UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, SAN OIEGO 3 1822 01583 6927 Central University Library University of California. San Diego Note: This item is subiect to recall after two weeks. Date Due UCSD Lib. ^ \ 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. B IS! A3 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 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 (' 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/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. THE ABERDEEN UNIVERSITY PRESS LIMITED. Cf)e litJtatp of p{)ilo0op6p Edited by J. H. MUIRHEAD, M.A., LL.D. Professor of Philosophy in the University of Birmingham THE LIBRARY OF PHILOSOPHY is in the first instance a contribution to the History of Thought. While much has been done in England in tracing the course of evolution in nature, history, religion and morality, com- paratively little has been done in tracing the development of Thought upon these and kindred subjects, and yet " the evolution of opinion is part of the whole evolution." This Library will deal mainly with Modern Philosophy, partly because Ancient Philosophy has already had a fair share of attention in this country through the labours of Grote, Ferrier, Benn, and others, and through translations from Zeller ; partly because the Library does not profess to give a complete history of thought. By the co-operation of different writers in carrying out this plan, it is hoped that a completeness and thorough- ness of treatment otherwise unattainable will be secured. It is believed, also, that from writers mainly English and American fuller consideration of English Philosophy than it has hitherto received from the great German Histories of Philosophy may be looked for. In the departments of Ethics, Economics, and Politics, for instance, the contri- butions of English writers to the common stock of theoretic discussion have been especially valuable, and these subjects will accordingly have special prominence in this undertaking. THE LIBRARY OF PHILOSOPHY Another feature in the plan of the Library is its arrange- ment according to subjects rather than authors and dates, enabling the writers to follow out and exhibit in a way hitherto unattempted the results of the logical development of particular lines of thought. The historical portion of the Library is divided into two sections, of which the first contains works upon the development of particular schools of Philosophy, while the second exhibits the history of theory in particular departments. To these have been added, by way of Introduction to the whole Library, (i) an English translation of Erdmann's History of Philosophy, long since recognised in Germany as the best; (2) translations of standard foreign works upon Philosophy. J. H. MUIRHEAD, General Editor. ALREA D Y PUBL I SHED Demy Svo, Cloth THE HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY. By Dr. Johann Eduard Erdman.n. English Translation. Edited by WiLLlSTON S. Hough, M.Ph., Professor of Mental and Moral Philosophy and Logic in the University of Minnesota. Vol. I. ANCIENT AND MEDI/EVAL PHILOSOPHY. 15s. [ Third Edition. Vol. IL MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 15s. {Fifth Edition. Vol. III. MODERN PHILOSOPHY, SINCE HEGEL. 12s. [ Third Edition. THE HISTORY OF ^ESTHETIC. By Bernard Bosanquet, M.A., LL.D., late Fellow of University College, Oxford, los. 6d. net. {Third Edition. THE LIBRARY OF PHILOSOPHY THE DEVELOPMENT OF RATIONAL THEOLOGY SINCE KANT. By Professor Otto Pfleiderer, of Berlin. los. 6d. net. [Third Edition. PHILOSOPHY AND POLITICAL ECONOMY IN SOME OF THEIR HISTORICAL RELATIONS. By James Bonar, M.A., LL.D. los. 6d. net. \_SeiOiid Edition. APPEARANCE AND REALITY. By F. H. Bradley, M.A., Fellow of Merton College, Oxford. 12s. net. {.Second Edition. NATURAL RIGHTS. By David G. Ritchie, Professor of Logic and Metaphysics in the University of St. Andrews. los. 6d. net. ANALYTIC PSYCHOLOGY. By G. F. Stout, M.A., Fellow of St. John's College, Cambridge, Wilde Reader in Mental Philosophy, Oxford. 2 vols. 21s.net. [Third Edition. A HISTORY OF ENGLISH UTILITARIANISM. By Ernest Albee, Ph.D., Instructor in the Sage School of Philosophy, Cornell University, los. 6d. net. CONTEMPORARY PSYCHOLOGY. By Professor Guido Villa, Lecturer on Philosophy in the University of Rome. Authorised Translation. los. 6d. net. THOUGHT AND THINGS: a Study of the Development and Meaning of Thought or Genetic Logic. By James Mark Baldwin, Ph.D., Hon. D.Sc. (Oxon.), LL.D. (Glasgow), Professor in the Johns Hopkins University. Vol. L FUNCTIONAL LOGIC; or, Genetic Theory of Knowledge. los. 6d. net. Vol. n. EXPERIMENTAL LOGIC, ios.6d.net. Vol. HI. REAL LOGIC. Part L Genetic Epistemology. ios.6d.net. Vol. IV. REAL LOGIC. Part H. (in preparation). VALUATION : ITS NATURE AND LAWS. Being an Intro duction to the General Theory of Value. By Wilbur Marshall Urban, Ph.D.. Professor of Philosophy, Trinity College, Hartford, Conn. los. 6d. net. ATTENTION. By Prof. W. B. Pillsbury, University of Michigan, los. 6d. net. TIME AND FREE WILL. By Prof. Henri Bergson. Translated from the French by F. L. PoGSON, St. John's College, Oxford. los. 6d. net. [Second Edition. HEGEL'S PHENOMENOLOGY OF MIND. Translated by Prof. J. B. Baillie. 2 vols. 2LS. net. MATTER AND MEMORY. By Prof. Henri Bergson. Trans- lated by N. ^L Paul and W. Scott Palmer. 10s. 6d. net. [Second Edition. PSYCHOLOGY OF THE RELIGIOUS LIFE. By Prof. G. M. Stratton, University of California, los. 6d. net. PRESS NOTICES OF ERDMANN'S HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY PALL MALL GAZETTE "A splendid monument of patient labour, critical acumen, and admirable methodical treatment." Professor JOHN WATSON, in THE WEEK, of Canada " It is not nccessarv to speak of the great merits of Erdmanij's History of Philosophy. Its remarkable clearness and comprehensive- ness are well known. . . . The translation is a good, faithful rendering, and in some parts even reaches a high literary level." SCOTSMAN "... It mu->t prove a valuable and much-needed addition to our philosophical works." Professor JOHN DEWEY, in THE AN DOVER REVIEW "To the student who wishes, not simply a general idea of the course of philosoph)-, nor a summary of what this and that man has said, but a somewhat detailed knowledge of the evolution of thought, and of what this and the other writer have contributed to it, Erdmann is indispensable ; there is no substitute." JOURNAL OF EDUCATION " It is a work that is at once compact enough for the ordinary student, and full enough for the reader of literature. ... At once systematic and interesting." SPECTA TOR " The translation into English of Erdmann's History of Philosophy is an important event in itself, and in the fact that it is the first instalment of an undertaking of great significance for the study of philosophy in this country. Apart, however, from its relation to the Library to which it is to serve as an introduction, the trans- lation of Erdmann's History of Philosophy is something for which the English student ought to be thankful. . . . Such a History, able, competent, trustworthy, we have now in our hands, adequately and worthily rendereJ into our mother-tongue." GEORGE ALLEN & COMPANY, LTD., LONDON THE MACMILLAN COMPANY, NEW YORK •'^•tf S,^["ERN REGIONAL ^ ^ oorz'''Sfw^^^^^^^^ mIK^P'^C/L/TY