principle of ' the inheritance of acquired characteristics,'
and base important arguments upon this principle (as Mr.
Spencer actually does in his later ethical writings), would
differ in many important respects from one which should either
deny the validity of this principle altogether, or allow to it
only a secondary role. For the influence of the theory of
Evolution proper upon Mr. Spencer's ethical system, then, we
must of course look to the later form of his doctrine ; and
the extent of such influence can hardly be greater, at any
rate, than that represented by the divergence of the later from
the earlier form.
CHAPTER XIV.
HERBERT SPENCER {continued).
Between the publication of the Social Statics (1851) and
that of the Data of Ethics (1879), nearly thirty years had
elapsed, and during this time the sciences, particularly the
biological sciences, had made unexampled progress. More-
over, it is probable that no single scholar, in the English-
speaking world, at least, had followed this progress with
keener interest or with a more comprehensive grasp of its
general significance than Mr. Spencer. His equipment, there-
fore, on the strictly scientific side, was most complete, when
he attempted to realise his early ideal of a scientific Ethics.
Unfortunately, however, he had retained almost undiminished
two of his early prejudices : first, a frank contempt for His-
tory as such ; and secondly, a decided lack of appreciation, at
least, for the classic works of Philosophy, even those in the
field of Ethics itself The natural result was that, while a
polymath in quite the literal sense, so far as the literature of
science was concerned, Mr. Spencer had never taken the
trouble to master the literature of the discipline which he
proposed to reform ; nor had he, by any means, fitted himself
to take the historical point of view, even when his own treat-
ment logically required this. In the case of any but a highly
original thinker such a mixed preparation for the task in
hand could hardly have failed to lead to disastrous results.
As it is, we are bound to recognise a considerable debt to the
author of the Synthetic Philosophy for his later contributions
to a discipline in which he was, perhaps, never completely at
home.
(292)
Herbert Spencer. 293
The Data of Ethics, ostensibly only the first of the six
Parts of the proposed (and now happily executed) Principtes
of Ethics, is a great deal more than either its title or its place
in the scheme of the whole work would suggest. From it, in
truth, one could obtain a satisfactory general knowledge of
the later form of Mr. Spencer's ethical system, though the
great importance of Part IV. — fustice (1891) — is by no means
to be questioned. The decidedly inferior importance of the
remaining parts, interesting as these are, will call for explana-
tion and discussion later. Here it may be premised that the
reason is not to be found in the failure of Mr. Spencer's
powers as a thinker and writer, but rather in the peculiar
structure of the system itself. But what one would particu-
larly insist upon at present, is the extreme importance of the
Data of Ethics, as giving an intelligible, and fairly adequate,
statement of the author's system as a whole.
Nothing could well seem to differ more, as regards method,
from the highly abstract Social Statics than the first two
chapters of the Data of Ethics, on " Conduct in General " and
" The Evolution of Conduct ". In the former work, we were
somewhat abruptly introduced to the conception of the ideal
man in an ideal society, as the necessary starting-point for
Ethics ; in the latter, we are told that we must begin by re-
garding conduct as a whole, in a sense an organic whole, of
which moral conduct, ordinarily so-called, is only a part, inex-
tricably bound up with the rest. By conduct is here meant the
adjustment of acts to ends, whether on the part of man or of
the lower animals. This adjustment, of course, may be uncon-
scious or conscious,^ relatively simple or almost indefinitely
complex. And, exactly as in the case of biological investi-
gations, we must interpret the more developed by the less
developed. This naturally leads to a consideration of the
evolution of conduct. Plainly such evolution, when we take
1 This is rather impHed than stated in the passages we are discussing, and
Mr. Spencer's emphasis on the complexity rather than the consciousness of
human adjustments, as that which differentiates man from the lower animals,
is itself an error and the source of others in his system.
294 History of Utilitarianism.
the whole animal kingdom into consideration, must mean at
least a more and more perfect adjustment of acts to ends
subserving individual life and the rearing of offspring. But
something else is presupposed, or neither of the above kinds
of adjustment could attain its highest form. The multi-
tudinous creatures which fill the earth are interfered with by
each other. A grim ' struggle for existence ' is being carried
on all the time, so that the gain of one animal or species
means the loss of another.
" This imperfectly-evolved conduct," says Mr. Spencer, " in-
troduces us by antithesis to conduct that is perfectly evolved
Contemplating these adjustments of acts to ends which miss
completeness because they cannot be made by one creature
without other creatures being prevented from making them,
raises the thought of adjustments such that each creature may
make them without preventing them from being made by
other creatures." But even this is not all. The author adds :
" A gap in this outline must now be filled up. There remains
a further advance not yet even hinted. For beyond so behav-
ing that each achieves his ends without preventing others
from achieving their ends, the members of a society may give
mutual help in the achievement of ends." And he urges in
conclusion that " Ethics has for its subject-matter, that form
which universal conduct assumes during the last stages of its
evolution "?■
When examining the Social Statics, we were obliged to
conclude that Mr. Spencer was not infrequently led astray by
scientific analogies that did not hold. How is it with his use
of the idea of ' Evolution ' in the present case } Conduct, we
have been told, is a whole, and " we must interpret the more
developed by the less developed ". Organic evolution is to
afford us the clue. But, without warning, we take leave of
the struggle for existence, without which organic evolution
means exactly nothing, and consider how rational beings, not
so much do as should, behave toward each other — Justice and
J See ch. ii., §§ 6, 7.
Herbert Spencer. 295
Beneficence being thus represented as pertaining to the ' last
stages ' of the * evolution of conduct '. Are we any longer
interpreting the ' more developed ' by the ' less developed ' ?
Are we still holding to the original meaning of the word
' Evolution ' ? Or are we not rather using ' Evolution ' for
development in general, and assuming a development that
implies reason and moral personality ? Assuming, however,
the legitimacy of the author's conception of a perfectly con-
tinuous evolution of conduct, from the lowest animals up to
ideal man, we are prepared for his definition of good and bad
conduct. The conduct which we call good is the relatively
' more evolved ' conduct ; and bad is the name we apply to
conduct which is relatively ' less evolved '. But why, on scien-
tific grounds merely, should Evolution be thus constantly
identified with what we, from our human point of view, call
progress ? Degeneration {e.g.., of cave animals) is as good a
case of evolutional development {i.e., adaptation to a given
environment) as any other.
But now a further question arises, according to the author :
" Is there any assumption made in calling good the acts con-
ducive to life, in self or others, and bad those which directly
or indirectly tend towards death, special or general .' " And
he himself makes the followmg reply : " Yes, there is one
postulate in which pessimists and optimists agree. Both
their arguments assume it to be self-evident that life is good
or bad, according as it does, or does not, bring a surplus of
agreeable feeling. . . . The implication common to their
antagonistic views is, that conduct should conduce to preserva-
tion of the individual, of the family, and of the society, only
supposing that life brings more happiness than misery." Mr.
Spencer concludes : " If we call good every kind of conduct
which aids the lives of others, and do this under the belief
that life brings more happiness than misery ; then it becomes
undeniable that, taking into account immediate and remote
effects on all persons, the good is universally the pleasur-
able ".1
^ See ch. iii., §§ g, lo.
296 History of Utilitarianism.
Such is Mr. Spencer's very summary vindication of hedon-
ism. The criticism of other types of ethical theory, which
immediately follows, adds little or nothing to the force of the
argument, as it almost wholly lacks the originality which
characterised the early attack upon the Expediency Philo-
sophy in Social Statics. Generally speaking, the argument
contained in the passages just quoted is an excellent example
of what may be called the ' either — or ' method of solving
philosophical problems. It is, of course, possible to state
almost any problem in Metaphysics or Ethics, so as to make
one of two conclusions seem inevitable. In fact, it takes a
great philosopher even to state fairly, in the first instance, the
essential problems of philosophy. But taking the argument
as it stands, and looking at it a little more closely, it will
readily appear that there may logically be just as many forms
of Optimism or Pessimism as there are different theories re-
garding the nature of the Good. If the Good, whatever the
Good may be, is attainable ; then life is worth living — other-
wise not. Moreover, the fact — which can hardly be denied —
that the Good has some relation to happiness, even a very
close relation, by no means proves that it is itself identical
with happiness. In truth, this argument of Mr. Spencer's is
perhaps the shortest cut to hedonism, with which the present
writer is acquainted. He seems to have no suspicion of the
many pitfalls that lie in the way of one, who would solve the
oldest puzzles of Moral Philosophy in such summary fashion.
Lest this criticism — ^which, of course, implies that Mr.
Spencer has not taken the trouble to understand certain
types of ethical theory differing from his own — may seem too
severe, let us carefully examine the well-known chapter on
*' Ways of Judging Conduct," which immediately follows.
After quite properly insisting that intellectual progress is by
no one trait so adequately characterised, as by development of
the idea of causation, and indicating briefly how long it has
taken for the full implications of this idea to be recognised,
the author says : " Why do I here make these reflections on
what seems an irrelevant subject } I do it because on study-
Herbert Spencer. 297
ing the various ethical theories, I am struck with the fact that
they are all characterised either by entire absence of the idea
of causation, or by inadequate presence of it. Whether theo-
log-ical, political, intuitional, or utilitarian, they all display,
if not in the same degree, still, each in a large degree, the
defects which result from this lack." ^
At first, this general indictment of all previous ethical theories
may seem rather staggering ; but if the reader pursues the
argument further, he will see reason as he proceeds to dis-
trust its validity, and will end by retaining a large portion of
his respect for the ethical speculation of the past. Note first
the division of all ethical theories into theological, political,
intuitional, and utilitarian. Of ' theological ' theories, we are
told : " Religious creeds, established and dissenting, all em-
body the belief that right and wrong are right and wrong
simply in virtue of divine enactment. And this tacit assump-
tion has passed from systems of theology into systems of
morality. . . . We see this in the works of the Stoics \sic\ as
well as in the works of certain Christian moralists." ^ It is
interesting to learn that the Stoics, with their pantheistic
tendencies, were guilty of making morality depend upon the
arbitrary will of God ; and the ' Christian moralists ' re-
ferred to are unnamed, except Jonathan Dymond, a recent
Quaker writer, who of course cannot properly be taken as
typical. To attribute this error to theological moralists in-
discriminately, is most unjust. To say nothing of more recent
writers, the so-called ' Theological Utilitarians ' (who appar-
ently would have to be classed in this category, since Utili-
tarianism is here, as elsewhere, treated by Mr. Spencer as a
non-theological system) were as far as possible from holding
this view, though they have sometimes been misunderstood,
as by J. S. Mill in his early essay on Sedgwick's Discourse.
It will be remembered that this error was tacitly corrected by
Mill three years later, in the essay on Bentham.
As regards ' political ' systems of morality, which imply " the
1 See ch. iv., § 17. 2 See ibid., § 18.
298 Histoiy of U ti lit ari autism.
belief that moral obligation originates with Acts of Parliament,
and can be changed this way or that way by majorities," we
must confess that this type of ethical theory has escaped
our observation. The fling, apparently, is at all those who
" ridicule the idea that men have any natural rights, and
allege that rights are wholly results of convention " — another
example of the 'either — or ' method, previously mentioned.
That the ' pure intuitionists ' have not paid a due regard to
natural causation, may be cheerfully conceded to the author.
But the ' pure intuitionists ' seem here to be identified with
those who " affirm that we know some things to be right and
other things to be wrong, by virtue of a supernaturally given
conscience "} What is to distinguish them from the class
of theological moralists ?
Mr. Spencer's startling indictment of all previous Moral
Philosophy, then, reduces itself to his old dissatisfaction with
the Expediency Philosophy, so forcibly expressed in Social
Statics. In fact, a comparison would show that the criticism
here given is much less effective than the earlier one. Is
this because Mr. Spencer no longer cares, in this particular
connection, to avail himself of his conception of the perfect
man in the perfect society as the initial postulate of a scien-
tific Ethics .'' The gist of the earlier criticism, as will be re-
membered, was : that every advance in morality involves
a shifting of the scale of hedonistic values, so that only
the scale of such values that would appeal to the perfect man
could be regarded as the true or permanent scale. Hence the
hedonistic calculus will at any rate remain impossible until the
advent of the perfect man. In its way, this earlier mode of
attack was most effective, for it went to show that hedonistic
values vary with the development (or decadence) of moral
character ; but it plainly was dangerous to hedonism in any
form. Perhaps it is significant that Mr. Spencer does not
return to it in his later criticisms of Utilitarianism.
He proposes, indeed, a method of treatment for Ethics
1 See ch. iv., §§ ig, 20.
Herbert Spencer. 299
which might seem the very antithesis of his earlier method.
He says : " A preparation in the simpler sciences is pre-
supposed. Ethics has a physical aspect ; since it treats of
human activities which, in common with all expenditures of
energy, conform to the law of the persistence of energy :
moral principles must conform to physical necessities. It has
a biological aspect ; since it concerns certain effects, inner and
outer, individual and social, of the vital changes going on in
the highest type of animal. It has a psychological aspect ;
for its subject-matter is an aggregate of actions that are
prompted by feelings and guided by intelligence. And it
has a sociological aspect ; for these actions, some of them
directly and all of them indirectly, affect associated beings.
What is the implication } Belonging under one aspect to
each of these sciences — physical, biological, psychological,
sociological — it can find its ultimate interpretations only in
those fundamental truths which are common to all of them." ^
Hence, of course, the four chapters — better known by title,
perhaps, than any others in the book — " The Physical View,"
" The Biological View," " The Psychological View," and " The
Sociological View ".
There is something at first sight tempting in this proposal
to reduce the relatively indefinite science, or discipline, of
Ethics, to terms of sciences as definite in their scope and
method as Physics, Biology, and Psychology — though, per-
haps, even the prudent scientist would prefer, for the present,
to steer clear of Sociology. And the case of Physiology-
might plausibly be cited in justification of such a mode of
procedure, since the progress of that science has plainly been
in the direction of reducing its facts and principles, as far as
possible, to terms of physics and chemistry. But one very
important difference must be noted between what Mr. Spencer
proposes here and what the physiologist has found an ex-
tremely useful, if not indispensable, methodological principle-
Physics, chemistry, and physiology are alike explanatory
^ See ch. iv., § 22a.
300 History of Utiliiarianisni.
sciences pure and simple. They do not for a moment admit
of evaluations or appreciations : ' good ' and ' bad ' are for
them — as for all explanatory sciences, whether dealing with
the external or with the internal world — meaningless terms.
Ethics, on the contrary, while by no means neglecting the
mere facts of human character and conduct, always discrim-
inates between that which has worth and that which has not —
the standard, of course, being that which is assumed to be
the Good, except in the case of Intuitionism, where the evalua-
tion is made with direct reference to certain immediate feel-
ings or intuitions of the moral agent, assumed to be ultimate.
But while, to the present writer, the method here involved
seems highly questionable, for reasons partly indicated, it is
frankly to be admitted that Mr. Spencer is not alone in failing
to recognise, or refusing to admit, this line of demarcation
between the descriptive and explanatory sciences, on the one
hand, and the normative sciences, on the other. Let us, then,
consider his ' physical view ' of Ethics. This, as the author
explains, means considering conduct " as a set of combined
motions ". And he says : '' Taking the evolution point of
view, and remembering that while an aggregate evolves, not
only the matter composing it, but also the motion of that
matter, passes from an indefinite incoherent homogeneity to a
definite coherent heterogeneity, we have now to ask whether
conduct as it rises to its higher forms, displays in increasing
degrees these characters ; and whether it does not display
them in the greatest degree when it reaches that highest form
which we call moral " } The author argues that this is the
case. From the lower animals up to man, there may be ob-
served an increasing degree of the coherence of motions.
And the same thing is equally manifest, as we trace the con-
dition of man from a savage state to the highest modern
civilisation. All this, observe, is the coherence of physical
motions, considered strictly as such — an abstraction, to realise
the exact import of which is a considerable intellectual feat
1 See ch. v., § 24.
Herbert Spencer, 301
(The present writer must acknowledge that he has never
accomphshed it, to his complete satisfaction.) Mr. Spencer
adds : " Now mark that a greater coherence among its com-
ponent motions, broadly distinguishes the conduct we call
moral from the conduct we call immoral. The application
of the word dissolute to the last, and of the word self-
restrained to the first, implies this. ... In proportion as the
conduct is what we call moral, it exhibits comparatively
settled connections between antecedents and consequents.
. . . Contrariwise, in the conduct of one whose principles are
not high, the sequences of motions are doubtful." ^
Frankly speaking, this seems to me one of the most un-
helpful abstractions ever made in the name of Ethics. From
the proposition that the ' coherence ' of physical motions
increases, as we ascend from the lower to the higher mani-
festations of life, we are led on to the very different proposi-
tion that, the more moral conduct is, the greater will be this
coherence of the motions involved. This last proposition seems
more than doubtful. Some forms of dissipation, particularly
drunkenness, might appear to bear out the statement ; but
how about a life more or less deliberately devoted to crime }
Certainly there is greater coherence in the manipulations of
the counterfeiter and the expert safe-opener than most moral
men, not manually expert, could ever lay claim to. And as
for the possibility of predicting conduct (whether considered
as a mere series of physical motions or otherwise), what con-
duct could be easier to predict than that of a man hopelessly
given over to a particular vice } Almost precisely the same
criticisms apply to the author's contention, that increasingly
moral conduct implies an increasingly ' definite ' set of physi-
cal motions. It is not to the point to urge that " the con-
scientious man is exact in all his transactions ". The de-
faulting bank clerk, who falsifies his accounts, in order to con-
ceal his own crime, has to be as exact as if he were keeping
the books properly ; and generally he needs to be more,.
^ See ch. v., § 25.
302 History of Utilitarianism.
rather than less, expert than the honest man. But this exact-
ness, or expertness — do they, as appHed to a series of physical
motions, considered merely as such, really mean anything at
all ? More plausible is the final argument, which goes to
show that the highest morality implies an increasing ' hetero-
geneity ' of motions. But what a ridiculously unsafe criterion
this would be, by which to distinguish moral from immoral
conduct !
The ' physical view ' of morality, then, turns out to be not
only highly abstract, but extremely fanciful. We now pass
on to the ' biological view '. From the standpoint of biology,
the perfectly moral man is one in whom the physiological
functions of all kinds are duly fulfilled. Either defect or ex-
cess in the performance of function results in a lowering of
life for the time being. Hence the performance of every
function is, in a sense, a moral obligation. The author hastens
to remark that this principle, viz., that the performance of
every function is a duty, strictly applies to ideal humanity
only, not to humanity as now existing. At present, the per-
formance of every function by each would involve interference
of one individual with another ; ^ but when man is completely
evolved, this will not be the case. Another important result
of such complete evolution will be, that immediate pleasures
and pains, accompanying the exercise of our various functions,
will be safe guides of conduct, as of course they are not now —
though it is universally true that every pleasure increases
vitality for the time being, while every pain decreases vitality.
While freely admitting that, as we are at present constituted,
pleasures are not always connected with actions which should
be performed, nor pains with actions which should be avoided,
Mr. Spencer says : " Along with complete adjustment of
humanity to the social state, will go recognition of the truths
that actions are completely right only when, besides being
conducive to future happiness, special and general, they are
immediately pleasurable, and that painfulness, not only ulti-
^ I.e., ' injustice,' which, as will be rcmeinbered, is tlie cardinal sin, according
to Mr. Spencer,
Herbert Spencer. 303
mate but proximate, is the concomitant of actions which are
wrong "}
It cannot be denied that the ' biological view ' of morality
possesses at least one very important advantage over the
' physical view,' viz., the propositions involved are sufficiently
definite to admit of clear comprehension. Let us begin by
examining the first, that complete or ideal morality means,
among other things, the due performance of all physiological
functions. There is, undoubtedly, an important element of
truth in this statement. Complete mental health, so desirable
for the moral life, is hardly possible without a fair degree of
physical health ; and this, of course, implies the due perform-
ance of at least many physiological functions. That the
moral agent should have a conscientious regard for his health,
even under existing conditions, goes without question. But
it is only too evident that, as things are now, the teachings
of biology (or rather, of hygiene) and those of Ethics by no
means necessarily coincide. And one must carefully observe
that this is not all. Strictly moral considerations apart, every
man who fills a real place in society, no matter how humble,
often finds himself obliged to work when it is undoubtedly
more or less detrimental to his health ; and those whose ser-
vices are at all indispensable to their fellow-men, particularly
at critical times, not infrequently have to take considerable
personal risks. It should be noted that one does not here
refer to cases of unnecessary hardship. The difficulty is, that
each has, or should have, his own work, which no other can
perform equally well — at least, without some slight prepara-
tion. Moreover, that all-round physical development here im-
plied, which is so desirable in itself, is practically impossible
for those who have to devote themselves constantly to any
specialised form of labour, whether physical, or mental, or
both.
Such considerations may seem irrelevant, as they plainly
refer to existing conditions, while Mr. Spencer claims only
' vSee ch. vi., § 39.
304 History of Utilitarianism.
that the due performance of all physiological functions will be
a moral duty in the ideal, or completely evolved, society. But
why is it that a perfectly normal physical life — implying, as
Mr. Spencer would say, ' the due performance of all physio-
logical functions ' — is impossible for the great majority at the
present time ? The principal reason would seem to be that
very tendency toward specialisation of physical and mental
activities, which is the most characteristic feature of modern
civilisation. How far specialisation should go, is, of course,
a perfectly fair, and indeed a very serious, question ; but is
it conceivable that future generations will succeed in doing
away with specialisation, either altogether or in any large
measure ? If not, Mr. Spencer's physiological ideal will hardly
be attainable even in a society ' completely evolved ' — what-
ever that may mean.
So far, as will be remembered, we have left out of account
strictly moral considerations. When we take the point of
view of Ethics proper, it becomes evident that a necessary
result of increasing specialisation has been a great increase in
the complexity of human relations — including, of course,
moral relations. More and more it has become morally re-
prehensible, even if not socially impossible, for a man to ' live
unto himself alone, or die unto himself alone '. Will this
complexity of human relations decrease as social evolution
approaches its goal — granting that there is any definite, and
therefore stationary, goal } If not, we shall apparently have
to remain to the end ' members of one body,' whether one take
this as the language of Christian theology or that of the most
recent Evolutional Ethics, with its fundamental conception of
society as an organism. Hence, from the strictly ethical point
of view, it would seem still more improbable, that the in-
dividual member of the society of the future will necessarily
have either the duty or the privilege of duly performing-
all physiological functions.
We must now examine the second principal thesis which
Mr. Spencer defends in this chapter on the ' biological view '
of morality. This, as will be remembered, is : that pleasures
Herbo't Spencer. 305
and pains will finally become so adjusted to the performance
of special functions, that each will exactly correspond to acts
to be performed or avoided. This may seem like trenching on
the field of psychology ; but the author urges that this im-
mediate connection between feeling and function must be
considered here, since it has played such an important part
in organic evolution. Among the lower animals, indeed, a
fair degree of adaptation such as that described must be as-
sumed, since without it a given animal species would tend to
become extinct. Through the different stages of human civ-
ilisation, however, it must be confessed that this adjustment
has been far from perfect. This has been mainly due to the
necessity of a continuous partial readjustment to continually
changing conditions of life. But when the final stage of
evolution is reached, the adjustment will be perfect ; and
hence the immediate pleasures and pains accompanying func-
tions will be a safe indication as to whether they are to be
performed or avoided. In fact, as Mr. Spencer explicitly says,
in the passage previously quoted, actions will then be com-
pletely moral, only if they are immediately pleasurable to the
agent, as well as calculated to bring future pleasures to himself
and others.
This very argument for what Mr. Spencer would call com-
plete ' asstho-physiological ' adaptation in the future, tends to
bring out in strong relief the difficulties of his conception of
the perfectly evolved society. These we shall have to touch
upon almost immediately ; but it seems necessary to pause
a moment, in order to note another example of the habit which
the author has of running one principle into another. The
only excuse, as he himself admits, for introducing psychical
phenomena at this point, is that the immediate connections
between pleasures and pains and the performance of particu-
lar physiological functions play a very important part in
organic evolution itself. Now, after arguing that this kind
of adjustment will become perfect in the completely evolved
condition of man, he draws, as a sort of corollary, the ethical
conclusion that when such perfect adjustment obtains, moral
20
3o6 History of UtilitarianiSDi.
actions will be immediately pleasurable to the agent, as well
as ultimately pleasant in their effects on the agent and others.
This is a radically different principle, involving the whole
moral nature of the completely evolved man, for it is too
plain to admit of argument, that the rightness or wrongness
of a moral action of any consequence involves very different,
and generally much more complicated, considerations than
does the due performance of any particular physiological
function, considered as such. Otherwise expressed : granting
that immediate pleasures and pains, connected with the per-
formance of physiological functions, should become even in-
fallible hygienic guides for the individual, they would not
necessarily, or even conceivably, be therefore trustworthy
guides to the complete satisfaction of the agent himself,
according to any recognised form of Egoism ; and they would
wholly leave out of account the moral relations of the agent
to others. It is disconcerting to find such inadvertencies in a
* scientific ' treatment of Ethics.
Let us now pass on to our delayed examination of the
general difficulties involved in Mr. Spencer's conception of an
ideal, or completely evolved, society. Such an examination
seems necessary here, for this is the first time in the Data
of Ethics that he has allowed himself to base an important
argument on the assumed certainty of an ideal society in the
remote future ; and the question immediately arises, whether
his conception of the ideal society has become more definite
since the publication of Social Statics. There is nothing,
in the present volume, at any rate, to indicate this. The ideal
society is still regarded merely as a society composed of
individuals completely adjusted to their environment. In our
examination of Social Statics, we saw that this conception of
the complete adjustment of man to his environment involved
serious difficulties, of which the author took no account.
Roughly speaking, these were : that man is constantly, and
in many cases materially, changing even his physical
environment ; and, secondly, that what we may call the
' psychical ' environment of any group, whether larger or
Herbert Spencer. 307
smaller, is subject to still greater modificatioil. In short, we
saw that while, for organic evolution, the environment is
relatively stationary, and not too complex for fairly adequate
comprehension, the total (physical and ' psychical ') environ-
ment to which the completely evolved man is to become
perfectly adapted, is so largely a matter of his own creation —
so constantly changing, and by no means necessarily always
in the direction of improvement ^ — that the perfect adaptation
or adjustment predicted is difficult even to conceive.
Now in the Data of Ethics, where, of course, the author
attempts to do justice to both the ' dynamic ' and the ' static '
view of morality, these difficulties, so far from diminishing,
become considerably accentuated. We have seen that Mr.
Spencer admits, with his usual candour, that the adjustment
of immediate pleasures and pains to the performance of parti-
cular physiological functions is less reliable in man than in
the lower animals, and less reliable in a high civihsation, up to
the present, than in the original savage condition of man ;
and he suggests what is doubtless the true explanation, that
the continually changing conditions of life have necessitated
continuous partial readjustment. This, observe, is considering
the matter from what Mr. Spencer, at any rate, would call the
merely biological point of view. The ' changing conditions
of life ' referred to are not modifications in his environment
produced by man himself, but the changmg conditions in-
volved in the development of humanity from a savage, and
therefore wholly militant, condition to a completely civilised,
and therefore wholly industrial, condition, through the rather
complicated transitional condition of militant-industrialism
in which we find ourselves at present. The fact that all this
involves a good deal that is peculiar to Mr. Spencer's socio-
logical views, may be neglected for the present. But what
we must insist upon observing is, that perfect adjustment
(whether of the particular kind which we have been consider-
ing, or any other) has hitherto been impossible, on the author's
^ Cf. periods of decadence in history. But Mr. Spencer despises the ' gossip '
of history.
3o8 History of Utilitarianism,
own showing, because society as a whole has never — crystal-
lised. One must be pardoned for the physical comparison,
since no other would exactly express the sinister meaning.
The actual attainment of a stationary goal, no matter how
many aeons ahead, would mean, not highest life, but death —
this from the point of view of sociology, but much more from
the point of view of Ethics.
This is the really fatal objection ; but, leaving out of view
all such difficulties, however unsurmountable, and assuming
for the moment that the complete adaptation of man to his
environment is no more difficult to conceive than a correspond-
ingly perfect adaptation of a given animal species to its
merely physical environment, the very serious question re-
mains : By what ' factors of evolution ' is such complete
adjustment to be effected .-' Natural selection, which plays
such an important — even if not, as some have claimed, a
nearly all-important — part in organic evolution proper, is
largely done away with in civilised human society. The ' un-
fit ' are not allowed to be eliminated by the simple, if ruthless,
methods of nature, owing to our deeply-rooted conviction of
the sanctity of human life. We shall, indeed, find that Mr.
Spencer's later interpretation of the principle of Justice makes
it largely consist in letting the individual take the natural
consequences of his actions ; but, as just pointed out, the all-
important consequence, elimination or death as the result
of ' unfitness,' is not permitted. The possibility of the perfect
adaptation of man to his environment, therefore, would seem
to depend almost entirely upon the * inheritance of acquired
characteristics '. If the increment of adaptation to environ-
ment, which has taken place in the individual (in this case,
the human) organism, as a result of its life-experience, can be
transmitted in part to offspring, then a constant progress in
the direction of complete adaptation may conceivably go on
without the operation of natural selection ; otherwise, appar-
ently not
So far as the present writer is aware, this ' factor ' of evolu-
tion (' inheritance of acquired characteristics ') had hardly
Herbert Spencer. 309
been called in serious question at the time when the Data of
Ethics was published (1879), though there had, of course, been
the greatest diversity of opinion as to its relative importance.
One would be far from assuming that Weismann has entirely
proved the non-inheritance of acquired characteristics ; but,
so far as an outsider can judge of the results of this highly
technical controversy, they have at least gone to show that
this principle must be employed with very much greater
caution than has been customary hitherto. To have an ethical
postulate of the last importance for his system practically
depend upon a biological principle by no means universally
recognised, is certainly an unfortunate predicament for one
who would found a ' scientific ' Ethics.
The interesting chapter in which Mr. Spencer sets forth
his ' psychological view ' of morality need not detain us long.
In terms of his own psychological system, which it is wholly
unnecessary to criticise here, he traces briefly the develop-
ment of motives from the lowest, such as would appeal to
organisms barely endowed with sentiency, to the most com-
plex, re-representative, or ideal, that can appeal to the highly
civihsed man. This development from simple to complex,
from what we call ' lower ' to what we call ' higher ' motives,
manifestly implies an increasing degree of subordination of
present to future ends. " Hence," as the author says, " there
arises a certain presumption in favour of a motive which refers
to a remote good, in comparison with one which refers to a
proximate good." ^ But he very properly argues that this
presumption must not be transformed into an ascetic dogma.
The feelings, e.g., which prompt one to comply with the funda-
mental requirements of health, may, and often do, have as
high an authority as any. Moreover, one must admit that it
is quite possible to go too far in subordinating present to
future good.
The earliest regulation of human conduct, we are told, is
by means of three external controls, political, religious, and
^ See ch. vii., § 42.
3IO History of Utilitarianism.
social. These, for the most part, operate simultaneously,
leading men to subordinate proximate satisfactions to remote
satisfactions ; yet it must be observed that they do not con-
stitute the moral control proper, but are only preparatory to
it — " are controls within which the moral control evolves ".
Mr. Spencer says : " The restraints properly distinguished as
moral, are unlike these restraints out of which they evolve,
and with which they are long confounded, in this — they refer
not to the extrinsic effects of actions but to their in-
trinsic effects " y His meaning is made plain by the con-
text : motives truly moral cannot spring from a foresight
of rewards or punishments that may be expected at the
hands of the State, of one's fellow men, or even of a Divine
Being ; they are constituted by representations of conse-
quences which the acts naturally produce. He says : " These
representations are not all distinct, though some of such are
usually present ; but they form an assemblage of indistinct
representations accumulated by experience of the results of
like acts in the life of the individual, super-posed on a still more
indistinct but voluminous consciousness due to the inherited
effects of such experiences in progenitors : forming a feeling
that is at once massive and vague ".
In further justification of this view, he quotes a passage from
his well-known letter to J. S. Mill, a part of which may be
given here, as it indicates his later ^ attitude toward Intuition-
ism. " Just in the same way that I believe the intuition of
space, possessed by any living individual, to have arisen from
organised and consohdated experiences of all antecedent
individuals who bequeathed to him their slowly-developed
nervous organisations — just as I believe that this intuition,
requiring only to be made definite and complete by personal
experiences, has practically become a form of thought, ap-
^ See ch. vii., § 45.
2 Not necessarily his latest. His "Inductions of Ethics" (Part II. of the
Principles, published in 1892) seem to imply throughout an unconditional re-
jection of Intuitionism, which is rather more than is expressed by the passage
here quoted.
Herbert Spencer. 311
parently quite independent of experience ; so do i believe
that the experiences of utility organised and consolidated
through all past generations of the human race, have been
producing corresponding nervous modifications, which, by
continued transmission and accumulation, have become in us
certain faculties of moral intuition — certain emotions respond-
ing to right and wrong conduct, which have no apparent
basis in the individual experiences of utility." ^
So much for the origin of what are taken to be particular
moral intuitions. How does there arise the feeling of moral
obligation in general ? We are told : " The answer is that it
is an abstract sentiment generated in a manner analogous to
that in which abstract ideas are generated ".- All particular
moral feelings have in common complexity and re-representa-
tive character, being occupied with the future rather than the
present. Hence ^ the idea of ' authoritativeness ' has come
to be connected with them, and this idea is naturally carried
over, so as to form an essential moment of the abstract senti-
ment of duty. But, besides authoritativeness, there is the
further, and apparently more characteristic, element of ' co-
erciveness . This has arisen mainly as the result of the
agent's fear of political and social (and probably one should
add, religious) penalties. Now since this second element of
' coerciveness,' or moral obligation proper, has arisen in con-
nection with the ' extrinsic,' as opposed to the ' intrinsic,' or
natural, consequences of actions, it may be expected to di-
minish in proportion as moral conduct ceases to depend upon
merely external restraints. This leads to the author's char-
acteristic, but rather startling conclusion, that the sense of
duty or moral obligation is transitory ; that it will diminish
until it finally disappears with the complete adaptation of man
to the social state.
We have seen that the ' physical ' and the ' biological '
views of morality are open to serious criticism, not only as
to results, but as to method. It might appear that, from the
1 See ch. vii., S 45. 2 ggg ihid., % 46.
•* It will be noted that this is one of the author's many facile inferences.
3 1 2 History of Utilitarianism,
point of view of method, at any rate, the present chapter, on
the ' psychological view,' would call for substantially the same
criticism, since the general introduction to these four ' views '
of morality puts them ostensibly on the same plane. But
what Mr. Spencer actually attempts in this chapter, is not,
properly speaking, to reduce Ethics to terms of something
else ; he attempts, rather, to give a psychological account of
the origin of our particular moral intuitions and of our general
feeling of duty. As an attempt, this is perfectly legitimate ;
and to use such results, if obtainable, for the purposes of
Ethics, is, of course, equally legitimate. In truth, so far from
this attempt being peculiar to the author of the Data of
Ethics, it is one that had been made by all previous hedonist-
empiricists, and that is certain to be made as long as such a
school exists.
The question as to whether Mr. Spencer has succeeded in
this attempt, is, of course, quite another matter. In his own
opinion, he has successfully mediated between Empiricism and
Intuitionism, as they have existed in the past, by his character-
istic theory, that the results of the moral experience of the
individual have been transmitted from generation to genera-
tion, until the fundamental * moral intuitions,' so-called, like
those concerning the spatial relations of things, have become
for the individual, as at present constituted, practically innate
' forms ' of thought or feeling — though, of course, ultimately
explainable as the result of the experience of the race. This
theory raises epistemological and metaphysical questions,
which cannot properly be discussed here, even superficially ;
but it will readily be seen that, from the point of view of
epistemology, the theory does not really transcend empiricism
and methods opposed to it, but rather decides in favour of
empiricism itself. Moreover, the essential difficulties of em-
piricism — whatever those may be thought to be — are not in
any true sense done away with, but merely thrust further
back. In truth, it may be seriously doubted if Mr. Spencer
has really improved at all upon the traditional arguments for
empiricism, as applied to Ethics, since he has again staked
Herbert Spencer. 313
everything upon the vahdity of the biological principle of the
' inheritance of acquired characteristics '.
What calls for more special consideration, in the present
connection, is the author's well-known, but paradoxical view,
that the feeling of duty will finally become extinct, with the
perfect adaptation of man to the social condition. It hardly
need be pointed out that this view, however startling in itself,
is a practically necessary corollary from the general theory of a
' completely evolved ' society, with which we have by this time
become so familiar. And it serves, in a very interesting way,
to illustrate still further the difficulties of that highly abstract
theory. But first, let us realise, as clearly as may be, what this
view is in itself. The argument briefly is, that the feeling of
duty, or moral obligation proper, implying the idea of ' co-
erciveness,' has arisen mainly in connection with the three
external controls of conduct ; and that therefore, when the
thought of ' extrinsic ' consequences makes way for the thought
of * intrinsic,' or natural, consequences on the part of the
agent — as will necessarily take place with the moral progress
of the individual and of the race — inclination will take the
place of duty, and man will become spontaneously, if not
mechanically, moral. As the author expresses it : " The
higher actions required for the harmonious carrying on of
life, will be as much matters of course as are those lower
actions which the simple desires prompt " }-
It is difficult to see how morality necessarily becomes in-
ternal and spontaneous, as opposed to external and con-
strained, by the mere fact that the agent passes from a con-
sideration of ' extrinsic ' to a consideration of ' intrinsic,' or
natural, consequences — granting that such a thing is ever
wholly possible. The development of altruism, to a proper
degree and under control of reason, would seem to be the
desideratum — not disregard for the approval of one's fellow-
men or even for that of the Divine Being. In truth, this hard
and fast distinction between ' extrinsic ' and ' intrinsic ' con-
* See ch. vii., § 46.
314 History of Utilitarianisin.
sequences is another of the misleading abstractions which one
so often meets with in Mr. Spencer's ethical writings. What
could be a more ' natural ' consequence of any form of recog-
nised wrong-doing than the disapproval, perhaps abhorrence,
of one's fellow-men ? But let us not tamper with the author's
terminology ; it is most convenient in the present connection.
Granting that any human being could perform the psycho-
logical and moral feat here indicated — granting that he could
wholly neglect all ' extrinsic ' consequences, including the
approval or disapproval of his fellow-men, and fix his mind
upon the ' intrinsic,' or natural, consequences alone — how
would it fare with his moral life ? The ' intrinsic ' conse-
quences would obviously supply as many egoistic motives as
the * extrinsic,' and he would wholly lose the moralising in-
fluence of enlightened public opinion. One may be an in-
dividualist in theoretical Ethics, like Mr. Spencer ; most
fortunately one cannot be a practical individualist in the sense
just indicated. To be that would mean, to be a moral monster.
But, it may be objected, the rise and growth of altruism has
really been presupposed by the author. To this it may be
replied, that we must not make of altruism still another ab-
straction : in the social nature of man, without which morality
would be impossible, regard for the feelings of others and re-
gard for their opinions are so inextricably involved, that
neither can develop, or even continue to exist, in isolation from
the other.
But, neglecting these and similar considerations, the force
of Mr. Spencer's argument seems also to depend upon the
assumption that, if we ever outgrow the feeling of duty, as
something external and coercive, nothing but inclination can
take its place. Are these, then, the only alternatives.-' The
whole History of Ethics goes to prove the contrary : from
Socrates to the present time — Mediasvalism apart — Ethics has
nearly always been regarded by some influential school or
schools as the doctrine of the Good. From that point of view,
this antithesis between duty, in the grimly forbidding sense,
and inclination tends to disappear. On the one hand, indeed^
Herbert Spencer. 315
the Good is regarded as something which appeals to one's
higher, or whole nature ; but, on the other hand, to identify
it with the necessary object of inclination would be fatally
misleading. ' Desirable ' — even ' above all things desirable ' —
and ' desired ' are, unfortunately, not convertible terms. True,
as moral progress is made, ' desirable ' and ' desired ' tend to
approximate ; but there is one fatal difficulty with all truly
human ideals, whether ethical or other, and that is, that the
more we attain, the more do new and unimagined vistas open
up before us. Now it is perfectly conceivable that, in the
course of the moral development of the race, duty may take
on a very different aspect from that which it now presents ;
but that the * springs of action ' will ever by themselves be
sufficient to make us automatically live up to our highest
ideals of the moral Good is wholly inconceivable. And this
is because man is not a mere organism to be adjusted to a
comparatively stationary external environment, but a person-
ality, capable of practically endless development.
There ostensibly remains to be considered the ' sociological
view ' of morality ; but, as a matter of fact, the chapter de-
voted to this subject contains little or nothing of importance
for Ethics that had not been at least implied, either in Book
IV. of the Social Statics, or in the preceding chapters of the
Data of Ethics. It will therefore be sufficient to notice very
briefly, partly by way of review, Mr. Spencer's highly charac-
teristic theory of the evolution of society. All along we have
seen that, generally speaking, this evolution has been from a
wholly militant condition toward a wholly industrial condition,
though the latter condition is still far ahead. Now in the
militant condition two codes will necessarily spring up, one of
' enmity ' toward alien societies, and one of ' amity ' ^ toward
other individuals of the same society. The one, in fact, is as
necessary as the other : co-operation within and antagonism
1 Of course 'amity,' as here used, is a relative term. The 'code of amity*
does not necessarily signify more than a code, as between members of the same
society, which makes co-operation of the necessary kind and to the necessary
degree possible.
o
1 6 History of Utilitarianism.
to all that which is without. While this militant condition
continues, either wholly or in any large degree, the very
existence of society demands a constant subordination of the
interests of the individual to those of the State ; but, in so far
as mutual aggression between societies ceases, this need for
the sacrifice of private claims to public claims ceases also.
Moreover, as mutual external aggressions cease, mutual in-
ternal aggressions will also tend to cease. Not only so, but
co-operation will become more complex and effective. But
we must go further still — and the reader will readily see that
from this point Mr. Spencer's sociology, so far as here set
forth, practically coincides with his ethics. After pointing out
that non-interference (Justice, in its more obvious phase) is
not enough, he says : " Daily experiences prove that every one
would suffer many evils and lose many goods, did none give
him unpaid assistance. The life of each would be more or
less damaged had he to meet all contingencies single-handed.
Further, if no one did for his fellows anything more than was
required by strict performance of contract, private interests
would suffer from the absence of attention to public interests.
The limit of evolution of conduct is consequently not reached,
until, beyond avoidance of direct and indirect injuries to
others, there are spontaneous efforts to further the welfare of
others." ^ And it is hardly necessary to remark that for the
later, as well as for the earlier, form of Mr. Spencer's ethical
theory, Justice and Beneficence (Negative and Positive), to-
gether with a due regard for his own welfare on the part of
the agent, constitute the whole of Ethics.
Having followed Mr. Spencer through the arguments con-
tained in the first eight chapters of the Data of Ethics, which
explain his views on scientific ethical method, and which
happen to form exactly the first half of the book, we are in
a position to make some interesting comparisons. In the
Social Statics both the very interesting destructive criticism of
the Expediency Philosophy and the outline of the author's
^ See ch. viii., § 54.
Herbert Spencer. 317-
own system are frankly shown to depend upon his character-
istic, but paradoxical, conception of the perfect society of the
future. We are told that the moralist must deal with the
perfect man, just as the mathematician deals with the hypo-
thetically perfect geometrical figure ; hence evil cannot even
be recognised by a scientific system of Ethics. When stated
in such terms, it is evident that the system, whatever its other
defects or merits may be, is one of the most abstract ever
formulated ; and, moreover, that the abstract criterion con-
stantly referred to, the perfect man in the perfect society,
can never be completely understood until the millennial condi-
tion of society actually arrives. Now in the Data of Ethics
the method adopted seems at first to be almost the opposite of
that employed in the earlier book. Organic evolution is to
afford the clue ; so we begin by considering the evolution
of conduct in its most general sense, i.e., the mere adaptation
of acts to ends, whether conscious or unconscious. After not-
ing that such adaptation becomes more and more complex
and efficient, as we ascend from the lowest animals up to man,
we are, apparently, invited to regard the evolution of human
conduct as on the same plane, except that men ' look before
and after,' and are thus able to contrive means for the attain-
ment of the ends desired. But, before we are fully aware
of what has happened, the grim struggle for existence has
been banished from our mental vision, and social evolu-
tion — a ' power which makes for righteousness,' whether
we will or no — is represented as necessarily leading up
to a state of things where man is ' completely adapted ' to
the social condition. This, upon inspection, turns out to be
precisely Mr. Spencer's old, pre-Evolutional ideal of ' the
perfect man in the perfect society'. It is true that the
expression ' completely adapted,' already used in Social Statics,
may seem to define the perfect man in evolutional terms ;
but we have elsewhere considered in some detail the diffi-
culty of even conceiving what such ' complete adaptation '
would mean.
More particularly, Mr. Spencer objects to all previous
3i8 History of Utilitarianism.
systems of Ethics, on the ground that they either wholly, or in
very large measure, neglect the principle of causation. As we
have seen, however, this alarming indictment practically re-
duces itself to his old objection to the Expediency Philosophy.
He then attempts to put Ethics on a strictly scientific basis,
by (at least ostensibly) reducing certain of its most general
principles to terms of Physics, Biology, Psychology, and
Sociology. The results, as we so recently found, are hardly
reassuring. The ' physical view ' turned out to be not only
so abstract as almost to baffle definite comprehension, but
extremely fanciful, and, where one can test it, by no means
uniformly in accord with the facts. The ' biological view '
— that the ' completely adapted ' man will find it not only his
privilege, but his duty, to perform duly all physiological func-
tions, and, moreover, that for him the immediate pleasures or
pains, attending the performance or avoidance of functions,
will be safe guides, not only to hygienic, but to moral con-
duct — we found to involve the most serious difficulties, unless
the highest civilisation of the future prove to be almost the
antithesis of what we understand by civilisation now. The
' psychological view ' turned out to be Mr. Spencer's own
version of the empirical explanation of the origin of our
recognition of particular moral principles and of duty in
general ; and we saw that he had by no means necessarily
improved matters by staking everything upon the ' inheri-
tance of acquired characteristics '. The evanescence of the
feeling of duty predicted also appeared to present the gravest
difficulties, though doubtless a legitimate, and perhaps neces-
sary, corollary from his fundamental conception of a perfect,
or completely evolved, society. Finally, the ' sociological
view ' presented little or nothing really novel, since it repre-
sented merely the author's characteristic theory (already indi-
cated in Social Statics) as to the route to be followed by
humanity in its progress toward perfection.
We must now ask : Is this later treatment really new ? Is
the author really depending upon the most advanced modern
science as the foundation for his ethical system.? Or is he
Herbert Spencer. 319
not rather, quite unconsciously, of course, providing us with
an ostensibly scientific (in particular, evolutional) develop-
ment of the very same conception which, nearly thirty years
earlier, and eight years before the publication of the Origin
of Species, had dominated the Social Statics ? Now, apart from
the author's abandonment of the Moral Sense theory, not
only does this seem to the present writer to be the case, but
the newly-provided scientific approaches to this long-cherished
ideal seem dubious in the extreme. Evolution is appealed to
as the universal solvent of difficulties ; but, as here employed,
it is no longer analogous to the principle of organic evolution,
with its ruthless destruction of the unfit. It is rather the
principle of universal and continuous progress on the part of
human society, conceived as a hope rather than proved as a
fact — ^with a convenient disregard for what history has to say
of periods of political and social decadence, or even for what
biology has to say of the highly interesting, if not morally
inspiring, phenomena of organic degeneration. So far, then,
all the aids of modern science to the contrary notwithstanding,
the author seems to stand practically where he did in the
Social Statics — always excepting his later rejection of the
Moral Sense theory — and to base everything upon his appar-
ently arbitrary belief in the necessity of a perfect society in
the remote future.
The remainder of the Data of Ethics may be considered
very briefly, for the ground covered will become increasingly
familiar to one who has read the Social Statics at all carefully.
Mr. Spencer never seems perfectly satisfied with his later
criticisms of Utilitarianism, for he returns to the subject again
and again. He is never tired of insisting that the hedonistic
calculus, as ordinarily understood, is an impossibility ; but,
on the other hand, he never gives sufficiently definite informa-
tion as to what we are to employ in place of it. The sugges-
tions, however, always take the form of insisting that certain
very general principles of conduct are necessary in any pro-
perly organised society, no matter what the external environ-
320 History of Utilitarianisju.
merit and therefore the prevailing mode of life of the individual
members, and no matter what the stage of development of
the given society ; and, moreover, these general principles
finally turn out to be adumbrations of his own ethical prin-
ciples — ^Justice, Negative Beneficence, and Positive Benefi-
cence, enlightened Self-Interest being always presupposed.
This, of course, is merely the doctrine of the Social Statics
over again ; and one must remark here, as in the last chapter,
that this insistence upon the necessity of general rules, as the
direct guides of action, is by no means a novelty in English
Utilitarianism. Nobody but Bentham, in fact, seems to have
failed to recognise the need of depending upon such general
rules. The principal difference between Mr. Spencer and
other hedonists, writing before and after the publication of
the Data of Ethics^ is, that he prefers to represent the general
principles of Ethics as general conditions of the efficiency
of society, while the others are content to represent them
merely as general conditions of the greatest happiness. For
ordinary purposes, the two methods practically coincide in
their results ; and, where there is divergence, the advantage
is by no means necessarily on the side of Mr. Spencer — if
happiness be really the ultimate end. A society, e.g., might con-
ceivably be ideally efficient in a practical way, and yet neglect
all things aesthetic. Presumably this would result in a great
diminution of happiness ; but we are not quite sure that such
considerations would move the author of the Synthetic Phil-
osophy. One always has a suspicion that, like Plato, he would
banish the poets from his ideal state.
As we have just seen, Mr. Spencer is not always fortunate
in his attempts to differentiate his own treatment of Ethics
from that of traditional Utilitarianism, since he generally tends
to over-emphasise differences in method ; but it should be
noted that the later chapters of the Data of Ethics are a
decided improvement upon some of the earlier chapters in one
respect, at any rate, viz., they keep to the real problems of
Ethics. Highly interesting, even if by no means satisfactory,
are the four chapters in which he defines the relations between
Herbert Spencer. 321
egoism and altruism in his own system. In the chapters
" Egoism versus Altruism " and " Altruism versus Egoism," as
the titles themselves would indicate, he gives an ex parte
statement of what may be said for egoism and for altruism,
separately considered. In spite of the confessedly abstract
method here adopted, he discusses the problems involved with
admirable candour and great ability. After exhibiting this
opposition between egoism and altruism in a perhaps too
striking light, even for his purpose — which manifestly is to
state the difficulty rather than to indicate his own solution —
he goes on to show how impossible it is to construct an ethical
system in terms of either the one or the other. The chapter
devoted to this discussion, " Trial and Compromise," while
evidently correct as regcurds its main thesis, is open to criti-
cism, as the author is plainly unfair to Utihtarianism, e.g., in
representing it as logically a system of mere altruism. More-
over, while egoism and altruism are thus held apart almost as
if they were separate entities, in a way that Mr. Spencer him-
self could not admit when treating the problem of their
relation constructively, he does a good deal to prejudice the
case in favour of egoism, by insisting upon such evident truths
as that, " other things equal, ideal feelings cannot be as vivid
as real feelings " ; that " much of the happiness each enjoys
is self-generated and can neither be given nor received " ;
and that " the pleasures gained by efficient action — by suc-
cessful pursuit of ends, cannot by any process be parted with,
and cannot in any way be appropriated by another " } Still,
one should observe, he does not really attempt (in this discus-
sion, at least) to reduce altruism to egoism in the way that
the earlier Associationists had done ; but, on the contrary,
regards them as co-essential. Hence the title of the next
chapter, " Conciliation ".
Here, without giving quite sufficient notice, the author
drops his confessedly abstract method of treatment, and pro-
ceeds to give his own solution of the apparent antinomy upon
1 Seech, xiii., §§ 86-88.
21
32 2 History of Utilitariaiiisni.
which he has dwelt so long. He argues that during evolution
there has been going on a conciliation between the interests of
the species, the interests of the parents, and the interests of
the offspring. More exactly, he says : " As we ascend from
the lowest forms of life to the highest, race-maintenance is
achieved with a decreasing sacrifice of life, alike of young in-
dividuals and of adult individuals, and also with a decreasing
sacrifice of parental lives to the lives of offspring " }■ Simi-
larly, he argues that, with the progress of civilisation, like
changes have taken place among human beings. Parental
altruism is, of course, already highly developed ; and, with
further evolution, causing, along with higher nature, dimin-
ished fertility, and therefore smaller burdens on parents, it
may be expected to develop still further. Now altruism of
a social kind cannot, of course, be expected to equal parental
altruism in degree ; but it may confidently be expected to
become equally spontaneous, and such that lower egoistic
•satisfactions will continually be subordinated to this higher
■egoistic satisfaction — and this, not from a feeling of obligation,
but rather from natural inclination. Before such general
sympathy can develop on a large scale, however, society must
outgrow the condition of habitual militancy ; and it goes
without saying that, even then, a long time will be required
by society, in which to outlive the effects of that pernicious
regime. But finally, with complete adaptation of man to the
social condition, this most desirable result will be attained.
Does this mean that man, beginning as an individual with
merely selfish interests, will finally become, in the true sense
of the word, a social being } Mr. Spencer says : " In natures
thus constituted, though the altruistic gratifications must re-
main in a transfigured sense egoistic, yet they will not be
egoistically pursued — will not be pursued from egoistic mo-
tives " ?■ This passage is made still more ambiguous by its
context, for the time-honoured example of the miser and his
money — so popular, as we have seen in previous chapters,
1 See ch. xiv., § 92. ^See ibid., § 95.
Herbert Spencer. 323
with the earlier Associationist-Utilitarians, who held to the
necessary egoism of the moral agent — is employed by the
author. But it would hardly do to class Mr. Spencer with the
older school of Utilitarians, the hneal descendants of Gay,
as regards this important matter of the moral motive, for he
has just argued for the necessity of a certain degree of altruism
from evolutionary considerations.
In truth, it is most difficult satisfactorily to define Mr.
Spencer's position ; and the reason, apparently, is that he has
ended, as he began, an individualist — not as a result of his
devotion to the general theory of Evolution, but in spite of
this. Here, as so often, we have to note the striking corre-
spondence between the Evolutional and the pre-Evolutional
form of his ethical theory. In this case, indeed, it is a corre-
spondence practically amounting to identity. Evolution is
generally supposed to develop a tendency only when it is
needed, and only in proportion as it is needed ; but in the
later, so-called ' Evolutional,' form of Mr. Spencer's ethical
theory, as in the earlier one set forth in Social Statics, it is
made to appear that, in the triumphal progress of humanity
toward perfection, altruism will be developed in proportion
as it is not needed. This is not an imaginary difficulty. In
this very chapter we are told : " Sympathy can reach its full
height only when there have ceased to be frequent occasions
for anything like serious self-sacrifice ".^
The last chapter of any length in the Data of Ethics is
most appropriately devoted to " Absolute and Relative
Ethics ". This, in fact, is the one fundamental distinction,
based on Mr. Spencer's early faith in a perfect society in the
remote future, which has both given unity to the book as
a whole and served principally to distinguish the author's
treatment of Ethics from that of traditional Utilitarianism.
The chapter is of importance, not because it represents any
appreciable change of opinion on the part of the author, but
because the first part is somewhat more definite than the
^ See ch. xiv., § 96.
324 History of Utilitarianism.
corresponding discussion in Social Statics, and therefore more
subject to exact criticism. In the earher book we began
with the point of view of ' Absolute Ethics/ and saw that from
that standpoint all considerations of evil — or pain, which for
Mr. Spencer is the same thing — had to be ruled out. In the
Data of Ethics, on the contrary, we have been largely con-
cerned with the conception of a gradually developing, or
' evolving,' morality, and accordingly have had our attention
frequently directed to the fact that, as things are now con-
stituted, there are multitudinous cases where there is no abso-
lute right or wrong, but only a right which, on inspection,
turns out to be a least wrong. One must observe that the
author is not insisting upon the apparent conflict of real
duties, as a result of the complex relations which are inevitable
in modern civilisation. Duty, in fact, as we have seen, is re-
garded by him as only a passing phase of the moral experience
of the race.
As Mr. Spencer defines it, " the absolutely good, the abso-
lutely right, in conduct, can be that only which produces pure
pleasure — pleasure unalloyed with pain anywhere. By impli-
cation, conduct which has any concomitant of pain, or any
painful consequence, is partially wrong ; and the highest claim
to be made for such conduct is, that it is the least wrong
which, under the conditions, is possible — the relatively right." ^
The author freely admits that humanity must still, for a very
long time, content itself principally with the ' relatively
right ' ; but he pauses to give two concrete illustrations of what
he means by the ' absolutely right,' taken from the existing
order of things. He first asks us to consider the relation of a
healthy mother to a healthy infant, and says : " Between the
two there exists a mutual dependence which is a source of
pleasure to both. In yielding its natural food to the child,
the mother receives gratification ; and to the child there
comes the satisfaction of appetite — a satisfaction which ac-
companies furtherance of life, growth, and increasing enjoy-
ment. Let the relation be suspended, and on both sides there
' See ch. xv., § loi.
Herbert Spencer. 325
is suffering. . . . Thus the act is one that is to both exclusively
pleasurable, while abstention entails pain on both ; and it is
consequently of the kind we here call absolutely right." ^
It will be noted that the author confines himself to a single,
and that a merely physiological, relation between mother and
child — and one which, by the way, is far less likely to be per-
fectly normal in civilisation than in a savage state of society.
Does Mr. Spencer mean to imply that, in general, the relations
of mother to child can conceivably become wholly pleasurable
on both sides, no matter how healthy both may be } It will
no longer suffice to say, as an ordinary Utilitarian might do,
that the mother's pleasures may, and should, be greatly in
excess of her pains. That would not at all answer the require-
ments of the author's characteristically abstract ideal. As long
as any suffering whatever is involved, the relation is ' imper-
fectly moral '. In fact, this relation between mother and child
is one of the least happy that could have been chosen, as an
example of the ' absolutely right,' for here, at any rate, we may
assert with perfect confidence that some degree of suffering
and self-sacrifice will always be necessary, no matter how
' completely evolved ' society may be. Would it, in fact, be
going too far to say that, according to Mr. Spencer's paradoxi-
cal standard, maternity is bound to remain to the end one of
the most ' imperfectly moral ' of human relations .'* If any
reductio ad absurdum of the conception of ' absolute morality '
were needed, this ought to serve.
The author's other example of ' absolutely right ' conduct,
is that of a father of healthy mind and body, who takes a
keen interest in the sports and tasks of his young children.
But here again, it must be remembered that the predominantly
pleasurable will not serve the purpose. As long as the
male parent permits himself to indulge in any acts of real
self-devotion for the benefit of his offspring, so long will this
relation also remain ' imperfectly moral ' — and this, no matter
how necessary the sacrifice or how worthy those for whom it
has been made may prove themselves in later years.
' See ch. xv., g io2.
326 History of Utilitarianism.
The above examples, be it observed, are supposed to re-
present the nearest approach to ' absolute morality ' at present
attainable. The author admits that the intercourse of adults
yields relatively few cases that fall completely within the
same category. The rank and file of humanity do not find
their necessary work in life an unmixed pleasure ; but it is
argued that ' social discipline ' will finally bring this about.
And, with his fatal infelicity in the choice of examples, Mr.
Spencer says : " Already, indeed, something like such a state
has been reached among certain of those who minister to our
aesthetic gratifications. The artist of genius — poet, painter,
or musician — is one who obtains the means of living by acts
that are directly pleasurable to him, while they yield, im-
mediately or remotely, pleasures to others." Plainly the man
of genius is here mentioned merely as one who is so fortunate
as to be able to live by congenial work. Up to the present, the
man of genius has far too often found it difficult to support
himself at all by his own exertions ; but this is perhaps the
least important aspect of the matter. With his abnormally
sensitive temperament, his striving, often hopeless, after ideals
the highest, if not actually unattainable, and the grudging re-
cognition accorded him by the world at large during his years
of probation, he is about as far as possible from being the
satisfied, and therefore happy man — the man ' perfectly ad-
justed to his environment ' — of Mr. Spencer's imagination.
In fact, of all men, the man of genius is, and must remain, one
of the least adjusted to the society in which he finds himself.
In this very paragraph, by an odd juxtaposition, is a most
significant reference to the so-called ' absolute morality ' of a
benevolence that costs nothing. " Some one who has slipped
is saved from falling by a bystander : a hurt is prevented and
satisfaction is felt by both. A pedestrian is choosing a dan-
gerous route, or a fellow-passenger is about to alight at the
wrong station, and, warned against doing so, is saved from
evil : each being, as a consequence, gratified." ^
^ See ch. xv., § 102,
Herbert Spencer, 327
After these examples, which are instructive only as ex-
hibiting, in a concrete way, the difficulties of Mr. Spencer's
hopelessly vague, and otherwise more than paradoxical, con-
ception of ideal morality, he proceeds to treat of the relation
between * Absolute Ethics ' and ' Relative Ethics ' in what he
terms a ' systematic ' way. All that follows on this score is an
almost literal reproduction of the treatment in Social Statics^
and so calls for no special notice here. As before, the gist
of the argument is, that Ethics must deal with the perfect man
in the perfect society for just the same reason that the geo-
metrician deals with hypothetically perfect figures, the physiol-
ogist with normal, as opposed to pathological, organic
processes, etc. And, as before, we must remark that such
scientific analogies are seriously misleading, even apart from
the distinction already referred to between explanatory and
normative sciences ; since the legitimate abstractions of science
are always indispensable aids to clearness, while the abstract
ideal of the perfect man becomes always more vague upon
repeated examination. But all this has been discussed at
length in the proper context. Here the important thing to
notice is, that while Mr. Spencer's later criticisms of Utili-
tarianism differ from his earlier ones, in that they do not so
obviously depend upon his fundamental conception of the
perfect man in the perfect society, he never for a moment
gives up his distinction between ' Absolute Ethics ' and ' Rela-
tive Ethics,' but rather expounds it in precisely the same
way, and makes it equally essential to the structure of his
ethical system as a whole.
The final chapter of the Data of Ethics, on "The Scope of
Ethics," is also, for the most part, a mere reproduction of what
had been given in the Social Statics. Here, as there, the
interests of self are regarded as largely separate from the
interests of others, so that we have a personal ethics (that of
Prudence) and a social ethics. The latter, again, is divided
into Justice, Negative Beneficence, and Positive Beneficence,
which are defined precisely as before. Moreover, as the author
points out, each of these divisions and subdivisions has to be
o
28 History of Utilitarianisvi,
conceived first as a part of ' Absolute Ethics ' and then as a
part of ' Relative Ethics ' — though under ideal conditions Ne-
gative Beneficence (which consists in avoiding acts that would
give unnecessary pain to others) " has but a nominal exist-
ence ". The relations between these general principles of
conduct are much less clearly indicated here than in the corre-
sponding discussion in Social Statics ; but a comparison of the
two will show that the author's later view, so far as here de-
veloped, corresponds exactly with his earlier one. Here, as
there, Justice is regarded as the one exact principle, while
Negative Beneficence and Positive Beneficence are regarded
as necessarily inexact, since they involve (at least indirectly)
calculations of pleasures and pains. This absolute priority of
the principle of Justice, retained in the later form of the system,
will almost immediately call for careful consideration. In the
Social Statics, as will be remembered, a Moral Sense was as-
sumed, and its one clear intuition was held to be precisely that
of Justice. In the Data of Ethics, the Moral Sense has been
tacitly given up. That, in fact, is the one essential difference,
as regards method, between the later book and the earlier one.
We shall have to ask ourselves, in the following chapter,
whether the peculiar treatment of Justice, retained in the later
form of Mr. Spencer's system, is a logical deduction from his
revised premises or a mere survival from the earlier form of
his system.
CHAPTER XV.
HERBERT SPENCER (continued).
It now remains to examine, somewhat briefly, Mr. Spencer's
later ethical writings, in which he develops the principles
set forth in the Da/a of Ethics. As he explains in the Preface
to Justice (1891), declining health and decreasing power of
work during the years following the publication of the Data
made it necessary for him to depart from the order of treatment
originally intended. Passing over Part 1 1, of the Principles
of Ethics, "The Inductions of Ethics," and Part III., "The
Ethics of Individual Life," he proceeded at once, after four
years of compulsory inaction (1886- 1890), to the composition
of Part IV., " The Ethics of Social Life : Justice ". Such a
choice was, indeed, a foregone conclusion. It was already
evident from numerous statements in the Data of Ethics, that
for the later, as for the earlier form of the system. Justice was
the one ethical principle susceptible of rigorously scientific
treatment. Following the order of publication, we shall now
proceed to examine the earlier, and more strictly theoretical,
portion of this book.
Since we found in the Data of Ethics that it is necessary
to begin with a consideration of * conduct in general,' regarded
from the Evolutional point of view, it is evident that here we
must first consider animal ethics. The cardinal and opposed
principles of animal ethics, as conceived by the author, are
stated as follows : " During immaturity benefits received must
be inversely proportionate to capacities possessed. Within
the family group most must be given where least is deserved,
if desert is measured by worth. Contrariwise, after maturity
(329)
;^2,o History of Utilitarianism.
is reached benefit must vary directly as worth : worth being
measured by fitness to the conditions of existence." ^ These
principles are alike essential to the continuance of the species,
and hence equally fundamental to animal ethics ; but, as we
are here concerned only with the principle of Justice, we may
properly neglect the necessary care of offspring, which would
belong to another branch of animal ethics, and confine our-
selves to a consideration of sub-human justice. Under its
biological aspect, this is the well-known principle of ' the
survival of the fittest ' ; in ethical terms (which the author
assumes are applicable here), it means that " each individual
ought to be subject to the effects of its own nature and result-
ing conduct ". Now it is to be observed that, throughout sub-
human life, ' ought,' as here used, and ' is ' would coincide,
but for one very important complication. This is, that the
wholesale destruction of many of the lower forms of life often
interferes seriously with the survival of the variations that
would otherwise prove themselves ' the fittest '. Among such
lower organisms, a high rate of multiplication is necessary, in
order to counteract this indiscriminate destruction. The mani-
fest implication is, that sub-human justice is extremely imper-
fect among the lowest organisms, but tends to become more
and more perfect as organisation becomes higher.
If all animals led solitary lives, the above description of
sub-human justice would be sufficiently exact ; but among
gregarious creatures another element emerges, and one of the
greatest importance. Mr. Spencer says : " Each individual,
receiving the benefits and the injuries due to its own nature
and consequent conduct, has to carry on that conduct subject
to the restriction that it shall not in any large measure impede
the conduct by which each other individual achieves benefits
or brings on itself injuries. The average conduct must not be
so aggressive as to cause evils which out-balance the good
obtained by co-operation. Thus, to the positive element in
sub-human justice has to be added, among gregarious creatures^
^ See ch. i., §§ 2 et seq.
Herbert Spencer. 331
a negative element." ^ But even this is not all. Among-
certain of the higher gregarious animals, more or less con-
certed action on the part of the stronger males for the defence
of the females and the young, in case of danger, is an estab-
lished, and, as one can readily see, a necessary custom. This,
of course, means a temporary subordination of the interest of
the individual to that of the herd ; but evolution itself neces-
sarily provides that such self-subordination shall go no further
than the actual needs of the species demand. In the absence
of external enemies, this last qualification of the original
principle of Justice would, of course, have no meaning.
Thus far the author's treatment has been simple and con-
sistent, because up to this point the ordinary distinction
between what is and what ought to be has not arisen. ' The
survival of the fittest ' has been limited only by the indiscrimi-
nate destruction of certain of the lower forms of life. When,
he begins the treatment of human justice, this is at first repre-
sented as a mere extension of animal justice, more perfect in
degree, but not differing in kind. The only clear intimation
we receive that we are passing beyond the inevitable working
of the biological principle of ' the survival of the fittest,' is
afforded by a passage in which the natural effects of bad, or
imperfectly adapted, actions are mentioned. " To what extent
such ill, naturally following from his actions, may be voluntarily
borne by other persons, it does not concern us now to inquire.
The qualifying effects of pity, mercy, and generosity, will be
considered hereafter in the parts dealing with ' Negative
Beneficence ' and ' Positive Beneficence '. Here we are con-
cerned only with pure Justice." ^ On the assumption, then,,
that we are still on the plane of the previous discussion, we
are asked to note that human justice is more perfect than that
holding among the higher animals, as was to be expected from
man's higher organisation. The lower rate of mortality, which
results from man's foresight and greater ability to provide
for the future, makes it possible for the individual members of
1 See ch. ii., § 8. 2 gee ch. iii., § 12.
332 History of Utilitarianism.
human society to experience the good or bad effects of their
conduct for a correspondingly longer time. Hence well
adapted and ill adapted conduct are far more likely to lead to
their legitimate results in human society than even among the
higher animals.
If the matter were as simple as this, it is safe to say that
Mr. Spencer's book would never have been written. The most
stpking form of ' sub-human justice ' is the constant elimina-
tion of the unfit. Now the mere fact that, in civilised human
society, the unfit are not weeded out in this convenient fashion,
introduces a serious complication, if, with the author, we con-
ceive of justice in quasi-biological terms. With his unfailing
habit of arguing from analogy, when an analogy is in sight, Mr.
Spencer has assumed, rather than proved, that human justice,
as here defined, is more perfect than animal justice, in pro-
portion to man's higher organisation — and this, in spite of
the obvious fact, that the principle of * the survival of the
fittest,' which is the very essence of ' sub-human justice,' is only
allowed a comparatively restricted range in civilised human
society. In truth, it is one important thesis of the present
book, that human justice ought, in this respect, to corre-
spond a good deal more closely to animal justice than is actu-
ally the case.
We have seen that, among the higher animals, the partial
or complete sacrifice of individuals to the good of the species
is already occasionally necessary. Mr. Spencer admits that,
in the highest gregarious creature, man, this qualification of
primitive justice assumes large proportions. " No longer, as
among inferior beings, demanded only by the need for defence
against enemies of other kinds, this further self-subordination is,
among human beings, also demanded by the need for defence
against enemies of the same kind." But he hastens to add :
" The self-subordination thus justified, and in a sense rendered
obligatory, is limited to that which is required for defensive
war "y And, in accordance with his characteristic view, now
^ Seech, iii., § 15.
Herbert Spencer. 335
so familiar, he urges that even such self-subordination is only
a passing phase of human morality, which will disappear on
the advent of universal peace. Such being the case, it belongs
to ' Relative ' and not to ' Absolute ' Ethics. That self-sacrifice
in all its forms will be unnecessary in a ' perfectly adapted '
society, is one of the author's many puzzling assumptions.
So far we have considered hirnian justice, as it were, from
the outside, and as a sort of inevitable extension of animal
justice. It now remains to see how our conception of justice
has arisen. We found that Mr. Spencer's earlier account of
this matter in Social Statics was extremely vague and unsatis-
factory. There, of course, he ostensibly takes the Intuitional
point of view ; but, after stating his thesis — that " this first
and all-essential law [Justice], declaratory of the liberty of
each limited only by the like liberty of all, is that fundamental
truth of which the moral sense is to give an intuition, and
which the intellect is to develop into a scientific morality" —
he makes it appear that, in the last resort, the Moral Sense
is reducible to a merely egoistic ' instinct of personal rights *.
Even with the help of his Intuitional assumptions, therefore,
the author regards the conception of justice, as actually enter-
tained, as being inexplicable without assuming the co-operation
of sympathy. Indeed, he complains that even Adam Smith
" did not perceive that the sentiment of justice is nothing but
a sympathetic affection of the instinct of personal rights ".
The confusion here between Intuitionism and Empiricism is
evident. In the Data of Ethics, on the other hand, Intuition-
ism has already been tacitly given up, and Mr. Spencer
attempts to mediate between the two methods by his charac-
teristic theory, that what we take to be moral intuitions are to
be explained as results of the accumulated experience of the
race, as transmitted by the ' inheritance of acquired char-
acteristics '. This theory, however, as we saw, is only Em-
piricism in disguise, with the additional disadvantage of making
the explanation depend entirely upon a biological principle by
no means universally admitted, and one which, even when ad-
mitted, is now employed with very much greater caution than
334 History of Utilitarianism.
hitherto. Moreover, the explanation given in the Data of
Ethics is unsatisfactory for the further reason, which more
particularly concerns us here, that it does not tell with suffi-
cient definiteness how we come to apprehend the one ethical
principle which is perfectly free from ambiguity, viz.. Justice.
This, of course, is precisely what the author here attempts to
explain. And it is instructive to note the similarity between
this later explanation, which is supposed to depend upon the
theory of Evolution, and the one given in Sociat Statics forty
years before.
Mr. Spencer begins by distinguishing between the ' senti-
ment ' and the ' idea ' of Justice, the principal difference being
that the former is somewhat vague, while the latter is capable
of becoming perfectly distinct. He finds no difficulty with
the ' egoistic sentiment of justice,' since this, as in the earlier
work, is practically assumed as a sort of instinct {i.e., ' in-
stinct of personal rights '), which is sure to develop with the
general development of the individual and of the race. The
real question is : How are we to explain the development of
the * altruistic sentiment of justice ' ? This is not easy from
the author's individualistic point of view, for, as he himself
points out : " On the one hand, the implication is that the
altruistic sentiment of justice can come into existence only
in the course of adaptation to social life. On the other hand,
the implication is that social life is made possible only by
maintenance of those equitable relations which imply the
altruistic sentiment of justice. How can these reciprocal
requirements be fulfilled ? " ^
The answer given is on lines already suggested in the
Data of Ethics, where it was explained how we pass from the
' extrinsic ' to the ' intrinsic ' view of morality, though the
previous discussion is not referred to here. Since the ' altru-
istic ' sentiment of justice is, by hypothesis, lacking, a ' pro-
altruistic ' sentiment of justice must take its place. This
develops as a result of the four ' extrinsic ' controls of con-
' See ch. iv., § 19.
Herbert Spencer. 335
duct, with which we are already familiar : the dread of
retahation, the dread of social dislike, the dread of legal
punishment, and the dread of Divine vengeance. By these
four controls, united, as the author says, ' in various propor-
tions,' social co-operation is made possible even before sym-
pathy develops in any considerable degree. But given a
common life, whether of the herd or of any group in primitive
society, and sympathy tends to develop.
The explanation of the development of sympathy which
follows is by no means new. It is really very similar to the
one so long ago given by Tucker in his Light of Nature
(1768), and substantially identical with the one which Mr.
Spencer himself had given in his Principles of Psychology.
The nature of the explanation is sufficiently indicated by the
following passage : " In a permanent group there occur,
generation after generation, incidents simultaneously draw-
ing from its members manifestations of like emotions — re-
joicings over victories and escapes, over prey jointly captured,
over supplies of wild food discovered ; as well as laments
over defeats, scarcities, inclemencies, &c. . . . Thus there is
fostered that sympathy which makes the altruistic sentiment of
justice possible." ^ The similarity between this and Tucker's
explanation may not at first be evident ; but comparison will
show that both begin by assuming primitive egoism, and pro-
ceed to argue that, since men are bound to feel more or less
like each other, in similar circumstances, they must end by
feeling for each other. How this transition is effected, viz.,
that from feeling like to feeling for others (which, of course,
is what we mean by altruism), is left almost, if not quite, as
mysterious by Mr. Spencer as by Tucker. If man really
begins as a practical individualist, sympathy must necessarily
remain factitious to the end. It is interesting to see that,
in this, as in many other respects, Mr. Spencer stands in
much closer relations to the eighteenth century British mor-
alists than to the more recent Evolutional school, which takes
^ See ch. iv., § 20.
336 Histoiy of Utilitarianism.
seriously the helpful, if by no means ultimate, conception of
society as an organism.
But, to proceed, Mr. Spencer argues that, when sympathy
is once developed, the * altruistic ' sentiment of justice is
sure to develop alongside of the ' egoistic ' sentiment of
justice. Men will come to feel strongly, even if still somewhat
vaguely, for the rights of others as well as for their own.
It goes without saying that this development is conditioned
in important respects by the growth of ' the faculty of mental
representation ' ; and here, as so often elsewhere, it is argued
that the sentiment of justice, like moral development in
general, must remain imperfect until society has completely
outgrown the militant condition. In short, the only real
difference between this later, and last, explanation of the
derivation of the sentiment of justice and that given in the
Social Statics, is that here, as in the Psychology, an explanation
of the origin of sympathy has also been given. The author
remains true to his original position, that " the sentiment of
justice is nothing but a sympathetic affection of the instinct
of personal rights — a sort of reflex function of it ". And
this explanation, surely, is by no means dependent upon the
theory of Evolution.
Thus much as to the origin of the relatively vague ' senti-
ment ' of justice. By itself, this would be insufficient ; the
* idea ' of justice must become definite and objective. How
is this possible ? The explanation given is rather surprising :
" The idea emerges and becomes definite in the course of the
experiences that action may be carried up to a certain limit
without causing resentment from others, but if carried beyond
that limit produces resentment. Such experiences accumu-
late ; and gradually, along with repugnance to the acts which
bring reactive pains, there arises a conception of a limit to
each kind of activity up to which there is freedom to act." ^
And it is important to note that, according to Mr. Spencer,
not equality, but inequality, is the primordial ideal suggested.
^ See ch. v., § 21.
Herbert Spencer. 337
If each is to receive the benefits and evils due to his own
nature and consequent conduct, then, since men differ in their
powers, there must be differences in the results of their con-
duct. Such, at any rate, is the author's rather abstract ex-
planation. More convincing is his contention that, where
habitual wax has developed political organisation, the idea of
inequality necessarily becomes predominant. In fact, he
points out that, in such a condition of society, " the inequality
refers, not to the natural achievement of greater rewards by
greater merits, but to the artificial apportionment of greater
rewards to greater merits ". Regimentation pervades the
civil, as well as the military organisation ; and the idea of
justice conforms to the social structure. Such an ideal of
justice could not, of course, be permanent ; but the modern
revolt from it has been to the other extreme. Instead of an
artificial inequality, an at least equally artificial equality is
held by many, especially by Bentham and his followers, to
represent the essential character of justice. By a decidedly
strained interpretation of the Utilitarian formula, the author
argues that its logical result would be nothing less than
communism.
Here, again, Mr. Spencer proposes to mediate. He says .
" If each of these opposite conceptions of justice is accepted
as true in part, and then supplemented by the other, there re-
sults that conception of justice which arises on contemplating
the laws of life as carried on in the social state. The equality
concerns the mutually-limited spheres of action which must
be maintained if associated men are to co-operate harmoni-
ously. The inequality concerns the results which each may
achieve by carrying on his actions within the implied limits^
No incongruity exists when the ideas of equality and in-
equality are applied the one to the bounds and the other to the
benefits. Contrariwise, the two may be, and must be, simul-
taneously asserted." ^ It remains only to find a formula for
the compromise here suggested. This must unite a positive
^ See ch. v., § 25.
22
338 Histo7'y of Utilitarianism.
with a negative element. As the author says : " It must be
positive in so far as it asserts for each that, since he is to
receive and suffer the good and evil results of his actions, he
must be allowed to act. And it must be negative in so far as,
by asserting this of every one, it implies that each can be
allowed to act only under the restraint imposed by the pres-
ence of others having like claims to act. . . . Hence, that which
we have to express in a precise way, is the liberty of each
limited only by the like liberties of all. This we do by
saying : — Every man is free to do that which he wills, pro-
vided he infringes not the equal freedom of any other man." ^
At length we have obtained a formula for the principle
which Mr. Spencer regards as absolutely fundamental to
Ethics, being thus on an entirely different plane from Pru-
dence, Negative Beneficence, and Positive Beneficence, all of
which share in the general ambiguity of the conception of
happiness, upon which they equally depend. That this prin-
ciple is identical with the principle of Justice, as formulated
in Social Statics, is evident.^ There, however, the prin-
ciple was represented as being our one perfectly clear in-
tuition coming from the Moral Sense, the existence of which
the author then assumed. At the same time, as pointed out
a few pages back, it was apparently only the ' instinct of
personal rights ' that was regarded as strictly intuitive — a
rather curious intuition of justice, which, however formulated,
is generally supposed to imply impartiality, if it implies any-
thing. In order to the development of the sentiment of
justice, as universally understood, the co-operation of sym-
pathy (assumed rather than derived, though not necessarily
assumed as an ultimate) was held to be necessary, so that
justice was represented as a sort of ' reflex function ' of the
' instinct of personal rights '. We have already remarked
iSee ch. vi., § 27.
2 In fact, the final form given to the principle in Social Statics is as follows :
" Every man has freedom to do all that he wills, provided he infringes not the
equal freedom of any other man ", See ch. vi., § i.
Herbert Spencer. 339
upon the confusion of Intuitionism and Empiricism which one
finds here. Now, according to Mr. Spencer's explanations in
the present volume, as we have so recently seen, the ' senti-
ment ' of justice is developed in much the same way. The
* egoistic sentiment of justice ' is practically assumed here, as
the ' instinct of personal rights ' had been in the earlier
volume. In order to the development of the ' altruistic senti-
ment of justice,' sympathy must co-operate, as was also held
in Social Statics. The difference is, that here sympathy is
not assumed, but shown to have been developed while society
was being held together by a provisional sentiment — the ' pro-
altruistic sentiment of justice,' which results from the four
external controls of conduct. But when once sympathy is
sufficiently developed, the ' altruistic sentiment of justice ' will
necessarily develop as the counterpart of the ' egoistic senti-
ment of justice '. Whether these two forms of the ' sentiment '
of justice, at first so sharply differentiated, tend later to
blend into a general ' sentiment ' of justice, we are not in-
formed ; but such would seem to be the implication.
The author's peculiar method of explaining the transition
from the ' sentiment ' to the ' idea ' of justice, has already been
indicated. Evidently it reduces itself to the rather surprising
statement that men obtain the ' idea,' as opposed to the mere
' sentiment,' of justice, by experience of the fact that there
are certain limits beyond which their fellows will not tolerate
interference ! Well may he add : " It is a long time before the
general nature of the limit common to all cases can be con-
ceived "y If this were the true origin of our idea of justice,
it would be long indeed. Not only so ; but there would in-
evitably be a different * idea ' of justice for every race, if not
for every minor social group, for the degree of human long-
suffering is plainly a variable. And, in truth, it has been
argued by the author that, up to the present time, two radically
different ideals or ' ideas ' of justice have actually been de-
veloped, one implying a more or less artificial inequality, the
^See ch. v., § 21.
340 History of Utilitarianism.
other a decidedly artificial equality. The true formula — which,
so far from being evidently true, has been left for Mr. Spencer
to enunciate — is supposed to unite the elements of truth in
the two prevailing, but antagonistic views.
It is not strange that Mr. Spencer feels it necessary to
subjoin a defence of ' the authority of this formula '.^ He
laments the general contempt for ' abstract principles,' and
argues that " it is only where the ethics of amity are entangled
with the ethics of enmity, that thoughts about conduct are
confused by the necessities of compromise ". This last is
itself quite confusing, since the author has just urged strongly
in favour of his own formula for justice, that it stands for a
highly satisfactory compromise between the two one-sided
views. Again, he answers the supposed objection that this
principle belongs to the class of a priori beliefs, though his
own derivation of the principle, as indicated above, has sug-
gested anything but that difficulty ; and, in this connection, he
repeats his old argument, which goes to show that what often
pass for a priori principles are the inherited results of race
experience. From such general considerations, he concludes :
" No higher warrant can be imagined ; and now, accepting the
law of equal freedom as an ultimate ethical principle, having
an authority transcending every other, we may proceed with
our inquiry "?
It will thus be seen that the author's later explanation of
the genesis of the ' sentiment ' and the ' idea ' of justice
consists merely in working out in some detail the suggestions
already made in Social Statics — unless we except the peculiar
account given of the transition from the ' sentiment ' to the
' idea ' of justice, which, as we have seen, is by far the weakest
part of the whole explanation. Moreover, it is plain that
this similarity between the explanation given in Social Statics
and that given in the present volume, is made possible only by
the fact, that the earlier view involves something rather less
than a Moral Sense, while the later view involves something
1 See ch. vii. 2 See ibid., § 35.
Herbert Spencer. 341
rather more than ordinary Empiricism would admit in that
characteristic ultimate, which, though not so called, is in reality
the old ' instinct of personal rights '.
All this, of course, does not by any means involve the theory
of Evolution. In how far does Mr. Spencer's general treat-
ment of Justice, in the present volume, depend upon that all-
important biological theory ? The answer is not difficult :
Merely in professedly regarding ^ human justice — as con-
ceived by himself and defined in his favourite formula — as
being an inevitable evolutional development from sub-human
justice, which he has shown to be practically identical with
the ' survival of the fittest '. It has often been demonstrated
that what we commonly mean by justice cannot be explained
in terms of anything analogous to this brute survival of the
merely strongest in the struggle for existence. It has not,
perhaps, so often been pointed out that, while Mr. Spencer's
conception of the essential nature of justice is undoubtedly
different from the ordinary one, it equally implies a departure
from the inevitable course of Evolution considered strictly as
such. In short, the opposition between what merely is and
what ought to be, really exists quite as much for Mr. Spencer
as for any other moralist — except in so far as he takes refuge
in his unproved assumption that human society will eventually
become perfect.
Let us consider this a little more closely. ' Animal justice ' is
reducible to the ' survival of the fittest '. Now the ' survival of
the fittest ' — and the originator of this useful phrase doubtless
knew, best of all men, that by ' the fittest ' is here meant
only ' the fittest to survive ' — is a fact. It would have to be
recognised as such even by one who should deny the validity
of the theory of Evolution itself ; much more is it recognised
by the enormous majority who do accept the general theory
of Evolution, however they may differ as to the particular
factors involved, and the relative importance of these factors.
Is human justice — defined as the principle that ' every man is
^ Often, when it suits the needs of a particular argument ; not consistently,
as the sequel will show.
342 History of Utilitarianism,
free to do what he wills, provided he infringes not the equal
freedom of any other man ' — also a statement of what in-
evitably happens in the natural course of events ? By no
means ; for ' is free,' we must read ' ought to be free,' in order
to give the formula an intelligible meaning. And that is
what Mr. Spencer himself really does, though one is obliged
to suspect that his use of the indicative mood here is not
wholly a matter of chance. In fact, this facile transition from
what evidently is to what he thinks ought to be, or vice versa,
in the course of an argument of any length, is a source of
almost endless ambiguity, which conceals a radical confusion of
thought, in the author's later ethical writings, where he pro-
fesses to depend upon the theory of Evolution for guidance.
One of the early passages in the Data of Ethics, already
quoted, conveniently illustrates this. It may be the more
pardonable to quote it again, since it plainly refers to the
very principle which we are considering. " This imperfectly-
evolved conduct introduces us by antithesis to conduct that
is perfectly evolved. Contemplating these adjustments of acts
to ends which miss completeness because they cannot be made
by one creature without other creatures being prevented from
making them, raises the thought of adjustments such that each
creature may make them without preventing them from
being made by other creatures." ^
In short, human justice, even as conceived by Mr. Spencer,
is no inevitable extension of ' animal justice,' of which latter
it is only too obviously the ' antithesis '. It is rather what
one man, at any rate, thinks ought to be, and this not so much
because he is an evolutionist — for he held the doctrine firmly,
and stated it in precisely the same way, before he or any one
else had adequately formulated the theory of Evolution — but
rather because he is, and has been, first, last, and always an
individualist. To be sure, this conception of justice happens
to be less obviously inconsistent with Evolutional theory than
some of the other results of the author's individualism. It
^ See ch. ii., § 6. Of course the italics are not in the original.
Herbert Spencer. 343
involves no manifest absurdity from the evolutionary point of
view, as when it was seriously argued in the last part of the
Data of Ethics, that sympathy will be developed with the
future moral progress of the race, very much in proportion as
it is not needed. At the same time, it makes individual wel-
fare an end in itself in a way that the theory of Evolution
would never suggest, and that the perfectly consistent Evolu-
tionist could by no means admit without reservations that
never occur to Mr. Spencer.
Indeed, one may go further than this. The highly abstract
principle of Justice, as here defined, so far from being shown
to have been necessarily involved in the actual evolution of
society, is practically treated as a * categorical imperative,'
an ' absolute ought '. ' Though the heavens fall,' Mr. Spencer
would seem to say, ' every man must be granted the right to
do as he pleases, so long as he does not interfere with any
one else in the exercise of this divine right.' In other words,
though the principle of Justice is no longer held by Mr.
Spencer to be the one intuition of our Moral Sense, as was at
least ostensibly done in the earlier form of his theory, it is
actually treated as such by him, after he has explained its deri-
vation in empirical terms. Of course he admits that Justice
is not the only principle of Ethics ; that Prudence, Negative
Beneficence, and Positive Beneficence must also be taken
into account But these latter principles all depend upon the
indefinite conception of general happiness, while Justice does
not. Is such a combination of practical Intuitionism, as
regards Justice, and Universalistic Hedonism, as regards the
remaining principles of morality, really workable } This very
serious question can only be answered, if answered at all,
in the sequel.
We are as little concerned here, as in our treatment of
the earlier form of Mr. Spencer's ethical system, to take
account of the numerous applications of this highly abstract
principle of Justice. Such applications must necessarily be a
matter of individual judgment ; and, moreover, any such
attempt to solve many of the most important practical prob-
344 History of Utilitarianism.
lems of government by the application of a single abstract
principle is a proceeding which logically belongs to the
methods of eighteenth century, as opposed to nineteenth
century thought. It will be remembered that the author con-
tends for the following Natural Rights : ' the right to physical
integrity/ ' the rights to free motion and locomotion,' ' the
rights to the uses of natural media,' ' the right of property,' * the
right of incorporeal property,' ' the rights of gift and be-
quest,' ' the rights of free exchange and free contract,' ' the
right of free industry,' ' the rights of free belief and worship,'
' the rights of free speech and publication,' not to mention
the less definite ' rights ' of women and children.
Do these rights, however understood, owe their origin to
the principle of Justice, as here defined .'' On this point an
early reviewer of Justice admirably said : " Of the various
Natural Rights specified by Mr. Spencer, I think it must be
said that not one of them is, or can be, deduced from the law
of equal freedom. They are the conditions which have been
found, in some cases, necessary, in others, expedient, for the
maintenance of human society. . . . We learn them from his-
tory, not from deduction ; and we see at the same time that
they are not universally applicable. The ' right of free speech
and publication ' may at times be properly withheld, and I
have not observed any censure of the Indian government for
its recent withdrawal of the right from certain native writers.
' The right of free exchange ' exists nowhere in the world out-
side of Great Britain ; and certainly American citizens are
peculiarly sensitive to their rights. If we believed that ' free-
dom of worship ' imperilled the public welfare, no assertion of
individual rights would prevent its abolition {cf. the great
Mormon case, Reynolds versus United States). ' The right
to property ' is one of the most sacred of rights ; yet it may be
modified or set aside for the good of the community, as is
illustrated by recent land-legislation in England. Even ' the
right to life ' is qualified by the state's need of soldiers." ^
^ See review oi Justice by President J. G. Schurman, Philosophical Review,
vol. I., No. I, p. 84.
Herbert Spencer. 345
We have now examined all that is really distinctive in the
later form of Mr. Spencer's ethical theory. The remaining
Parts of the Principles of Ethics, published during the two
years following the publication of Justice (Part IV.), need not
detain us long. In 1892 appeared Part II., "The Inductions
of Ethics," and Part III., " The Ethics of Individual Life,"
completing the first volume of the Principles ; and in 1893
appeared Part V., " Negative Beneficence," and Part VI.,
" Positive Beneficence," completing the second volume, and
the work as a whole. The topics treated in these concluding
Parts are, of course, intrinsically of great importance ; but
the author's handling of them is almost exactly such as could
have been predicted on the basis of what is contained in the
Social Statics and the Data of Ethics. Moreover, as we shall
see, there is comparatively little in Parts III., V., and VI. to
distinguish the author's treatment from that of traditional
Utilitarianism.
" The Inductions of Ethics " (Part II.) consists almost wholly
of a mass of sociological details, so arranged as to illustrate
the moral development of the race, according to the author's
point of view. As might be expected, Mr. Spencer constantly
takes occasion to justify his characteristic distinction be-
tween the ' ethics of enmity ' and the ' ethics of amity ' by
reference to the sociological facts here collected. At first, these
supposed facts, taken from the most various sources, seem to
be accepted most uncritically ; but the author himself warns
us, in his closing " Summary of Inductions," against taking
particular statements with too much confidence. After speak-
ing of the difficulty of dealing with phenomena so complex as
those which form the data of sociology, he very justly says :
" To the difficulties in the way of generalisation hence arising,
must be added the difficulties arising from uncertainty of the
evidence — the doubtfulness, incompleteness, and conflicting
natures, of the statements with which we have to deal. Not
all travellers are to be trusted. Some are bad observers, some
are biassed by creed or custom, some by personal likings or
dislikings ; and all have but imperfect opportunities of getting
34^ History of UtilitarianisTn.
at the truth. Similarly with historians. Very httle of what
they narrate is from immediate observation. The greater
part of it comes through channels which colour, and obscure,
and distort ; while everywhere party feeling, religious bigotry,
and the sentiment of patriotism, cause exaggerations and sup-
pressions. Testimonies concerning moral traits are hence
liable to perversion." ^
After all deductions have been made, however, the author
holds that one conclusion must be drawn from the sociological
material here collected : the Moral Sense theory, as ordinarily
understood, is wholly untenable. Mr. Spencer's definite state-
ment regarding his own change of view on this important
matter is well worth quoting. He says : " Though, as shown
in my first work. Social Statics, I once espoused the doctrine
of the intuitive moralists (at the outset in full, and in later
chapters with some implied qualifications), yet it has gradu-
ally become clear to me that the qualifications required
practically obliterate the doctrine as enunciated by them ".-
But while he has changed his mind regarding the existence
of a Moral Sense, he gives emphatic testimony to his con-
tinued belief in the perfectibility of human society. He says :
" There needs but a continuance of absolute peace externally,
and a rigorous insistence on non-aggression internally, to
ensure the moulding of men into a form naturally characterised
by all the virtues " ?
When we turn to " The Ethics of Individual Life " (Part
III.), it is to be remembered that we are dealing with the Part
of the Principles immediately preceding " Justice ". The
chapters belonging to this third, and concluding. Part of Vol.
I. contain almost nothing that is new, at least concerning the
essential principles of Ethics, as understood by the author.
The general title itself is, of course, significant as indicating
that Mr. Spencer remains true to his original individualism.
There is, it seems, an " Ethics of Individual Life," as opposed
to the " Ethics of Social Life " — Justice and Beneficence.
This is developed on the lines already suggested in the Data
1 See Pt. II., ch. xiv., § i88. ^ gee ibid., § 191. " See ibid.
Herbert Spencer. 347
of Ethics ; the only difference between the treatment here
given and that of ordinary recent Utihtarianism being, that
the good of the individual is regarded as something not
necessarily connected with the good of the whole — which,
of course, again suggests the author's affinity to the eighteenth
century moralists. The bulk of these chapters, however, is
devoted to good advice rather than to the systematic treat-
ment of Ethics. It may be interesting to know what are Mr.
Spencer's personal views on ' activity,' ' rest,' ' nutrition,'
' stimulation,' etc. ; but these cannot be said to belong to
the History of Ethics.
More important are " Negative Beneficence " (Part V.) and
" Positive Beneficence " (Part VI.), since we must look here
for the necessary mitigation of the stern principle of Justice ;
but it cannot be denied that these concluding Parts of the
Principles are seriously disappointing. That the principle of
Justice, all-important though it may be in its own sphere, is
not the whole of Ethics, is fully recognised by Mr. Spencer.
Indeed, as we have just seen, he has already (in Part III.)
attempted to treat systematically of the duties which we owe
merely to ourselves, and which thus, according to his own
point of view, fall entirely outside the sphere of Justice. We
have seen, however, that the actual treatment is hardly impor-
tant, since — apart from the practical counsels above referred
to — it amounts to little more than a reiteration of the author's
view of the claims of the individual, considered merely as such.
The method of treatment adopted, so far as it has to do with
theoretical Ethics at all, is practically reducible to the Utili-
tarian method in its earlier, and by this time somewhat anti-
quated, form. The difficulty of adjusting this method of treat-
ment to the peculiar treatment of Justice — in which, of course,
Mr. Spencer stands alone among English hedonists — is, in-
deed, apparent ; but it does not come up in an acute form,
for the " Ethics of Individual Life " and that part of the
" Ethics of Social Life " which belongs to the sphere of Justice
are, at any rate, alike consistent deductions from the individu-
alistic assumptions of the system.
348 History of Utilitarianism.
When, however, the author begins to treat systematically
of Beneficence, this difficulty arising from the employment of
two apparently distinct methods becomes a serious matter.
As already said, the principle of Justice, though no longer
held to be our one clear intuition derived from a Moral Sense, ^
is actually regarded by Mr. Spencer, in the later as in the
earlier form of his system, as a practical ultimate, and there-
fore as not depending upon considerations of * greatest happi-
ness '. On the other hand. Beneficence — a principle with
which the author can dispense as little as any other moralist —
is, to all intents and purposes, treated in terms of traditional
Utilitarianism.2 What will happen in the case of the (at
least apparent) conflict between the principle of Justice and
that of Beneficence 'i One would by no means hold Mr.
Spencer responsible for the practical difficulties of the moral
life, viz., the occasional conflict of duties, as some anti-hedon-
ist critics are in the habit of doing in similar cases. As we
have repeatedly seen, such difficulties are practical before they
are theoretical ; hence they are bound to be difficulties for
any system of Ethics. But the peculiar difficulty which we
have to recognise here is : the lack of any single, clearly-
defined, organising principle, upon which the particular prin-
ciples of morality — Justice as much as any other — can be
shown to depend. Probably this is why the author's treatment
of all moral principles besides Justice is as empirical as his
treatment of Justice had been abstract and theoretical. From
his point of view, indeed, very little of a strictly theoretical
character can be said of any moraJ principle other than Jus-
tice — the only one, as he has so often insisted, that is capable
of a perfectly definite, and therefore strictly scientific, treat-
ment.
The difficulties which attend an individualistic treatment
of Beneficence are avoided at the outset in the introductory
chapter on " Kinds of Altruism ". Mr. Spencer says, e.g. :
' As in the earlier, not necessarily the later, part of Social Statics.
^Cf. the author's admission on this point in the passage already quoted from
the Preface to Negative Beneficence and Positive Beneficence.
Herbert Spencer. 349
" As distinguished from egoistic actions, altruistic actions in-
clude all those which either negatively by self-restraint, or
positively by efforts for their benefit, conduce to the welfare
of fellow-men : they include both justice and beneficence ".^
As will readily be seen, this use of ' egoistic ' and ' altruistic,'
as applied to actions, leaves out of account the moral motive
altogether. That justice and beneficence, however defined,
should be kept distinct, so far as possible, Mr. Spencer very
properly insists. He further maintains " that the primary law
of a harmonious social co-operation may not be broken for the
fulfilment of the secondary law ; and that therefore, while en-
forcement of justice must be a pubKc function, the exercise of
beneficence must be a private function "? When stated in such
general terms, this principle also may at first commend itself ;
but one must remember that by justice is here meant the prin-
ciple of non-interference, which has important corollaries as
regards theory of government. While many practical states-
men have a healthy dread of a too paternal government, it
is safe to say that no practical statesman ever did, or ever will,
try to keep justice and beneficence, in whatever sense under-
stood, separate in the way that Mr. Spencer would seem to
require. It would, e.g.^ take but a famine or a pestilence to
show how unworkable such an abstract theory would be. More-
over, every government is, and must be, ' paternal ' in the
sense that it provides for the common good in many ways
that can by no means be included under the single head of
Justice, according to any legitimate interpretation of that
principle.
The distinction between Negative Beneficence and Positive
Beneficence, here again insisted upon and made the basis of
treatment, is that which the author had already clearly drawn
in Social Statics. Negative Beneficence, of course, consists
in avoiding the infliction of unnecessary pain upon others,
when strict Justice, as here understood, would permit this ;
while Positive Beneficence consists in voluntarily adding to
1 See Pt. v., ch. i., § 389. «See ibid., § 390.
350 History of UtilitaTianisin.
the pleasures of others. It is imphed here, as elsewhere,
that under the latter head are included " those kinds of actions
alone recognised in the ordinary conception of beneficence ".
If this be so — and the statement could probably be contro-
verted — it is only because justice is ordinarily understood
not only in a different sense from that of Mr. Spencer, but in
a larger sense. To the ordinary moral consciousness, it doubt-
less seems only just that one should avoid causing others un-
necessary pain ; and when the writer on systematic Ethics
prefers not to include this under the head of Justice in the
strict sense, he nearly always provides for the principle in his
own way. This distinction, then, between Negative Benefi-
cence and Positive Beneficence, so far from being an important
invention of Mr. Spencer's, can hardly be regarded as more
than a subdivision convenient for himself, and partly necessi-
tated by his narrow and peculiar conception of Justice. Often,
indeed, this distinction must have proved inconvenient even to
its originator. He more exactly defines Negative Beneficence
as " the species of beneficent conduct which is characterised
by passivity in deed or word, at times when egoistic advantage
or pleasure might be gained by action ".^ It has frequently
been pointed out by moralists of the most diverse tendencies,
that ' activity ' and ' passivity,' as applied to moral conduct,
are very misleading terms for Ethics ; since, in a great number
of possible cases, ' passivity ' is the full equivalent of ' activity '.
It is only fair to say that the author avoids such difficulties in
his own treatment ; but this is only by the careful choice of
examples.
It is wholly unnecessary to consider in detail these con-
cluding Parts of the Principles of Ethics, for here, as in Part
III, " Ethics of Individual Life," Mr. Spencer contents himself,
for the most part, with giving and defending his individual
opinion with respect to each of the practical problems dis-
cussed. These are by no means without interest, particularly
as being the opinions of one who has impressed his personality
1 See Pt. v., ch. i., § 394.
Herbert Spencer. 351
so strongly upon his contemporaries ; but here, as before, we
must remark that such discussions do not belong to the techni-
cal treatment of Ethics. It would hardly be going too far to
say that it is only in the final chapter of Part V., on " The
Ultimate Sanctions " {i.e., of Negative Beneficence), that the
author reverts, for the time being, to theoretical Ethics. Here
it is held merely, that " the admitted desideratum being main-
tenance and prosperity of the species, or that variety of the
species constituting the society, the implication is that the
modes of conduct here enjoined under the head of Negative
Beneficence, have their remote justification in their conducive-
ness to such maintenance and prosperity " — the assumption,
of course, being that ' maintenance and prosperity of the
species,' if adequately provided for, will ultimately conduce to
' greatest happiness '. The author pertinently adds : " Of
course these considerations touching the nature of Beneficence
at large, here appended as a commentary on the actions classed
under the head of Negative Beneficence, equally apply, and
indeed apply still more manifestly, to the actions classed under
the head of Positive Beneficence " }
It should perhaps be noted that little is said in these
concluding Parts of the Principles regarding the distinction
between ' Absolute ' and ' Relative ' Ethics. Presumably, how-
ever, this is not because the author has by any means given up
his belief in a perfect society in the remote future, so strongly
reaffirmed in Part II., " Inductions of Ethics," published the
year before. It is doubtless because the treatment here given
is almost wholly practical, as already indicated, and so natu-
rally keeps to the present conditions of social life. There are,
indeed, passages almost pathetic, in which the author points
out how completely, in his own opinion, ' the time is out of
joint ' ; but it would be wholly unwarranted to infer from these
that he has given up his original optimism with regard to the
future of society, so firmly held through a long life of almost
unremitting labour, under adverse physical conditions that
1 See Pt. v., ch. viii., §§ 426, 427.
352 History of Utilitarianism.
would long ago have discouraged a literary worker of less
heroic mould.
Little need be said by way of resumi, after our somewhat
extended examination of both the earlier and the later form
of Mr. Spencer's ethical system, since this examination has
already involved the necessary general, as well as special,
comparisons and criticisms. Nothing more than the merest
outline of results will be attempted in what follows. In the
earlier (what we have ventured to term) ' pre-Evolutional '
form of the system, we have found an interesting but highly
abstract theory of morality, confessedly based upon the
author's characteristic, though paradoxical, conception of the
perfect man in the perfect society — with which alone, indeed,
he holds that scientific Ethics properly speaking has to do.
From this point of view, as he himself insists, not even the
existence of evil can be recognised. The perfect man is
the only object of interest for the scientific moralist, just as
the hypothetically perfect geometrical figure of whatever
kind for the scientific mathematician. Moreover, a Moral
Sense must be recognised — though this, upon further examina-
tion, resolves itself into an ' instinct of personal rights,' which
is supposed to be helped out by ' sympathy '.
The ' Expediency Philosophy,' as represented by Bentham,
is discredited, not merely, or perhaps principally, because ex-
perience shows that the hedonistic calculus involves insuper-
able difficulties, but because it may be proved a priori to be
impossible, if only we consider that, with every stage of
intellectual or moral progress (or decadence) on the part of
the individual, the community, the nation, or the race, there
would necessarily be a partial shifting of the scale of
hedonistic values. In place of this wholly inadequate method,
which involves the impossibility of particular computations,
we must employ one which shall determine the general condi-
tions to efficient social life and therefore, indirectly, to the
' greatest happiness,' which must still be regarded as the ulti-
mate ideal. These are reducible to the principles of Justice,
Herbert Spencer. 353
Negative Beneficence, and Positive Beneficence, enlightened
self-interest being always pre-supposed. Even from the
author's abstract statement of these principles, however, a
serious difficulty was apparent. Though all were designed
to supplant the ' hedonistic calculus,' all except Justice
were admitted to depend in the last resort upon the concep-
tion of happiness, which, as the severe criticism of the ' Ex-
pediency Philosophy ' went to show, is bound to remain
indefinite until the perfect society shall become an accom-
plished fact.
Justice, on the other hand, already defined as the principle
that " every man has freedom to do all that he wills, provided
he infringes not the equal freedom of any other man," ^ was
held to be our one perfectly clear moral intuition, derived
from an ultimate Moral Sense — though, as we have seen,
the author's direct treatment of the Moral Sense in Social
Statics is decidedly wavering. As a result, we have found that,
in this earlier work, at any rate, the author is practically an
Intuitionist as regards Justice, while his proposed treatment
of the remaining principles of morality, hardly more than
indicated here, practically coincides with that of traditional
Utilitarianism, the inadequacy of which he has been at such
pains to point out. In so far as he has merely insisted upon
the necessity of general rules instead of particular computa-
tions, he has reverted unconsciously to the traditional Utili-
tarian position as against Bentham, or at any rate as against
the interpretation that has generally been put upon Bentham's
doctrine.
It will be remembered that, in the earlier form of Mr.
Spencer's ethical theory, our attention was directed almost
wholly to the * static ' aspect of morality, as the title of the
book itself would indicate. In the Data of Ethics^ on the
other hand, in which the later form of the system as a whole
was at least clearly indicated, the author attempts to do
justice to both the ' static ' and the ' dynamic ' views, but with
^ See Social Statics, ch. vi., § i.
23
354 History of Utilitarianism.
special emphasis upon the latter. As a result, it looks at first
as if the method employed were as concrete as the earlier
method had been confessedly abstract. Organic evolution is
to afford the clue, and we are invited to consider carefully
what makes for the ' evolution of conduct '. It appears, how-
ever, that the ' last stages of evolution,' to which we must
hopefully look forward, mean practically the doing away
with that ' struggle for existence ' which has been recognised
hitherto as the very essence of organic evolution. In fact,
the author's cardinal principle, Justice — still defined as the
principle of non-interference, but now supposed to have an
evolutional origin — seems to imply the precise opposite of the
actual trend of Evolution ; for so long as there is any real
' struggle for existence,' it is only too obvious that interference
of the ultimate kind is always present.
In truth, as we proceed further with the Data of Ethics and
the remaining parts of the Principles, it becomes more and
more evident that we are being conducted as directly as
possible to what practically amount to Mr. Spencer's earlier
ethical conclusions, not because these are the result of the
Evolutional method as applied to ethical problems, but rather
in spite of what Evolution itself would appear to dictate. The
four chapters devoted respectively to the ' Physical View,'
the ' Biological View,' the ' Psychological View,' and the
* Sociological View ' of morality, seem to have been intended
as a preliminary statement of the method adopted ; but we
have seen, in perhaps wearisome detail, how vulnerable this
' scientific ' method is, and how elaborately it seems to have
been contrived to lead up to the desired results.
The one really important change in the Principles of Ethics,
so far as method is concerned, is the rejection of Intuition-
ism ; but the difference even in this respect is less than would
at first appear, for in the later chapters of Social Statics the
Moral Sense, originally taken as ultimate, had already been
reduced to a sort of ' instinct of personal rights,' which had
to be helped out by ' sympathy,' and to this latter assumption
Mr. Spencer really adheres to the end. According to the later
Herbert Spencer. 355
and more elaborate, but hardly more convincing argument,
the general ' sentiment ' of Justice is developed much as
before, the factors being the so-called ' egoistic sentiment of
justice ' (i.e., the original ' instinct of personal rights ') and
* sympathy ' (this latter now being treated as derived, instead
of assumed as given). When sympathy has developed suffi-
ciently, the ' altruistic sentiment of justice ' will necessarily
develop as the counterpart of the ' egoistic sentiment of
justice ' ; and the implication would seem to be that the two
will eventually blend into a general ' sentiment of justice '.
So far, of course, the apprehension of Justice is confessedly
indefinite. Must we then give up the perfectly definite ' idea '
of Justice, as opposed to the vague ' sentiment ' of the same
— that ' idea ' which was assumed in the earlier part of Social
Statics to be the one clear intuition of the Moral Sense?
By no means. After a satisfactory conclusion has once been
reached, Mr. Spencer is never greatly troubled with his re-
vised premises. And in this case, the short cut to the desired
conclusion is rather staggering, for apparently he argues
that men obtain the perfectly definite ' idea ' of Justice, still
expressed by the original formula, by experiencing the fact
that there are certain limits beyond which their fellows will
not, as a matter of fact, tolerate interference! From all
such difficulties the author may be depended upon to emerge
triumphant. After his strangely confused argument, he says,
in a passage previously quoted : " No higher warrant can be
imagined ; and now, accepting the law of equal freedom
as an ultimate ethical principle, having an authority transcend-
ing every other, we may proceed with our inquiry " }■
All this is highly instructive. A reader unfamiliar with the
earlier form of Mr. Spencer's ethical system might well wonder
how it came about that a principle thus empirically derived,
and in such roundabout fashion, should straightway be treated,
to all intents and purposes, as a ' categorical imperative '.
The explanation is simple. Though this highly abstract
^See yustice, ch. vii., § 35.
356 History of Utilitarianism.
principle of Justice is far from resulting from any legitimate
application of the theory of organic Evolution, it pointedly
illustrates the evolution of Mr. Spencer's own theory. Mani-
festly it is a survival from the ' pre-Evolutional,' Intuitional
form of the theory. But this is not all ; for its logical origin
we must go back further still. This emphatic assertion of the
rights of the individual as such was by no means a new doc-
trine, when set forth in Social Statics half a century ago ;
rather was it a definite and picturesque application of
eighteenth century Individualism, though carried to an extreme
that the average eighteenth century philosopher would pro-
bably have avoided. In fact, it seems to the present writer
that, in order to do Mr. Spencer justice, one must regard him
as the last great Individualist, in the eighteenth century sense
of the word, rather than as the true exponent of Evolutional
Ethics.
In the earlier form of the system, again, we found that,
while the principle of Justice was treated as an ultimate in-
tuition, the remaining principles of Ethics, Prudence, Negative
Beneficence, and Positive Beneficence, were apparently left to
be treated in the traditional Utilitarian fashion, depending
as they all do upon what the author regarded as the hopelessly
indefinite conception of happiness. In the later form of the
system, as given in the Principles of Ethics, this strange com-
bination of practical Intuitionism, as regards one ethical
principle, and Utilitarianism, as regards all the rest, is unmis-
takable. We have repeatedly seen that the author's absolute
principle of Justice by no means results from evolutionary con-
siderations. Now Mr. Spencer himself seems finally to have
conceded that Negative Beneficence and Positive Beneficence,
as defined by himself, are principles that must stand on their
own merits. In the passage already quoted from the Preface
to Negative Beneficence and Positive Beneficence, he admits :
" The Doctrine of Evolution has not furnished guidance to
the extent I had hoped. Most of the conclusions, drawn em-
pirically, are such as right feelings, enlightened by cultivated
intelligence, have already sufficed to establish."
Herbert Spencer. 357
Since, then, these principles depend upon the variable
quantity, happiness, they are not at present susceptible of
exact scientific treatment ; and Mr. Spencer contents himself
almost wholly with practical counsels, instead of approaching
the problems involved from the point of view of systematic
Ethics. For the truly scientific treatment of these principles,
we must wait until the perfect society actually exists — a some-
what novel form of moral agnosticism, which must have been
anything but satisfactory to one with the most genuine moral
convictions, whose long-cherished, and indeed highest, am-
bition had been to place Ethics once for all upon a strictly
scientific foundation.
CHAPTER XVI.
HENRY SIDGWICK.
Nearly a quarter of a century after Social Statics, but five
years before the Data of Ethics, appeared the first edition of
Professor Sidgwick's MetJiods of Ethics {1874). This was
early seen to be a work of very considerable importance, not
merely as an elaborate criticism of the various forms of ethical
theory recognised by the author, but as an independent contri-
bution to the literature of Utilitarianism ; and it is hardly
necessary to say that it has continued to be so regarded by
competent critics up to the present time. We shall therefore
be justified in treating it as the last authoritative utterance
of traditional Utilitarianism.
The purpose of the book may best be expressed in the
author's own words. In the Preface to the first edition he
says : " Its distinctive characteristics may be first given nega-
tively. It is not, in the main, metaphysical or psychological :
at the same time it is not dogmatic or directly practical ; it
does not deal, except by way of illustration, with the history
of ethical thought : in a sense it might be said to be not even
critical, since it is only quite incidentally that it offers any
criticism of the systems of individual moralists. It claims to
be an examination, at once expository and critical, of the
different methods of obtaining reasoned convictions as to what
ought to be done which are to be found — either exphcit or
implicit — in the moral consciousness of mankind generally :
and which, from time to time, have been developed, either
singly or in combination, by individual thinkers, and worked
up into the systems now historical."
(358)
Henry Sidgwick. 359
Though the Methods of Ethics has been carefully revised
five times (the revised editions bearing the dates 1877, 1884,
1890, 1893, and 1 90 1 1), the author has never permitted him-
self to deviate from the programme which he first announced.
The titles of some chapters have been changed, and many
passages have been carefully rewritten, sometimes with the
implicit confession of a slight change of view regarding the
particular point at issue ; but the framework of the book
remains almost precisely what it was, even down to its minor
details, while by far the greater part of the treatment is
unchanged in essential respects. It is rather important to
keep this fact in mind, for the numerous references to current
ethical literature in the later editions of the Methods might
give the impression that the book in its present form had been
more recently planned and written than is actually the case.
In the following exposition and criticism, the text of the last
edition will be followed, except where notice is given to the
contrary ; but the treatment in the first edition will always be
kept in mind, and will be referred to when comparison seems
desirable.
It will readily be seen that Professor Sidgwick has under-
taken a most difficult task. Ostensibly critical, for the most
part, his treatment is almost bound to be implicitly constructive
from the very beginning, and this not from any mere bias
on his own part, but from the nature of the case. Abstracting,
as he purposely does, from the historical development of ethical
theory, he could not have attempted an answer to such ques-
tions as that of the number of possible ' Methods of Ethics,' and
1 The edition just published (igoi) represents Professor Sidgwick's final re-
vision of the work up to p. 276. The passages quoted from this edition in the
following chapters, however, are practically identical with the corresponding
ones in the fifth edition (1893). In the Preface to the last edition is printed,
from one of the author's manuscripts, a very condensed account of the develop-
ment of his ethical views down to the time of the publication of the first edition
of the Methods, showing what he owed successively to Mill, Kant, Butler, and
Aristotle, in working out his own system. It is interesting to know that the
valuable analysis of the morality of common sense (Bk. III., chaps, i.-xi.) was
the part of the book first written.
360 History of Utilitarianism.
the relation of these to " the moral consciousness of mankind
generally," with any hope of success, except from a somewhat
definite point of view of his own. For this reason we need
to see, in the first place, how the author, consciously or un-
consciously, defines his own position, particularly with re-
gard to the feeling of moral obligation and the related
problem as to the motive of the moral agent.
Traditional Intuitionism had consistently held that the feel-
ing of obligation was sui generis, not by any means to be reduced
to terms of anything else. Moreover, it had held that the
mere consciousness that an action was right or wrong could
in some way become a motive for performing it or abstaining
from it. Traditional Utilitarianism, on the other hand, had
always tended to regard the feeling of obligation as reducible
to terms of interest, though not in the sense of conscious
personal interest, operating at the moment of action. English
Utilitarians had generally attempted to explain this, hke so
many other phenomena of our moral life, by means of the
principles of ' association of ideas ' and ' translation '. This,
however, was not the strongest part of their argument. Their
truly characteristic position — which they regarded as unassail-
able, and from which their treatment of obligation was a sort
of corollary — was, of course, that no merely rational considera-
tions can move the agent to action, but only his own pleasur-
able or painful feelings.
So long as these contrary, if not, as they long seemed,
absolutely contradictory, doctrines were set forth in such ab-
stract terms, there could be little hope of an understanding.
Down to the time of J. S. Mill they may be said to have had
a practically independent, though parallel, development ; but
in Mill's ethical writings certain intuitional elements, or what
had previously passed for such, began to appear. The most
prominent, of course, was the author's insistence upon ' quali-
tative distinctions ' between pleasures. So flagrant an incon-
sistency as this could hardly prove a permanent influence in
the further development of Utilitarian theory ; but Mill did
much to make both his contemporaries and his successors
Henry Sidgivick. 361
take account of the worth and meaning of human personahty
and regard self-development as practically an end in itself.
It thus became a question how far Utilitarianism could
rationalise these and other concrete aspects of the moral life,
which had at least been pointed out with considerable effect
by Intuitional writers.
But this was not all. We have seen that, in his earliest
important contribution to Ethics, his well-known essay on
Bentham (1838), Mill had complained that the elder moralist,
when he dismissed all ethical theories differing from his own as
' vague generalities,' " did not heed, or rather the nature of his
mind prevented it from occurring to him, that these gener-
alities contained the whole unanalysed experience of the human
race ". The reference apparently was to certain supposed
moral intuitions, and the language of appreciation used was
certainly a novelty in the literature of Utilitarianism. Only
thirteen years later, Mr. Spencer published his Social Statics,
in which, while confessedly a Hedonist, in spite of his rejection
of the ' Expediency Philosophy ' of Bentham, he went so far
as to proclaim himself also an Intuitionist, though in a some-
what qualified sense. His position in this respect, though it
was one from which he retreated later, must be counted
among his early inconsistencies ; but the mere fact that mor-
alists representing such different tendencies as Mill and Mr.
Spencer should both have come so near to Intuitionism, was
not wholly a matter of chance. It was undoubtedly a sign of
the times, showing that the older Utilitarianism, admirably
consistent for the most part, but so abstract that it simply
failed to take account of much that was highly significant in
the moral life, was entering upon a new stage of development
Professor Sidgwick had far too logical a mind to combine
Intuitionism with Utilitarianism in this merely mechanical
way ; but his attitude toward the data of the moral life was,
from the first, similar in that he insisted upon certain aspects
of morality which the earlier Utilitarians had practically neg-
lected. Unlike Mill and Mr. Spencer, however, he seems
to have appreciated the difficulties of the task which he had
362 History of Utilitarianism.
undertaken. Probably it is not without significance that
chapter iii, of Book I. of the Methods of Ethics has successively
borne the titles " Moral Reason," " Reason and Feeling," and
" Ethical Judgments ". The more important changes, how-
ever, seem to have been made in the second edition (1877),
in the Preface to which the author says -. " Even before the
appearance of Mr. Leslie Stephen's interesting review in
/^r«J^r (March, 1875), I had seen the desirability of explaining
further my general view of the ' Practical Reason,' and of the
fundamental notions signified by the terms ' right,' ' ought,'
&c. With this object I have entirely rewritten chap. iii. of
Book I., and made considerable changes in chap, i." The
fact of these alterations is not mentioned with the purpose of
suggesting, that Professor Sidgwick has changed his mind in
any essential respect on the very important subject to which
this chapter is devoted ; but the difficulty which he has
found in satisfactorily expounding his views is worthy of
notice, for it is in this chapter that he first makes that serious
attempt to do justice to Intuitionism, which has so largely
determined the peculiar form of his own ethical theory.
The treatment in the first edition is very brief, and may be
indicated sufficiently for our present purpose in a few words.
The author points out that two difficulties are often raised
with regard to the conception of Practical Reason. " It is
maintained, first, that it is not by the Reason that we appre-
hend moral distinctions, but rather by virtue of some emotional
susceptibility commonly called a Aloral Sense ; and, secondly,
that the Reason cannot be a spring of action, as it must always
be Feeling that stimulates the Will." ^ As regards the first ob-
jection, that it is not by Reason that we apprehend moral
distinctions, the author indicates his own position quite clearly
as follows : " It seems, therefore, to belong to reason not
merely to judge of the relation of means to ends, or of the
consistency of maxims : but also to determine the ultimate
ends and true first principles of action " ? This might seem
like Intuitionism (or Intellectualism) pure and simple, but the
^ See p. 22. ^ See p. 26.
Henry Sidgwick. 363
author holds that " such an intuitive operation of the practical
reason seems ... to be somewhere assumed in all moral
systems ". Earlier in the chapter he has argued that Hobbes
identifies Reason with Rational Self-love, Bentham with con-
duct calculated to conduce to ' the greatest happiness of the
greatest number,' etc.^ It will readily be seen that ' Reason '
is here used in a sense by no means free from ambiguity.
As regards the second objection to the conception of ' Prac-
tical Reason,' viz., that Reason cannot itself be a spring of
action, the author suggests a characteristic compromise. After
stating that, in his opinion, it is needless to ask whether a
mere cognition can act upon will and prompt to action — since
" no one is competent or really concerned to maintain that the
apprehension of duty is a state of consciousness which occurs
without any emotional element " — he says : " It is enough if
it be granted that there exists in all moral agents as such
a permanent desire (varying, no doubt, very much in strength
from time to time, and in different persons) to do what is right
or reasonable because it is such "? As a note appears the
following altogether too liberal concession to Intuitionism.
" It can hardly be said that Intuitional Morahsts generally
have been disposed to over-estimate the actual force of the
practical reason. Certainly neither Clarke nor Kant have
fallen into this error." The author concludes : " We may
assume then as generally admitted that the recognition of any
action as reasonable is attended with a certain desire or im-
pulse to do it : and that in this sense the Reason may be
affirmed to be a spring of action ".^ All this, it must be remem-
bered, is supposed to represent not merely the author's own
point of view, but the concensus of opinion among moralists.
It is not strange that he found it necessary to state his position
more clearly. Moreover, in spite of the ambiguous use of
' Reason,' referred to above, it is evident that the treatment
here given is already implicitly constructive, and concedes a
good deal more to Intuitionism than had been customary
among previous Utilitarian writers.
^ See p. 23. 2 See p, 27, s gee p. 28.
364 History of UtilitaHanisin.
As already indicated, the important changes in this chapter
were made in the second edition of the Methods (1877) ; but
for the sake of brevity, we shall turn at once to the latest
version (1901). Here * reasonable ' conduct is identified with
that which ' ought ' to be done ; ' non-rational ' conduct, there-
fore, being regarded as that which takes place in accordance
with mere desires and inclinations. Of course, the question at
once arises, whether this antithesis between ' reason ' and
' desire ' is not a misapprehension, i.e., whether the conflict
is not after all a conflict between different desires and aver-
sions, " the sole function of reason being to bring before the
mind ideas of actual or possible facts, which modify . . .
the resultant force of our various impulses "} Now Professor
Sidgwick argues that this is not the case. The gist of the
whole chapter, in its revised form, is, that strictly moral judg-
ments are essentially different from any prudential judgments
whatsoever, and that therefore the notion of ' ought ' is in the
last resort irreducible to terms of anything else.
His own language on this very important matter should be
noted : " It seems then that the notion of ' ought ' or ' moral
obligation ' as used in our common moral judgments, does not
merely import (i) that there exists in the mind of the person
judging a specific emotion (whether complicated or not by
sympathetic representation of similar emotions in other
minds) ; nor (2) that certain rules of conduct are supported
by penalties which will follow on their violation (whether such
penalties result from the general liking or aversion felt for the
conduct prescribed or forbidden, or from some other source).
What, then, it may be asked, does it import? What defini-
tion can we give of ' ought,' * right,' and other terms expressing
the same fundamental notion ? To this I should answer that
the notion which these terms have in common is too elemen-
tary to admit of any formal definition." ^
1 See p. 25.
2 See pp. 31, 32. In what follows the author explains that, when he speaks
of this notion as ultimate and unanalysable, he does not mean to rule out
mental development ; but only to insist that " as it now exists in our thought, [it]
cannot be resolved into any more simple notions ",
Henry Sidgivick. 365
In this later version, as in that which appeared in the first
edition of the Methods, Professor Sidgwick refuses to admit
that he has made any concessions to Intuitionism as a differ-
entiated form of ethical theory. He says explicitly : " Nothing
that has been said ... is intended as an argument in favour
of Intuitionism, as against Utilitarianism or any other method
that treats moral rules as relative to General Good or Well-
being ". In fact, he holds that " the notion ' ought ' — as ex-
pressing the relation of rational judgment to non-rational
impulses — will find a place in the practical rules of any egoistic
system, no less than in the rules of ordinary morality, under-
stood as prescribing duty without reference to the agent's
interest ". And he adds : " According to my observation of
consciousness, the adoption of an end as paramount — either
absolutely or within certain limits — is quite a distinct psychi-
cal phenomenon from desire : it is a kind of volition, though it
is, of course, specifically different from a volition initiating a
particular immediate action ".^
Such, in substance, is one of the four most significant
chapters in the Methods of Ethics, in its earliest and in its
latest form. Perhaps it may now be surmised why the
original title of the chapter, " Moral Reason," was changed,
first to " Reason and Feeling," and then to " Ethical Judg-
ments ". In the earlier treatment it was held that Reason (in
a sense not sufficiently defined) does determine ends, and par-
ticularly the ultimate end, in moral conduct ; and, moreover,
that it is as z/" reason were itself capable of affording a motive
to right conduct, though not necessarily the only one, since
" we may assume ... as generally admitted that the recog-
nition of any action as reasonable is attended with a certain
desire or impulse to do it ". Indeed, as we saw, the author
made the much too generous admission that " it can hardly be
said that Intuitional Moralists generally have been disposed
to over-estimate the actual force of the practical reason ". In
this earlier version of the chapter, then, the concession to
1 See pp. 35-37.
366 History of Utilitarianism.
Intuitionism seems unmistakable, and the only reason why
it cannot be still more clearly proved is to be found in the
ambiguous use of the word ' reason,' to which we have already
referred.
Is this ambiguity cleared up in the later version ? It is
difficult to see that this is the case. As already indicated, the
greater part of the chapter is devoted to showing that the con-
ception of ' ought ' is irreducible to terms of anything else.
Not that this notion may not have been developed, like
all our others, but that it now has all the simplicity
which introspection would seem to show. And still the
claim is made that all this is not to be counted against
Utilitarianism, or even against Egoism. Evidently ' ought '
is here used in a more general sense than that of ordinary
Intuitionism, but the author's absolute refusal to resolve
the conception of obligation, as had been done by all
the earlier English hedonists, at least down to the time of
J. S. Mill, is most significant ; while he plainly remains true to
his original position that, while it may not, perhaps, properly
be held that reason, apart from all feeling, can afford the moral
motive, it is nevertheless much as z/"this were the case, since
we nearly all desire, more or less strongly, to do that which
is reasonable merely because it is such — a position which at
least brings him mto a good deal closer relation to traditional
Intuitionism than to traditional Utilitarianism.
So much, then, concerning Professor Sidgwick's treatment
of " Moral Reason," as given in the first of what we have
ventured to call the four most significant ^ chapters of the
book. The others will be found to be -. chapter iv. of Book I.,
which, in its latest as in its earliest form, bears the title,
" Pleasure and Desire " ; chapter vi., also of Book L, first
called " The Methods of Ethics," and later, " Ethical Principles
and Methods " ; and chapter xiii. of Book III., on " Philoso-
phical Intuitionism," which contains the most important part
of the author's proof of Utilitarianism. The chapter on
1 I.e., significant, as tending to define the author's own position.
Henry Sidgwick. 367
" Pleasure and Desire " has been a good deal less modified in
successive editions than the one which we have just examined,
and so can be considered rather more briefly, though it is
hardly less important as preparing us for the author's char-
acteristic treatment of Ethics. Evidently we here come to
close quarters with the problem as to what can constitute a
motive. We say ' can ' advisedly, for the psychological ques-
tion : What can constitute a motive ? is very properly treated
as logically preceding the question : What ought the motive
to be, if the action is to be truly moral ?
It will hardly be necessary to compare the earliest and the
latest versions of this chapter, since the gist of the argument
is the same in both. Perhaps it is worth noticing, however,
that the author was careless in the first edition, to the extent
of seriously misinterpreting Mill's theory of desire. After
quoting the well-known passage in the Utilitarianism, in which
Mill maintains that " desiring a thmg and finding it pleasant,
aversion to it and thinking of it as painful, are phenomena
entirely inseparable, or rather two parts of the same phenom-
enon," and further that " we desire a thing in proportion as
the idea of it is pleasant," the author says : " On this view
the notions ' right ' and ' wrong ' would seem to have no
meaning except as applied to the intellectual state accompany-
ing volition : since if future pleasures and pains be truly re-
presented, the desire must be directed towards its proper
object. And thus the only possible method of Ethics would
seem to be some form of Egoistic Hedonism."^
This is the familiar mistake, now generally recognised as
such, of treating this problem too much in the abstract. It
may plausibly be urged that, if that motive is always followed
which appeals most strongly to oneself, then all motives are
on the same plane, i.e., equally selfish ; but the fallacy is not
far to seek. What attracts or repels depends very largely
upon the character of the particular moral agent, and char-
acters vary almost indefinitely. Psychologically the motives
^ See p. 31.
368 History of Utilitarianism.
of Judas and his Master may have been ahke, in that they
were equally strong ; ethically, of course, they were as differ-
ent as the extremes of character which they represented.
In other words, so far from Mill's theory of desire necessarily
leading to Egoistic Hedonism, it is compatible with any degree
of altruism which, on other grounds, may be attributed to
human nature.^
But the author is not really attacking a phantom. He seems
to confuse with Mill's theory of desire the very different posi-
tion of traditional Utilitarianism, which was, not merely that
" desiring a thing and finding it pleasant, aversion to it and
thinking of it as painful " are the same thing considered from
different points of view, but that ultimately only pleasure as
such can be desired, and con.sequently only the agent's own
pleasure. This is really the theory to a consideration of which
this chapter is principally devoted ; and it will be found that
the author's conclusions are not only in conflict with those
of the older Utilitarians, but come perilously near to carrying
him beyond Utilitarianism altogether. Neglecting other
differences of treatment in the earlier and the later editions,
which are immaterial, so far as the main argument is con-
cerned, we shall now confine ourselves to the latest version.
The point of departure is afforded by Butler's familiar
analysis of desire, which had been so strangely disregarded
by nearly all previous hedonistic writers. Butler, of course,
had held that particular passions or appetites are " necessarily
presupposed by the very idea of an interested pursuit ; since
the very idea of interest or happiness consists in this, that an]
appetite or affection enjoys its object ". After arguing that
Butler has over-stated his case — since pleasures of sight, hear-
ing, and smell, as well as many emotional pleasures, do not
seem to imply previous desires — Professor Sidgwick concedes
the essential point. He says : " But as a matter of fact, it ap-
pears to me that throughout the whole scale of my impulses,
sensual, emotional, and intellectual alike, I can distinguish
^ Of course we are not here concerned with the question as to whether Mill's
theory was correct.
Henry Sidgwick. 369
desires of which the object is something other than my own
pleasure "} Of hunger, e.g., he gives practically the same
account as Butler had done. It is a direct impulse to the eating
of food. Of course, pleasure may be anticipated as a result of
the satisfaction of this craving, and such is very often the case ;
but there could be no pleasure of satisfaction, and therefore no
anticipation of such pleasure, were not the craving itself an
original, objective tendency.
The same line of argument would obviously apply to our
other so-called ' natural ' appetites and desires ; but, as a
matter of fact. Professor Sidgwick does not take the trouble
to develop the argument further in this direction. What he
does particularly insist upon is the fact that, in the case of the
so-called ' pleasures of pursuit,' which, as he remarks, " con-
stitute a considerable item in the total enjoyment of life," a
certain disinterestedness is always implied. One could not,
e.g., experience the pleasures of the chase, if one did not
for the time become objectively absorbed in it. In all such
cases — and they really include nearly all the so-called ' active '
pleasures, mental as well as physical — self-conscious Epi-
cureanism would defeat its own end. Here, indeed, the par-
ticular end which is for the time disinterestedly, in the sense
of objectively, sought, is not organic to our nature like our
various original appetites. It may even be a thing as insignifi-
cant as success in some game which we play for a first and
only time. This might seem to constitute a very important
difference ; but the author would doubtless have explained, if
it had seemed to him necessary to explain anything so obvious,,
that the impulse to activity of some sort, whether physical or
mental, is as original as any of our bodily appetites.
Professor Sidgwick is rather more cautious than Butler in
employing this theory of the objective character of our pri-
mary desires to prove the possibility of disinterested action ;
but he pertinently urges, e.g., that " the much-commended
pleasures of benevolence seem to require, in order to be felt
^ See p. 45.
24
^yo History of Utilitarianism.
in any considerable degree, the pre-existence of a desire to do
good to others for their sake and not for our own ". Of
course, arguments hke this are not intended to emphasise
the extra-regarding impulses at the expense of the self-regard-
ing ones. The two alternate with such rapidity that they often
seem to blend. But, so far as concerns what is actually in the
mind, Professor Sidgwick says : " A man's conscious desire is,
I think, more often than not chiefly extra-regarding ; but " —
as he is careful to add — " where there is strong desire in any
direction, there is commonly keen susceptibility to the corre-
sponding pleasures ; and the most devoted enthusiast is sus-
tained in his work by the recurrent consciousness of such
pleasures ")■ This seems to be a perfectly just analysis, as far
as it goes, and, as will be seen, it wholly avoids the confusion
which we had occasion to notice in the earlier version of the
first part of this chapter, where the author was arguing, as
against J. S. Mill's contention that " we desire a thing in pro-
portion as the idea of it is pleasant," that this would commit
one to Egoistic Hedonism. At the same time, this present
account of the matter shows that Mill's analysis of desire, like
that of his predecessors, was insufficient.
It will be seen, then, that Professor Sidgwick is as far as
possible from admitting, what appeared to most of the earlier
English Utilitarians so obviously true, that each can only
desire pleasure as such, and consequently only his own plea-
sure. In fact, he says : " Our conscious active impulses are
so far from being always directed towards the attainment of
pleasure or avoidance of pain for ourselves, that we can find
everywhere in consciousness extra-regarding impulses, directed
towards something that is not pleasure, nor relief from pain " -
The logic of all this is clear : there is, according to his view,
no theoretical difficulty in admitting a certain degree of
original altruism, if this seems necessary on other grounds.
As regards the traditional view of Associationism, that our
original impulses were all directed toward pleasure or from
^ See pp. 50, 51. 2 See p. 52.
Henry Sidgwick. 371
pain, and that any impulse otherwise directed must be ex-
plained by the principles of ' association ' and ' translation/
he says explicitly : " I can find no evidence that even tends to
prove this : so far as we can observe the consciousness of
children, the two elements, extra-regarding impulse and desire
for pleasure, seem to coexist in the same manner as they do
in mature life. In so far as there is any difference, it seems to
be in the opposite direction ; as the actions of children, being
more instinctive and less reflective, are more prompted by
extra-regarding impulse, and less by conscious aim at pleasure.
No doubt the two kinds of impulse, as we trace back the devel-
opment of consciousness, gradually become indistinguishable :
but this obviously does not justify us in identifying with either
of the two the more indefinite impulse out of which both have
been developed." ^ All this is most admirably expressed.
The abstractions of the older Associationist-Utilitarianism
have been left far behind ; we are beginning with what
practically amounts to Butler's analysis of desire. It remains
to be seen how far the author will commit himself to what
would appear to be the logical implications of this analysis.
After these discussions, the importance of which for the
constructive part of the book could not easily be exaggerated.
Professor Sidgwick takes up the ' freedom of the will,' in the
sense of indeterminism. Both sides of the argument are very
clearly and impartially presented. On the determinist side,
there is held to be " a cumulative argument of great force,"
against which is to be set " the immediate affirmation of con-
sciousness in the moment of deliberate action " ; ^ and the two
seem to be regarded by the author as about equally convinc-
ing. It may seem a httle strange that the immediate verdict
of consciousness should be taken quite so seriously in a book,
the most prominent characteristic of which is a tendency
toward almost painfully rigorous analysis ; for, whatever may
be the merits of this wearisome controversy, it is plain that the
verdict of consciousness in this case is, after all, only a fact of
^ See p. 53. "^ See pp. 62-65,
372 History of Utilitarianism.
consciousness, and one which may itself quite possibly be sus-
ceptible of explanation.
Perhaps it would be fair to regard this as one of Professor
Sidgwick's partly unconscious concessions to Intuitionism ;
but, on the whole, his attitude is most fortunate, for he is able
to show very clearly that one's decision in this matter does not
commit one for or against any recognised form of ethical
theory. Whether happiness or perfection be regarded as the
end of action, this end cannot properly be held to be either
more or less desirable because our actions are supposed to be
either free or determined. Certain theological problems, e.g.,
that regarding * retributive justice,' are indeed involved ; but
it is far wiser not to entangle ourselves with such problems
in the present connection. And it is fair to add, what the
author does not happen to mention, that a developed theo-
logical system is almost sure to have quite as much trouble
with the conception of an absolute freedom of the will as with
determinism.
The ground having thus been cleared. Professor Sidgwick
proceeds at once, in Chapter vi., to an investigation of the
possible Methods of Ethics. Considering its very important
consequences, this preliminary discussion is much too brief,
occupying in fact only about twelve pages of the elaborate
treatise in its final form. In truth, it is rather necessary to
compare the latest version of this chapter with the one to be
found in the first edition of the Methods, in order fully to
understand how the author arrives at his conclusions, identical
in both and of the very greatest importance as determining
the whole method of treatment followed in the body of the
book.
Let us examine briefly the substance of the chapter in its
original form. As we have before had occasion to notice, the
prevailing motive in conscious action is not always an impulse
toward the attainment of pleasure or the avoidance of pain.
Among our disinterested motives " we may place the desire
to do what is right and reasonable as such, of which the char-
acteristic is that, as Butler says, it claims supremacy : i.e., that
Henry Sidgwick. 2)Th
in so far as we are moral beings we think that it ought to
prevail, whether it does or not "} Now the methods of
systematising conduct that claim to be reasonable are limited
in number. In the first place, Happiness seems to be a reason-
able end ; but, if it be regarded as the ultimate end, the ques-
tion immediately arises : Whose happiness is to be assumed
as the ultimate end of action ? The author holds that there
are " two views and methods in which Happiness is regarded
as the ultimate and rational end of actions : in the one it is the
agent's happiness which is so regarded, in the other the happi-
ness of all men, or all sentient beings ". Of course it would
be possible to adopt an intermediate position, and regard the
happiness of some limited portion of mankind as the end,
but such a limitation would plainly be arbitrary. So much for
Happiness ; but Perfection or Excellence is also thought a
rational end, and may be regarded as an end in itself. And,
as in the case of happiness, the perfection aimed at may be
either individual or universal, though in actual systems of
Ethics one's own perfection seems to be the ideal presented.
Moreover, it is a common opinion that a great part of truly
moral action is done merely because it is right or good, because
duty so dictates. This is what is commonly called the In-
tuitional theory of morals.
It may at first appear that this list is not exhaustive. Many
religious persons, e.g., regard the Will of God as the highest
reason for acting in a given way, while philosophical schools
which are at least historically important have advanced the
principle of ' living according to Nature ' as the true ultimate.
At first these principles may seem distinct from those above
mentioned ; but further examination will show that they either
lie beyond the scope of this inquiry, or that they resolve them-
selves into the others — or perhaps into a confused blending
of two or more of these. While fully admitting the difficulties
inevitably encountered, when such classifications are attempted,
the author says : " In the meantime the list of first principles
' See pp. 58 et seq. Note the concession to Intuitionism. This passage does
not occur in later versions.
374 History of Utilitarianism.
already given seems to include all that have a primd facie
claim to be included : and to afford the most convenient
classification for the current modes of determining right con-
duct. At the same time I do not wish to lay stress on the
completeness or adequacy of the classification. I do not pro-
fess to prove a priori that there are these practical first prin-
ciples and no more. They have been taken merely empirically
from observation of the moral reasoning of myself and other
men, whether professed moralists .or not : and though it seems
to me improbable that I have overlooked any important phase
or point of view, it is always possible that I may have done
so." 1
Let us inspect a httle more carefully our proposed classifi-
cation. When Perfection is taken as the end of action, the
agent's own perfection seems nearly always to be what is
meant, and, moreover, this is commonly understood as moral
perfection. But what is to be the test of such perfection ?
One seems almost inevitably to be thrown back upon intuitive
moral judgments, so that this method may properly be taken
as a form of Intuitionism. On the other hand, if we conceive
Happiness to be the end, it is necessary to distinguish very
sharply between Egoism and Utilitarianism {i.e., Universalistic
Hedonism). This, it should be remembered, is one of the
author's fundamental positions. Speaking of the tendency to
confuse the two forms of hedonistic theory, he says : " Such
a rapprochement encourages a serious misapprehension of
both the historical and the philosophical relations of these
methods to the Intuitional or Common-Sense Morality ".^
Indeed, as he goes on to urge, the distinction between one's
own happiness and that of people in general is so natural and
obvious, and so continually forced upon us by the circum-
stances of life, that we must look for some good reason for the
persistent confusion between the two which we so commonly
find. " And," he adds, " such a reason is found in the theory
of human action held by Bentham (and generally speaking by
^ See pp. 64, 65.
^As we shall see later, this statement requires considerable modification.
Henry Sidgwick. 375
his disciples), which has been discussed in a previous chapter.
Though ethically Epicureanism and Benthamism may be
viewed as standing in polar opposition, psychologically Ben-
tham is in fundamental agreement with Epicureans. He
holds that a man ought to aim at the maximum felicity of men
in general ; but he holds, also, that he always does aim at
what appears to him his own maximum felicity — that he
cannot help doing this — that this is the way his volition in-
evitably acts." 1
The above almost literal reproduction of the substance of
this chapter in its original form has seemed desirable, first,
because the first edition of the Methods is not, of course,
readily accessible to most readers, and secondly, because this
earliest version shows exactly how the author came to classify
the Methods of Ethics as he has once for all done. Before
criticising this classification, it is important to note certain
differences in the latest version, published twenty-seven years
afterward (1901).^ One modification had long before become
necessary. Some reference, at least, had to be made to the
principle of Self-realisation as affording a possible Method
of Ethics, for this had actually become one of the most impor-
tant ' methods ' in the hands of contemporary ethical writers.
Curiously enough, however, this principle is hardly more than
mentioned in the later form of the present chapter, in which
the author explains and defends his own classification. Practi-
cally the only reference to it is to be found in the revised
form of the passage in which ' God's Will ' and ' living accord-
ing to Nature ' are considered only to be rejected, as prin-
ciples not deserving the position of separate Methods of
Ethics.
Professor Sidgwick says : " Many religious persons think
that the highest reason for doing anything is that it is God's
Will : while to others ' Self-realisation ' or ' Self-development,'
and to others, again, ' Life according to Nature ' appear the
1 See p. 67.
2 The latest version is not essentially different from some which preceded it,
but is referred to here as indicating the author's final position.
376 History of Utilitarianism.
really ultimate ends ". But he almost immediately adds :
" God, Nature, Self, are the fundamental facts of existence ;
the knowledge of what will accomplish God's Will, what is
' according to Nature,' what will realise the true Self in each of
us, would seem to solve the deepest problems of Metaphysics
as well as of Ethics. But just because these notions combine
the ideal with the actual, their proper sphere belongs not to
Ethics as I define it, but to Philosophy — the central and
supreme study which is concerned with the relations of all
objects of knowledge." ^
There follows a further examination of the conceptions of
' conformity to God's Will ' and ' life according to Nature,' as
affording guides for conduct ; but we are informed in a note,
that the notion of ' Self-realisation ' will more conveniently
be considered in the following chapter, which is devoted to
an examination of Egoism. It will thus be seen that, at the
crucial point of the discussion, where the author is once for all
deciding what shall be regarded as the typical Methods of
Ethics, the issue with Self-realisation is avoided rather than
met. This would be very difficult to understand, if we were
not able to refer back to the earliest version of this chapter
(1874), where the author quite naturally overlooked the signifi-
cance of this possible method,^ which, if taken seriously,
tends so materially to discredit the classification here adopted.
But, even so, it is rather puzzling to find that, while the earliest
form of this chapter represented the classification of ethical
methods adopted as tentative rather than as logically complete
and final, the later versions are much more dogmatic in tone,
and do not appear to suggest any doubt as to the complete
adequacy of the classification. Perhaps it became evident to
Professor Sidgwick himself, that, if the classification should
prove seriously defective, this would have to be regarded as
very seriously detracting from the validity of the results ob-
tained ; for, as we shall soon see, given the classification, the
results are almost a foregone conclusion.
^ See p. 79.
2 It will be remembered that Bradley's Ethical Studies, e.g., was published
two years later.
Henry Sidgwick. 2>ll
But, before we venture to criticise this classification further,
it will be well to avoid possible misconceptions by noticing
certain additional explanations of the terms Egoism and In-
tuitionism, as here used, which will be found in the conclud-
ing chapters of Book I. And, as before indicated, under the
discussion of Egoism we shall find the author's further, and
final, explanation of his refusal to recognise Self-realisation
as an independent Method of Ethics. Neglecting the order of
exposition, we may first notice that what is here said of In-
tuitionism, though admirably clear and to the point, as far as
it goes, does not really add much to our understanding of the
author's position. He very properly suggests that we must
distinguish three forms of Intuitionism : (i) the 'ultra-intui-
tional ' view, which " recognises simple immediate intuitions
alone [referring to the particular act in question] and discards
as superfluous all modes of reasoning to moral conclusions " ;
(2) the ordinary intuitional view, " of which the fundamental
assumption is that we can discern certain general rules with
really clear and finally valid intuition " ; and (3) what may be
called Philosophical, as opposed to Perceptional or Dogmatic,
Intuitionism — i.e., the form of Intuitionism which, " while ac-
cepting the morality of common sense as in the main sound,
still attempts to find for it a philosophic basis which it does
not itself offer : to get one or more principles more absolutely
and undeniably true and evident, from which the current rules
might be deduced, either just as they are commonly received
or with slight modifications and rectifications ".^
It is to be observed, that no further attempt is here made
to show that systems which regard Perfection as the end
necessarily come under the head of Intuitionism. If, as the
author has previously assumed, the ' perfection ' meant is
merely ' moral perfection,' no objection can well be made ;
but if, as certain later passages in the book would seem to in-
dicate, the principle of Self-realisation is regarded as one form
of the perfection doctrine, it will readily be seen that the
classification is, in this respect, rather seriously misleading.
^ See pp. 100-102.
378 History of Utilitarianism.
As already indicated, however, the only further reference
made to Self-realisation, in the chapters which we are consider-
ing occurs in the discussion as to the precise meaning of
Egoism. The chapter devoted to this discussion we shall now
briefly examine. One possible ambiguity in the use of the
term Egoism would be almost sure to suggest itself. Egoism
might stand for ' self-preservation ' as well as for the consistent
pursuit of one's own happiness. In fact, it is often self-pre-
servation rather than pleasure that Hobbes appears to have
in mind in the development of his system. Professor Sidgwick
does not, however, point out that there is also a possible
ambiguity in the use of ' self-preservation ' ; but rather im-
mediately remarks that " in Spinoza's view the principle of
rational action is necessarily egoistic, and is (as with Hobbes)
the impulse of self-preservation ". By itself this would be
seriously misleading, but the author himself adds : " Still it is
not at Pleasure that the impulse primarily aims, but at the
mind's Perfection or Reality : as we should now say, at Self-
realisation or Self-development ".^
Even if this were all that needed to be said on this point,
it would be evident that ' self-preservation ' in this sense is
by no means the equivalent of * egoism,' as ordinarily under-
stood, for the realisation of an ideal self is plainly something
very different from the satisfaction of what may be called
one's ' empirical self,' with all its peculiarities and even per-
verted tendencies. Moreover, if allied with any metaphysical
theory, Egoism, in the strict sense, could only go with one
which should regard the individual being as, at least practi-
cally, a metaphysical ultimate ; whereas it is only too evident
that, in Spinoza's system, the individual as such is only a
passing phase or manifestation of the Universal Substance.
But, neglecting this historical reference, which can hardly
be regarded as fortunate, let us consider the author's final
reason for neglecting Self-realisation as a separate Method of
Ethics. He says : " It may be said, however, that we do not,
^ See p. 90.
I
Henry Sidgwick. 379
properly speaking, ' develop ' or ' realise ' self by yielding to
the impulse which happens to be predominant in us ;^ but by
exercising, each in its due place and proper degree, all the
different faculties, capacities, and propensities, of which our
nature is made up. But here there is an important ambiguity.
What do we mean by ' due proportion and proper degree ' ?
These terms may imply an ideal, into conformity with which
the individual mind has to be trained, by restraining some of
its natural impulses and strengthening others, and developing
its higher faculties rather than its lower : or they may merely
refer to the original combination and proportion of tendencies
in the character with which each is born. . . . According to the
former interpretation rational Self-development is merely an-
other term for the pursuit of Perfection for oneself : while
in the latter sense it hardly appears that Self-development
(when clearly distinguished) is really put forward as an abso-
lute end, but rather as a means to happiness." ^ Hence the
author concludes that, on the whole, " the notion of Self-
realisation is to be avoided in a treatise on ethical method,
on account of its indefiniteness ".
It is doubtless true, that writers standing for the Self-
realisation theory have often laid themselves open to the
charge of indefiniteness in their treatment of ethical problems ;
but it is only fair to say, that neither of the two interpretations
of the principle of Self-realisation which Professor Sidgwick
here allows could be admitted as adequately characterising
the method, even when somewhat carelessly employed. The
second of the supposed alternatives may, of course, be dis-
missed at once. No ethical writer worthy of consideration
has held that the ' due proportion and proper degree ' of
development of the various sides of our nature " merely refer
to the original combination and proportion of tendencies in
the character with which each is bom ".
On the other hand, it is rather misleading merely to speak
in general terms of " an ideal, into conformity with which
^ See p. gi.
380 History of Utilitarianism.
the individual mind has to be trained, by restraining some of
its natural impulses and strengthening others, and developing
its higher faculties rather than its lower," for this is adopting
precisely the language of ordinary Intuitionism rather than
that of Self-realisation. ' Higher ' and ' lower ' are, indeed,
conceptions which exist for Self-realisation, as for all other
recognised Methods of Ethics ; ^ but they are by no means
necessarily regarded by the moralist of that school as in-
tuitive ultimates. On the contrary, they are supposed to be
explainable in terms of the more or less complete ; moreover,
the Self which is to be developed is, of course, a social or
ideal self, with all the implications which this involves, and
not merely what we have just ventured to call the ' empirical
self,' which latter is obviously the result of heredity and en-
vironment in each particular case. It is hardly necessary
to say that no attempt is here made to explain, much less
to vindicate, the Self-realisation theory. I would merely sug-
gest that, even in the last edition of the Methods, it is not
stated in terms that could be accepted by its supporters.
Professor Sidgwick concludes this discussion as follows :
" To sum up. Egoism, if we merely understand by it a method
that aims at Self-realisation, seems to be a form into which
almost any ethical system may be thrown, without modifying
its essential characteristics. And even when further defined
as Egoistic Hedonism, it is still imperfectly distinguishable
from Intuitionism if quality of pleasures is admitted as a con-
sideration distinct from and overruling quantity. There
remains then Pure or Quantitative Egoistic Hedonism, which,
as a method essentially distinct from all others and widely
maintained to be rational, seems to deserve a detailed
examination." .^
^ Of course the hedonist recognises th.Q prima facie distinction between ' higher '
and ' lower,' but explains it in his own way.
CHAPTER XVIL
HENRY SIDGWICK (continued).
After these careful, if also somewhat tedious preliminaries,
we are at length in a position to appreciate the exact signifi-
cance of the author's classification, upon which so much
depends. It is hardly necessary to say more at present re-
garding his failure to recognise Self-realisation as one of the
Methods of Ethics. Such an omission would hardly be pos-
sible in a recent ethical treatise ; but we are always to re-
member that Professor Sidgwick has strictly adhered to the
lines laid down in the first edition of the Methods (1874),
which, to mention only two significant dates, was published
two years before Bradley's Ethical Studies (1876) and nine
years before Green's Prolegomena to Ethics (1883). Neglect-
ing, then, what would otherwise seem so strange an omission,
and confining ourselves to the classification as actually given
in all editions of the Methods, we shall do well to scrutinise
this classification somewhat carefully before we proceed.
We find what purport to be three distinct Methods of Ethics,
Egoism (or Egoistic Hedonism), Intuitionism, and Utilitarian-
ism (or Universalistic Hedonism) ; and the implication, at
least in the later editions of the Methods, would seem to be
that this division must be regarded as exhaustive. No ob-
jection, of course, could possibly be made to regarding Intui-
tionism as a separate Method of Ethics ; but it is the author's
peculiar view, that what he terms Egoism is even more dis-
tinct from Intuitionism and Utilitarianism than these are from
each other. In fact, it is largely by emphasising the antithesis
between Egoistic Hedonism and Universalistic Hedonism,
(381)
382 Histoiy of Utilitarianism.
that he is able to show what he conceives to be the com-
paratively close relation between Universalistic Hedonism and
Intuitionism.
But a very serious objection at once presents itself. Is
Egoism a Method of Ethics at all, even according to the
author's carefully formulated definitions ? There is, indeed,
no question that many English moralists, from the time of
Hobbes down at least to the time of J. S. Mill, held that the
motive of the moral agent was necessarily egoistic ; and
nobody held this view more strongly than Bentham himself,
as Professor Sidgwick candidly admits. If, then, all were to
be classed as Egoists who held this theory of the moral motive,
we should plainly have to include all the English Utilitarians
before Mill, with the exception of Cumberland, Hartley, and
Hume {i.e., as represented by the second form of his theory).
In truth, we should have to go much further than this, and
include other moralists wholly outside the Utilitarian school,
for the selfish theory of the moral motive was a natural result
of eighteenth century individualism. Even the greatest of
English moralists, Butler himself, would not wholly escape,
according to Professor Sidgwick's interpretation of his doc-
trine, for he elsewhere says : " It is by no means Butler's
view (as is very commonly supposed) that self-love is naturally
subordinate to conscience. . . . He treats them as independent
principles, and so far co-ordinate in authority that it is not
' according to nature ' that either should be over-ruled. . . . He
even goes so far as to ' let it be allowed ' that ' if there
ever should be, as it is impossible there ever should be, any in-
consistence between them,' conscience would have to give way."^
Plainly, then, the egoistic theory of the moral motive cannot
be what Professor Sidgwick means, when he speaks of Egoism
as constituting a separate Method of Ethics. A ' Method of
Ethics,' as clearly indicated in the Preface to the first edition,
is one of " the different methods of obtaining reasoned con-
victions as to what ought to be done which are to be found —
either explicit or implicit — in the moral consciousness of man-
^ See History of Ethics, pp. 194, 195.
Henry Sidgwick. 383
kind generally: and which, from time to time, have been
developed, either singly or in combination, by individual
thinkers, and worked up into the systems now historical ".
Now it may confidently be maintained that not one of the
many moralists referred to above, as holding or seeming to
hold the egoistic theory of the moral motive, ever so much
as suggested that one could obtain " reasoned convictions
as to what ought to be done " by merely computing what
would bring the most pleasure to one's self. It was character-
istic of the essential dualism of their general view of Ethics
to consider the subjective end of action, or the motive of tlie
moral agent, quite apart from the objective end, or standard of
whatever sort, which was supposed to determine the morality
of human actions. Even Hobbes, the arch-egoist, according
to the ordinary conception of Egoism, was no exception, for
he explicitly held that those things are ' right ' or ' wrong '
which are declared to be such by the constituted civil autho-
rity ; and perhaps no English moralist would have been more
averse to having the individual decide for himself what was
* right * or ' wrong ' on the basis of a deliberate computation
of his private chances of happiness.
Who, then, is the Egoist intended .'* It would not do to
urge that certain depraved characters do, as a matter of fact,
appear to seek their own happiness regardless of all else ; for,
even when free rein is given to the self-seeking impulse, it
is apparently never claimed by the agent himself that a ^iven
action is to be regarded as moral, on general principles, merely
because it promises to conduce to his own selfish pleasure, ^
though, of course, his moral judgments in particular cases may
be fatally warped by selfish considerations. Moreover, it is
wholly needless to point out that Egoism is used by the author,
not by any means as a term of reproach, but as a convenient
designation for what he conceives to be one of the three pos-
sible Methods of Ethics. All this is puzzling in a writer so
logical, for the most part, as Professor Sidgwick. One can
^This would be too flagrant a contradiction even for the immoral con-
sciousness.
384 History of Utilitarianism.
only conclude that, in his very serious, and largely successful,
attempt to differentiate the modern form of Utilitarianism,
for which he himself stands, from the older form which based
upon the assumed necessary egoism of the moral agent, he
has unconsciously developed, in what he terms Egoism, the
conception of a form of hedonistic theory which in reality has
never existed in Modern Ethics, and which never could exist
as a ' Method of Ethics,' if by this we are to understand a
method of " obtaining reasoned convictions as to what ought
to be done ".
It would almost seem that Professor Sidgwick wished to
forestall this criticism in a passage which appeared for the
first time in the fifth edition of the Methods (1893). This is
at the beginning of Book II., which is devoted to an examina-
tion of the ' method ' of Egoism. In the first four editions of
the treatise, he seems to have suspected no difficulty, for he
had said : " It is, perhaps, a sufficient reason for considering
this \i.e., Egoism] first of the three systems ^ with which this
treatise is principally concerned, that there seems to be more
general agreement among reflective persons as to the reason-
ableness of its fundamental principle, than exists in the case
either of Intuitionism or of that Universalistic Hedonism
to which I propose to restrict the name of Utilitarianism ".^
On the other hand, the passage referred to above, as having
first appeared in the fifth edition, reads as follows : " It may be
doubted whether this {i.e.. Egoism] ought to be included
among received ' methods of Ethics ' ; since there are strong
grounds for holding that a system of morality, satisfactory to
the moral consciousness of mankind in general, cannot be
constructed on the basis of simple Egoism. In subsequent
chapters I shall carefully discuss these reasons .- at present it
seems sufficient to say — ^what will hardly be denied — that no
principle of conduct is more widely accepted than the pro-
position that it is reasonable for a man to act in the manner
most conducive to his own happiness." ^ Then, as in all
^ ' Methods ' in fourth edition.
* See p. 107 (first edition). ' See p. 119 (fifth edition).
Henry Sidgwick. 385
previous editions, he goes on to show that ethical writers as
different as Bentham, Butler, Clarke, and Berkeley, ahke,
though in somewhat different terms, concede the ultimate
reasonableness of acting for one's own happiness.
But if the object of this belated passage really was to fore-
stall the very serious criticism, that the first of the author's
three Methods of Ethics is not a ' method ' of Ethics at all,
it is not difficult to show that it wholly fails in its purpose.
With all respect to Professor Sidgwick, one must submit that
it is by no means sufficient to point out that " no principle of
conduct is more widely accepted than the proposition that it
is reasonable for a man to act in the manner most conducive
to his own happiness ". In truth, there is a double ambiguity
here. Does ' reasonable,' as here used, mean ' reasonable,
other things being equal ' or ' ultimately reasonable ' ? If
the former, the principle is indeed generally admitted by those
who admit the claims of happiness at all, but it is irrelevant
in a discussion with regard to what mode of conduct is ' ulti-
mately reasonable '. Again, if ' ultimately reasonable ' is what
is meant, it becomes extremely important to know in what
sense acting for one's own happiness is to be so regarded.
It proves altogether too much to refer to the concessions of
Bentham, Butler, Clarke, and Berkeley on this point. Each
of the first three, at any rate, had a method different from that
of either of the others for determining the rightness or wrong-
ness of actions ; but all, being alike of the eighteenth century,,,
were inclined to admit that it must be for the agent's selfish
interest to be moral. So we are brought back to the selfish
theory of the moral motive, which, as we have already seen,
and as this mention of Bentham, Butler, Clarke, and Berkeley
aptly illustrates, cannot by itself possibly be regarded as
affording the basis for a separate Method of Ethics. In a
word, while many of the older English moralists, otherwise
representing the most diverse tendencies, held the ego-
istic theory of the moral motive, or at least used language
that would permit of that interpretation, not one of them ever
claimed, or so much as suggested, that one could determine
25
386 History of Utilitarianism.
the morality of actions by computing one's private chances of
happiness.
In fact, a careful reading of Book II., on " Egoism," in any
one of the slightly differing versions, will show that what is
really considered is the practicability of ordering one's life on
the principle of Egoistic Hedonism, not whether morality
itself can be rationalised by the application of that principle.
It is hardly necessary to say that the method of treatment, in
this respect, differs very materially from that employed in
Book III., on " Intuitionism," and in Book IV., on " Utili-
tarianism ". Still, the substance of Book II. is by no means
unimportant, for it is here that Professor Sidgwick first con-
siders in detail both the implications and the real or supposed
difficulties of Hedonism in general. Indeed, it will be found,
in many cases, that important problems connected with He-
donism are discussed only in this book.
The fundamental assumption of Hedonism as such is shown
to be ' the commensurability of pleasures and pains '.^ Un-
less a more or less definite quantitative comparison be possible,
it is plain that both Egoism and Utilitarianism must be re-
jected as impracticable methods. It is sometimes claimed
that certain pleasures and pains are so intense that any com-
parison between them and others is out of the question, but
this particular objection to the hedonistic calculus can hardly
be sustained. We commonly assume that " all the pleasures
and pains that man can experience bear a finite ratio to each
other in respect of pleasantness and its opposite ". This idea
of an arrangement of pleasures and pains in a scale, as greater
or less in some finite degree, might seem to involve the as-
sumption of a ' hedonistic zero,' or perfectly neutral feeling.
It is not necessary to decide whether this strictly neutral
feeling ever occurs ; but it is worth noticing that a state
very nearly approximating to this is even common. At the
same time this fact would not seem to present any special
^ See pp. 123 et seq.
Henry Sidgwick. 387
difficulty. The celebrated dictum of Epicurus, that the state
of painlessness is equivalent to the highest possible pleasure,
is too paradoxical to require definite refutation.
The first real difficulty occurs, when we try to define pleas-
ure and pain for purposes of quantitative comparison. Mr.
Spencer defines pleasure as " a feeling which we seek to bring
into consciousness and retain there " ; but, while adequate for
purposes of distinction, this definition is hardly appropriate
for purposes of quantitative comparison, since it can hardly
be held that pleasures are greater or less, exactly in proportion
as they exercise more or less influence in stimulating the will
to actions tending to sustain or produce them.^ For the
present purpose, it will be convenient to define pleasure as
" feeling which, when experienced by intelligent beings, is at
least implicitly apprehended as desirable or — in cases of com-
parison — preferable ". As regards the old problem concerning
the so-called ' qualitative distinctions ' between pleasures, we
may fairly conclude that, " when one kind of pleasure is
judged to be qualitatively superior to another, although less
pleasant, it is not really the feeling itself that is preferred, but
something in the objective conditions under which it arises " ;
for it seems impossible to find in feeling as such any other
preferable quality than that which we call ' pleasantness '.^
After this admirably clear statement of the general aspects
of the problem, Professor Sidgwick proceeds to examine care-
fully and most impartially certain of the more common ob-
jections to the hedonistic calculus. It is impossible here to
go into details ; but, on the whole, it must be conceded that he
allows to the objections mentioned fully as much weight as
they deserve. Unfortunately, however, he does not consider
the objection which Mr. Spencer had urged with such force in
Social Statics (1851), viz., that the hedonistic calculus is im-
possible, because there would necessarily be an important
shifting of the scale of hedonic values with every stage
of intellectual or moral progress (or decadence), whether on
the part of the individual, the community, the nation, or the
^ See p. 126. 2 ggg p J29.
388 History of Utilitarianism.
race.^ In the opinion of the present writer, this is the one
really fatal objection to the hedonistic calculus. And it will
be seen to have an important theoretical, as well as practical,
bearing ; for if the assumed ultimate, happiness, be found
to vary in proportion as something else varies, external
conditions remaining the same, there is at least a very strong
presumption that it may prove not to be the true ultimate
after all.
On the other hand, altogether too much weight seems
generally to have been attached to the objection, that the
quantitative comparison of particular pleasures and pains can-
not be carried to the point of scientific precision ; for the com-
parison actually attempted nearly always is, not between
particular pleasures and pains, but between the pleasurable
or painful results of certain classes of actions, where the
known actual preferences of ourselves and others are at least
of considerable assistance. The difficulties involved in such a
comparison are, indeed, very serious from any point of view ;
but they would not necessarily be unsurmountable, if it were
not for the inevitable shifting of the scale of hedonic values
referred to above. In truth, as we had occasion to notice
in a previous chapter, the question of more or less, whole or
part, is one which arises not only in connection with the
hedonistic calculus, but for any method of Ethics which seri-
ously attempts to explain how we are to determine the right-
ness or wrongness of particular classes of actions. Otherwise
expressed, this difficulty is practical before it is theoretical ;
for the moment we transcend the crudest form of Intuition-
ism, which refuses to go beyond what is conceived to be the
infallible verdict of ' conscience ' in each individual case, we
discover that the regulation of conduct must depend upon a
comparison of values, extrinsic or intrinsic, which, from the
very nature of the case, can never become mathematically
exact.
^ It will be noted that this is a somewhat free rendering of Mr. Spencer's
objection, but the attempt has been made to state it in its most comprehensive
form.
Henry Sidgwick. 389
The final chapter of Book II., originally called " Other
Forms of the Egoistic Method," then " Other Methods of
Egoistic Hedonism," and finally, " Deductive Hedonism," has
been considerably changed since it first appeared ; but the
modifications are not of a kind to detain us. What the author
has throughout been concerned to prove is, that no hedonistic
method is in the last resort able to dispense with the hedonistic
calculus. In the first edition it was clearly shown that, though
Mr. Spencer had objected so strongly to the hedonistic cal-
culus, he had in reality by no means supplied a deductive
method which would take its place, and, moreover, that the
other less ambitious indirect methods of determining what
will make for happiness or its contrary are too vague to be
of much practical assistance. In the later form of the chapter,
' Scientific Hedonism ' is examined a good deal more care-
fully, but with practically the same result. The author very
justly concludes that, try as we may to avoid it, we are inevi-
tably thrown back upon the empirical method, i.e., some form
of the hedonistic calculus, so long as we hold to Hedonism at
all. It would hardly be possible to do justice to his very
cogent argument by any brief paraphrase ; and perhaps this
is the less necessary since, in our detailed examination of
Mr. Spencer's ethical writings, we have already found how
little is really accomplished here by the parade of scientific
method.
At this point Professor Sidgwick somewhat abruptly takes
leave of Hedonism for a considerable time, and devotes Book
III. to a sympathetic, but at the same time very searching,
examination of Intuitionism. We have seen that the title
of Book II., i.e., " Egoism," is a little misleading, since the
greater part of the book is really devoted to a consideration
of the more general aspects of Hedonism. In fact, we have
purposely abstracted from the particular applications to Ego-
ism, since this is so far from deserving the dignity of a
separate Method of Ethics. Now it should be carefully noted
that by far the greater part of Book III., which itself is about
390 History of Utilitarianism.
twice the length of any other book in the treatise, is devoted,
not to an examination of Intuitionism as a separate Method
of Ethics, but to an extremely careful analysis of what the
author terms ' the morality of Common Sense '.
Such a method of treatment was perfectly logical, and
perhaps necessary ; but it is important to keep in mind that
the moral judgments of Common Sense, whatever these may
turn out to be, are by no means the peculiar property of
Intuitionism. They may be thought more or less significant,
and obviously they are susceptible of quite different inter-
pretations and evaluations from the points of view of the
various types of ethical theory ; but, as facts of the moral life,
they must be taken account of in any adequate treatment of
Ethics, provided, of course, that they are not too vague and
conflicting to admit of fairly satisfactory formulation. To the
present writer it seems, that Professor Sidgwick has contri-
buted something of great importance to Ethics by carrying
through this rigorous analysis of our common moral judg-
ments, before making any serious attempt to evaluate them
or to prove or disprove anything by them. The common
defect of such discussions is, that the writer who attempts them
carries a brief in his hand ; but every candid reader must
admit that nothing could well be more judicial than the temper
which Professor Sidgwick manifests throughout. Of course,
it is easy to criticise any work of this kind. ' Common Sense '
is a vague term, and what are given as the apparent moral
judgments of the plain man may seem alternately naive and
sophisticated ; but, on the whole, it may fairly be conceded
that the author has performed this very important and diffi-
cult task more satisfactorily than any other English writer has
done up to the present time.
It would be quite impossible to examine this part of the
Methods of Ethics in detail, without devoting to such an
examination more space than would here be warranted. Only
a few points will be noticed. In this case, no stress is laid
by the author upon the provisional classification adopted.
The verdict of the common moral consciousness regarding
Henry Sidgwick. 391
the principal recognised virtues is subjected to the most
minute and searching examination. The greatest importance
is naturally attached to Benevolence and Justice, to each of
which a long chapter is devoted. It is not strange that the
result of such careful analysis should be much the same in all
cases. The original dogmatic propositions of common sense
are found to require important limitations, these limitations
also being at least partly recognised by common sense itself.
But the further the analysis is carried, the more difficult it
becomes to state the exact nature of the limitations required.
Common sense is found often to be at variance with itself,
so that in many cases it looks as if the original principles
threatened to elude us altogether — at any rate, unless we
should take refuge in some definite form of ethical theory,
which would at once carry us beyond the point of view of the
' plain man,' with which alone we are concerned at present.
We should naturally expect to find the greatest clearness
and consistency in the case of our conception of Justice, but
this turns out to be especially difficult to define satisfactorily.
Nothing, in fact, could well afford a greater contrast to Mr.
Spencer's recklessly dogmatic treatment of this virtue than
Professor Sidgwick's very elaborate and extremely able an-
alysis of our actual everyday judgments as to what things are
just or the contrary. Incidentally, indeed, he shows how
perfectly impossible it is to regard ' freedom from interference '
as a principle at once practically intuitive and sufficient to
rationalise our ordinary conceptions of Justice.
After this very elaborate examination of the actual moral
judgments of Common Sense, Professor Sidgwick raises the
question : Do we find here a sufficient basis for dogmatic
Intuitionism ? He himself, though by no means wholly op-
posed to Intuitionism as such, is far from drawing this conclu-
sion. We require of an axiom, that it shall be (i) stated in
clear and precise terms, (2) really self-evident, (3) not conflict-
ing with any other truth, and (4) supported by an adequate
' concensus of experts '. Now he admits that, in the previous
examination of the morality of Common Sense, he has dis-
392 History of Utilitainanism..
covered few, if any, maxims that fulfil these conditions. Of
these maxims of Common Sense, he very truly says : " So long
as they are left in the state of somewhat vague generalities,
as we meet them in ordinary discourse, we are disposed to yield
them unquestioning assent, and it may be fairly claimed that
the assent is approximately universal — in the sense that any
expression of dissent is eccentric and paradoxical. But as
soon as we attempt to give them the definiteness which science
requires, we find that we cannot do this without abandoning
the universality of acceptance. We find, in some cases, that
alternatives present themselves, between which it is necessary
that we should decide ; but between which we cannot pretend
that Common Sense does decide, and which often seem equally
or nearly equally plausible." ^
All this, of course, is not to be understood as implying that
we are left in doubt as to what is right or wrong in ordinary
conduct. On this point. Professor Sidgwick carefully defines
his position at the end of the chapter. He says : " The
notions of Benevolence, Justice, Good Faith, Veracity, Purity,
etc., are not necessarily emptied of significance for us, because
we have found it impossible to define them with precision.
The main part of the conduct prescribed under each notion
is sufficiently clear : and the general rule prescribing it does
not necessarily lose its force because there is in each case a
margin of conduct involved in obscurity and perplexity, or
because the rule does not on examination appear to be abso-
lute and independent In short, the Morality of Common
Sense may still be perfectly adequate to give practical guid-
ance to common people in common circumstances : but the
attempt to elevate it into a system of Intuitional Ethics brings
its inevitable imperfections into prominence without helping
us to remove them." ^
It remains to see whether some other form of Intuitionism
may not promise success, where ordinary dogmatic Intuition-
ism is so manifestly doomed to failure. The attempt has
sometimes been made to show that moral judgments strictly
^See p. 342. ^See pp. 360, 361.
Henry Sidgwick. 393
apply, not to acts, but to desires or affections. It is natural
to fall back upon this view, when the difficulties of ordinary
Intuitionism become too apparent ; but Professor Sidgwick
very truly observes, that nearly all the difficulties which we
have previously encountered reappear in a different form, when
we try to arrange motives in order of excellence, while " such
a construction presents difficulties peculiar to itself, and the
attempt to solve these exhibits greater and more fundamental
differences among Intuitive moralists, as regards Rank of
Motive, than we found to exist as regards Rightness of
outward acts "?■ In the pages which follow, these criticisms
are abundantly sustained ; but the particular arguments em-
ployed hardly need detain us. It is perhaps enough to notice
that the tendency toward subjectivity, which is commonly
recognised as the greatest danger of Intuitionism as such, is
needlessly accentuated in this form of the doctrine. We may
therefore properly pass on at once to Philosophical In-
tuitionisnL
Here, again, it seems desirable to notice the author's earlier
treatment, as contained in the first edition of the Methods,
before taking up the later form of the same discussion. He
begins with an important word of caution. We must very
carefully guard against a certain class of ' sham axioms,'
which have not infrequently deluded even moralists of con-
siderable repute.2 For example, it has been urged that the
dictates of Wisdom and Temperance may be reduced to the
following intuitive principles : (i) It is right to act rationally;
and (2) it is right that the lower parts of our nature should
be governed by the higher. But the tautology becomes
obvious, when we find that ' acting rationally ' is merely
another phrase for ' doing what we see to be right,' and that
the ' higher part ' of our nature, to which the ' lower parts '
are to defer, is nothing other than ' reason ' itself. These
definitions may be found in modern writers ; but it must be
observed that nearly the whole of the ethical speculation of
1 See p. 365. 2 See pp 353 ^t gg^^
394 History of Utilitarianism.
Greece, though in many respects of the greatest interest and
value, has this incurable defect. Is there any way of avoid-
ing such circular reasonings, and attaining clear intuitive truths
of substantial value ? The author replies : " I believe that
there is such a way : though we must be careful not to ex-
aggerate the amount of the moral knowledge to which it con-
ducts us. And I think we may find it by following the two
thinkers who in modern times have most earnestly maintained
the strictly scientific character of ethical principles: viz.y
Clarke in England, and Kant in Germany." ^
Abstracting from the particular form of Clarke's theory^
which is largely determined by his anxiety to exhibit the
supposed parallelism between ethical and mathematical truths,
we may note that he recognises two fundamental ' rules of
righteousness ' ; the first of which he terms ' Equity,' and the
second ' Love,' or ' Benevolence '. The clearest of his three
slightly differing statements of the Rule of Equity is as fol-
lows : " Whatever I judge reasonable or unreasonable that
another should do for me : that by the same judgment I
declare reasonable or unreasonable, that I should in the like
case do for him ". This principle is accepted by the author
as really self-evident, " as much so as the axioms of mathe-
matics, whether or not it be desirable to classify it with them ".
At the same time, he admits that this principle is prima facie
insufficient for the complete determination of just or equitable
conduct.
As for Clarke's ' second branch of the Rule of Righteous-
ness ' with respect to our fellow creatures, his well-known
principle of ' universal Love or Benevolence,' the elaborate
formula which he actually gives is not altogether fortunate ;
but it should be observed that " what Clarke urges is, that the
Good of any one individual cannot be more intrinsically desir-
able, because it is his, than the equal Good of any other
individual. So that our notion of Ultimate Good, at the
realisation of which it is evidently reasonable to aim, must
include the Good of every one on the same ground that it
1 See p. 357.
Henry Sidgwick. 395
includes that of any one." ^ This principle, again, seems to
be as much a self-evident truth as the principle of Equity.
There follows an interpretation and criticism of Kant's
ethical theory (the details of which are omitted in later
editions), which is intended to show that two propositions,
substantially identical with those just examined, are there
propounded as the chief ultimate principles of conduct. These
are : " First, that nothing can be right for me which is not
right for all persons in similar circumstances : and secondly,
that I cannot regard the fulfilment of my desires, or my own
happiness, as intrinsically more desirable (or more to be re-
garded by me as a rational end) than the equal happiness of
anyone else ". The author concludes .- " But now, of these
two propositions, the first is a necessary postulate of all ethical
systems, being an expression of what is involved in the mere
conception of objective Tightness and wrongness in conduct :
while the second is the fundamental principle of that particular
system which (in Book I.) we called Utilitarianism ".-
The significance of this second principle in such a connec-
tion is particularly emphasised. In fact, the author maintains
that " we have found it as the final outcome of philosophical
Intuitionism, the final result of inquiry after really clear and
self-evident ethical axioms, as conducted by philosophers who
are commonly regarded as eminent examples of the Intuitional
mode of thought ". And he closes the chapter with a criti-
cism of Mill's proof of the principle of Utility, as given in
Chapter iv. of the Utilitarianism. Mill argued that, since
each does actually desire his own happiness, it must be ad-
mitted that ' the greatest happiness is desirable ' — in the sense
that this is what each individual ought to desire, or at least
to aim at realising in action. But it may fairly be claimed
that this argument leads primarily to the principle of Ego-
istic, instead of Universalistic Hedonism, and that the only
way of meeting this objection is to show, substantially as
Clarke and Kant have done, the necessary universality of the
^ See p. 360. 2 ggg p 264.
396 History of Utilitarianism.
ultimate end, as recognised by Reason. " Thus Utilitarianism
appears as the final form into which a really scientific In-
tuitionism tends to pass."
But there is one remaining difficulty here, which the author
very pertinently points out, after having seemed to overlook
it altogether. Omitting details, it is this : " The hedonistic
interpretation which Mill and his school give to the principle
of Universal Benevolence, seems inadmissible when the prin-
ciple is enunciated as a self-evident axiom. In thus enunciat-
ing it, we must use, as Clarke does, the wider terms ' Welfare '
or ' Good,' and say tha.t each individual man, as a rational
being, is bound to aim at the Good of all other men. This
brings us naturally to the question. What is ' Good ' ? which,
it seems, still remains to be determined." ^
When the later form of this very important chapter is com-
pared with the above reproduction of the treatment in the
first edition, it will be found that certain differences worth
mentioning begin to appear at the point where the question
is raised : What may really be accepted as valid intuitions .-*
Instead of directly appealing to the well-known axioms of
Clarke and to his own manifestly one-sided interpretation of
Kant, Professor Sidgwick directly argues that " whatever
action any of us judges to be right for himself, he implicitly
judges to be right for all similar persons in similar circum-
stances "? And he holds that a corresponding proposition
may be stated with equal truth in respect of what ought to
be done to — not by — difTerent individuals. These principles
appear in the Golden Rule, ' Do to others as you would have
them do to you ' ; but that formula is obviously inexact, for
one might wish for another's co-operation in sin, and be willing
to reciprocate it. " In short the self-evident principle strictly
stated must take some such negative form as this ; * it cannot
be right for A to treat 5 in a manner in which it would
be wrong for B to treat A, merely on the ground that they
^ See p. 366. The author's answer to this question will be carefully con-
sidered later.
^ See pp. 379 et seq.
Henry Sidgwick. 397
are two different individuals, and without there being any
difference between the natures or circumstances of the two
which can be stated as a reasonable ground for difference of
treatment." While such a rule manifestly does not give
complete guidance in respect to just conduct, its practical im-
portcuice cannot be questioned, and its truth, so far as it goes,
appears to be self-evident. A somewhat different application
of the same fundamental principle, that individuals in similar
circumstances should be treated similarly, appears in that
' impartiality in the application of general rules ' which is so
important an element in the common notion of Justice, in
fact, the author's extremely careful analysis of the ordinary
conception of Justice went to show, that no other element
than this could be intuitively known with perfect clearness
and certainty.
Besides the principle just explained, which is regarded as
affording an intuitive foundation for the conception of Justice,
there are two others, referring respectively to rational Pru-
dence and Benevolence, which to Professor Sidgwick appear
also to be intuitively apprehended. He says : " The proposi-
tion * that one ought to aim at one's own good ' is sometimes
given as the maxim of Rational Self-love or Prudence : but
as so stated it does not clearly avoid tautology ; since we may
define ' good ' as ' what one ought to aim at '. If, however, we
say ' one's good on the whole,' the addition suggests a prin-
ciple which, when explicitly stated, is, at any rate, not tauto-
logical. . . . All that the principle affirms is that the mere
difference of priority and posteriority in time is not a reason-
able ground for having more regard to the consciousness of
one moment than to that of another." It is rather important
to note that, while this principle is often stated in hedonistic
terms, it does not seem to have any logical connection with
the principle that ' pleasure is the sole Ultimate Good '. All
that is necessarily implied is, that the Good be " conceived as
a mathematical whole, of which the integrant parts are realised
in different parts or moments of a lifetime " }
1 See pp. 381, 382. The validity of this assumption will be examined later.
398 Histoiy of Utilitaidanism.
And now we come to the crucial point of this argument,
which, on account of its great importance for the author's
treatment of Ethics, has been Hterally reproduced. Professor
Sidgwick says : " So far we have only been considering the
' Good on the Whole ' of a single individual : but just as this
notion is constructed by comparison and integration of the
different ' goods ' that succeed one another in the series of our
conscious states, so we have formed the notion of Uni-
versal Good by comparison and integration of the goods of
all individual human — or sentient — existencies. And here
again, just as in the former case, by considering the relation
of the integrant parts to the whole and to each other, I obtain
the self-evident principle that the good of any one individual
is of no more importance, from the point of view (if I may say
so) of the Universe, than the good of any other ; unless,
that is, there are special grounds for believing that more good
is likely to be realised in the one case than in the other. And
it is evident to me that as a rational being I am bound to aim
at good generally, — so far as it is attainable by my efforts, —
not merely at a particular part of it. From these two rational
intuitions we may deduce, as a necessary inference, the maxim
of Benevolence in an abstract form : viz. that each one is
morally bound to regard the good of any other individual
as much as his own, except in so far as he judges it to be
less, when impartially viewed, or less certainly knowable or
attainable by him." ^
From the whole preceding argument, the author concludes
that in the principles of Justice, rational Prudence, and Bene-
volence, as commonly recognised, there is at least a self-evident
element, immediately cognisable by abstract intuition. And
he adds : " I regard the apprehension, with more or less dis-
tinctness, of these abstract truths, as the permanent basis of
the common conviction that the fundamental precepts of
morality are essentially reasonable ". It will be remembered
that, in the first version of this chapter, these principles, or
what corresponded to them, were supposed to be taken from
1 See p. 382.
Henry Sidgivick. 399
Clarke and Kant, the Intuitional moralists par excellence. In
the later form of the chapter, which we have just been examin-
ing, the reference to Clarke and Kant follows the much more
elaborate, though hardly more satisfactory, vindication of the
principles which are accepted by the author as ultimate intui-
tions. And it is to be noted that the present reference
to Kant is much more guarded than the earlier one. In fact,
the earlier careful, if by no means satisfactory, interpretation
of Kant is reduced to a single colourless paragraph. The
concluding criticism of Mill is presented in practically the same
form, the author's claim, of course, being, that Utilitarianism
absolutely requires the Intuitional basis which he has himself
attempted to supply, particularly in his vindication of the
intuitive character of the principle from which that of rational
Benevolence is deduced.
In order to do justice to this interesting attempt to exhibit
Utilitarianism as, on the one hand, the logical result of Philo-
sophical Intuitionism itself, and, on the other hand, as abso-
lutely requiring the Intuitional basis above indicated, it will
be necessary somewhat later to examine carefully the final
chapter of Book III., which is devoted to a consideration of
" Ultimate Good " — for Professor Sidgwick's proof of Utili-
tarianism is confessedly not yet complete, the nature of the
Good having been left indeterminate. Here we are only
concerned to understand the general significance of this final,
and, as he believes, decisive part of the argument. At first
this might look like forsaking the Intuitional method alto-
gether, for apparently it is the very essence of Intuitionism to
hold that certain actions are intrinsically right or wrong, not
right or wrong because they conduce to some ultimate end of
action conceived to be the Good. But Professor Sidgwick
defends himself, in all of the slightly differing versions of this
chapter, by arguing that the ultimate intuitive principles at
which he has arrived, as a result of his careful analysis of the
Morality of Common Sense, viz.. Justice, rational Prudence,
and Benevolence, all have to do with the apportionment of
the Good, which itself has been left undefined.
CHAPTER XVIII.
HENRY SIDGWICK {continued).^
In his examination of Intuitionism, and his attempt to dis-
cover in it a residuum of tenable doctrine, Professor Sidgwick
has, in one respect at least, observed most commendable
caution. He has pitilessly analysed the conventional tauto-
logical propositions, and candidly pointed out the inconsist-
encies that are inevitable, so long as Intuitionism is regarded
as affirming an aggregate of independent, but at the same
time absolutely vahd, particular principles, corresponding in
detail to the various recognised virtues. The result of this
searching examination, as will be remembered, is a good
deal the same in the latest as in the earliest edition.
In the first edition of the Methods (1874), Samuel Clarke's
maxims of Equity and Beneficence were accepted as really
intuitive — " as much so as the axioms of mathematics ".
In the later editions (e.g., sixth edition, 1901), the state-
ments are somewhat more guarded ; but it is still held that
in the principles of Justice and Benevolence, as commonly
recognised, " there is at least a self-evident element, im-
mediately cognisable by abstract intuition," ^ while a third
intuitive principle, that of rational Prudence, is also admitted.
The explicit formulation of this third principle in the later
^A paper entitled "An Examination of Professor Sidgwick's Proof of Utili-
tarianism," based upon the first part of this chapter, and closely following
the present text, was read before the Philosophical Section of the American
Psychological Association at the Baltimore Meeting, December, 1900, and was-
afterward printed in the Philosophical Reviezv, May, igoi.
2 See p. 382.
(400)
Henry Sidgwick. 401
editions need not be regarded as in itself particularly signifi-
cant, since it might very reasonably be held that the principle
was implicitly recognised as intuitive in the earlier treatment ;
but it is to be noted that, in the later and more elaborate
form of the author's proof of Utilitarianism, with which we are
here more particularly concerned, this principle of rational
Prudence is regarded as in a sense more ultimate than that of
Benevolence, since it is accepted as logically co-ordinate with,
if not logically prior to, the more general principle (not named,
as we shall see) from which that of Benevolence is deduced.
Assuming, then, as of course we must, that this later
enumeration of three intuitive principles, corresponding to the
virtues, rational Prudence, Benevolence, and Justice, accurately
represents the author's later, if not also his earlier, view as to
the Intuitional foundation of Ethics, it may be well first to
recall the precise form in which these principles are given.
The two which are certainly treated as intuitive are : (i) the
principle which is supposed to underlie the ordinary conception
of Justice, viz., that " it cannot be right for A to treat 5 in a
manner in which it would be wrong for B to treat A, merely
on the ground that they are two different individuals, and
without there being any difference between the natures or
circumstances of the two which can be stated as a reasonable
ground for difference of treatment " ; ^ and (2) the principle
of rational Prudence just mentioned, viz., that one part of a
given conscious experience is not to be regarded, other things
being equal, as of more importance than any other equal part
of the same experience. The precise formulation of the
third supposed intuition, from which the abstract principle of
rational Benevolence is directly deduced, will be considered
when we come to see how it is actually derived by the
author.
Now, in connection with these supposed intuitions, three
closely related questions at once present themselves : (i) Are
any or all of these principles to be accepted as really intuitive,
^ See pp. 380 et seq.
26
402 History of Utilitarianism.
without further examination? (2) What, exactly, does each
of these principles imply ? (3) Are they all to be regarded as
strictly on the same plane ? If the first question be answered
in the affirmitive, the two others may perhaps be regarded as
superfluous ; otherwise they will most certainly be relevant.
As regards the first question, it is difficult to see that Professor
Sidgwick has taken the necessary steps to prove that any of
these principles are intuitive, even granting for the time that
they all may very well be such. Throughout the treatise he
has studiously avoided all metaphysical and epistemological
questions, and, on the whole, this has been most fortunate for
his treatment of Ethics ; but it is difficult to see how one is
to prove that the principles in question are strictly intuitive,
without for the time passing over into Epistemology. Pro-
fessor Sidgwick says, indeed : " No psychogonical theory has
ever been put forward professing to discredit the propositions
that I regard as really axiomatic " ; but this is evading the
issue rather than meeting it. The question is one, not of the
psychological origin, but rather of the epistemological signifi-
cance, of these principles ; and to call principles intuitive
without committing oneself to any particular theory of knowl-
edge looks almost like begging the question. The mere fact
that, when separately considered, they commend themselves to
common sense — which seems to be the test actually depended
upon by the author — is plainly insufficient ; for the result of
philosophical reflection very commonly is, to show that what
common sense unites, must be separated, and that what
common sense separates, must be united.
Since, then, we cannot accept these principles as intuitive
without further examination, and since we cannot directly
raise epistemological questions without entering into those
very discussions which the author explicitly avoids, it seems
fairest to pass on at once to the two remaining very closely
related questions : What, exactly, does each of these principles
imply } And, in particular, are they all to be regarded as
strictly on the same plane 1 Professor Sidgwick himself sug-
gests one important difference, in making the transition from
Henry Sidgwick. 403
his treatment of the so-called intuition of Justice to that of
the intuitions which are supposed to correspond to rational
Prudence and Benevolence. He says : " The principle just
discussed [Justice], which seems to be more or less clearly
implied in the common notion of ' fairness ' or ' equity/ is ob-
tained by considering the similarity of the individuals that
make up a Logical Whole or Genus. There are others, no less
important, which emerge in the consideration of the similar
parts of a Mathematical or Quantitative Whole." ^
Now it is partly because the principle of Justice, as here
formulated, does not depend upon this conception of a merely
quantitative whole, which to many seems inapplicable to
Ethics, that it almost inevitably appears more ultimate than
the other two principles, in the particular form here given,
whether or not we think proper to ascribe to it a strictly in-
tuitive character. Moreover, it is to be carefully noted that
this principle, viz., that " it cannot be right for A to treat B
in a manner in which it would be wrong for B to treat A,
merely on the ground that they are two different individuals,"
is much more extensive in its application than what is ordi-
narily understood by Justice. This fact seems hardly to be
recognised by the author. Yet from the mere statement of
the principle, it is evident that it applies at least to all our
moral relations to others. It is thus a regulative principle,
applicable to rational Benevolence quite as much as to
Justice, though so abstract that the subordinate principles.
Justice and Benevolence, as ordinarily understood, need to be
formulated before this very general principle can be of much
practical assistance in directing moral conduct. But if one
consider the matter more closely, it will be evident that this
same abstract principle, here called that of Justice, applies not
merely to all our conduct which directly concerns others, but
equally to that part of our conduct which more immediately
concerns ourselves ; for any recognised form of ethical theory
requires some reason for our treating ourselves differently
^ See pp. 380, 381.
404 History of Utilitarianism.
from others, though the reasons accepted as vaUd no doubt
vary considerably.
It thus gradually becomes evident, that the principle which
we are examining is not a particular ethical principle at all,
but rather an abstract statement of that postulate of objec-
tivity, or impartiality, which is implied in all ethical reasoning
as such. Whether or not one call this postulate an intuition,
depends, of course, upon one's theory of knowledge. At any
rate, from the epistemological point of view, it would appear
to be on a plane with the most fundamental methodological
postulates of the various sciences and disciplines ; it is not
a particular principle referring to any one side of our moral
experience more than to all others.
When we come to consider the supposed intuitions corre-
sponding to rational Prudence and Benevolence, as here for-
mulated, it soon becomes evident that we are dealing with
relatively subordinate principles, and principles that involve
certain assumptions that are likely to make them less univer-
sally acceptable. The principle of rational Prudence, viz.,
that one should aim at one's good on the whole, looks at first
very innocent, at any rate so long as the Good is left unde-
fined, and so long as the point insisted upon merely is that
" difference of priority and posteriority in time is not a reason-
able ground for having more regard to the consciousness of
one moment than to that of another ". But when it becomes
evident that this principle is regarded as logically separate
from, and apparently as logically prior to, that of Benevolence,
it needs little argument to prove that this supposed intuition
is by no means free from certain assumptions which them-
selves assuredly have no intuitive basis.
The most important, perhaps, is the extremely dangerous
assumption that there is a good for me that is originally and
to the end separate from the good of others. This inevitably
commits one to that " dualism of the Practical Reason " which
Professor Sidgvs'ick himself frankly admits in the final chapter
of the Methods. But that is not all. When Professor Sidg-
wick argues that all that is necessarily implied is, that the
Henry Sidgivick. 405
Good be " conceived as a mathematical whole, of which the
integrant parts are realised in different parts or moments
of a lifetime," he partly suggests a really serious difficulty.
As a matter of fact, the Good is here assumed to be not
merely a mathematical whole — which might vaguely suggest
certain internal relations — but a quasi-physical aggregate, as
opposed to an organic whole. And this plainly begs the
question, as against certain forms of ethical theory for which
the author has no sympathy, as, for instance. Self-realisation.
How important this latter assumption really is, can readily
be seen from the use which Professor Sidgwick makes of it ;
for he immediately proceeds to base his further argument
upon this questionable analogy. Just as the notion of in-
dividual good is " constructed by comparison and integration
of the different ' goods ' that succeed one another in the series
of our conscious states," so the notion of Universal Good may
be found " by comparison and integration of the goods of all
individual human — or sentient — existencies ". In other words,
consider the Good, whatever that may prove to be, in
abstraction from the nature of the being for whom it is the
Good, and the question of more or less is all that remains.^
Mathematics, the most abstract of all the sciences, is at least
ideally applicable here in the most thoroughgoing fashion,
precisely because we are dealing with something that is already
abstract
It should be observed that we have not even yet obtained
the desired intuition of rational Benevolence — which is
emerging rather slowly for an intuition — viz., the principle
" that each one is morally bound to regard the good of any
other individual as much as his own, except in so far as he
judges it to be less, when impartially viewed, or less certainly
knowable or attainable by him ".2 This is confessedly a
deduction, though a perfectly logical one, from the more
^ It should be noted that the question of more or less may be an important
question for Ethics, without by any means being the only one. This whole
matter has been discussed in preceding chapters.
"^ See p. 382.
406 History of Utilitarianism.
general principle — here employed, but unnamed — that ' the
good of one individual is not as such to be preferred to that
of any other individual '.
Now what is this unnamed principle, here treated as the
real ultimate, from which the principle of rational Benevo-
lence is regarded as merely a corollary ? Professor Sidgwick
does injustice to the strength of his own argument, such as it
is, by representing this principle as suggested by a mathe-
matical analogy, i.e., by arguing that, just as one part of the
individual's good is of no more importance than any other
equal part, so one part of the total Good (or good of all) is
of no more importance than any other equal part of the
same. This is making the all-important transition from the
subjective, in the sense of merely self-regarding, attitude
to the objective ethical attitude altogether too easily. ^ As
a matter of fact, this unnamed principle, here treated as an
ultimate, is merely the original so-called principle of Jus-
tice, translated into terms of the Good. Any deduction
from it, therefore, like the abstract principle of Benevolence,
involves the same assumption, viz., that moral distinctions
are to be interpreted in terms of the Good, instead of in
terms of Duty, Good Will, etc. — an assumption which, no
matter how capable of being justified by argument, can by no
means be regarded as intuitive. Regarding the author's ab-
stract principle of Benevolence, then, we must conclude : (i)
that it is a deduction from another principle, rather than a
separate intuition ; and (2) that the principle from which it is
deduced cannot possibly be regarded as an intuition, even
though we should accept the so-called principle of Justice as
such.
So much, then, for the three fundamental so-called ' intui-
tions,' which are regarded by Professor Sidgwick as affording
the needed Intuitional foundation for Ethics,^ By themselves,
1 Note again the author's difficuhy with " the duahsm of the Practical Reason "
in the final chapter.
^Of "the axiom of Rational Benevolence" in particular, he has said a little
before, that it is, in his view, "required as a rational basis for the Utilitarian
system ".
Henry Sidgwick. 407
however, these abstract principles are insufficient, according to
his own admission ; for he holds that they all equally imply
a Good, still undetermined, of which they are to be regarded
as distributive principles. That this is true even of Justice,
is asserted in the following definite statement : " Justice (when
regarded as essentially and always a Virtue) lies in distributing
Good (or evil) impartially according to right rules ".^
Before passing on to this second main division of the author's
proof of Utilitarianism, which fortunately will not detain us
long, viz., the determination of the nature of the Good, which
all of the so-called ' intuitions ' are supposed to imply, and of
which they are regarded as ' distributive ' principles, two pre-
liminary criticisms require to be made, (i) The very abstract
principle of Justice, at any rate — which has turned out to
be merely the postulate of objectivity, or impartiality, implied
in all ethical reasoning — does not logically imply an apportion-
ment of the Good, as the author holds that all of these prin-
ciples do, precisely because it is so abstract that it applies to
the Duty Ethics as well as to the various forms of the Ethics
of the Good. (2) It must not hastily be assumed that even
the subordinate principles, rational Prudence and Benevo-
lence — which, as here formulated, do undoubtedly imply the
conception of the Good — are necessarily to be regarded as
distributive, rather than as regulative, principles. Whether
they are to be the one or the other, depends entirely upon the
nature of the Good, still undetermined.
It is impossible here to enlarge upon this distinction between
' distributive ' and ' regulative ' principles ; but fortunately it
is at once fairly obvious and quite commonly recognised. If
the Good be conceived as something, e.g., Happiness, which is
to be portioned out, as nearly as may be, into equal parts,
these principles will of course have to be regarded as ex-
ternally distributive. If, on the other hand, the Good be
conceived as organic in character, e.g.. Self-realisation or even
Health of the Social Organism, we can no longer speak of
' See p. 393.
4o8 History of Utilitarianism.
distribution merely, as if a lump sum of money were to be
impartially divided. On the contrary, all the principles
of Ethics — these as much as any others — must then be re-
garded as internally regulative, and as deriving their specific
character from the concrete nature of the Good.
But let us return to Professor Sidgwick's own argument.
What is the Good, which is supposed to be implied by all
three of these principles, here treated as distributive .' It
should be carefully noted that this problem, by far the most
important of all for any form of ethical theory except pure
Intuitionism, is not here discussed with anything like philoso-
phical thoroughness. The attempt rather seems to be to
show what, on the whole, commends itself to common sense
as the Good. This is particularly disappointing, since the
investigation of this problem has been deferred so long.
Professor Sidgwick begins by arguing that it will not do
to say that * Virtue is the Good '. That would involve one in
an obvious logical circle, since we have just seen that our
three ultimate intuitions regarding what is virtuous all have
to do with the apportionment of the Good. The purely
logical difficulty may perhaps be avoided, if the ' good will '
itself be affirmed to be the Good ; but this is fundamentally
opposed to common sense, " since the very notion of subjective
rightness or goodness of will implies an objective standard,
which it directs us to seek, but does not profess to supply " }■
From this point the argument moves only too rapidly.
" Shall we then say that Ultimate Good is Good or Desirable
conscious or sentient Life .' " This seems to accord with
common sense ; but it must be observed that not all psychical
existence can be regarded as ultimately desirable, " since psy-
chical life as known to us includes pain as well as pleasure,
and so far as it is painful, it is not desirable ". This, of course,
frankly assumes that ' desirable ' consciousness is Happiness
or Pleasure. Now the author urges that this is the only
possible criterion of feeling as feeling ; and further that both
1 See p. 394.
Henry Sidgwick. 409
cognition and volition, taken strictly by themselves, are quite
neutral in respect of desirability. The further details of the
argument may safely be neglected, for, as will readily be seen,
the result is a foregone conclusion. By this highly abstract
method — which practically begs the question, by arbitrarily
isolating the different sides of consciousness — Happiness, or
Pleasure, is vindicated as the only practicable test of what is
desirable in conscious life. And the Good being thus defined,
the author holds that we are finally at liberty to regard the
three genuine moral intuitions, relating respectively to rational
Prudence, Justice, and Beneficence, as affording the needed
Intuitional basis of pure Universalistic Hedonism, or Utili-
tarianism. ^
Little need be said by way of summary. As the chain
is no stronger than its weakest link, it is evident that Professor
Sidgwick's proof of Utilitarianism equally involves the validity
of his treatment of what he regards as the fundamental moral
intuitions and his hasty determination of the nature of the
Good, which he holds that all of these intuitions imply. As
regards the three supposed intuitions, we found that they were
by no means on the same plane. The so-called intuition of
Justice turned out to be merely the postulate of objectivity, or
impartiaUty, implied in all ethical reasoning, and not a separate
intuition, referring to one part of moral conduct more than
to others. From the epistemological point of view, therefore,
it appeared to be closely analogous to the most fundamental
methodological postulates of the various sciences and dis-
ciplines.
Moreover, to the relatively subordinate principles of rational
Prudence and Benevolence, also assumed as intuitive, and ap-
parently as being on the same plane with that of Justice, two
special criticisms were found to apply, (i) The assumption of
an original separateness between the interest of each individual
^ Sometimes the axiom of rational Benevolence is referred to as if it alone
afforded the requisite Intuitional basis for Utilitarianism. See p. 387.
4IO History of Utilitarianism.
and that of all others could not be conceded. (2) We found that
only the principle of rational Prudence was really treated as a
separate intuition, that of Benevolence having been arrived at
indirectly. The first step was the disguised translation of the
original principle of Justice into terms of the Good — a con-
version which itself should have been justified by argument.
The second step was a deduction from this principle in its
modified form. The principle of Benevolence, therefore, as
here formulated, is at least twice removed from being an in-
tuition in the proper sen.se, even if the author's abstract prin-
ciple of Justice be regarded as such.
Again, we have seen that these principles do not, as the
author claims, all imply a Good, still undetermined, of which
they are to be regarded as ' distributive ' principles. The so-
called principle of Justice is so abstract that it does not neces-
sarily imply the conception of the Good at all. Even rational
Prudence and Benevolence, as here formulated, are not neces-
sarily to be regarded as ' distributive ' principles merely. That
will depend upon the nature of the Good, still left undeter-
mined ; for if the Good, e.g., turn out to be Self-realisation,
or even Health of the Social Organism, no particular principle
of Ethics can be regarded as externally distributive ; but all
must rather be regarded as internally regulative, and as
deriving their specific character from the concrete nature of
the Good. Finally, even assuming these principles to be ' dis-
tributive,' the author's hasty determination of the nature of
the Good hardly pretends to be a philosophical treatment of
this all-important problem ; but is rather an attempt to justify
Utilitarianism to common sense. When he practically rests
his case upon the argument, that pleasure is the only possible
criterion of the value of feeling as feeling, he unconsciously
begs the question, which is, and must remain, whether or not
the value of conscious life is to be determined solely in terms
of feeling.
It is a natural, if also rather unexpected, result of Professor
Sidgwick's order of treatment, which follows from his peculiar
Henry Sidgwick. 411
classification, that the concluding book of the Methods of
Ethics^ Book IV., " Utilitarianism," contains comparatively
little that is of importance for systematic Ethics. The general
implications of Hedonism as such, together with the special
difficulties that are sure to arise in connection with any form
of hedonistic theory, have already been considered at length
in Book II., " Egoism " — with the result, indeed, that many of
the difficulties of Utilitarianism have probably been either
long forgotten by the reader, or confounded with those which
more particularly belong to the so-called method of Egoism.
Moreover, by far the most important constructive argument
of the treatise, the author's elaborate proof of Utilitarianism,
which we have just examined in considerable detail, comes at
the end of Book III., " Intuitionism ". This is perhaps natural
enough, since it is the whole point of the argument to provide
Utilitarianism with an Intuitional basis ; but the fact remains
that, before the reader begins the concluding book of the
treatise, which, from its title, one would naturally expect to
be devoted to a judicial examination of Utilitarianism, he is
wholly committed to that method, provided that he has ac-
cepted the preceding arguments as valid.
In truth, what the author seems to have attempted, in this
concluding book of the Methods, was not a further and more
elaborate examination of the method of Utilitarianism as such,
but rather a justification of that method to common sense.
Apart from the two brief introductory chapters, which mainly
consist in a resume of what is given in more satisfactory form
elsewhere, and the equally brief concluding chapter, on " The
Mutual Relations of the Three Methods," nearly the whole
book is devoted either to tracing out in detail the correspond-
ence between Utilitarian morality and the morality of
Common Sense, or to settling questions connected with the
practical application of the Utilitarian method. While, there-
fore, these discussions are in themselves both interesting and
valuable, they are hardly of a kind to detain us here ; and we
may best pass on almost immediately to the final chapter,
412 History of Utilitarianism,
referred to above, which will be found to afford an interesting
commentary upon certain of the author's presuppositions.
It is perhaps worth noticing that, while Book IV. of the
Methods of Ethics has been modified less (or in less important
respects) in succeeding editions than any other book of the
treatise, some of the chapters have received titles quite differ-
ent from the original ones in the later editions. For example,
the third chapter, which is the first of any length in the book,
originally had the title, " The Proof of Utilitarianism (con-
tinued) ". This chapter, though very little modified, has re-
ceived in later editions the much more appropriate title,
" The Relation of Utilitarianism to the Morality of Common
Sense " — which, in fact, exactly describes the nature of the
discussion. The final chapter, on the other hand, which we
are now to examine, has in later editions the title, " The
Mutual Relations of the Three Methods," though this is less
accurately descriptive of its real character, even in its some-
what modified form, than the original title, " The Sanctions
of Utilitarianism ".
The real problem considered, in the later as in the earlier
form of this chapter, is the reconciliation of duty and interest ;
and the solution of the problem, so far as any solution is
offered, is much less important than the very prominent place
given to the discussion itself. In short, the last chapter of
this elaborate treatise on the Methods of Ethics frankly
emphasises the " Dualism of the Practical Reason," as the
author himself elsewhere calls it. This is more significant
than might at first appear, for the problem, as here stated,
is a manifest survival from eighteenth century individualism.
Referring to this chapter, Professor Sidgwick says, in the
Preface to the second edition of the Methods : " I hold with
Butler that * Reasonable Self-love and Conscience are the two
chief or superior principles in the nature of man,' each of
which we are under a ' manifest obligation ' to obey ".
It might reasonably be held that the dualism in Butler's
system is by no means so serious as this would imply, at any
rate, if we take into account the logic of his system as a whole ;
Henry Sidgwick. 413
but Professor Sidgwick does not permit us to mistake his
own position- While never suggesting a real doubt as to our
complete obligation to do what we believe to be right, he
holds that morality must be regarded as only incompletely
rationalised, unless it can be shown to be for the agent's
individual interest to be moral. Yet even so, his unflinching
honesty, which never shows in a more admirable light than
here, will not permit him for a moment to juggle with this
crux of eighteenth century Ethics. He refers, indeed, to his
own argument, which goes to prove that it is ' reasonable '
for one to aim at Good in general, and not merely at one's
own individual, selfish good.^ But he does not see fit to
pursue this line of argument further, in the present connection.
He admits also the reasonableness of the Egoist's demand
that it shall be for his ' interest ' to be moral, and, after care-
fully pointing out what can, and what cannot, be proved by
the conventional appeal to sympathy, etc., he finally comes to
the inevitable conclusion that there is no way of demonstrating
that, in all cases, it is strictly for the agent's selfish interest
to be moral, unless we take into account strictly theological
considerations.
The clearest statement of his conclusion is to be found in
the final paragraph of the first edition of the Methods, the gist
of which is as follows : " The old immoral paradox, ' that my
performance of Social Duty is good not for me but for others,'
cannot be completely refuted by empirical arguments : nay,
the more we study these arguments the more we are forced
to admit, that if we have these alone to rely on, there must
be some cases in which the paradox is true. And yet we can-
not but admit with Butler, that it is ultimately reasonable
to seek one's own happiness. Hence the whole system of our
beliefs as to the intrinsic reasonableness of conduct must fall,
without a hypothesis unverifiable by experience reconciling
the Individual with the Universal Reason, without a belief, in
some form or other, that the moral order which we see im-
^ See pp. 495 et seq.
414 History of Utilitarianism.
perfectly realised in this actual world is yet actually perfect." ^
In the later editions Professor Sidgwick expresses himself
much more guardedly, but to practically the same purpose.
And we may add that, given the presuppositions, this appeal
to the theological sanction is the only way out of a more or
less complete ethical agnosticism.
The presuppositions, however, all centre about the fatal
assumption that the ultimate interest of the individual is
something which can be considered apart from that of the
society to which he belongs. If a ' sanction ' for morality
be demanded from this point of view, Gay's answer is the only
possible one, viz., that, since God only can in all cases make
us happy or miserable. He only can reconcile duty with interest.
And that was what all the so-called ' Theological Utilitarians '
meant by saying that ' complete obligation ' to morality could
come only from the Divine Being himself. If we shrink from
such a conclusion, it is in no spirit of hostility to theology,
much less to the essential teaching of Christianity ; it is merely
because the philosophical methodology of the present day will
not permit us thus to invoke Divine assistance to extricate
us from speculative difficulties which we can avoid by the
exercise of our natural reason.
But it would be very unjust to Professor Sidgwick to allow
his own too emphatic statement of the " Dualism of the
Practical Reason " to serve as a final commentary upon his
system. As a matter of fact, he himself is one of the very
moralists who have enabled us to transcend this position,
which here he seems to define as his own. Both historically
and logically this demand for the reconciliation of duty and
interest, in the sense of separate individual interest, which
could be effected only by the theological sanction, is in-
timately connected with the theory of obligation which Gay
once for all perfectly expressed, when he said : " Obligation
is the necessity of doing or omitting any action in order to be
happy ".
1 See p. 473.
Henry Sidgwick. 415
The eighteenth century Intuitionists did not by any means
wholly escape confusion regarding the problem as to the rela-
tion between duty and interest ; but their characteristic theory
of the absolute nature of moral obligation, intuitively appre-
hended, did not at all commit them to this Dualism of the
Practical Reason, while they were influenced in the contrary
direction by their view, that the mere consciousness that an
action was right or wrong could in some way become a sufficient
motive for performing it or abstaining from it. Professor
Sidgwick himself, here, as elsewhere, has much in common
with traditional Intuitionism, and could easily have avoided
this characteristic crux of eighteenth century Utilitarianism.
As we saw in the early part of Chapter xvi., he utterly refuses
to reduce the notion of ' ought ' to terms of anything else, as
the earlier Utilitarians had done. For him, as much as for
any Intuitionist, * ought ' is an irreducible datum of moral
consciousness, although he uses the term in a sense rather
more abstract than that of ordinary Intuitionism. Moreover,
he distinctly holds, in his latest as in his earliest treatment,
that, while it may not perhaps properly be maintained that
reason, apart from all feeling, can afford the moral motive, it
is nevertheless much as if this were the case, since we nearly
all desire, more or less strongly, to do what is reasonable
merely because it is such.
Much more important, however, in the present connection,
than this abstract statement, which merely points in the direc-
tion of traditional Intuitionism, is Professor Sidgwick's highly
significant analysis of desire. The characteristic position of
the older Utilitarianism, that only pleasure as such can be
desired, and consequently only the agent's own pleasure, he
rejects as patently false. In discarding this theory, together
with the theory of obligation inseparably connected with it, he
really cut loose from the eighteenth century position. He
was, indeed, the first Utilitarian to see the real significance
of Butler's analysis of desire. And, in spite of minor differ-
ences, he agrees with Butler on the essential point. In a
passage previously quoted, he says, after remarking that Butler
4i6 History of Utilitarianism.
has somewhat overstated his case : " But as a matter of fact,
it appears to me that throughout the whole scale of my im-
pulses, sensual, emotional, and intellectual alike, I can dis-
tinguish desires of which the object is something other than
my own pleasure "} And a little later he adds : " Our con-
scious active impulses are so far from being always directed
towards the attainment of pleasure or avoidance of pain for
ourselves, that we can find everywhere in consciousness extra-
regarding impulses, directed towards something that is not
pleasure, nor relief from pain ; and, indeed, a most important
part of our pleasure depends upon the existence of such im-
pulses ".2
The logic of all this is plain, at least to ourselves at the
present day. Not only is the possibility of an original altru-
ism provided for, but the individual moral agent no longer
has to be regarded as an isolated centre of desires, whether for
the happiness of self or of others. He is rather seen to be an
organic part of society, in a sense that carries one far beyond
eighteenth century individualism. Butler, indeed, was too
often obliged to employ the argunientuni ad hominem, in
order to meet the problems and difficulties of individualism
in the working out of his system ; but the logic of his system
as a whole was clearly in the direction of what we would have
to regard as most modern in ethical speculation. And it
surely is not too much to say that, in so far as Professor Sidg-
wick follows Butler in this all-important analysis of desire,
which does so much to transform the problems of Ethics, he
also is logically one of the true moderns, in spite of all appar-
ent evidence to the contrary.
It was a notable event in the development of recent ethical
theory, when Utilitarianism thus for the first time really took
account of Butler's starting-point and method ; and if the result
would seem to be the inevitable dissolution of traditional
Utilitarianism itself, there is perhaps little ground for regret.
Neither J. S. Mill nor Professor Sidgwick were adepts in rigid
^ See p. 45. ^ See p. 52,
Henry Sidgwick. 417
logical consistency ; but the very fact that they could for
the time hold together the half-truths of seemingly anti-
thetical systems, enabled them to perform a service for the
development of systematic Ethics which only the future
can duly appreciate. Both were essentially seekers after
truth, and not system-makers. In fact, it would be difficult to
mention two moralists who have shown more perfect candour
in pointing out difficulties of their own systems, of which they
were themselves conscious ; and if they helped to lead a
succeeding generation to the recognition of truths which they
never definitely formulated for themselves, their contribution
to Ethics was not the less, but the greater. Few English
moralists of the nineteenth century, so recently ended, are
deserving of more grateful appreciation than these two emi-
nent Utilitarians, who did their work so well that they helped
their successors even to transcend the Method of Ethics for
which they themselves stood.
27
INDEX OF NAMES, SUBJECTS, AND WORKS.
Absolute and Relative Ethics, Spencer, 323 ff,, 351.
Adaptation to Environment, Spencer's vague conception of complete, 278 ff.,
306 flf.
Alciphron ; or, The Mhmte Philosopher (Berkeley, 1732), referred to, 68, 83 n.
Amity, the Ethics of, Spencer, 288, 315, 340, 345.
Approbation, moral : Gay's explanation of, 74, 75 ; Hume's explanation of,
loi ff., 106, 108 ; Tucker's view of the teleology of, 156, 157.
Association of Ideas: Gay, 74 ff. ; Hartley, 116 ff. ; Tucker, 134 ff.
Autobiography (J. S. Mill, 1873), quoted, 193, 195, 197, 198, 202, 211, 243, 262.
Bacon, referred to, 204, 226.
Bain, referred to, 193 «., 229.
Benevolence, the virtue of: Cumberland, 21, 24-27, 48; Shaftesbury, 55;
Hutcheson, 59; Hume, 100-102; Hartley, 126; Tucker, 159 ff, ; Paley,
173; Bentham, 183; J. S. Mill, 240, 255; Spencer, 280, 283, 316, 326,
328, 331, 332, 338, 343» 347-351. 355. 356; Sidgwick, 391 ff. ; Sidgwick's
" intuition " of, 398 ff., 405 ff.
Bentham, 174-190; referred to, i, 72, 81, 97, 112, 148, 154, 164, 165, 166, 167,
168, 191, 192, 193, 196, 199, 202, 203,210,211, 214, 227, 262, 273, 320,363,
374. 375. 385 ; J- S. Mill's extended criticism of, 204 ff. ; Spencer's criticism
of, 270 ff.
Berkeley, Bishop, 65-69; referred to, 83, 149, 191, 385.
" Biological view " of morality, Spencer's, 302 ff.
Boniform Faculty, the: H. More, 11 ff.
Bowring, J., referred to, 166, 176; quoted, 180.
Bradley, F. H., referred to, 376 «., 381.
Brown, J., 83-90 ; referred to, 166, 205.
Butler, Bishop: referred to, 56, 97, 133, 138, 213, 258, 372, 382, 385, 412, 413,
416, 417 ; Sidgwick influenced by, in his theory of desire, 368 ff.
Characteristics of Men, Manners, Opinions, Times (Shaftesbury, 171 1), 54 ff.
Clarke, Samuel, referred to, 84, 363. 385, 394, 395, 396, 399, 400.
Coleridge : criticised by J. S. Mill, 209 ff. ; referred to, 214, 263.
Common Sense, the Morality of, exhaustively analysed by Sidgwick, 390 ff.
420 Index.
Consequences of actions : Cumberland distinguishes sharply between the
internal, and the external, 39 ff. ; difficulty of predicting the, Berkeley, 67;
the criterion of morality, Gay, 73 ; not the only criterion, Hartley, 126, 129 ;
general, not particular, to be computed, Tucker, 148 ff. ; also Paley, 172 ;
and J. S. Mill, 217; cf. Bentham, 184, i88; Spencer's distinction between
the "extrinsic" and the "intrinsic," 313 ff.
Cudworth, referred to, 4, 8, 10, ii, 17.
Cumberland, Bishop, 1-5 1 ; referred to, 67, 68, 69, 73, 78, 79, 80, 82, iii, 157,
161, 181, 382.
Data of Ethics, The : Part I. of The Principles of Ethics (Spencer, 1879), 293 ff. ;
referred to, 269, 329, 347, 353 ff.
De cive (Hobbes, 1642), 5 ff.
De corpore politico (Hobbes, 1650), 6 ff.
De jure belli et pads (Grotius, 1625), 2 ff.
De legibus naturae (Cumberland, 1672), 14-51. (See " Cumberland ".)
De Toqueville, referred to, 213, 263.
Deontology ; or. The Science of Morality (Bentham, 1834), 175 ff. [See " Ben-
tham ".)
Descartes, referred to, 4, 20, 24, 38.
Desire, Theory of: J. S. Mill, 256 ff. ; Sidgwick's criticism of Mill's, 367 ;
Sidgwick influenced by Butler in his, 368 ff., 416.
Detail, Method of: J. S. Mill on Bentham's so-called, 205 ff.
Determinism : Tucker, 144; J. S. Mill, 220 ff.
Dignity, our sense of: insisted upon by Hutcheson, 61 ff. ; also by Hartley, 122 ;
and by J. S. Mill, 251, 252.
Discourse on the Studies of the University of Cambridge (A. Sedgwick, 1833),
criticised by J. S. Mill, 199 ff.
Distributive, the principles of Ethics regarded by Sidgwick as, rather than as
regulative, 407 ff., 410.
Education, the power of: J. S. Mill's belief in, 237 ff., 252.
Egoism : in Hobbes, 5 ff. ; regarded by Sidgwick as one of the three Methods of
Ethics, 373 ff., 380 ; serious difficulties of this view, 382 ff.
Enchiridion eihicum (Henry More, 1667), 11- 14.
End of action : Gay's distinction between the " particular " and the " ultimate,"
75. (S«e " The Good ".)
Enmity, the Ethics of: Spencer, 288, 315, 340, 345.
Environment, adaptation to : ambiguity of Spencer's conception of, in Social
Statics, 278 ff. ; difficulties involved in his later explanations, 306 ff.
Essay concerning Hitman Understanding (Locke, 1690), 52 ff. ; referred to, 147.
(See " Locke ".)
Essays on the Characteristics (J. Brown, 1751), 83-go; referred to, 205.
Ethical Studies (F. H. Bradley, 1876), referred to, 376 «., 381.
Ethics, the possible Methods of: Sidgwick, 372 ff.
Ethics of Individual Life, The: Part III. of The Principles of Ethics (Spencer,
1892), 346 ff.
Index. 42 1
Ethology, J. S. Mill's proposed science of, 224 ff., 263.
Evil, the evanescence of : Spencer, 277 ff.
Evolution : the significance of, for Ethics, 268 ff. ; of conduct, Spencer, 293 ff. ;
identified with progress by Spencer, 295, 319; of society, Spencer's view of,
315 ff. ; Spencer's Ethics, how far dependent upon the theory of, 318 ff.,
323, 341 ff., 348, 354, 356.
Fable of the Bees, The : or, Private Vices Public Benefits (B. Mandeville, 1714).
referred to, 64, 85.
Fouillde, A., referred to, 222.
Fowler, T., referred to, 83.
Fragment on Government, A (Bentham, 1776), 175, 176, 182.
Freedom of Wit and Humour, An Essay on the (Shaftesbury, 1709), quoted, 55,
56.
Gay, John, 69-83 ; referred to, 27, 90, 91, no, in, 112, 114, 126, 130, 131, 133,
136, 142, 145, 147, 161, 162, 166, 167, 170, 171, 172, 174, 178, 179, 180, 182,
189, 201,323, 414.
General rules, the necessity of: Berkeley, 67; Tucker, 148, 159; Paley, 172;
(hardly recognised by) Bentham, 187 ff. ; J. S. Mill, 217, 249 ff. ; Spencer,
279 ff., 319 ff., 353.
Good, The: More, 12, 13 ; Cumberland, 28-35, 49 J Locke, 53 ; Shaftesbury, 57,
58 ; Hutcheson, 60-62 ; Berkeley, 65 ; Gay, 74, 79 ; Brown, 84, 85 ; Hume,
100 ff. ; Hartley, i2i ff. ; Tucker, 147 ff. ; Paley, 170 ft'. ; Bentham, 179 ff. ;
J. S. Mill, 251 ff. ; Spencer, 295 ff., 315, 320,324; Sidgwick, 398 ff., 405,
408 ff.
Green, T. H., referred to, 381.
Grotius, 2-4 ; referred to, 11, 27, 36 n.
Guizot, referred to, 213, 214, 263.
Happiness : treatment of, Cumberland, 30-32 ; Gay, 74, 79 ; Brown, 87 ff. ;
Hartley, 121 ff. ; Tucker, 137 ft"., 147 ft". ; Paley, 170 ff. ; Bentham, 179 ff.,
184 ff. ; Spencer, 270 ff. ; general conditions to the greatest, Spencer, 279
ff. ; ambiguity of the conception of, according to Spencer, 283 ff., 353 ;
general treatment of, Sidgwick, 386 ff. ; the thing ultimately desirable,
Sidgwick, 408 ft". {See " Qualitative Distinctions ".)
Hartley, 113-129; referred to, 73, 82 «., 130, 131, 133, 134, 135, 145, 149, 161,
162, 163, 166, 180, 197, 202, 204, 242, 382.
Hedonistic Calculus : difficulties of the, not mentioned by Cumberland or
Gay, 82; referred to by Hartley, 126; emphasised by Tucker, 149 ff. ;
Bentham's elaborate treatment of the, 184 ff. ; regarded as impossible by
Spencer, 271, 274, 319; considered by Sidgwick, 387, 389. {See " Qualita-
tive Distinctions ".)
History: J. S. Mill's attitude toward the Philosophy of, 211 ff.; Spencer's
contempt for, 292, 307 w.
Hobbes, 4-9; referred to, 15 «., 16, 20, 21, 22, 23, 25, 27, 29, 36, 43, 44, 46, no,
in, 154, 161, 171, 363, 378, 382, 383.
422 Index.
Hume, 91-112; referred to, 70, 73, 78 «., 82 «., 113, 126, 130, 133, 135, 146, 154,
155. 157. i6i, 183, 189, 254, 382.
Hutcheson, 58-63 ; referred to, 54 n., 64, 70, 71, 76, 78, 82, 91, 92, 97, in, 140
M., 149, 150, 181, 251.
Immortality, J. S. Mill on, 239 ff.
Inductions of Ethics : Part II. of The Principles of Ethics (Spencer, 1892),
345 ff.
Inheritance of acquired characteristics, Spencer's dependence upon the prin-
ciple of, 308 fif., 313.
Innate Ideas: in More's system, 12; denied by Cumberland, 16; explanation
of so-called, by Gay, 76 ; the similar explanation by Tucker, 136 fif., 147 ;
Bentham's attitude toward the doctrine of, 178 ff. ; J. S. Mill's different
attitude toward the same, 207, 249 ff., 265 ; the doctrine of, not wholly
rejected by Spencer at first, 273, 282, 284; Spencer's later attitude toward
the same, 310 ff., 346 ; Sidgwick's exhaustive examination of the doctrine
of, 389 ff.
Inquiry concerning the Principles of Morals, An (Hume, 1751), 93 ff. ; relation
of the, to the Treatise of Human Nature (Book III.), 93 ff. ; referred to, 70,
82 M., 130, 133 w., 154, 161 ff.
Inquiry concerning Virtue, or Merit, An (Shaftesbury [1699], 171 1), 55 ff. ; re-
ferred to, 70. {See " Shaftesbury ".)
Inquiry into the Original of Our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue, An (Hutcheson,
1725), 58 ff. ; referred to, 70. (See " Hutcheson ".)
Intuitionism : concessions to, by Spencer in Social Statics, 273, 282, 284;
Spencer's later rejection of, 310 ff., 346 ; Sidg\vick's treatment of, 373, 377 ;
as a Method of Ethics, 389 ff. ; the weakness of ordinary, 393 ; the truth in,
394 ff. ; SidgAvick's conclusions examined and criticised, 401 ff.
Jurisprudence, the relation between, and Ethics; Bentham, 176.
Justice: the virtue of, Hume, 103-105; Tucker, 157 ff . ; J. S. Mill, 259 ff. ;
Spencer, 280 ff. ; primacy of, according to Spencer, 283 ff., 328 ; evolution
of, Spencer, 330 ff. ; origin of the conception of, Spencer, 333 ff. ; Spencer's
formula for, 338 ; how dependent upon evolution, 341 ff. ; treated by
Spencer practically as an intuition, 343, 355 ; ambiguity of our notions
concerning, Sidgwick, 391 ; Sidgu'ick's formula for the " intuition " of,
396 ; the very abstract character of same, 403 ff.
jfustice : Part IV. of The Principles of Ethics (Spencer, 1891), 329-344.
Kant, referred to, 189, 253, 254, 363, 394, 395, 399.
Laws of Nature: Grotius, 2-4; Hobbes, 6-9; Cumberland, 15-18, 35-42,49;
Locke, 53 ; Berkeley, 67, 68 ; not mentioned by Gay, 81 ; nor by Brown,
89 ; referred to by Paley, 173.
Leviathan ; or, The Matter, Form, and Power of a Commonwealth (Hobbes, 165 1),
5ff.
Index. 423
Liberty, On (J. S. Mill, 1859), 242 ff., 265.
Light of Nature, The: pursued by Edward Search (Tucker, 1768-1777), 131-
164; referred to, 70, 166, 335.
Locke, 52-54; referred to, 19M., 78, 132, 133, 138, 146, 147, 199.
Mandeville, B., referred to, 64, 85.
Manichjean doctrine, J. S. Mill's attitude toward the, 196, 232 iT., 235.
Merit, Gay's explanation of, 75.
Methods of Ethics, The (Sidgwick, 1874), 358-417. {See " Sidgwick ".)
Methods of Ethics, the three principal, according to Sidgwick, 372 ff. ; criticism
of Sidgwick's classification, 376 ff., 381 ff.
Michelet, referred to, 213, 214, 263.
Mill, James, referred to, 193, 194, 195, 196, 203, 224.
Mill, J. S., 193-267 ; referred to, 62, 83, 177 »., 190, 269, 297, 360, 361, 366, 367,
368, 370, 382, 395, 399, 417.
Moral Sense, the : Shaftesbury, 56 ff. ; Hutcheson, 58-60, 62 ; supposed indi-
cations of, explained by Gay, 76 ; and in a similar way by Tucker, 136 ff.,
147; Hartley's derivation of, 127 ff. ; existence of, admitted at first by
Spencer, 272 ff. ; then reduced to the " instinct of personal rights," 284;
tacitly given up in Data of Ethics, 310 ff.,328 ; and explicitly in Inductions
of Ethics, 346.
Moral Sense Ethics, the : regarded as dangerous by certain contemporary
theologians, 64 ff. ; Hume's supposed relation to, 92, 98, 112; Spencer's
earlier attitude toward, 273, 282 ff.
Moralists, The : a Philosophical Rhapsody (Shaftesbury, 1709), quoted, 55.
More, Henry, 11-14.
Motive, the moral : Cumberland, 25-27, 40 ff., 48 ; Shaftesbury, 55 ff. ; Hutche-
son, 59 ff. ; Berkeley, 65 ; Gay, 71 ff., 75, 79 ; Brown, 85 ff. ; Hartley, 119,
125, 127; Tucker, 137 ff., 144, 150 ff., 156, 160; treatment of, by Gay,
Hume, Hartley, and Tucker compared, 161 ff. ; Paley, 170 ff . ; Bentham,
180 ff., 375 ; J. S. Mill, 201, 204, 253 ff., 257, 266 ; Spencer, 321 ff. ; Sidg-
wick, 363 ff., 367 ft-., 372.
Nature : of Things, Cumberland's conception of the, 19, 20, 23, 24 : the state of,
Hobbes, 5, 6 ; Shaftesbury's criticism of Hobbes' view of same, 55 : human,
Grotius, 2-4 ; Hobbes, 5 ff. ; Cumberland, 20-27 ; Shaftesbury, 55 ff. ; Hume,
97 ff. ; J. S. Mill's proposed science of, i.e., Ethology, 223 ff. ; Spencer's
earlier conception of, 285 ff. ; his later conception of same, 322 ff. : the
order of, not a moral order, J. S. Mill, 231 ff. ; Mill's more consistent posi-
tion regarding same, 254 ff., 266. (See " Laws of Nature ".)
Nature (J. S. Mill, 1874), 228-236, 264.
Negative Beneficence and Positive Beneficence : Parts V. and VL of The Prin-
ciples of Ethics (Spencer, 1893), 347 ff. ; quoted, 270.
Negative Beneficence: Spencer, 280 ; relation of, to Justice, 283, 328 ; Spencer's
later treatment of, 347 ff.
424 Index.
Obligation : Cumberland, 37-40 ; Berkeley, 67 ; Gay, 72 ff., 80 ; Brown, 89 ff. ;
Hume, 109 ff. ; Tucker, 151 ff. ; Bentham, 167 ff., 189; Paley, 170 ff. ;
evanescence of the feeling of, Spencer, 313 ff. ; the feeling of, not reducible
to other terms, Sidgwick, 364, 366 ; the problem of, inconsistently treated
by Sidgwick, 413 ff.
Observations on Man, his Frame, his Duty, and his Expectations (Hartley, 1749),
113-129; referred to, 130, 145, 163.
Origin of Species, On the (Darwin, 1859), referred to, 268, 269, 290.
Paley : 168-174 ; referred to, i, 70, 72, 78, 80, 81, 90, 91, 94 n., 97, 112, 126,
148, 154, 163, 165, 166, 167, 175, 180, 183, 184, 189, 191, 199, 209 ; mis-
understood at first by J. S. Mill, 200 ff. ; the mistake tacitly corrected
later, 205.
Passive Obedience (Berkeley, 1712), 65 ff. ; referred to, 83, 191.
Perfection : Cumberland's conception of, 29, 33 ; the significance of, in Shaftes-
bury's system, 57 ff. ; in Hutcheson's system, 61 ff. ; in Hartley's system,
122 ff. ; in J. S. Mill's system, 248 ff., 251 ff., 265 ; in Spencer's system,
274 ff. {See " Perfect Society".) Sidgwick's examination of, as the end
of action, 373 ff., 377 ff.
Perfect Society : the conception of a, regarded by Spencer as the necessary
postulate of Scientific Ethics, 274 ff., 278, 288, 323, 327 ; difficulties of this
position, 276 ff., 304, 306 ff., 317, 327 ; Spencer's original position re-
affirmed, 346.
" Physical view " of Morality, Spencer's, 300 ff.
Pleasures : Hartley's account of the genesis of the " intellectual," and pains,
118 ff. ; Tucker's account of the genesis of the so-called "higher," by
" translation," 140 ff. ; Bentham's arbitrary classification of, 186. (See
" Qualitative Distinctions ".)
Positive Beneficence: Spencer, 280; relation of, to Justice, 283, 328; Spencer's
later treatment of, 347 ff.
Preliminary Dissertation : concerning the Fundamental Principle of Virtue or
Morality (Gay, 1731), 69-83; referred to, 85 «., 91, 114, 130, 131, 135, 147,
161, 163, 166, 170, 174, 182. {See "Gay".)
Priestley, J., referred to, 166.
Principles of Ethics, The (Spencer, 1879-1893), 292-352. {See " Data of Ethics,"
"Inductions of Ethics," "Ethics of Individual Life," "justice," and
" Negative Beneficence and Positive Beneficence ".)
Principles of Morals and Legislation, An Introduction to the (Bentham [1780],
1789), 175 ff. ; referred to, 167. {See " Bentham ".)
Principles of Moral and Political Philosophy, The (Paley, 1785), 168-174; re-
ferred to, 70, 175, 180, 191. {See " Paley ".)
Progress, human : regarded as a necessity by Spencer, 278, 288, 323. {See
" Perfect Society ".)
Prolegomena to Ethics (T. H. Green, 1883), referred to, 381.
Property, the right to : Cumberland, 44-47 ; Hume, 103 ft'. ; Tucker, 157 ;
Paley, 173 ; Spencer, 337 ft"., 344.
Index. 425
Prudence : regarded by Tucker as the principal virtue, 155 ff. ; Hume's treatment
of, 105 ff. ; Bentham's distinction between " self-regarding " and " extra-
regarding," 183 ; the importance of, emphasised by Spencer, 280, 346 ff. ;
Sidgwick's " intuition " of, 397, 401, 404, 409.
" Psychological view " of Morality, Spencer's, 309 ft'.
Punishment, the Utilitarian Theory of, developed by Tucker, 158 ff".
" Qualitative Distinctions " (between pleasures) : affirmed by Hutcheson, 61 ;
not mentioned by Berkeley, 68 ; would have no meaning for Gay, 79 ;
inconsistently admitted by Hartley, 122, 129 ; explicitly denied by Tucker,
139 ff., 162 ; also by Paley, 170 ; and by Bentham, 179; reaffirmed by J. S.
Mill, 251 ff"., 265 ; denied by Sidgwick, 387.
Reason : " Right," Grotius, 3 ff". ; Hobbes, 6, 9 ; Cudworth, 10 ; More, n ii. ;
Cumberland, 22-25 \ morality not founded on, but on sentiment, Hume, 91
ff". ; the function of, in the moral life, Sidgwick, 362 ff. ; ambiguity in
Sidgwick's use of, 365 ff". ; dualism of the Practical, according to Sidgwick,
412 ff".
Reasonableness of Christianity , The (Locke, 1695), 53.
Relative and Absolute Ethics, Spencer, 323 ft"., 351.
Religion, the essence of: Brown, 89 ; J. S. Mill, 240.
Sanctions: Berkeley's dependence upon theological, 69; Brown's, 89 ff. ;
Paley's, 171 ; J. S. Mill's view of the true, 255 ff. ; Spencer's treatment of
the, 309 ff".
" Satisfaction " and " Dissatisfaction," Tucker's use of the terms, 134, 138,
147 ff.
Schurman, J. G., quoted, 344.
Sedgwick, A., criticised by J. S. Mill, 199 ff.
Selby-Bigge, L. A., referred to, 92 n. ; quoted, 98.
Self-development: the ideal of, in Shaftesbury's system, 57; J, S. Mill on the
importance of harmonious, 248 ff., 265 ; Sidgwick on the ideal of, 375 ft".,
378 ff.
Self-interest, the ruling principle : Berkeley, 65 ff. ; Gay, 73 ; Brown, 85 ff". ;
Tucker, 151 ft". ; Paley, 170 ft". ; Bentham, 180 ff.
Self-preservation, the principle of: in Hobbes, 6, 7 ; significance of same in
Cumberland, 29, 43 ; treated by Sidgwick as one form of Egoism, 378.
Self-realisation : relation of Shaftesbury's system to the doctrine of, 57 ; Sidg-
wick's criticism of, as a Method of Ethics, 375 ff., 378 ff.
Sermons upon Human Nature (Butler, 1726), referred to, 133. (See " Butler ".)
Shaftesbury, 54-58 ; referred to, 59, 61, 62, 63, 64, 70, 78, 79, 84, 85, 88, gi, in,
181, 234.
Sidgwick, 358-417 ; quoted, 2, 3, 33, 50 n. ; referred to, 5 n., 10, 13 «., 57 w., 259,
260 n.
Smith, A., criticised by Spencer, 284 ff.
27*
426 Index.
Social Statics ; or. The Conditions Essential to Human Happiness Specified, and
the First of Them Developed (Spencer, 1^51), 270-291 ; referred to, 150 ».,
269, 294. 293, 298, 306, 316 ff., 320, 324, 327 ff., 333 ft"., 336, 338 ff., 345, 346,
349. 353. 354. 355. 356. 358, 387 ft.
" Sociological view " of Morality, Spencer's, 315 ft.
Society, as an organism, Cumberland, 18, 21, 35, h7. (Cf. Shaftesbury, 55 ft.)
Spaulding, F. E., referred to, 22 «., 33.
Spencer, 268-357 ; referred to, 259 ;«., 260, 361, 387, 388, 389, 391.
Spinoza, referred to, 378.
Stephen, L., referred to, 21, 29, 193 n., 362.
Sympathy: in Grotius, 3; denied by Hobbes, 5 ff. ; in Cumberland, 21 ft"., 25 ;
differently treated by Hume in Treatise {^V.. III.) and in Inquiry, g$ ff. ;
Hume's later treatment of, 102, 108; Hartley's derivation of, rig ff. ; his
inconsistent treatment of, 129; Tucker's derivation of, 141 ff. ; his treatment
of, 154 ; Paley's treatment of, 171 ; Bentham's failure to explain his position
regarding, iSr ; regarded as original by J. S. Mill, 201, 256; necessary to
explain moral judgments, Spencer, 285 ; development of, Spencer, 322 ff.,
335 ; Sidgwick follows Butler in his treatment of, 370 ff.
System, Man part of a : Cumberland, 18, 24, 48 ; Shaftesbury, 55. {See
" Evolution of Conduct ".)
System of Logic, A : Ratiocinative and Inductive [Bk. VI., " On the Logic of
the Moral Sciences"] (J. S. Mill, 1843), 214, 219 ft"., 263.
System of Moral Philosophy, A (Hutcheson, 1755), 58 ft".
Theism (J. S. Mill, 1874), 228, 260 »., 261 «.
Theological Utilitarianism : Berkeley, 64 ff. ; Gay, 69 ft". ; Brown, 83 ft". ; Tucker,
130 ff. ; Paley, 165 ff.
Theology, Natural, J. S. Mill's attitude toward, 234 ff.
Theory of Moral Sentiments, The (A. Smith, 1759), criticised by Spencer, 284 ft".
" Trains " of ideas, Tucker's account of, 135 ft".
" Translation," Tucker's theory of, 136 ft"., 140 ff., 159 ff. (Cf. Gay's anticipa-
tion of the theory, 76 ff.)
Treatise concerning Eternal and Immutable Morality, A (Cudworth, 173 1), 10,
II.
Treatise of Human Nature, A (Hume, 1739-40), 93 ft". ; relation of, to Inquiry,
94 ; referred to, 70, 82 «., 113, 129, 130, 133 »., 161.
Tucker, 130-164; referred to, 27, 70, 72, 78, 80, 82, 83, 91, 97, 112, 114, 126, 165,
166, 167, 171, 172, 173, 174, 179, 180, 183, 184, 189, 335.
Utilitarian formula, the : used by Hutcheson, 60 ff. ; not used by Gay, 82 ;
Bentham's use of, 180.
Utilitarianism (J. S. Mill, 1861-63), 249-260, 265 ff. ; referred to, 198, 367, 395.
Utilitarianism : the term, first used by J. S. Mill, 197 ; the later form of, inaugu-
rated by Mill, 209, 212 ; Mill's proof of, 256 ff. ; Sidgwick's criticism of same,
395 ff. ; Sidgwick's proof of, 398 ff. ; difficulties involved in same, 404 ff.,
409 ff.
Utility of Religion (J. S. Mill, 1874), 236-241, 264.
Index. 427
Vibrations, Hartley's theory of, 115 ff.
Virtue : Shaftesbury's conception of, 55 ff. ; practically identified with benevo-
lence by Hutcheson, 59 ff. ; Gay's definition of, 71 ; cf. Paley's definition of,
170. {^ee " The Good ".)
Virtues : classification of the, Cumberland, 41 ; Hume, 105 ff. ; Hartley, 121 ff. ;
Tucker, 155 ; Paley, 172 n. ; Bentham, 183 ; Spencer, 280 ff., 327, 346 ff. ;
" natural " and " artificial," Hume's distinction between, 99 ff.
Whewell : J. S. Mill's criticism of, 214 ff., 264 ; quoted, 130 «., 175 ; referred
to, 10, II n., 52 «., 223.
Will : Cumberland's theory of the, 22, 25, 41 ; Associationist theory of the.
Hartley, 115, ng ; Tucker, 133 ff., 137 ff., 143 ff. ; J. S. Mill, 257 ff. {See
"The Moral Motive " and " Theory of Desire ".)
Wollaston, referred to, 84.
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