Tflniveretty tutorial Series. MANUAL OF ETHICS. BT JOHN S. MACKENZIE, M.A., PROFESSOR OF LOGIC AND PHILOSOPHY IN THE UNIVERSITY COLLEGE Or SOUTH WALM AND MOMMOUTH8H1KE ; FORMERLY FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. FOURTH EDITION. RSVISKD, ENLARGED, AND IN PAT REWRITTEN. HINDS, HAYDEN & ELDREDGE, INC. NEW YORK CITY PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION. The chief change in this edition consists in the addition of a chapter on the "Authority of the Moral Standard " (Book II., Chapter VI.). This chapter includes an ac- count of the Sanctions, which formerly appeared as a note to Chapter VI. of Book III. I have also added a short note on the classification of the Virtues at the end of Chapter IV. of Book III. The other alterations in this edition are very slight. I am glad to have this opportunity of acknowledging the kind expressions of appreciation that I have received from teachers of Philosophy in the United States and Canada. It is particularly gratifying to me to know that my book has been found useful in a part of the world from which so many of the most valuable and attractive Manuals of Philosophy have come. At a time when we are being somewhat acutely reminded of the essential similarity of our political problems, it is perliaps specially fitting that we should remember that we are still more profoundly united on the larger problems of life and thought. 1 February, 1901. Copyright, 1897, by IV. B. Clive. Copyright, lyof, by Hinds & Noll* PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION. THIS handbook is intended primarily for the use of private students, and especially for those who are prepar- ing for such examinations in Ethics as those conducted by the University of London. It is hoped, however, that it will be found useful also by other classes of readers. Its design is to give, in brief compass, an outline of the most important principles of ethical doctrine, so far as these can be understood without a knowledge of Meta- physics. To do this satisfactorily is by no means easy ; and I can hardly hope that I have been successful in overcom- ing the difficulties. The theory of Ethics must, I believe, in the end rest on Metaphysics ; and what it is possible to do without Metaphysics can be little more than a clear- ing of the ground, and a leading up to the metaphysical principles that are involved in the subject. The system of metaphysical truth, however, is like a city with many gates ; and perhaps the student may enter it by the ethical gate as profitably as by any other. It has been my aim, at any rate, to conduct the student gradually inwards from the psychological outworks to the metaphysical founda- tion. It is perhaps hardly necessary to say that the meta- physical point of view adopted in this Manual is that of the school of Idealism i. e. the school founded v VI PREFACE. by Kant and developed by Hegel, Green, and other*. In this respect the present Text-book is similar to two other treatises which appeared a little before it Dewey's Outlines of a Critical Theory of Ethics, and Muir- head's Elements of Ethics* If these books had been published before this one was arranged for, it is probable that it would never have been undertaken. As it is, I can only plead that the subject is handled in this work in a way slightly different from that in which it is taken up by either of the other two, and that it may consequently in some respects satisfy a want which neither of them fully meets. I hope, however, that readers of my book will, as far as possible, consult the other two also. Where there is a general harmony of point of view, a compari- son of the methods of treatment adopted by different writers on points of detail is often of the greatest value to the student. I think it would be especially useful for readers of this book, who have time to spare, to compare it in this way with Muirhead's Elements of Ethics. The latter work is designed for a slightly different purpose ; and at many points it will be found to supply a very use- ful supplement to the present treatise by presenting the same general ideas in a somewhat different light. For the convenience of students who may use it in this way, I have inserted frequent references to Mr. Muirhead's book, and have indicated the main points of divergence. 1 Other two books which have since appeared Professor James Seth's Study of Ethical Principles and Mr. C. F. D'Arcy's Short Study of Ethics are also written from a point of view which is to a large extent similar. In both of these books there is a good deal of space devoted to the discussion of the metaphysical basis ; but in neither case does the discussion appear satisfactory. On the whole I have thought it best to leave such discussions to works that arc - prescly metaphysical in character. PREFACE. Vli My obligations to the leading exponents of the science are sufficiently obvious, and need not be specially ac- knowledged. In particular, how much I owe to Dr. Edward Caird will probably be evident to every one who is familiar with his writings and teaching. I must, how- ever, make some more particular acknowledgment of the assistance I have received at various points from several friends and critics. The proofs of this edition, as well as of the first, have been read by Mrs. Gilliland Husband, and I am indebted to her for many highly suggestive criticisms. Mr. James Welton also read all the proofs of the first edition, and Mr. Stout has read all the proofs of the present edition ; and from both of these gentlemen I have received valu- able assistance. I am also indebted to Professor Alex- ander for some useful criticisms ; and, on smaller points, to Principal Lloyd Morgan, Professor Sully, Mr. W. T. Kenwood, Mr. J. A. Clarke, and others. The published criticisms by Dr. Bosanquet, Professor Ritchie, Mr. Muir- head, Miss E. E. C. Jones, and others have been very helpful. The index at the end of the first edition was prepared by Mr. H. Holman ; that at the end of the present edition is the work of Mr. W. F. Trotter, of Trinity Col- lege, Cambridge, who has also given me much help in verifying references. In conclusion, for the sake of those who have been using the previous editions, it may be well to give some indication of the principal changes that have been made in the present one. An effort has been made, in the first place, to render the method of treatment more systematic. With a view to this, the work has been divided into five parts. Of these, Book III. is the part that has been most slightly altered. The only changes in this consist in PREFACE. insignificant modifications of detail. The CONCLUDING CHAPTER has to do duty for the last two chapters of the former editions, and has undergone considerable transfor- mation. The references to Art have been almost entirely omitted, while the references to Metaphysics have been made a good deal more definite. In the INTRODUCTION some further remarks have been added on the divisions into which the treatment of Ethics naturally falls, and the statements about the relation of Ethics to practical life have been considerably modified. I have found that what I said on this subject has been a good deal misun- derstood ; and the misunderstanding seemed to be due to want of clearness in my exposition, especially in the first chapter. I have, accordingly, added a good deal more in the way of explanation in this chapter, and have removed some passages about the general nature of moral law, which seemed specially liable to misinterpretation, and have inserted them in Book II., Chap. III., where they are perhaps more in place. I have also added a chapter at the end of Book II., dealing with the general subject of the bearing of Theory on Practice. I hope I may have succeeded in this way in removing the impression, which appears to have been created in some minds, that I thought it to be the business of ethical science to construct the moral life in vacuo. Nothing could well have been fur- ther from my intention; and, if I have overestimated the practical significance of philosophical reflection, I have at least not forgotten either the dictum of Hegel ' 1 " Philosophy, as the thought of the world, does not appear until reality has completed its formative process, and made itself ready. . . . When philosophy paints its grey in grey, one form of life has be- come old, and by such painting it cannot be rejuvenated, but only known. The owl of Minerva takes its flight only when the shade* PREFACE. 1*X or the epigram of Bradley,' or the gibe of Schiller. 8 I do not hold, with Coleridge, that " the only kind of common sense worth having is that which is based on Metaphysics ; " but I do certainly believe that there is not much value in any kind of common sense that cannot be vindicated by philosophical reflection ; and I think that, when it is thus vindicated, it is at the same time enlightened. The most considerable alterations, however, occur in Book I. I have thought it desirable to add a good deal of new material on the development of the moral life and of the moral judgment. It may be held that these sub- jects belong more properly to Sociology and Psychology than to Ethics in the stricter sense ; but I have found that their absence is a more serious defect than their presence. I have also added, at the beginning of Book II., a short historical account of the leading points of view in ethical theory. UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, CARDIFF, May, 1897. of night are gathering." Preface to the Rechtsphilosopkie. As a counterblast to this, it may be remarked, however, that several things seem to have been rejuvenated by Hegel himself. 1 " Metaphysics is the finding of bad reasons for what we believe upon instinct." Preface to Appearance and Reality. But are tha reasons always " bad," and are they always " for " ? 8 " Doch well, was ein Professor spricht, Nicht gleich zu Allen dringet, So iibt Natur die Mutterpflicht Und sorgt, dass nie die Kette bricht, Und dass der Reif nie springet. Einstweilen, bis den Bau der Welt Philosophic zusammenhalt, Erhalt sit das Getriebe Durch Hunger und durch Liebe." Die Weltweisen. CONTENTS. INTRODUCTION. CHAPTER I. THE SCOPS o* ETHICS. { 1. Definition : The Science of the Ideal in Conduct. 2 2. The Nature of Ethics. It is a Normative Science. 2 3. Ethics not a Practical Science. \ 4. Ethics not an Art. 2 6. Is there an Art of Conduct ? How Conduct is distinguished from the Arts. ( i ) Virtue Exists only in Activity. ( 2 ) The Essence of Virtue lies in the Will. 2 6. Is there any Science of Conduct ? 2 7. Summary I Note on Positive and Normative Sciences 20 CHAPTER II. THEREI^TION OF ETHICS TO OTHER SCIENCES. \ 1. General Statement. 2 2. Physical Science and Ethics. 2 8. Biology and Ethics. 4. Psychology and Ethics. 2 6. Logic, Esthetics and Ethics. \ 6. Metaphysics and Ethics. \ 7. Ethics and Political Philosophy. 28. Ethics and Economics. 2 & Ethics and Paedagogics. 2 10- Concluding Remarks. 23 CHAPTER m. THE DIVISIONS OF THE SUBJECT. | 1. General Remarks. 2 2. The Psychological Aspect of Ethics. 2 3- The Sociological Aspect of Ethics. { 4. The Theories of the Moral Standard. 2 5. The Concrete Moral Life. 2 6. Pl* n f the Present Work 35 X CONTENTS. BOOK L PROLEGOMENA, CHIEFLY PSYCHOLOGICAL CHAPTER I. DESIRE AND MM 1. Introductory Remarks. ? 2. General Nature of Desire. 3 3. Want and Appetite. \ 4. Appetite and De sire. | 5. Universe of Desire. \ 6. Conflict of De- sires. \ 7. Desire and Wish. \ 8. Wish and WilL \ 9. Will and Act \ 1O. The Meaning of Pur- pose. 2 11. Will and Character ................... 43 CHAPTER II. MOTIVE AND INTENTION. | 1. Preliminary Remarks. \ 2. The Meaning of Inten- tion. \ 3. The Meaning of Motive. \ 4. Relation between Motives and Intentions. \ 5. Is the Motive always Pleasure? \ 6. Psychological Hedonism. 7. The Object of Desire, (i) The Paradox of Hedonism.? 8. The Object of Desire. (2) Wants prior to Satisfactions. 9. The Object of Desire. (3) Pleasures and Pleasure. \ 10. Can Reason Serve as a Motive ? \ 1 1 . Is Reason the only Motive ? \ 12. How Motives are Constituted ....................... 59 Note on Pleasure and Desire ....................... 79 CHAPTER III. CHARACTER AND CONDUCT. i 1. General Remarks. 2 2. Character. \ 3. Conduct. I 4. Circumstance. \ 6. Habit $ 6. The Free- dom of the Will. \ 7 . Freedom Essential to Morals. 28. Necessity Essential to Morals. 9. The True Sense of Freedom. \ 1O. Animal Spontaneity. $11. Human Liberty. 12. The Highest Free- dom. 13. The Nature of Voluntary Action ....... 83 Note on Responsibility... ......................... lot CONTENTS. CHAPTER IV. THE EVOLUTION OP CONDUCT. MM Introductory Statement \ 2. Germs of Conduct in the Lower Animals. 3. Conduct among Savages. ? 4. The Guidance of Conduct by Custom. ? 5. The Guidance of Conduct by Law. \ 6. The Guidance of Conduct by Ideas. \ 7. Action and Reflection. \ 8. Moral Ideas and Ideas about Morality. ? 9. The Development of the Moral Consciousness 104 Note on Sociology 113 CHAPTER V. THE GROWTH OF THE MORAI, JUDGMENT. 1. The Earliest Forms of the Moral Judgment. ? 2. The Tribal Self. \ 3. The Origin of Conscience. \ 4. Custom as the Moral Standard. \ 5. Positive Law as the Moral Standard. 6. The Moral Law. \ 7. Moral Conflict. \ 8. The Individual Conscience as Standard.? 9. The Growth of the Reflective Judg- ment. ? 1O. Illustrations from Ancient Peoples. $11. General Nature of Moral Development 114 CHAPTER VI. THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MORAI, JUDGMENT. { 1. The Nature of the Moral Judgment. \ 2. The Object of the Moral Judgment.? 3. The Good Will.? 4. Judgment on Act and on Agent. ? 5. Is the Moral Judgment concerned with Motives or with Inten- tions ? ? 6. The Moral Judgment is partly concerned with Motives. ? 7. But the Judgment is really on Character.? 8. The Subject of the Moral Judg- ment. ? 9. The Moral Connoisseur. ? 1O. The Impartial Spectator.? 11. The Ideal Self 127 Note on the Meaning of Conscience 146 CONTENTS. Xlll BOOK II. THEORIES OP THE MORAL STANDARD. CHAPTER I. THE DEVELOPMENT OF ETHICAL THOUGHT PAGB $ 1. Early Greek Ethics. ? 2. The Sophists. ? 3. Socrates. ? 4. The Schools of Ethical Thought. \ 5. Plato and Aristotle. ? 6. Mediaeval Ethics. g 7. Schools of Ethics in Modern Times 147 CHAPTER II. THE TYPES OP ETHICAL THEORY. { 1. General Survey. \ 2. Reason and Passion. ? 3. The Right and the Good. ? 4. Duty, Happiness, Perfection. ? 5. Mixed Theories 156 CHAPTER III. THE STANDARD AS LAW. PART I. THE GENERAL IDEA OF MORAL LAW. ? 1. In- troductory Remarks. ? 2. The 2rleaning of Law in Ethics. ? 3. Is, Must be, and Ought to be. \ 4. The Categorical Imperative. PART II. VARIOUS CONCEPTIONS OF THE MORAL LAW. ? 5. The Law of the Tribe. \ 6. The Law of God.? 7. The Law of Nature. \ 8. The Moral Sense.? 9. The Law of Conscience. \ 10. Intuitionism. ? 11. The Law of Reason. PART III. THE DOCTRINE OF KANT. ? 12. Kant's View of the Moral Reason.? 13. Criticism of Kant, (i) Formalism. ? 14. Criti- cism of Kant (2) Stringency. ? 15. Real Signifi- cance of the Kantian Principle 162 Note on Kant 203 CHAPTER IV. THE STANDARD AS HAPPINESS. | 1. Introductory Remarks.? 2. Higher and Lower Universes. ? 3. Satisfaction of Desires. ? 4. Varie- ties of Hedonism. ? 5. Ethical Hedonism. ? 6. Quantity of Pleasure. g 7. Egoistic Hedonism. XIV CONTENTS. FAG* 5 8. Universalistic Hedonism. \ 9. General Criti- cism of Hedonism, (a) Pleasure and Value, (b) Quality of Pleasures, (c) Kinds of Pleasures, (d) Pleasure inseparable from its Object, (e) Pleasures cannot be summed. (_/) Matter without Form. | 10. Relation of Happiness to the Self.? 11. Self-realisation as the End 207 CHAPTER V. THE STANDARD AS PERFECTION. 2 1. Application of Evolution to Morals. \ 2. Develop- ment of Life. \ 8. Higher and Lower Views of De- velopment. 4. Explanation by Beginning. $ 6. Mr. Herbert Spencer's View of Ethics. \ 6. Criti- cism of Mr. Spencer's View. \ 7. Views of other Evolutionists. \ 8. Natural Selection in Morals. 9. Need of Teleology. \ 1O. Explanation by End. 2 11. Green's View of Ethics. \ 12. The True Self. 13. The real Meaning of Self -consistency. 5 14. The real Meaning of Happiness. \ 15. Transi- tion to Applied Ethics 234 CHAPTER VI. THE AUTHORITY OF THE MORAL STANDARD. L The General Problem of Authority. 2. Different Kinds of Authority. 3. Various Views of Moral Authority. 4. The Authority of Law. 5. The Sanctions of Morality. 6. The Authority of Conscience. 7. The Authority of Reason. 8. The Absoluteness of the Moral Authority 255 CHAPTER VII. THE BEARING OF THEORY ON PRACTICE. L Different Views. 2. Relation of Different Views to the Various Ethical Theories 3. The Intuitionist View. $ 4. The Utilitarian View. 6. The Evolutionist View. f 6. The Idealistic View. 7. Summary of Results. 8. Comparison between Ethics and Logic. 9. The Treatment of Applied Ethics 373 CONTENTS. X V BOOK III. THE MORAL LIFE. CHAPTER I. THE SOCIAL UNITY. PACK $ 1. The Social Self. 2. Society a Unity. 3. Egoism and Altruism. 4. Mr. Spencer's Conciliation. 5. Self- realisation through Self-sacrifice. 6. Ethics a Part of Politics. 7. Plato's View of Ethics. 8. Aristotle'i View of Ethics. 9. Cosmopolitism. 10. Christian Ethics. 11. The Social Universe. 12. Society an Organism. 13. Why is the Social Universe to be Pre- ferred ? 14. Relation of Conscience to the Social Unity 291 CHAPTER II. MORAL INSTITUTIONS. L The Social Imperative. 2. Justice. 3. Law and Public Opinion. 4. Rights and Obligations. 5. The Rights of Man. (a) Life. () Freedom, (c) Property. (p. 59-60, 48 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. I. verses, though they would become false if taken out of the particular universe to which they belong. Now there is something quite analogous in the case of our desires. Each desire also belongs to a particular uni- verse, and loses its meaning if we pass out of that universe into another. This universe to which a desire belongs is the universe that is constituted by the totality of what we call a man's character, as that character presents itself at the time at which the desire is felt. It is, in short, the universe of the man's ethical point of view at the moment in question. That there are great differences between such universes, is evident from the judgments that we habitually pass on the representa- tions of human conduct in poems and novels and dramas. We are often aware that a desire which is attributed to a fictitious personage is not such a desire as a man of his general character and situation would feel, or at least not such as he would feel in such a degree as is attributed to him. It is not such a desire, in fact, as belongs to his particular universe. And the particular universe which we thus estimate, and which varies so widely with the characters of different indi- viduals, is not even one that remains constant for the same person. We must all be aware of the different desires that dominate our minds in different moods, in different conditions, in different states of health. These differences constitute what we may call a difference of universe ; and to each such universe a different set of desires, or at least a different arrangement of desires, belongs. This universe may even after suddenly in the same individual, through some sudden transforma- tion of conditions. It is such a change that is illus- trated in the old fable of the cat which was transformed 5-] DESIRE AND WILL. 4$ into a princess, but returned again to its proper shape on the sudden appearance of a mouse. Tke sudden change of condition caused her to drop at once from the universe of princess to the universe of cat. Of such transformations life is rich in instances. There is a German proverb that what one wishes in youth one has to satiety in age ; but even from year to year and from day to day sometimes even from hour to hour we may find ourselves passing from one universe into another, where what we formerly desired becomes uninteresting, perhaps even disgusting. Any sudden change the news of the death of a friend, the recollec- tion of a promise, the suggestion of a moral principle, and the like may carry us instantaneously from one world into another. This is illustrated in Shakespeare's play of Love's Labour Lost, where the announcement of the death of the King of France brings suddenly to a close the wit and levity of the preceding scenes, and introduces an entirely different tone. Such a change may fairly be referred to as a passage from one Uni- verse to another. Or again, such a change may be illustrated by the common transformation from a man's Sunday view of life to that which he takes during the rest of the week. Even a change of clothes suffices with some men to produce a change of universe ; for it is not always entirely true that "the cowl does not make the monk. " * 6. CONFLICT OF DESIRES. In the preceding section we have assumed, for the sake of simplicity, that at 1 On the nature of psychological universes the psychology of Herbart is particularly instructive. Reference may be made to Mr. Stout's Articles in Mind and to the same writer's Analytic Psychology (especially chaps. VIIL, IX, and X.) Eth. 50 ETHICS. [BK. i. t CH. L any given moment an individual occupies a definite point of view, or is, so to speak, an inhabitant of a single universe. In reality, however, the content of an individual's consciousness is not so simple. There are nearly always several points of view present to a given individual at a given moment ; or, at any rate, several points of view alternate with one another so rapidly, that they may practically be regarded as pre- sent together. A statesman, for instance, may be in- fluenced in his conduct by motives derived from many different universes. He may occupy the universe which is constituted by the consideration of the good of his country ; and from this point of view he may strongly desire to see certain measures carried out. But at the same time he may be not uninfluenced by considerations drawn from very different universes. He may occupy also a universe constituted by his own personal ambition, by the welfare of his family, by the wishes of his constituency, by a view of duty to the world (as distinguished from his own country), per- haps also by religious considerations. He may occupy alternately, and almost simultaneously, all these dif- ferent points of view ; and very various desires may arise in his mind in consequence. It is probable that some of these desires will conflict with others. From one point of view he may desire peace, from another war : from one point of view he may set his heart on liberty, from another on order. It then comes to be a question which of these ends the man will finally choose. Now it is often said that in such cases a man will naturally, or even necessarily, be influenced by the strongest desire or motive. But it must be observed that this mode of statement is misleading. It implie* 6.] DESIRE AND WILL. $1 that a desire is an isolated thing ; whereas in reality it forms part of a universe or system. Consequently, the real strength of a desire does not depend on its own individual liveliness or force, but rather on the force of the universe or system to which it belongs. Thus a man might be strongly desirous of war from a feeling of hatred towards a foreign power. But if the man were of such a character that the sense of duty was more dominant in him than the feeling of personal hatred, he might decide for peace, though the desire for peace in itself did not strongly influence him. The latter desire would conquer, not because it was in itself the stronger, but because it formed a part of a stronger universe or system. x Of course a strong de- sire gives strength to the universe to which it belongs ; but the final triumph of a desire depends not on its own individual dominance, but on the dominance of its universe. How in particular individuals one universe comes to be dominant rather than another, is a ques- tion rather for Psychology than for Ethics. In so far as it concerns Ethics, it will be touched upon in some future sections of this book.* In the meantime, what it is important to note is merely that a desire is not an isolated phenomenon but a part of a system ; and that conlequently a conflict of desires is in reality a conflict between two or more universes of desire. 3 * Cf. Green's Prolegomena to Ethics, Book II., chap. L, 105, p. 108. * See, for instance, Book III., chap. vL * Cf. Dewey's Psychology, pp. 364-5 : " It is important to notice that it is a strife or conflict which goes on in the man himself ; it is a conflict of himself with himself [i. e., in our language, a conflict of him elf as one universe with himself as another universe] ; it is not a con- flict of himself with something external to him, nor of one impulse with another impulse, he meanwhile remaining a passive spectator $2 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. L 7. DESIRE AND WISH. The terms "desire" and " wish " are frequently used as synonymous ; but there is a slight difference in the usage of the terms, and it seems desirable to employ them in Ethics in distinct senses. We may say briefly that a wish is an effective desire. The meaning of this will be more apparent when it is considered in relation to what has just been said with regard to universes of desire and the conflict between them. It has been stated that any given desire belongs to a system or universe, and that various such systems may exist simultaneously and come into conflict with one another. When such conflicts occur, certain desires predominate over others ; some are sub- ordinated or sink into abeyance. Now it may be con- venient to limit the term " wish" to those desires that predominate or continue to be effective. A hungry man may be said to have a desire for food ; but this desire may be dominant only within the universe of animal inclination. The desire may be kept in abey- ance by a sense of religious obligation, by devotion to work, or by some overmastering passion. In such cases we may say that the man no longer vrishes for food, though a desire for food continues to exist in his consciousness as an element in a subordinate universe held, as it were, in leash. A desire, then, \fhich awaiting the conclusion of the struggle. What gives the conflict of desires its whole meaning is that it represents the man at strife with himself. He is the opposing contestants as well as the battle-field" This last expression was no doubt suggested to Prof. Dewey by a very striking passage in Hegel's Philosophy of Religion (I. 64), in which ha says : " I am not one of the combatants, but rather both of the com. batants and also the combat itself * ; cr, as Principal Caird renders it (Philosophy of Religion, chap, ijc, p. 262) : " I am at once the combat ati and *h** conflict and *he held that is torn with the ttrif ** 8.] DESIRE AND WILL. 53 has become ineffective, is not to be described as a wish. ' 8. WISH AND WILL. If it is important to distin- guish an effective wish from a mere latent desire, it is still more important to distinguish a wish from a defi- nite act of will. It might seem at first that if a wish is a dominant desire it must always issue in, will. But this is not the case. The reason is that a wish is often of an abstract character, directed towards some single element in a concrete event, without reference to the accompanying circumstances. In order, on the other hand, that an event may be willed, it has to be accepted in its concrete totality. When Lady Anne, in Shake- speare's King Richard III., says to the Duke of Glou- cester, * Though I wish thy death, I will not be the executioner," * the contrast between wish and will is well brought out. The wish for the death is a mere abstract wish, since it does not include the means by which the death might be brought about. 2 On the other hand, when a total concrete effect is willed, it may include many elements 1 1 use the term wish, it will be observed, in a sense almost cor- responding to the Aristotelian ^OU'A^I? (as distinguished from p< i?). See, for instance, De Anima, III., ix. 3, III., x. 3, && E. Wallace translates 0ovAT)ri. 9-] DESIRE AND WILL. 55 concrete event as an object to be aimed at. But if this event is remote, the purpose may lie within one uni- verse and the carrying of it out within another. When the time for action comes, the conditions may have changed. At the lowest there will be this change, that what was formerly presented merely in anticipative imagination is now presented as an actual fact To resolve to make a confession, for instance, is one thing : actually to make it, in the presence of those to whom it has to be made, is often a very different thing. In the former case the accompanying circumstances are only presented in an imaginative and partly sym- bolic way : in the latter case they are actually present to sense. Now, the actual facts may not correspond to the anticipation. Those to whom the confession was to be made, for instance, may be found to be in a different mood from what was expected. And even if the anticipation proves substantially correct, still, in the actual presentation we may be impressed by ac- cessory circumstances of which we had not taken any particular account. The man who resolves to get up at an early hour may not have thought particularly about the coldness of the morning air, or about the pleasantness of lying in bed ; whereas, when the time comes, these may be among the most impressive circumstances. Or, again, when Lady Macbeth in- tended to murder Duncan, it did not occur to her that he might resemble her father. So, too, when Hamlet resolved to carry out the behests of the Ghost, he did not think of all the doubts that might suggest them- selves to his mind after the Ghost had vanished. Thus "enterprises of great pith and moment," as well as more insignificant designs, may be frustrated by a $6 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. L change of universe; and the "best intentions," or the worst, may lead to nothing. 1 This is especially true when the purpose is one that carries great conse- quences in its train, involving perhaps a complete change of the world within which we have been living. In such a case the changed world cannot be with any completeness imagined, and some very small circum- stance may easily give a completely new turn to our thoughts. The "insurrection " * by which the universe within which we are living is to be overthrown cannot be at once carried out, and we cannot with any thoroughness think ourselves into the new conditions that are to arise. Thus a mere resolution is still far from being an act.* What is commonly called "force of will " means the power of carrying resolutions into act. This power depends largely on the habit of fixing our attention upon the salient features of an object that is aimed at, and not allowing ourselves to be distracted by subordinate conditions. Hence, narrow-minded or hard-hearted men have often more "force of will," in this sense, than those who take wider views. But a wide-minded man may also acquire " force of M'ill " by taking a clear and decided view of the circumstances Cf. below, Book III., chap. vL, 3. Cf. Shakespeare's Julius Ccesar, Act II., scene L, 1L 63 sqq. " Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream : The Genius and the mortal instruments Are then in council ; and the State of man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection." For an admirable summary of the elements involved in an act of rill, sec M airhead's Elements of Ethics, pp. 4&-5Q. II.] DESIRE AND WILL. 57 that are important, and thus eliminating insignificant details. 10. THE MEANING OF PURPOSE. When Will is regarded in relation to the end at which it aims, it is called Pur- pose. This term, however, is sometimes used also to describe the end itself, rather than the fact of aiming at an end. Purpose should be carefully distinguished from those tendencies to action which accompany appetite, desire, and wish. Action based on appetite is generally described as impulsive ; but this term is sometimes used also with reference to actions that issue from desire. We may use the terms Blind Impulse and Conscious Impulse to mark the distinction. The tendency of a wish, again, to issue in action is most properly de- scribed by the term Inclination. When we are inclined to do anything, we are not merely conscious of an impulse to do it, but we to a certain extent approve the impulse ; though it maybe that, on reflection, we may resolve not to follow it. A Purpose or Resolution is thus distinguished from an Impulse (whether Blind or Conscious) and from an Inclination. 11. WILL AND CHARACTER. "A character," said Novalis, " is a completely fashioned will." Character may be said, in the language we have just been using, to consist in the continuous dominance of a definite universe. A man of good character is one in whom the universe of duty habitually predominates. A miser is one in whom the dominant universe is that which is constituted by the love of money. A fanatic is one in whom some particular universe is so entirely dominant as to shut out entirely other important points of view. And in like manner all other kinds of character may bo described by reference to the nature of the universe that 58 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. i. is dominant in them. When Pope said that "Most women have no characters at all," he meant that the universes of desire in which they live are so continually varying that no one of them can be said to be habit- ually dominant. And certainly it is the case that most men, as well as most women, cannot be ac- counted for by so simple an explanation as the exclu- sive dominance of such ' ' ruling passions " as Pope dealt with. In the case of most actual human beings what we have is not so much any one universe that decidedly predominates as a number of universes that stand to one another in certain definite relations. The different relations in which they stand to one another constitute the differences of character. How it comes that now one, and now another, predominates, is, as we have already remarked, a question rather for Psychology than for Ethics. The habitual modes of action that accompany a formed character are described by the term Conduct. The meaning of this we shall have to discuss almost immediately. * 1 Mr. Stout's article on ' ' Voluntary Action " {Mind t New Series, Vol. V., no. 19) will be found in the highest degree instructive on several of the points referred to in this chapter, as well as on some of those that are dealt with in the following chapters. See also the closing chapter of his Manual of Psychology . I.] MOTIVE AND INTENTION. 59 CHAPTER IL MOTIVE AND INTENTION. 1. PRELIMINARY REMARKS. So far we have been considering the general nature of the relationship between Desire and Will. It is now necessary that we should direct our attention to the nature of the end involved in Volition ; and, in particular, that we should consider the important distinction between an Intention and a Motive. This is a point on which a good deal of discussion has turned ; and, owing to the great difficulties that are involved in it, it is a point that requires very careful study. First, then, we must try to understand exactly what Intention and Motive mean. 2. THE MEANING OF INTENTION. The term Inten- tion corresponds pretty closely to the term Purpose. Indeed, they are sometimes used as synonymous. But Purpose seems to refer rather to the mental activity, and Intention to the end towards which the mental activity is directed. Intention, understood in this sense, means anything which we purpose to bring about. Now what we thus purpose is often a very complicated result. We may aim at some external end, i. e. at the accomplishment of some change in the physical world e. g. the building of a house ; or in the social system within which we live 60 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. n. e. g". the overthrow of a government ; or, again, we may aim at the bringing about of some state of our own minds, or at the realization of some principle. Some distinctions between different kinds of Intention may help to make this clear. In the first place, we may distinguish between the immediate and the remote intentions of an act Thus, two men may both have the immediate intention of saving a third from drowning ; but the one may wish to save him from drowning simply in order that his life may be preserved, whereas the other may wish to save him from drowning in order that he may be reserved for hanging. ' In this case, while the imme- diate intentions are the same, the remote intentions are very different. The remote intention of an act is sometimes called the motive ; but this use of the term seems to be incorrect. In the second place, we may distinguish between the outer and the inner intention of an act. This may be illustrated by the familiar story of Abraham Lincoln and the pig that he helped out of a ditch. On being praised for this action, Lincoln is said to have replied that he did it, not for the sake of the pig, but rather on his own account, in order to rid his mind of the uncomfortable thought of the animal's distress. Here the outer intention was to rescue the animal, while the inner intention was to remove an uncom- fortable feeling from the mind. The inner intention, in this instance, is evidently only a particular case of the remote intention ; but it is not so in every in- ttance. Thus if a man were to endeavour to produce C/. Hill's Utilitarianism, chap, il p. 27, nofe 2.] MOTIVE AND INTENTION. 6l a certain feeling in his mind say, of penitence or of faith with the view of securing the favour of Heaven, the immediate intention would be an inner one, while the remote intention would be outer. The inner intention of an act, like the remote intention, is sometimes apt to be confounded with the motive. In the third place, we may distinguish between the direct and the indirect intention of an act. If a Nihilist seeks to blow up a train containing an Emperor and others, 1 his direct intention may be simply the de- struction of the Emperor, but indirectly also he in- tends the destruction of the others who are in the train, since he is aware that their destruction will be necessarily included along with that of the Emperor. In the fourth place, we may distinguish between the conscious and the unconscious intention of an act. To what extent any intention can be unconscious, is a question for psychology. By an unconscious inten- tion is here understood simply an intention which the agent does not definitely avow to himself. A man's conduct is often in reality profoundly influenced by such intentions. Thus the intention which he avows to himself may be that of promoting the well-being of mankind, while in reality he may be much more strongly influenced by that of advancing his own reputation. In the fifth place, we may distinguish between the formal and the material intention of an act. The material intention means the particular result as a realized fact ; the formal intention means the principle embodied in the fact. Two men may both aim at the i Cf. Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics, Book III., chap. I, $ a (p. xa, otea), 62 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. n overthrow of a particular governmeni Their material intentions are in that case the same. But the one may aim at its overthrow because he thinks it too progressive, the other because he thinks it too con- servative. The intentions of the two men are in this case very different formally, though their actions (which may consist simply in the giving of a vote) may be materially the same. These distinctions are given here, not as being an exhaustive list, but simply with the view of bringing out the complications that may be involved in a pur- pose. It is important to bring them out, since, otherwise, the relation between motive and intention can hardly be explained. Summing up, then, we may say, that an intention, in the broadest sense of the term, means any aim that is definitely adopted as an object of will ; and that such intentions may be of various distinct kinds. 3. MEANING OF MOTIVE. The term " motive " is not less ambiguous than "intention." The motive means, of course, what moves us or causes us to act in a par- ticular way. Now there is an ambiguity in the term "cause." A cause may be either efficient or final. The efficient cause of a man's movements, for instance, is the action of certain nerves, muscles, &c. ; the final cause is the desired end, the reaching of a destination or the production of a result. There is a similar ambi- guity in the use of the term "motive." 1 A motive may be understood to mean either that which impels or that which induces us to act In a particular way. In the former sense, we say that we are moved by C/. Muirhead'a Elements of Ethics, pp. 3&-6a 3.] MOTIVE AND INTENTION. 63 feeling or emotion. Thus we say that a man's motive was anger, or jealousy, or fear, or pity, or pleasure, or t pain. Some writers ' have even maintained that pleasure and pain are the only ultimate motives. This view we shall shortly require to consider. In the meantime we have simply to remark that it is no doubt true that men are sometimes moved to action by feeling. In conduct on which a moral judgment can be passed, however, a man is never solely moved by feeling. If a man is entirely " carried away " by feeling by anger or fear, for instance he cannot properly be said to act at all, any more than a stone acts when a man throws it at an object We may judge the character of a man who is carried away by feeling or passion : we may say that he ought not to have allowed himself to be so carried away ; but if he is entirely mastered by his passion, we cannot pass a moral judgment on his act, any more than on the act of a madman, or one who is drunk. Moral activity or conduct is purposeful action ; and action with a purpose is not simply moved by feeling : it is moved rather by the thought of some end to be attained. This leads us to the second, and more correct, sense in which the term "motive" may be used. The distinction may be made clear by considering the case of a man who is " moved by pity " to give assistance to a fellow-creature in distress. The mere feeling of pity is evidently not sufficient to move us to action. It may serve as an element in the efficient cause of action /'. e. the man who has a keen sense of pity may be more readily impelled to action than the one whose feeling is comparatively blunt But the i E. g. Bentham. 64 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. IL feeling itself is not a sufficient inducement to action. By itself, it moves at the utmost to tears as, for in stance, in the theatre, when we witness imaginary dis- tresses. When a man is moved to action, he must have, besides the mere feeling, the conception of an end to be attained. He perceives a fellow-creature, for instance, in a wretched plight, and sees that, by a certain effort, the man might be put in a more favour- able position. The putting of the man in this more favourable position presents itself to his mind as a desirable end ; and the thought of this desirable end induces him to act in a particular way. If he feels pity, in addition, this may impel him the more readily to such an action ; but the feeling of pity is not, by itself, the inducement to the action, ;'. e. the motive in the more correct sense. The motive, that which induces us to act, is the thought of a desirable end. 1 4. RELATION BETWEEN MOTIVES AND INTENTIONS.- 1 So also when, in Goldsmith's ballad, " The dog, to gain some private ends. Went mad, and bit the man," the motive was constituted by the gaining of some private ends, not by the mere madness. Cf. Tucker's Light of Nature, chap. v. The view of Motive given above seems to be essentially that of Aristotle, when he says (DeAnima, III. x.4) i ? T& opexrov ("it is always the desired object that moves to action " ). Some writers, however, still object to this use of the term. See, for instance, the discussions in the International Journal of Ethics, VoL IV., Nos. i and z Pro- fessor Ritchie maintains there (p. 236) that " 'desire' is the genus of which 'motive* is a species. The differentia of 'motive' is the presence of a conception of an end." But surely this must be erroneous. Surely all desire involves a conception of an end. It is right to add that the term " motive " seems originally to have beeq used for any efficient cause of movement It appears to be used iq ttut way in Shakespeare's description of Cressida 4-] MOTIVE AND INTENTION. 6$ From what has now been said, it is evident that th relation between motives and intentions is a very close one. The motive of our act is that which induces us to perform it. Now it is evident that this must be in- cluded in the intention, in the broadest sense of that term, but need not be, and generally will not be, iden- tical with the whole of it. * What induces us to perform an act is always something that we hope to achieve by it ; a but there may be much that we expect to achieve by it (and even that we consciously intend to achieve by it) which would not serve as an inducement to its performance, and which might even serve as an inducement not to perform it. The motive of a reform- er may be partly that of improving the state of man- kind and partly that of acquiring fame for himself. Both of these ends form part of his intention, in the widest sense of the term. But he may also be well aware that the result of his action will be, for a time, " not to send peace on the earth, but a sword." He may anticipate a certain amount of confusion and misery as the immediate result of his action, and per- haps also of persecution for himself. If he clearly " Her wanton spirits look out At every joint and motive of her body." But here, as in so many other cases, the meaning of the word has been gradually modified, partly to suit the conyeniences of ordinary life, and partly to meet the requirements of science. 1 Cf. Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, p. 61. When Prof. Dewey (Outlines of Ethics, p. 9) says that " the foreseen, the ideal conse- quences are the end of the act, and as such form the motive," he appears to identify the motive with the whole intention. This seems to me to be erroneous, or at least to be an inconvenient use of the term. For the meaning of " ideal " in this phrase of Prof. DeweyX see above, Introduction, chap, ii., 5, note. * Except of course when we are impelled by mere feeling or passio* Eth. 66 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. IL foresees that these results will ensue on his action, it can scarcely be said that he does not intend them. He deliberately accepts them as being inevitably involved in the good result which he hopes to achieve. Bwt assuredly we may say that these evil consequences form no part of his motive in endeavouring to achieve the good result. Or, to take a still simpler case, when Brutus helped to kill Caesar, in order to save his coun- try, 1 he certainly intended to kill Caesar, but the killing of Caesar was no part of his motive. The motive of an act, then, is a part of the intention, in the broadest sense of that term, but does not neces- sarily include the whole of the intention. Adopting the distinctions that have been drawn in section 2, we may say that the motive generally includes the greater part of the remote intention, but frequently does not include much of the immediate intention ; that it generally includes the direct intention, but not the indirect ; that it nearly always includes the formal intention, but often not much of the material intention ; and that it may be either outer or inner, conscious or unconscious. 5. Is THE MOTIVE ALWAYS PLEASURE ? We are now in a position to deal with the question, to which allusion has already been made, whether the motive to action is always pleasure. This question must be carefully distinguished, at the outset, from the question whether pleasure is always involved in the presentation of any motive. This distinction has been expressed as that between taking pleasure in an idea and aiming * Assuming the view taken by Plutarch and Shakespeare to b Correct For a different view of Brutus, see Froude's Ccesar. 6.] MOTIVE AND INTENTION. 67 at the idea of pleasure. It is probably true that every- thing at which we aim is thought of as pleasant. We take pleasure in the idea of accomplishing our end. To say this is obviously a very different thing from saying that the idea of pleasure is the end at which we aim, or that pleasure is always that which serves as the inducement to action. 1 The former view would be generally accepted by all psychologists ; the latter is the doctrine of those who are known as Psychological Hedonists. This doctrine is expressed, for instance, in the following passage from Bentham, 2 "Nature has placed man under the empire of pleasure and of pain. We owe to them all our ideas ; we refer to them all our judgments, and all the. determinations of our life. He who pretends to withdraw himself from this sub- jection knows not what he says. His only object is to seek pleasure and to shun pain, even at the very instant that he rejects the greatest pleasures or em- braces pains the most acute. These eternal and irresistible sentiments ought to be the great study of the moralist and the legislator. The principle of utility subjects everything to these two motives." Here we have a clear statement of the view that pleasure and pain are the only possible motives to action, the only ends at which we can aim. This is the view that we have now to consider. 6. PSYCHOLOGICAL HEDONISM. Psychological He- donism is the theory that the ultimate object of desire is pleasure. The best known exponent of this doctrine 1 It is probably true, as Mr. Bradley has urged, that the idea of pleasure is always pleasant (see Mind, New Series, VoL IV, no. 14). But this does not affect the present point Principles of Le&slation, chap. I. 68 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. II. is John Stuart Mill* In the fourth chapter of his book on Utilitarianism he reasons in the following way. " And now to decide whether this is really so ; whether mankind do desire nothing for itself but that which is a pleasure to them, or of which the absence is a pain ; we have evidently arrived at a question of fact and experience, dependent, like all similar questions, upon evidence. It can only be determined by practised self-consciousness and self-observation, assisted by observation of others. I believe that these sources of evidence, impartially consulted, will declare that desir- ing a thing and finding it pleasant, aversion to it and thinking of it as painful, are phenomena entirely insep- arable, or rather two parts of the same phenomenon ; in strictness of language, two different modes of naming the same psychological fact : that to think of an object as desirable (except for the sake of its consequences), and to think of it as pleasant, are one and the same thing ; and that to desire anything, except in propor- tion as the idea of it is pleasant, is a physical and metaphysical impossibility." This passage has been well criticised by Dr. Sidgwick in his Methods of Ethics (Book I., chap. iv.). He says "Mill explains that ' desiring a thing and finding it pleasant, are, in strict-* 1 Nearly all Hedonists, however, especially egoistic Hedonists, have with more or less clearness adopted this position. For a general historical exposition of the Hedonistic point of view, the student may be referred to Lecky's History of European Morals, chap. L, and Watson's Hedonistic Theories, from Aristippus to Spencer. The chief living exponent of psychological Hedonism is Professor Bain. See his Menial and Moral Science, Book IV., chap, iv., and The Emotions and the Will, "The Will," chap. viii. Dr. Bain, however, admits that it is possible, " for moments," to aim at other things than pleasure, On the general meaning of Hedonism and its chief varieties, see below, Book II., chap, iv, 1-4. $ 7-] MOTIVE AND INTENTION. 69 ness of language, two modes of naming the same psychological fact.' If this be the case, it is hard to see how the proposition we are discussing requires to be determined by 'practised self-consciousness and self-observation ; ' as the denial of it would involve a contradiction in terms. The truth is that there is an ambiguity in the word Pleasure, which has always tended seriously to confuse the discussion of this ques- tion. When we speak of a man doing something at his own 'pleasure,' or as he 'pleases,' we usually sig- nify the mere fact of choice or preference ; the mere determination of the will in a certain direction. Now, if by ' pleasant ' we mean that which influences choice, exercises a certain attractive force on the will, it is an assertion incontrovertible because tautological, to say that we desire what is pleasant or even that we desire a thing in proportion as it appears pleasant" This would mean simply that we desire it in proportion as we desire it; because "appears pleasant " means simply "is desired by us." But, as Dr. Sidgwick goes on to say, if we understand "pleasure" in a more exact sense, it is not obvious that what we desire is always pleasure. If we take pleasure to mean the agree- able feeling which attends the satisfaction of our wants, it is not by any means evident that this is always what we desire. On the contrary, it seems evident rather that this is not always what we desire. 7. THE OBJECT OF DESIRE, (i) The Paradox of He- donism. In the part of the Methods of Ethics to which reference has just been made, Dr. Sidgwick goes on to argue that in fact what we desire is very frequently some objective end, and not the accompanying plea- sure. He points out that even when we do ..esire TO ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. IL pleasure, the best way to get it is often to forget it. If we think about the pleasure itself, we are almost sure to miss it ; whereas if we direct our desires towards objective ends, the pleasure comes of itself. This is not true of all pleasures. It is true chiefly of the "pleasures of pursuit." 1 "Take, for example," says Dr. Sidgwick, "the case of any game which in- volves as most games do a contest for victory. No ordinary player before entering on such a contest, has any desire for victory in it : indeed he often finds it difficult to imagine himself deriving gratification from such victory, before he has actually engaged in the competition. What he deliberately, before the game begins, desires, is not victory, but the pleasant excite- ment of the struggle for it ; only for the full develop- ment of this pleasure a transient desire to win the game is generally indispensable. This desire, which does not exist at first, is stimulated to considerable intensity by the competition itself." "A certain degree of dis- interestedness seems to be necessary in order to obtain full enjoyment. A man who maintains throughout an epicurean mood, fixing his aim on his own pleasure, does not catch the full spirit of the chase ; his eagerness never gets just the sharpness of edge which imparts to the pleasure its highest zest. Here comes into view what we may call the fundamental paradox of Hedon- ism, that the impulse towards pleasure, if too pre- dominant, defeats its own aim. This effect is not visible, or at any rate is scarcely visible, in the case of passive sensual pleasures. But of our active enjoy- ments generally .... it may certainly be said that 1 See the Note at the end of this chapter. 8.] MOTIVE AND INTENTION. Jl we cannot attain them, at least in their highest degree, so long as we concentrate our aim on them." "Similarly, the pleasures of thought and study can only be enjoyed in the highest degree by those who have an ardour of curiosity which carries the mind temporarily away from self and its sensations. In all kinds of Art, again, the exercise of the creative faculty is attended by intense and exquisite pleasures ; but in order to get them, one must forget them." This "paradox of Hedonism," that in order to get pleasure it is necessary to seek something else, was to some extent recognized even by Mill ; but he does not seem to have perceived that it is inconsistent with the view that desire is always directed towards pleasure. Desire can evidently be, at least temporarily, directed not towards pleasure, but towards certain objective ends. 8. THE OBJECT OF DESIRE. (2) Wants prior to Sat- isfactions. We must next notice another point, which was brought out chiefly by Butler ' and Hutcheson, though some subsequent writers have ignored it viz. that many kinds of pleasure would not exist at all, if they were not preceded by certain desires for objects. Take, for instance, the pleasures of the benevolent af- fections. No one could possibly feel these pleasures unless he were first benevolent i. e. had a desire for the welfare of others. In such a case, therefore, the very existence of the pleasure depends on the fact that desire is first directed towards something other than pleasure. It might even be argued that this is the case 1 See Sidgwick's History of Ethics, p. 192 ; and cf. Green's edition of Hume, voL ii., Introd, p. 26, Green's Prolegomena to Ethics, i6x, p. 167, Caird's Critical Philosophy of Kant, vol. ii., p. 230, note. 7 ETHICS. [BK. j. f CH. 11, with all pleasures. Pleasure ensues upon the satisfac- tion of certain wants, and the wants must be prior to the satisfactions. We have a "disinterested" desire for food, before we can have a desire for the pleasure that accompanies the taking of food. From this con- sideration also it appears that there are some desires which are not desires for pleasure. 9. THE OBJECT OF DESIRE. (3) Pleasures and Plea- sure. At the same time it must be allowed that there is a certain plausibility in Mill's statements, and we must endeavour to account for this plausibility. It seems to arise from an ambiguity 1 in the word "plea- sure." Pleasure is sometimes understood to mean agreeable feeling, or the feeling of satisfaction, and sometimes it is understood to mean an object that gives satisfaction. The hearing of music is sometimes said to be a pleasure : but of course the hearing of music is not a feeling of satisfaction ; it is an object that gives satisfaction. Generally it may be observed that when we speak of " pleasures " in the plural, or rather in the concrete, we mean objects that give satisfaction ; whereas when we speak of " pleasure " in the abstract we more often mean the feeling of satisfaction which such objects bring with them.* But this is not always the case. Perhaps this distinction is more obvious in the case of pain than in the case of pleasure. Pain is generally understood as the negative of pleasure, **. e. as meaning disagreeable feeling, or feeling of dissatisfaction. But 1 A second ambiguity. Another ambiguity, pointed out by Dr. Sidgwick, has been already referred to above. * C/. Dr. Ward's article on "Psychology" in the Encyclopaedia Britannica. p. 71. 9-] MOTIVE AND INTENTION. 73 when we speak of "pains" we usually mean objects that produce a disagreeable feeling; and indeed we usually mean objects of a definite kind viz. organic sensations. The pain of toothache, for instance, is not merely a feeling of disagreeabltmess or dissatisfaction, but a definite sensation. That sensation is an object, and it is an object which brings with it a feeling of disagreeableness. The sensation of burning is another object ; the sensation of a stunning blow is another object; the consciousness of having acted wrongly is another object. All these objects bring with them a disagreeable feeling ; but in all of them the object which brings the disagreeable feeling, or is accom- panied by the disagreeable feeling, is quite distinguish- able from the feeling of disagreeableness itself. 1 Now when it is said that what we desire is always pleasure, what seems to be meant is that what we de- sire is always some object the attainment of which is accompanied by an agreeable feeling. But this is so true that it is almost a tautology. It is clear that if we desire anything, the attainment of it will bring at least a temporary satisfaction ; and this satisfaction will be accompanied by a feeling of satisfaction t. e. pleasure. Consequently, anything that we desire may be said to be a pleasure i. e. something that will bring pleasure when attained. The man who desires the overthrow 1 Kfllpe and Titchener (Outline of Psychology) are honourably distinguished among psychologists by the care with which they have distinguished between pain and unpleasantness. Organic pain seems to be a distinct sensation in quite the same sense in which a sweet taste or smell is a distinct sensation. The feeling or affection of pleasure and pain, though perhaps inseparable from these experiences, can be distinguished from them quite clearly. 74 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. IL of a political party, for instance, will be pleased if that event happens. We may consequently say that the overthrow of the party was a pleasure. It is in this sense that we use the phrase "an unexpected pleasure," and the like. But evidently the overthrow of a politi- cal party is not itself an agreeable feeling; it only brings an agreeable feeling with it. The fact that we desire pleasures is no evidence that we desire pleasure. A passage from Mill may help to make this clear. "What, for example," he asks, 1 "shall we say of the love of money ? There is nothing originally more de- sirable about money than about any heap of glittering pebbles. Its worth is solely that of the things which it will buy ; the desires for other things than itself, which it is a means of gratifying. Yet the love of money is not only one of the strongest moving forces of human life, but money is, in many cases, desired in and for itself; the desire to possess it is often stronger than the desire to use it, and goes on increasing when all the desires which point to ends beyond it, to be compassed by it, are falling off. It may be then said truly, that money is desired not for the sake of an end, but as part of the end. From being a means to happi- ness, it has come to be itself a principal ingredient of the individual's conception of happiness. The same may be said of the majority of the great objects of human life power, for example, or fame. . . . The strongest attraction, both of power and of fame, is the immense aid they give to the attainment of our other wishes ; and it is the strong association thus generated between them and all our objects of desire, which gives > Utilitarianism, chap. iv. 10.] MOTIVE AND INTENTION. 75 to the direct desire of them the intensity it often as- sumes, so as in some characters to surpass in strength all other desires. In these cases the means have be- come a part of the end, and a more important part of it than any of the things which they are means to. What was once desired as an instrument for the attain- ment of happiness, has come to be desired for its own sake. In being desired for its own sake it is, however, desired as part of happiness. . . . The desire of it is not a different thing from the desire of happiness, any more than the love of music, or the desire of health. They are included in happiness. They are some of the elements of which the desire of happiness is made up. Happiness is not an abstract idea, but a concrete whole; and these are some of its parts." The mean- ing of all this seems quite clear. Evidently money, power, fame, music, and health are not parts of agree- able feeling. What Mill means is that they are parts of that totality of objects which gives agreeable feeling. That we desire such objects, then, may show that we seek pleasures, but not that we seek pleasure. And that we seek pleasures is a mere tautology. It means simply that we seek what we seek. 10. CAN REASON SERVE AS A MOTIVE ? Even those writers who have not committed themselves to the view that pleasure and pain are the only possible motives, have sometimes been inclined to argue that at least Reason is not capable of serving as a motive to action. This view was most clearly stated by Hume, when he said 1 that "Reason is, and ought only to be, the slave of the passions, and can never pretend to any other i Treatise of Human Nature, Book II., Part III., Section IIL Cf. also Dissertation on the Passions, Section V. 76 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. n. office than to serve and obey them." The term Pas- sion, as here used, is practically synonymous with Im- pulse ; and the meaning of the statement is that all actions depend on particular impulses, while reason can at the most only indicate the means by which these impulses may be gratified. Reason, it is thus held, cannot form any new motive for us : it can only show how an existing motive may be pursued to the best advantage. This view, however, seems to rest on that false conception of the nature of desire to which reference has already been made. It proceeds on the supposi- tion that our mental constitution is made up of a num- ber of isolated and independent desires, among which reason works as a separate faculty. If we recognise that our desires form a universe, then they cannot be said to ex^t independently. The problem then is to understand the nature of the whole within which par- ticular desires emerge. If that whole is a rational sys- tem, the desires which grow up in it will be very dif- ferent from those desires that might exist in a being in whom reason is not yet developed. In this sense, therefore, reason may be said not only to guide our desires, impulses, or passions, but actually to consti- tute their determinate nature. Reason, that is to say, may set before us ends or motives which for an irra- tional being would not exist at all. In this sense, then, reason is capable of furnishing us with motives to action. 11. Is REASON THE ONLY MOTIVE ? There is, how- ever, an error of an opposite kind against which also we must be on our guard, though no doubt it is one into which, in modern times, we are in much less dan- ger of falling. We must not suppose that all motives 12.] MOTIVE AND INTENTION. 77 are rational motives, :*. e. that the inducement to act is always for a human being what it would be if he were guided entirely by reason. This view may be better understood by a reference to the doctrine of Socrates. Socrates maintained that "virtue is know- ledge, "by which he meant that if we knew with perfect clearness what the nature of the moral end is we should inevitably pursue it. Now it is no doubt true that within a completely rational universe the supreme good would serve as the supreme inducement. But if it is possible that a man may know the nature of the supreme good and yet not occupy a completely rational universe, then it is possible to know the good and not to pursue it. Now it seems clear at least that it is pos- sible to know what is good with a very tolerable degree of clearness, and yet not pursue it. This is expressed in the familiar saying, "Video meliora proboque, de- teriora sequor. " The reason of this is that the motive to action is not always completely rational. 12. How MOTIVES ARE CONSTITUTED. The conclu- sion, therefore, to which we are led is that motives are neither constituted simply by pleasure and pain, nor simply by dominant desires, passions, or impulses, nor simply by reason, but that they depend upon the nature of the universe within which they emerge. A motive, we may say generally, is an end which is in harmony or conformity with the universe within which it is presented. At any given moment in our lives there are various possible ends which we may set be- fore ourselves. There are various ways in which the content of our world might be changed, so as to be more in harmony with the system of our conscious- ness. Now, in so far as any such change presents itself 78 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. n. to us as something which could be brought about by our own activity, it presents itself to us as a possible motive to action. Whether it will actually move us to act depends on the question whether the motive pre- sented to us is compatible with other possible motives which are presented to us at the same time. The line of action that is finally willed by us is that which coheres most perfectly with the general system of our consciousness. Whether or not the line thus adopted is a reasonable line depends on the question whether or not we are living within a rational universe. 1 At this point, however, we come definitely upon the question with respect to the relationship between Char- acter and Conduct ; and as this is a question of great importance, it seems to require a separate chapter. 1 In connection with this point, reference may be profitably made to Dr. Sidgwick's article on " Unreasonable Action " (Mind, New Series, Na 6), and to Mr. Stout's Analytic Psychology, VoL II., p. 267. See also Bosanquet's Psychology of the Moral Self, Lecture IX. , - MOTIVE AND INTENTION. 79 NOTE ON PLEASURE AND DESIRE. It is assumed in this chapter that a satisfied desire brings pleasure, while an unsatisfied desire (or an unsatisfied appetite) is accom- panied by pain. It should be observed, however, that this is a point on which there has been a good deal of discussion ; and that the view taken in the text is not universally adopted. The chief point on which there is difference of opinion is with reference to what are called " the Pleasures of Pursuit." It is held by some writers, and notably by Professor Sidgwick, that, in consequence of the existence of these pleasures, unsatisfied desires and appetites are frequently in themselves rather pleasurable than painful. It may be well here to add a few words on this point. Professor Sidgwick's view is thus stated in the Methods of Ethics (Book I., chap, iv., 2, p. 48) : " When a desire is having its natural effect in causing the actions which tend to the attainment of its object, it seems to be commonly either a neutral or a more or less pleasurable consciousness : even when this attainment is still remote. At any rate the consciousness of eager activity, in which this desire is an essential item, is highly pleasurable : and in fact such pleasures, which we may call generally the pleasures of Pursuit, constitute a considerable element in the total enjoyment of life. Indeed it is almost a commonplace to say that they are more important than the pleasures of Attainment : and in many cases it is the prospect of the former rather than of the latter that induces us to engage in a pursuit." 1 I believe that this anti- thesis between "Pursuit" and "Attainment" involves a fundamental misconception, and it seems to me to be of considerable importance that this misconception should be removed. There is, so far as I can see, no such thing as a pleasure of Pursuit, as opposed to Attain- ment The truth appears to me to be rather that there are two kinds of attainment what might be called progressive attainment and catastrophic attainment The " pleasure of Pursuit " is, I think, in reality the pleasure of progressive Attainment When it was said, for instance, " If I held Truth in my hand, I would let it go again for the pleasure of pursuing it," what was really intended seems to have been the pleasure of progressively attaining it. And I think this is 1 For some further illustrations of Dr. Sidgwick's view, the reader may be referred to Mind, New Series, vol. I, No. i (Jan. 1892), pp. 8O ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. U the case also with those pleasures that are referred to by Professof Sidgwick as " pleasures of Pursuit* He takes the case, for instance, of a game of skilL " No ordinary player, before entering on such a contest, has any desire for victory in it : indeed he often finds it difficultto imagine himself deriving gratification from such victory, before he has actually engaged in the competition. What he delib- erately, before the game begins, desires is not victory, but the pleas- ant excitement of the struggle for it ; only for the full development of this pleasure a transient desire to win the game is generally in- dispensable. This desire, which does not exist at first, is stimulated to considerable intensity by the competition itself : and in proportion as it is thus stimulated both the mere contest becomes more pleasur- able, and the victory, which was originally indifferent, comes to afford a keen enjoyment* With the whole of this passage I agree, with the single exception of the statement that the contest becomes more pleasurable in proportion as the desire to win the game is stimulated. On the contrary, it seems to me that we may distinguish between two kinds of desire to win the game viz. the desire to win it simply as a catastrophic result, and the desire to win it as the cul- minating point in a continuous process. In proportion as the former kind of desire is stimulated, it appears to me that the game ceases to be pleasurable. It is, I believe, a common experience that the gambler whose aim is fixed exclusively on the result of the game ceases to get any real pleasure from it The man who really en joys the game is he who desires victory, but desires it only as the culmi- nating point in a progressive series. And the same applies in other cases. The mountaineer who merely wishes to reach the topmost peak, is simply annoyed by the process of climbing up : he would prefer to reach it by a balloon or by a hydraulic hoist The man who enjoys the ascent is the one who desires the end only in so far as it gives unity and completeness to the process of attaining it So also the man who is merely interested in the conclusion of a story does not enjoy the novel in which it is told : his view is rather like that of Christopher Sly "Tis a very excellent piece of work would 'twere done ! " The man who really enjoys the story cares for the end only in relation to the process that leads up to it Now the man who desires an end in relation to the process of reaching it, is not, I think, correctly described as receiving pleasure from a pursuit, as distinguished from an attainment. The pursuit is, for him, a progressive attainment From the nature of the case, he could not attain otherwise than by pursuit A story, for instance, does not admit of any kind of attainment but that of going through MOTIVE AND INTENTION. Si h from beginning to end In such a process the desire receive* a continuous satisfaction, and is not properly regarded as waiting for Its satisfaction till the end is reached. I conceive that this view may be applied even to such a case as that of hunger. It seems to me, indeed, to be somewhat incorrect to speak of the mere appetite of hunger as desire. Hunger ought, I think, to be sharply distinguished from the desire for food. It seems to me to be mainly owing to the failure to draw this distinction that hunger is represented by Professor Sidgwick as forming an excep- tion i to the general rule about the " Paradox of Hedonism." 2 It forms an exception, so far as I can see, only because it is not a desire at all This, however, is a side issue, on which I do not wish to insist at present The craving of hunger, though not properly a desire, seems to resemble certain of our desires in being susceptible of a progressive satisfaction : and it is for this reason, as I conceive, that the craving appears often to be pleasurable. It is pleasurable because it is continuously attaining its object As far as I can judge, indeed, the satisfaction of hunger begins, under normal conditions, even prior to the taking of food at all. The " watering of the mouth * is, I think, a commencement of satisfaction ; and in the case of pre- datory animals I suspect that there is a certain satisfaction even in the act of pursuit 8 At any rate, the normal act of satisfying hunger does not appear to be of a catastrophic character. Ducercccenant is a principle of general applicability. The satisfaction of the craving is a progressive one. Now, if this is the case, it seems clear that the mere fact that hunger ia, under normal conditions, rather pleasur- able than otherwise (which I believe to be true), cannot be accepted as a proof that the mere craving in itself is pleasurable, or is not painful, in so far as it remains unsatisfied. For under normal con- ditions it is not unsatisfied, but is progressively attaining its end. 4 There is another point, closely connected with this one, which ap- pears to me to be overlooked by Professor Sidgwick in his discus- sion on the above subject viz. that our desires and appetites are capable, to a considerable extent, of an imaginative satisfaction. i See Methods of Ethics, Book L, chap, iv., a, p. 49 : " This effect * [viz. that we lose pleasure by seeking it] "is not visible, or at any rate is scarcely visible, in the case of passive sensual pleasures." * See above, 7. * It is only in this sense, I think, that thare is any real "pleasure erf pursuit" * See also Spencer's Data of Ethia, pp. Etb. 8* ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. n. Dlckens's " Marchioness * did not by any means stand alone in the power of " making-believe very much." If it is true that * Cowards die many times before their deaths ; The valiant never taste of death but once," it may also be said that the imaginative satisfy their desires many times before they are satisfied in fact, while the unimaginative have but a single satisfaction. The imaginative player, even if he loses, loses but once for a score of times that he has won in fancy ; and these imaginary successes may be quite as satisfying to his mind at the moment as an equal number of real ones would have been. The * pleasures of Pursuit * are to a large extent made up of these mental victories ; and this fact must largely qualify our view of them as cases of unsatisfied desire, even apart from the consideration (which may not be always applicable) that the desire is in reality attaining its end by means of a continuous process. I make these remarks merely with the view of bringing out the point of view which seems to me correct, and which I have adopted in the present handbook. They are not by any means offered with the view of giving a complete solution to the difficult question involved. 1 1 Students interested in the subject of pleasures of Pursuit will find further discussion and admirable illustrations in Tucker's Light of tlature, cliap. vi f.] CHARACTER AND CONDUCT. 83 CHAPTER CHARACTER AND CONDUCT. 1. GENERAL REMARKS. We now understand, in some degree, what is meant by Will, Desire, Motive, Intention, and what is the nature of the relationship between these ; and we are now prepared to consider the nature of Character and its relation to Conduct In discussing this, we are naturally led to the famous question about the Freedom of the Will ; for this con- cerns the relationship between Character and Conduct. And in considering this, it seems necessary also to ex- plain the terms Circumstance and Habit. Accordingly I intend first to present four sections, dealing respec- tively with Character, Conduct, Circumstance, and Habit, then to explain the significance of the Freedom of the Will, and finally to sum up about the nature of Voluntary Action. 2. CHARACTER. We have seen that Character means the complete universe or system constituted by acts of will of a particular kind. Character is on the whole the most important element in life from the point of view of Ethics, as we shall see more fully in tho sequel. The accidental dominance of a good purpose at this pr that maraeni is of comparatively little consequence it is an indication of the habitual dominance of ?4 ETHICS. [BK. i., crt. IIL a certain universe. Hence Aristotle rightly laid em- phasis rather on the formation of Good Habit 1 i. e. t in the language we have here adopted, on the establish- ment of a continuously dominant universe than on the mere presence of a Good Will at any given mo- ment. Will is, indeed, the expression of character, but it is the expression of it under the limitations of a particular time and place ; and much may remain latent in the character which it would be necessary to take into account in forming a complete moral estimate of a given individual. This is well expressed in Brown- ing's Rabbi Sen Ezra " Not on the vulgar mass Called ' work ' must sentence pass, Things done, that took the eye and had the price ; But all, the world's coarse thumb And finger failed to plumb, So passed in making up the main account ; All instincts immature, All purposes unsure, That weighed not as his work, yet swelled the man's amount Thoughts hardly to be packed Into a narrow act, Fancies that broke through language and escaped i All I could never be, All, men ignored in me, This, I was worth to God, whose wheel the pitcher shaped." At the same time, it is true that "the tree is known by its fruit" The good character necessarily expresses itself in good acts of wilL 3. COKDUCT. The term conduct is sometimes used * Ethics, Book IL chap. v. J4-] CHARACTER AND CONDUCT. 8$ In a loose sense to include all sorts of vital activities, or at any rate all vital activities which are directed to an end. It is in this sense, for instance, that the term is employed by Mr. Herbert Spencer. 1 Consequently he speaks of the conduct of molluscs, &c. a But this seems to be an inconvenient extension of the meaning of the term. Although the activities of molluscs are no doubt adjusted to an end, yet we cannot regard them as purposeful activities. A purposeful activity is not merely directed to an end, but, as Kant put it, directed by the idea of an end. Now even the higher animals, in so far as they are guided by mere instinct, 3 cannot be supposed to have any such idea. They move towards certain ends, but they do not will these ends. They have an end, but they have no purpose.* Now Mr. Spencer admits that purposeless acts are not to be included in conduct. Hence it seems best to confine the term conduct to those acts that are not merely adjusted to ends, but also definitely willed. A person's conduct, then, is the complete system of such acts, corresponding to his character. 4. CIRCUMSTANCE. We have said that conduct cor- responds to character. But of course the particular acts which are performed by an individual depend not only on the nature of the systematic unity of his con- 1 Data of Ethics, chap, L I hid., chap. iL It may well be doubted whether they ever have such an idea. Darwin, however, who is certainly a high authority, seems disposed to attribute some consciousness of the adaptation of means to end even to such very humble creatures as earthworms. 4 It might be convenient to use the term purposive, as distinguished from purposeful, to denote action (such as instinctive movements) in which an end may be seen to be involved, but in which there i$ CO definite consciousness of the end aimed at. 86 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. m. sciousness, but also on the conditions or environment within which his life happens to be passed. Hence it is sometimes said that a man's conduct depends upon his character and circumstances. We must now con- sider what exactly is to be understood by circum- stances. In the first place, we must note that, if we are to understand the ethical significance of a man's circum- stances, we must clear our minds of that view accord- ing to which circumstances are simply the external environment in which a man's life is passed. Under- stood in this sense, any contemporary event might be called a circumstance e. g. the position of the planets, the state of the tides, the direction of the wind, &c. But for most purposes (unless we are believers in Astro- logy), such conditions are not to be classed as circum- stances at all. Again, the geological formation of the country in which a man lives is seldom worth reckon- ing as a circumstance ; though the presence of gold or coal or iron may be a circumstance of considerable importance. Riches or poverty, health or disease, are generally circumstances of more importance ; and so are, in general, a man's social surroundings. From such considerations as this we may see that it is not so easy as it might at first appear to determine what a man's circumstances are, in any sense that is ethically significant Circumstances in this sense are not any- thing external to the man, but only external conditions in so far as they enter into his life. What are to bo reckoned circumstances in this sense, is a question that depends on the character of the man. Hence it is some- what misleading to speak as if character and ciicum- stance were two co-ordinate factors in human life; 4-] CHARACTER AND CONDUCT. 8/ since it depends largely on character whether anything is to be reckoned a circumstance or not. 1 Again, are we to say that the fact that a man has a good memory, or a good temper, or a good under- standing, or a good reputation, is an element in his character or in his circumstance ? Such facts depend largely on the systematic constitution of a man's con- scious life, and so belong to his character ; yet, on the other hand, they may be regarded as circumstances by which he is helped or hindered in the conduct of his life. Even the fact that a man has already formed a good habit of action say, a habit of punctuality may be a favourable circumstance with reference to his future development Thus it is to a considerable extent a question of the point of view from which a thing is regarded, whether it is to be described as an element of character or of circumstance. Probably by far the greatest part of any man's present circumstance is simply the expression of what his past character has been. Hence, when we say that a man's actions are the result of his character and his circumstance, we must remember that two men living to all appearance in the same general conditions may in reality be in wholly different circumstances. What stimulates one may depress another, just as "the twilight that sends the hens to roost sets the fox to prowl, and the lion's roar which gathers the jackals scatters the sheep." 3 What 1 Some suggestive remarks on this point will be found in a paper on " Character and the Emotions," by Mr. A. F. Shand, in Mind, new series, VoL v., No. 18. The relationship between character and cir- cumstance has also been brought out, in a profound and suggestivo way, by Mr. Bosanquet, in Aspects of the Social Problem. Art " Psychology " in Encyclopaedia Britatwica, p. 42. 88 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. III. is physically the same is in such cases, to all intents, a different circumstance. 5. HABIT. The significance of Habit has already been to some extent indicated in connection with char- acter, and in particular reference has been made to Aristotle's view that the main thing in the moral life is the establishment of good habits. This view was put forward by Aristotle in opposition to the Socratic doctrine, that Virtue is a kind of Knowledge ; * yet the two views are not so much opposed as might at first sight appear. Virtue is a kind of knowledge, as well as a kind of habit. It is, in fact, as we have already indicated, a point of view. The virtuous man is one who lives continuously in the universe which is con- stituted by duty. To live continuously in that universe is a habit ; but it is at the same time a species of insight. The man who lives in a different universe sees things habitually in a different way through a differently coloured glass, we might say. To be virtu- ous, therefore, is to possess habitually a certain kind of knowledge or insight. And thus both Socrates and Aristotle were right. Virtue is both a kind of know- ledge and a kind of habit. Habit, in fact, in the sense in which the term is applied to moral character, is not mere custom. It is not on a level with habits such as our manner of walking or speaking or of wearing clothes. It is not, in short, of the nature of what is commonly called a secondarily automatic action. It is a habit of willing. Habits which have a moral signi- i Cf. Sidgwick's History of Ethics, pp. 24-5 and 54 ; and, for a fullet account of the doctrine of Socrates, see Zeller's Socrates and the So* crate Schools, Part II., chap. vii. 5-] CHARACTER AND CONDUCT. 89 ficance are habits of deliberate choice. f Now deliber- ate choice depends on thought or reason.' In order to choose the right, in the sense in which such a choice has any moral significance, we must know the right. If we simply hit on the right course by chance, we do not really choose the right. Right willing, therefore, depends on true insight. Whether it is possible to have true insight without willing rightly is a further question, which we shall have to consider shortly. In the meantime we may partly see what Socrates meant by saying that virtue is a kind of knowledge. It depends on the occupation of a certain point of view, on the possession of a certain rational insight. At the same time, we see the truth of Aristotle's saying that virtue is habit. It is not merely a certain act of will, but a continuous state of character, a steadfast occu- pation of a definite universe. Another point which it is important to notice in this connection is that action which has thus become habitual tends to be pleasant. A good character, for instance, is one whose dominant interest lies within a certain form of moral universe. Such a character will find pleasure in acting in accordance with this interest Hence Aristotle says again 3 that " a man is not good at all unless he takes pleasure in noble deeds. No one would call a man just who did not take pleasure in doing justice, nor generous, who took no pleasure in acts of generosity, and so on." Further, habit, as is said, becomes a second nature ; so that actions that I'E^U- &pa. 4 iprri) fi irpoaipeTurf ("Virtue, then, is a habit of choice"). Aristotle's Ethics, II. vi. 15. Cf. Green's Prolegomena to Ethics, Book II., chap. ii. * Nicomachean Ethics, I. viii 12. 90 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. IIL have become habitual are done almost instinctively, at least without the necessity for definite reflection. It is important to bear this in mind. Its application will become especially apparent when we are dealing with some of the theories of Kant. 6. THE FREEDOM OF THE WILL. We are now in a position to consider what is meant by human freedom, in so far as this has ethical significance. Some views on this point may almost immediately be ruled out of court. Thus, it has been argued that there is no real freedom, since men are determined by circumstances. This was the doctrine, for instance, of Robert Owen, the Socialist. Accordingly, he made it his great aim in life tc improve men's external con- ditions. But we have seen that mere external condi- tions are not circumstances in any sense that is ethically important. Before setting ourselves to improve men's conditions, we should ask ourselves how far their con- ditions are real circumstances to them, and what sort of circumstances they are. To ask this is at the same time to ask what sort of people they are. It is a com plete mistake to suppose that men are determined by conditions that are in any true sense external to them. Again, freedom is sometimes understood to mean the power of acting without motives. But this also is an absurdity. To act without motives, **. e. without reference to anything that may reasonably serve as an inducement to action, would be to act from blind im- pulse, as some of the lower animals may be supposed to do. But this is evidently the very reverse of what re understand by freedom. In order to avoid such crude misconceptions as 7-] CHARACTER AND CONDUCT. 9! these, it is important to consider in what sense the Idea of freedom is ethically significant. 7. FREEDOM ESSENTIAL TO MORALS. There is involved in the moral consciousness the conviction that we ought to act in one way rather than in another, that one manner of action is good or right, and another bad or evil. Now, as Kant urged, there would be no meaning in an "ought" if it ^ere not accompanied by a ' ' can. " * It does not follow, however, that the ' ' can " refers to an immediate possibility. A man ought to be wise, for instance ; but wisdom is a quality that can only be gradually developed. What can be done at once is only to put ourselves in the way of acquiring it Similarly, we ought to love our neighbours. But love is a feeling that cannot be produced at will. 3 We can only put ourselves in the way of cultivating kindly affections. But it would be absurd to say that a man ought to add a cubit to his stature or to live for two hundred years. He cannot even put himself in the way of attaining these ends, and they cannot therefore form any part of his duty. Now if a man's will were absolutely determined by his circumstances, it would be strictly impossible for him to become anything but 1 Cf. the lines of Emerson " So nigh is grandeur to our dust, So near is God to man, When Duty whispers low, Thou must, The youth replies, / can* * For this reason Kant even denies that love is a duty. See Mcta- pkysic of Morals, section I. (Abbott's translation, pp. 15-16). But love can be cultivated, though it cannot be directly produced. Kant's view on this and kindred points is due to the absolute antithesis which he makes between Reason and Feeling. Cf. Caird's Critical Philosophy of Kant, voL ii. pp. 280-282. See also below, Book IL, chap, iii, 13. 92 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. Ill, that which he does become, and consequently it would be impossible that he ought to be anything different. There would thus be no "ought "at all. Moral im- peratives would cease to have any meaning. ' If, then, there is to be any meaning in the moral imperative, the will must not be absolutely determined by circum- stances, but must in some sense be free. This is true also even if we do not, like Kant, think of the moral end as of the nature of an imperative, but rather as a Good or Ideal to be attained. 2 It still remains true that such an ideal must be, as Aristotle put it, Kpaxrtv xa\ XTTJTOV &vOptoit

] THE EVOLUTION OF CONDUCT. to see how they ought to be modified under the stress of special difficulties. Such reflection leads to a gradual supersession of the letter of the law in favour of its underlying spirit. Men learn to guide themselves by principle instead of by rule, i. e. by consideration of the most important aims that they have in view, and the means that are best adapted to their realisation. When this stage is reached, we have passed almost entirely beyond the region of suggestion and imitation. Re- flective morality is substituted for customary obser- vance. 7. ACTION AND REFLECTION. Of course the part played by reflection even in the most fully developed forms of morality ought not to be exaggerated. The moral life, even in its most developed stages, is not passed entirely in cool reflective hours ; and even if it were, the complexity of the material would prevent its complete saturation by reflective principles. Swift decisions have to be made and far-reaching plans formed ; so that in the actual activities of the concrete moral life even the most thoughtful of men live to a considerable extent by faith, and do not guide them- selves entirely by well developed principles. The ideas by which they are guided are partly formed by reflection, but partly also they are derived from the experience of the individual and partly from the experi- ence of the race. Even here, then, imitation and sug- gestion are not entirely excluded. There is something of the nature of instinct and impulse even in our most developed conduct. 8. MORAL IDEAS AND IDEAS ABOUT MORALITY. This leads us to notice an important distinction, on which a good deal of emphasis has been laid in recent times HO ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. IV. viz. the distinction which has been well expressed by Dr. Bosanquet 1 as that between "Moral Ideas" and "Ideas about Morality," or, as it might be put more briefly, between Moral Ideas and Ethical Ideas. The ideas by which we are guided in our actions may be of a more or less reflective character. A man may guide himself by the conception of a clearly-defined end, such as the attainment of happiness or perfection, and may adapt his whole line of conduct to the attainment of this. In such a case he is guided by an Ethical Idea or by an " Idea about Morality," /. e. by an idea formed through reflection upon the nature of the moral end. But a, Moral Idea need not be of this character. A moral idea may be got, as it is sometimes put, out of our "spiritual atmosphere." The idea, for instance, oi the kind of conduct which fits a "gentleman" or a " Christian " is not, as a rule, derived from any definite reflection on the nature of the moral end, but is rathei acquired through tradition and experience. It is im- portant, then, to remember that a man may be guided by moral ideas though he has never definitely reflected upon the nature of morality. It may be added that a man may have reflected much, and even deeply, upon the nature of morality ; and yet his stock of moral ideas may be but small and inefficient. It is no doubt possible to make too much of this distinction ; and perhaps Dr. Bosanquet, who is chiefly responsible for the clear statement of it, has somewhat exaggerated the antithesis. Every moral idea is capable of reflective analysis, and may thus be said to imply an ethical i In an article in The International Journal of Ethics, VoL I., no. I. It has since been reprinted in The Civilization of Christendom, pp 9-] THE EVOLUTION OF CONDUCT. Ill idea, and, similarly, every ethical idea naturally becomes a source of moral ideas. 1 This is a point, however, on which we shall have occasion to touch more fully when we come to deal with the bearing of ethical theory on practical conduct. In the meantime it may be sufficient to- bear in mind this important dis- tinction between moral and ethical ideas. 9. THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE MORAL CONSCIOUSNESS. From this brief sketch some general notion may be formed of the way in which the moral life develops from customary action, founded on suggestion and imitation, to the stage of independent reflective choice. In order, however, to have a complete view of the growth of the moral consciousness, it is necessary to take account not only of the way in which conduct is developed, but also of the parallel development of the judgment that is passed upon conduct. From the earliest dawn of what can be described as morality, men not only act in particular ways, but also in various ways indicate their opinion that particular kinds of action are right and others wrong. The two lines of development are closely connected, but they are also quite distinct ; for it is often but too apparent that men 1 It would be interesting to inquire how far the moral ideas of the modern Christian world are a result of unconscious growth, and how far they are due to the reflective analysis of Greek thought to the influence of Plato and Aristotle, the Stoics, &c. Or, again, we might ask how far our modern ideas about duties towards animals can be traced to the influence of Utilitarianism, and how far they are due to a more spontaneous development of moral sentiment But such questions would be very difficult to answer. "The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh or whither it goeth." This is on th* whole still true of a great part of our moral development 112 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. IV. do not act in the way that they judge to be right, or avoid acting in the way that they judge to be wrong. Accordingly, it is now necessary that we should take account of the other line of development the growth of the moral judgment THE EVOLUTION OF CONDUCT. NOTE ON SOCIOLOGY. The further discussion of the points dealt with in this chapter, and to some extent also of those dealt with in the following chaptcc, seems to belong most properly to Sociology. But this science is in a very undeveloped state. The beginnings of it are seen in the Politics of Aristotle. In more modern times it owes much to Hobbes, Spinoza, Locke, Shaftesbury, Hutcheson, Rousseau, Montesquieu, SL Simon, Adam Smith, Kant, Fichte, Hegel, and several others. But the definite foundation of it must, on the whole, be ascribed to Comte. In this country it was brought into prominence by Mr. Herbert Spencer's interesting little book on The Study of Sociology. The Principles of Sociology, by the same author, have just been com- pleted, and constitute the most elaborate contribution to the sub- ject in this country. In French, reference may be made to such works as De Greef's Introduction h la sociotogie, Tarde's Les lots de f imitation, the writings of Fouill6e and Guyau, and many others. In German, the most elaborate contribution is Schiffle's Bau und Leben des socialen Kb'rpcrs. The works of Simmel (Uebef sociale Dijfferenzierung and Einleitung in die Moralwissenschafl) have a special interest from the intimate way in which he seeks to con- nect Sociology with Ethics. He practically regards Ethics as a de- partment of Sociology. Some account and criticism of his views will be found in Bougie's recent work on Les sciences societies en Alleinagne. See also Mind, New Series, VoL I., no. 4, and Vol. III., no. 2. Several American writers have also dealt with Sociology, notably Mr. Lester F. Ward. Profs. Small and Vincent have written An Introduction to the Study of Society, and, more recently, two in- teresting handbooks have been written by Profs. Giddings and Fairbanks. There is also an American Journal of Sociology, pub- lished at Chicago. It thus seems clear that some beginning has been made in the study of the science. But it can hardly be said as yet that it has any recognized principles or method The student who desires to gain some idea of its present position will probably find The Principles of Sociology by Prof. Giddings or An Introduction to Sociology by ProL Fairbanks most helpful Both contain good Bibliographies. The recent article by Dr. Bosanquet on Philosophy and Sociology (Mind, January, 1897) will also be found exceedingly instructive. E*. H4 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. v. CHAPTER V. THE GROWTH OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 1. THE EARLIEST FORMS OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. The germs of moral judgment, like the germs of con- duct, may be found even among the lower animals. Domesticated animals, especially dogs, seem often to have a consciousness of having done wrong ; at least they seem to be aware when they have rendered them- selves liable to punishment. And even wild animals, of the more gregarious species, seem to exhibit certain rude beginnings of moral judgment. They seem at least to exhibit a certain discomfort at the violation of a general and settled habit of action, and even in some cases, if all tales are true, to inflict punishment on those members of the herd that violate its traditions. But the severest punishments appear to be inflicted on those whose only crime is that of being diseased or wounded ; so that their action may perhaps be inter- preted, if it is to liave a quasi-moral interpretation at all, ' as an instinctive defence of the herd against any- thing that would tend to weaken it, rather than any- thing of the nature of a distinctly moral judgment. But 1 The probability is rather, as Mr. Stout suggests, that " the distress of the comrade, and especially the smell of blood, rouses blind fury, which tends to find a definite channel, and thus vents itself on the object which is the centre of attention, i. e., the distressed comrade Itself. If an enemy is at hand, he will suffer." 2.] THE GROWTH OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 11$ among primitive races of mankind also the judgment passed on conduct, and expressing itself in reward and punishment, seems to mean little more than approbation of that which strengthens and disapproval of that which weakens the tribe. 1 The important point to notice, however, is that the earliest forms of moral judgment involve reference to a tribe or form of society of which the individual is but a member. The germ of this is no doubt found in the gregarious consciousness of animals. 2. THE TRIBAL SELF. This point was brought out in an interesting way by Clifford in his account a of what he described as "The Tribal Self." Clifford begins by saying that the Self means essentially ' ' a sort of centre about which our remoter motives revolve, and to which they always have regard." It is, in short, a universe of reference. "If we consider now," he goes on, "the 1 Something of the same sort may be observed even in more developed communities under certain conditions. Thus, in Bryce's American Commonwealth (chap. Ixiii.), the following remarks are made on some aspects of American political life : " Even city poli- ticians must have a moral code and a moral standard. It is not the code of an ordinary unprofessional citizen. It does not forbid false- hood, or malversation, or ballot stuffing, or 'repeating. 1 But it denounces apathy or cowardice, disobedience, and, above all, treason to the party. Its typical virtue is ' solidity,' unity of heart, mind, and effort among the workers, unquestioning loyalty to the party ticket He who takes his own course is a kicker or bolter ; and is punished not only sternly but vindictively." Nor is this kind of moral standard wholly unknown in English party politics, or in the medical profession, or in the working of Trades Unions. But such a moral standard in modern times, being as it were a standard within a standard, is not able wholly to maintain itself against the recog- nized moral standard of the people. Even the professional politician sometimes finds it necessary " to pander a little to the moral sens* of the community," (Bryce op. cit., chap. Ixviii.). * Lectures and Essays (" On the Scientific Basis of Morals "). n6 ETHICS. [BK. L, CH. v. simpler races of mankind, we shall find not only that immediate desires play a far larger part in their lives, and so that the conception of self is less used and less developed, but also that it is less definite and more wide. The savage is not only hurt when anybody treads on his foot, but when anybody treads on his tribe. He may lose his hut, and his wife, and his op- portunities of getting food. In this way, the tribe be- comes naturally included in that conception of self which renders remote desires possible by making them immediate." "The tribe, qud tribe, has to exist, and it can only exist by aid of such an organic artifice as the conception of the tribal self in the minds of its members. Hence the natural selection of those races in which this conception is the most powerful and most habitually predominant as a motive over imme- diate desires. To such an extent has this proceeded that we may fairly doubt whether the selfhood of the tribe is not earlier in point of development than that of the individual. In the process of time it becomes a matter of hereditary transmission, and is thus fixed as a specific character in the constitution of social man. With the settlement of countries, and the aggregation of tribes into nations, it takes a wider and more ab- stract form ; and in the highest natures the tribal self is incarnate in nothing less than humanity. Short of these heights, it places itself in the family and in the city. I shall call that quality or disposition of man which consists in the supremacy of the family or tribal self as a mark of reference for motives by its old name Piety:' Without absolutely subscribing to everything that is Stated by Clifford in this connexion, w may at leaat 3-] THE GROWTH OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 1 1/ recognise the importance of the point that he here seeks to emphasise viz. the solidarity of the primitive moral consciousness. Man does not at first naturally think of himself as an independent individual, but rather as a part of a system * ; and this system may in a very real sense be called a "self," since it is the uni- verse to which the individual refers the conduct of his life. It is here, then, that we find the earliest basis for the moral judgment ; and, in stating the manner of its formation, it may still be convenient to follow the mode of statement given by Clifford. 3. THE ORIGIN OF CONSCIENCE. "We do not like a man," Clifford goes on, "whose character is such that we may reasonably expect injuries from him. This dislike of a man on account of his character is a more complex feeling than the mere dislike of separate injuries. A cat likes your hand, and your lap, and the food you give her ; but I do not think she has any conception of you. A dog, however, may like you even when you thrash him, though he does not like the thrashing. Now such likes and dislikes may be felt by the tribal self. If a man does anything gener- ally regarded as good for the tribe, my tribal self may say, in the first place, I like that thing that you have done. By such common approbation of individual acts, the influence of piety as a motive becomes de- fined ; and natural selection will in the long run pre- serve those tribes which have approved the right things ; namely, those things which at that time gave the tribe an advantage in the struggle for existence. * It may be noted that the idea of tribal unity generally embodies itself in the image of a tribal god ; and the religious bond tends to become more and more important in giving unity to the system. ii8 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. v. But in the second place, a man may as a rule and con- stantly, being actuated by piety, do good things for the tribe ; and in that case the tribal self will say, I like you. The feeling expressed by this statement on the part of any individual, ' In the name of the tribe, I like you,' is what I call approbation. It is the feeling produced in pious individuals by that sort of char- acter which seems to them beneficial to the com- munity." "Now suppose," Clifford proceeds, " that a man has done something obviously harmful to the community. Either some immediate desire, or his individual self, has for once proved stronger than the tribal self. When the tribal self wakes up, the man says, ' In the name of the tribe, I do not like this thing that I, as an individual, have done.' This self-judgment in the name of the tribe is called Conscience. If the man goes further, and draws from this act and others an infer- ence about his own character, he may say, ' In the name of the tribe I do not like my individual self.' This is remorse. " All this ought to present no difficulty to the student who has grasped the conception of the different Uni- verses within which we live. The Universe, from the point of view of which the primitive moral judgment is passed, is that described by Clifford as "the tribal self." From this point of view the consciousness of the primitive savage passes judgment both on himself and others as individuals within the tribe. And on the whole, actions are judged to be good or bad, and indi- viduals to be praiseworthy or blameworthy, according as they tend to promote or to impede the existence and the welfare of the tribe. 4-] THE GROWTH OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 119 4. CUSTOM AS THE MORAL STANDARD. We must not, however, suppose that the procedure of the primitive man is quite so self-conscious as Clifford's manner of statement might seem to imply. He does not deliberately ask himself whether his conduct is or is not of such a kind as to promote the welfare of his tribe. Still less does he ask such a question with respect to his general character or to that of others. What happens is rather, as we have already indicated, that customary modes of action grow up in the life of a people, that those modes of action that are favourable to its welfare tend on the whole to be selected and preserved, and that those modes of action also tend on the whole to be ap- proved. In thus approving, the individual puts him- self at the point of view of his tribe, but he does so unconsciously ; it does not occur to him that it would be possible for him to take up any other point of view. Of himself as an independent individual, or of others as independent individuals, he has not yet formed any clear conception. Hence also it is not quite true to say that he passes judgment on his own character or on that of others. He hardly thinks of character. He judges actions. Even in such a comparatively advanced stage of the moral consciousness as that represented in Homer, the idea of a general judgment on character has scarcely emerged. In the Iliad, as Seeley has re- marked, 1 "the distinction between right and wrong is barely recognised, and the division of mankind into the good and the bad is not recognised at all. It has often been remarked that it contains no villain. The reason of this is not that the poet does not represent his characters as doing wicked deeds, for, in fact, there is 1 Ecu Homo, chap. ziz. 130 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. V. not one among them who is not capable of deeds th most atrocious and shameful. But the poet does not regard these deeds with any strong disapprobation, and the feeling of moral indignation which has been so strong in later poets was in him so feeble that he is quite incapable of hating any of his characters for their crimes. He can no more conceive the notion of a villain than of an habitually virtuous man. The few deeds that he recognises as wrong, or at least as strange and dangerous killing a suppliant, or killing a father- he, notwithstanding, conceives all persons alike as ca- pable of perpetrating under the influence of passion or some heaven-sent bewilderment of the understanding." In such a state of society there are things which "one does not do," actions which are not customary, but there is hardly anything which is regarded with strong moral disapprobation. 5. POSITIVE LAW AS THE MORAL STANDARD. Gradu- ally, however, as we have seen, Law takes the place of custom in the control of conduct. Along with this there comes a certain change in the moral judgment When "thou shalt not do "takes the place of "one does not do," the distinction between right and wrong is made more precise ; and a more definite condemna- tion attaches to the violation of that which is recog- nised as right In the early stage of customary morality, to quote Seeley once more, "men, easily tempted into crime, flung off the effects of it as easily. Agamemnon, after violating outrageously the right of property, has but to say daedftyv, ' My mind was be- wildered/ and the excuse is sufficient to appease his own conscience, and is accepted by the public, and ren by the injured party himself, who feels himself 6.] THE GROWTH OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 121 equally liable to such temporary mental perplexities. * " After the introduction of law crime could never again be thus lightly expiated and forgotten." " By the law comes the knowledge of sin. A standard of action is set up, which serves to each man both as a rule of life for himself and a rule of criticism upon his neighbours. Then comes the division of mankind into those who habitually conform to this rule and those who violate it, into the good and the bad, and feelings soon spring up to sanction the classification, feelings of respect for the one class and hatred for the other." 6. THE MORAL LAW. But so long as the law taken as the moral standard is not definitely distinguished from the positive law of the land, the moral judgment is not yet fully formed. The positive law of a country is directed primarily against external acts prejudicial to the welfare of society, whereas the moral judgment in its fully developed form has reference rather to men's in- tentions, motives, and characters, than to their mere external performances. Now in the life of a develop- ing people this distinction gradually emerges. We see it perhaps most clearly in the case of the Jews, when the Ten Commandments become definitely distinguished from the ceremonial and civil laws of the country. These Commandments include the rule, "Thou shall not covet," as well as "Thou shalt not steal," and thus introduce the conception of a judgment to be passed on the inner attitude of mind, as well as on the outer action. As the moral consciousness develops, this con- ception becomes more and more pronounced. 7. MORAL CONFLICT. When moral development has arrived at such a stage as this, certain conflicts 122 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. V. almost inevitably arise, both in action and in the judg- ment that is passed on action. In primitive societies each man's duty is comparatively obvious. There is little division of labour, and the way in which the welfare of the tribe is to be promoted can seldom be doubtful. But when law is added to custom, and moral law added to positive law, and when at the same time a man finds himself occupying many different positions within his society (being, for instance, at once father, soldier, judge, husbandman, and the like), the right thing to do on a given occasion is not always so apparent. Law may conflict with custom, or one law with another. The classical instance of such a con- flict is found in the Antigone of Sophocles, where the definite law of the state comes into collision with the more customary principle of family affection. Anti- gone prefers the latter, because it is of immemorial antiquity and its origin cannot be traced, whereas the law of the state has been made and may be unmade again. But the ultimate result of such a conflict is to give rise to reflection, and to the search for some deeper standard of judgment. 8. THE INDIVIDUAL CONSCIENCE AS STANDARD. Such a standard is sometimes sought in an appeal to the heart or conscience of the individual. An appeal may be made from the outer law of the state to the inner voice, or law of the heart. But this is soon found to be unsatisfactory, inasmuch as the conflicts found in the outer law are in reality repeated in the inner law. The heart may attach itself, for instance, to the idea of the family, but it may also attach itself to the idea of the state; and devotion, to the one may be incom- 10.] THE GROWTH OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 123 patible with devotion to the other. ' We are accord- ingly thrown back upon reflective analysis. 9. THE GROWTH OF THE REFLECTIVE JUDGMENT. It is thus that men are gradually led to ask themselves what is the real basis of the moral judgment. This question inevitably leads to the attempt to construct some sort of scientific ethical system. It may, how- ever, for a time stop short of this, and merely lead to the formulation of certain fundamental principles, without any definite attempt at systematic construc- tion. In any case universal principle::, applicable to all times and peoples become gradually substituted for the customs and laws of particular tribes and nations. 10. ILLUSTRATIONS FROM ANCIENT PEOPLES. The de- velopment of the moral judgment is perhaps most 1 Cf. the attitude of Blanche in Shakespeare's play of King John, lAcL III, scene i) s " Which is the side that I must go withal ? I am with both : each army hath a hand ; And in their rage, I having hold of both, They whirl asunder and dismember me. Husband, I cannot pray that thou mayst win ; Uncle, I needs must pray that thou mayst lose ; Father, I may not wish the fortune thine ; Grandam, I will not wish thy wishes thrive ; Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose ; Assured loss before the match be played." Here the puzzle is On which side is the self ? On which side is the deepest and most abiding interest ? Cf. also the attitude of Desdemona in Othello (Act L, scene 3) * " I do perceive here a divided duty." Indeed it is out of such conflict that all the most profoundly tragic situations arise. 124 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. v. easily studied in the great nations of antiquity, in which there was less interference from without than in the case of most modern peoples. Among the Jews, for instance, it is easy to trace a development from the customary and ceremonial law, through the Ten Commandments, to the deeper and more inward principles represented by the Psalms and the later prophets. The idea of the "pure heart" gradually substitutes itself for external observances ; and, in Christianity, the law is quite definitely super- seded by the idea of the inner principle of love. When this takes place, the purely national character of the Jewish morality is at the same time broken down, and it becomes a morality that is applicable to all times and peoples. In the case of this line of development, how- ever, it is to be noted that every step takes place, as it were, by a new enactment. The deeper principle is always formulated by the voice of some prophet, speak- ing more or less definitely in the name of "the Lord." The idea of a divine law remains fundamental through- out. Even when the inner principle of Christianity is set against the external rules of the older system, it still appears in the form of a definite enactment, a ' New Commandment.' " It was said by them of old time. .... But I say unto you " The appeal is still to an authoritative law. Among the Greeks the case is very different. Here, indeed, we start also from the idea of law, and indeed of divine law. But it is a law that is never distinctly formulated in a code of commandments ; and the process of its development is different. The deeper principle is not introduced in the form of a new pro- phetic utterance, but in the form of a reflective inter- 10.] THE GROWTH OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 12$ pretation. Men begin to question the validity of the old principles of action, and to ask themselves how they are to be justified; and this soon gives rise to reflective systems of Ethics. The growth of these will be briefly noticed in the following Book. What it is important to observe, however, is that, different as this course of development is from that found among the Hebrews, it leads, nevertheless, to substantially similar results. Here also the growth is one from external ob- servances to the idea of action based on principle from the idea of duty done in obedience to the law of the state to that of duty done TOO xaXoo gvexa, for the sake of the beauty or nobility of it. At the same time there is a gradual advance from the idea of a kind of life which is possible only for the Greek, and not for the Barbarian, to the idea (which becomes especially prominent among the Stoics) of a kind of life which is simply human, and which belongs to all mankind as citizens of the world. Among the Romans nothing quite similar can be traced. In their later life they were too much influenced by Greek thought for anything quite spontaneous to arise among themselves. But we see something of the same sort in the development of their law. Roman law is at first simply Roman, and rests on no definite principle. By the help of the stoical philosophy, how- ever, they gradually introduced an inner principle into it, and in so doing made it cease to be Roman Law, and become the Law of the world. Thus, these three peoples gradually developed from their national institutions a universal religion, a uni- versal science, and a universal law, at the same time as they substituted an inner principle of action for a merely external obedience to their laws. 126 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. v. 11. GENERAL NATURE OF MORAL DEVELOPMENT. From this brief sketch the general nature of the development of the moral judgment may be more or less apparent The following features may be specially noted : (1) It develops from customs, through law, to reflec- tive principles. (2) It develops from the judgment on external acts to the judgment on the inner purpose and character. (3) It develops from ideas peculiar to the circum- stances of particular tribes and nations to ideas that have a universal validity. Having thus indicated the general nature of the de- velopment of the moral judgment, we may now be in a position to consider the essential elements involved in that judgment in its fully developed form. I.] SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. I2/ CHAPTER VI. THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 1. THE NATURE OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. From the statements that have now been made, the general na- ture of the moral judgment ought to be to a consider- able extent apparent; but there are still some questions that it is important to ask with respect to its fully developed content and significance. These questions will naturally fall under two distinct heads. It is evi- dent, in the first place, that the moral judgment is not simply of the nature of what is called a judgment in Logic. It is not merely a judgment about, but a judg- ment upon. It does not merely state the nature of some object, but compares it with a standard, and by means of this standard pronounces it to be good or evil, right or wrong. This is what is meant in saying that the moral point of view is normative. Now it follows from this that there are two main questions to be asked (i) What is the object upon which judgment is pro- nounced ? (2) What is the point of view from which such a judgment is possible? The consideration of these questions will naturally lead us up to the consid- eration of the precise nature of the standard, which is to be the subject of the following book. The two questions which we have now to consider may be briefly expressed as follows : (i) What is the object of the moral judgment ? (2) What is the subject of the moral judgment ? 1 23 ETHICS. [_ BK - ! CH - VI. 2. THE OBJECT OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. In a general way the nature of the object upon which the moral judgment is passed is clear enough. The object is voluntary action. It is with this, as we have seen, that Ethics is concerned throughout. It has to do with the right direction of the will. The moral judgments which we pass are, in like manner, concerned with the will. Whatever is not willed, has no moral quality. An avalanche rolling down a mountain may devastate a village ; a shower may save a nation from famine : but we do not judge either the one or the other to be morally bad or good. In like manner, we do not pass moral judgments on tigers or horses for their ravages or for their services, so long as we regard these as dictated by mere instinct, without volition. When we praise or blame them, we do it under the tacit assump- tion that their acts were voluntary. Moral judgments, then, are not passed upon all sorts of things, nor even upon all sorts of activities, but only upon conduct. 3. THE GOOD WILL. We are thus led to the famous declaration with which Kant opened his great treatise on Ethics. 1 He begins it by saying that "there is nothing in the world, or even out of it, that can be called good without qualification, except a good will." The gifts of fortune, he said, and the happiness which they bring with them, are to be regarded as good only on condition that they are rightly used. Talents and worldly wisdom are, in like manner, good only when they are subordinated to the attainment of high aims. These things are only conditionally good. But a good will is good without condition. It is, as Kant said, the only jewel that shines by its own light 1 Metaphysic of Morals, section L 3-] SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 129 But in thus commending the good will as supremely good, and regarding it as the ultimate object approved by the moral judgment, we must be careful to distin- guish will from mere wish. "Hell," it is said, "i paved with good intentions." A good will is not merely a good intention, in the sense in which we dis- tinguish an intention from a fully formed purpose, ' but a determined effort to produce a good result though it may be an effort that has still to wait for its appro- priate opportunity of issuing in overt action. Such an effort is, from a moral point of view, supremely good, even if, from some unforeseen contingencies, the good result is not itself achieved. A good wish is merely the consciousness that the attainment of a certain end would give satisfaction : a good will is the identifica- tion of oneself with that end. But again, when we say that a good will is supremely good, even if it fails to achieve a good result, it ought not to be supposed that a good will can actually fail to issue in a good action if, at least, it issues in action at all. a Will and act, when there is an act at all, are but the inner and outer side of the same phenomenon. A good will issues in a good action ; and, conversely, there can be no good action without a good will. But an action which in itself is good may lead, through the interfer- ence of other circumstances, to a bad result ; and a bad action may lead to a good result "The morality of an action," said Dr. Johnson, 1 "depends on the motive 1 7. e., the sense in which we distinguish Wish from Will Th term " Intention " is here used in a sense somewhat different from that explained in Chapter L of the present Book. * Cf. above, Book I., chap. L, 591 Bos well's Life of Johnson, VoL '. fitb. f 130 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. vi. from which we act. If I fling half-a-crown to a beggar with intention to break his head, and he picks it up and buys victuals with it, the physical effect is good, but, with respect to me, the action is very wrong." On the other hand, an act in itself good may be perverted to evil ends. " You taught me language," says Caliban to Prospero, "and my profit on't is, I know how to curse." He who benefits another may be only nour- ishing a snake. What constitutes the goodness of an action is the goodness of the intention ; but a good intention, though it produces a good action, need not produce a good result. A result is generally a resultant of several causes, of which the will of any particular agent is only one. 1 4. JUDGMENT ON ACT AND ON AGENT. So far there is no difficulty. But it is necessary now to draw a dis- tinction between two forms in which the moral judg- ment is passed. We may judge a man's actions, or we may judge the man himself. It can hardly be doubted that both these forms of judgment are to be found even at the most developed stage of the moral consciousness that has yet been reached. The distinction corresponds, in the main, to that between Right and Good. Some of a man's actions may be right, and yet we may not 1 If we took account of all the effects, direct and indirect, of a man's actions, we should probably find that the amount of good in the result is much more nearly in proportion to the amount of good in the intention than is commonly supposed. Green says (Prolego- mena to Ethics, p. 320), that " there is no real reason to doubt that the good or evil in the motive of an action Is exactly measured by the good or evil in its consequences." It should be noted that, in what is said up to this point, no account is taken of the question, afterwards discussed, whether it is strictly on the intention or on the motive that the moral judgment is passed, 5-] SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 13! judge him to be a good man, and vice versa. We some- times, that is to say, judge character, and sometimes will in the narrower sense. Now, with respect to the judgment on character no particular difficulty seems to arise. We judge men's characters by the degree in which the total content of their moral consciousness tends towards the realisation of the highest end, whatever that may be conceived to be. It is not so easy, how- ever, to say what it is that we judge when we judge an act rather than an agent. We do not judge the act by its result, but by the purpose of the agent. On this all are agreed. But it remains to be asked whether we judge it by the whole intention involved in it, or rather by that part of the intention which is described as the motive. On this point there is considerable difference of opinion, and the question is further complicated by a want of uniformity in the interpretation of the terms Intention and Motive. 5. Is THE MORAL JUDGMENT CONCERNED WITH MOTIVES OR WITH INTENTIONS ? The controversy on this subject * has been carried on chiefly between writers of the in- tuitional and the utilitarian school.* The former have generally maintained that the moral judgment is con- cerned entirely with the motives of our actions, that our actions are to be pronounced good or bad in pro- portion to the goodness or badness of the motives by which we are actuated in doing them. Thus Dr. Mar- tineau, the most eminent of recent intuitionist writers, 1 This subject is well treated by Prof. Dewey in his Outlines of Ethics, pp. 4-6, and more fully in Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, pp. 57-62. * The nature of these two schools will become apparent in the equeL 132 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. vi. has drawn out an elaborate table of the motives of our conduct, and arranged them in order of merit 1 He places reverence at the top, and censoriousness, vin- dictiveness, and suspiciousness at the bottom, while between these lie a great variety of passions, appetites, affections, sentiments, etc. ; such as love of ease, fear, ambition, generosity, and compassion. Now to dis- cuss the merits of such a scheme as this would evi- dently carry us beyond the limits of such a handbook as the present Two criticisms, however, may be passed upon it In the first place, the list of motives, or "springs of action " (as they are also called), seems to rest on a false conception of psychological divisions. The student of psychology will probably have become familiar with this objection. Modern Psychology treats the human mind as an organic unity, and repu- diates any hard and fast distinctions of faculties, such as seem to be implied in Dr. Martineau's list The motives which he enumerates are not simple, but highly complex, phenomena ; and their merits in any particular case would depend on the way in which they are composed. Fear, for instance, is not a simple element in consciousness, but a complex state ; and its merit or demerit depends on the way in which we fear and the thing of which we are afraid. The same applies to ambition, and to most of the other motives enumerated by Dr. Martineau. But, apart from this, the list seems to involve that confusion between the different senses of the term " motive " to which refer- 1 Types of Ethical Theory, Part II., Book I., chap, vu A criticism of Martineau's doctrine will be found in Sidgwick's Methods ofEthic* Book III., chap, xii 5-] SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 133 ence has already been made. Thus fear and compas- sion, though referring to objects, may be treated as emotional states ; whereas ambition does not denote a state of feeling, but rather an object aimed at not in- deed a definite object, but a range of objects almost infinite in variety (from the desire to be Mayor of a town to the desire to be the saviour of one's country), having only in common the desire of some form of personal eminence. Now mere feelings in the mind, such as fear and compassion, do not seem, as I have already indicated, to constitute motives at all, in the proper sense of the term : they are not inducements to action. What induces us to act is the presentation of some end to be attained. Consequently, if we are to have a list of motives, this list should take the form rather of a classification of ends to be attained, than of feelings that exist in our minds. Further, these ends would have to be arranged, not under any such ab- stract headings as " ambition " and the like, but in accordance with their actual, concrete nature. The antagonism of the utilitarians seems to be partly due to the inadequacy of the intuitionist theory. Thus Mill urges x that "the morality of an action depends entirely upon the intention that is, upon what the agent wills to do. But the motive, that is, the feeling which makes him will so to do, when it makes no difference in the act, makes none in the morality : though it makes a great difference in our moral esti- mation of the agent, especially if it indicates a good or a bad habitual disposition." "The motive of an action," he says again,* "has nothing to do with tha i Utilitarianism, chap, ii, p. 27, note. * Ibid., p. 2& 134 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. vi. morality of the action, though much with the worth of the agent." The reasonableness of this view is ap- parent. If one man is animated by compassion and another by fear, we may think the former a more amiable man and the latter a more cowardly man : but if they are led to act in precisely the same way, must not their actions be regarded as equally good or bad ? They are not perhaps equally good men ; but that is not the question. A good man may do a bad action, and a bad man may do a good action. The question is simply Are their actions good or bad? How they feel in doing the actions may affect our judgment of their characters, of their lives as a whole, but not of their particular actions. Of course if their actions are different in consequence of their feelings if, for instance, the man who feels compassion does the act in a more gracious way, and the man who feels fear does it in a hurried and awkward way our moral judgment upon the actions will be different. But the reason is that in this case the feeling has to some ex- tent affected the nature of the act that is willed. This is Mill's view ; and it is evidently a reasonable view, so far as it goes. Nevertheless, it appears to me to be erroneous. 6. THE MORAL JUDGMENT is PARTLY CONCERNED WITH MOTIVES. So long indeed as the reference is merely to the feelings by which our actions are accompanied, there is no need to dispute Mill's position. ' But if we understand the motive to mean that which induces us 1 Of course the nature of our feelings is ultimately determined by the nature of the ends that we have in view, and consequently in disputing the one position we are in reality disputing the other aa well 6.] SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 135 to act in a particular way ; then I think we must main- tain that it is on the motive that the moral judgment is passed, or at least that the motive is properly taken into account in passing judgment. Mill's error seems to arise from this, that he supposes the moral judgment to be passed on things done, whereas the moral judg- ment is not properly passed upon a thing done, but upon a person doing. If it were not so, we should pass moral judgment on the instinctive acts of animals, and even on the movements of rocks, clouds, and avalanches. What we judge is conduct ; and this means not merely an overt act, but the attitude of a person in acting ; and his attitude must include his motive. Now Mill himself admits that the motive (even in the sense of the mere feeling, and surely ' much more in the sense of the end with reference to which we are induced to act) makes a difference in our estimation of the agent. It is true, indeed, that in passing a moral judgment upon a particular act we need not take account of the whole character of the man who does it. If a man gets drunk, or tells a lie, or defrauds his neighbour, we can say that he has done wrong, without needing to inquire whether he is in other respects a good man or a bad. But this does not imply that we judge his action simply from the outside, as a thing done. It is the man doing it that we judge ; and the question, what induced him to do it, is not irrelevant to this judgment. It may be ad- mitted that we frequently omit this inner side of a man's conduct in forming our judgments. But the reason is, that it is so difficult to ascertain what the inner side is. With regard to all men's actions (except our own), 1 3$ 1THICS. [BK. I., CH. VL One point most still be greatly dark, The moving why they do if Hence the force of the precept "judge not 1 " But in so far as we do judge, when we try to be thoroughly just in our moral appreciations, it seems unquestion- able that we take account of the motive, and that this is what we are bound to take account of. * It may be objected, of course, that a man's motives are sometimes excellent, while yet we feel bound to condemn his actions. Some fanatics, for instance, have performed acts of the utmost atrocity, "thinking that they did God service." Are we to approve these actions, it may be asked, because the end aimed at was good ? In answering this question, we must be sure that we understand exactly what the question is. Are we to understand that we are asked, whether, in the case of such actions, we regard the thing done as 1 An example may help to make this clear. It has been urged that if it is just to put a man to death, this act will not be rendered vicious by the mere fact that the execution of it is accompanied by a feeling of resentment or malevolence. Certainly, I should answer, the mere feeling of resentment will make no difference in the morality of the action, any more than a feeling of reluctance or a feeling of weariness. But it is otherwise if the gratification of the feeling was the motive of the act If a judge were to condemn a criminal to death, not because it is just, but because he feels resent- ment, and aims at the gratification of this feeling, then undoubtedly his action would be wrong, though the result of it might accidentally be right i. e. it might be the case that the criminal ought to have been put to death. Of course in such a case the intention is wrong aa well as the motive. This is necessarily so ; for the motive is part of the intention. In the case supposed, it is part of the judge's in- tention (his inner intention, as I have called it) to gratify his feeling of resentment But if this had not been part of his motive, it would not have vitiated his action ;'. e. Hit had not been part of his induce- $ 7-] SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 137 a desirable result ? If so, our answer would no doubt be decidedly, No. In the same way we should say that the fall of an avalanche is not a desirable result But in neither case is our judgment a moral judgment On the other hand, if we are asked whether we con- sider that the fanatics in question acted rightly, then we must answer that, in so far as they were aiming steadfastly at a definite end, and in so far as that end was a good one, we must approve of their actions. As a rule, indeed, we shall not entirely approve of them ; but the reason is that we do not regard their aims as perfectly good. This is implied in calling them fanatics. A fanatic is one who pursues some narrow end as if it were the supreme good. The motive of such a man is not the best possible, and the more conscientiously he is guided by that motive the more certainly will his actions not be the best possible. 7. BUT THE JUDGMENT is REALLY ON CHARACTER. It appears from this, however, that it is only in a some- what strained sense that the judgment can be said to be passed either on the intention or on the motive alone. The truth seems to be rather that the fully de- veloped moral judgment is always pronounced, directly or indirectly, on the character of the agent. That is to say, as I have already remarked, it is never simply on a thing done, but always on a person doing, that we pass moral judgment. It is true that, in some cases, we may have regard only to the person as doing this one particular action, while in other cases we may think of him as having general habits of action. But in all cases, when we are passing a strictly moral judgment, we think 'of the action, not as an isolated event, but as part of a system of life. We judge its significance not 138 T ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. YI. in the abstract, but for the person who does it, situated as he happens to be, and viewing the world as he has learned to view it. Thus we judge the action to be good or evil according to the extent to which the various elements in the whole presented content serve as inducements to act or to refrain from acting. In thus regarding the action, we are judging the whole intention, but with reference to the extent to which the various elements in it serve, or do not serve, as motives to action. We thus judge the motives, both positively and negatively, and in so doing judge the whole inten- tion. Hence it is somewhat misleading to say simply that we pass judgment either on the intention or on the motive. * 8. THE SUBJECT OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. Having thus considered the precise nature of the object upon which the moral judgment is passed, we must now turn our attention to the subject of the moral judgment, ** e. to the point of view from which an action is judged to be good or bad. In a sense, every man may be said to judge his own action to be good at the moment when he does it. In deliberately choosing to do it, he pronounces it to be the course of action which offers most inducement at the time. By what right, then, we may ask, does any one else pronounce it to be wrong ? Or, how does it happen that the man him- self, on calm reflection, judges his action to fall short of an ideal standard ? The answer is that it is looked 1 For further discussion on this point, the student may be referred to Green's Prolegomena to Ethics, Book II., chap.-iL, Book III., chap. L, Book IV., chap, i.; Martineau's Types of Ethical Theory, Part IL Book I., chap. vL, 15 ; and International Journal of Ethics, Vol. IV. Nos. i and 2, 9-] SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 139 at from a different point of view, regarded within a different universe or system, from that from which the individual was regarding it when he decided to act in that particular way. But there are an indefinite number of universes within which an action might be placed, an indefinite number of points of view from which an action or an agent might be judged. What claim has any one of these to be regarded as preferable to any other ? Now to give any complete answer to this question would involve the discussion of the various theories of morals, to which our attention is to be directed in the next Book. But, without entering into this discussion at present, it may be profitable to notice some ways in which the subject of the moral judgment may be conceived. 9. THE MORAL CONNOISSEUR. One way in which we may help ourselves to understand it is by calling to our aid the analogy of the judgments which are passed on works of art. We say that a poem or a play or a novel is a good or a bad artistic product. In so saying, we are passing a judgment upon it, just as we do when we say that an action is good or bad. Now from what point of view is such a judgment pro- nounced? Not, it seems clear, from that of the person who happens at the time to be reading or hearing or seeing the artistic product, any more than the moral judgment is passed from the point of view of the individual who is acting. The artist appeals from the judgment of the multitude to the judgment of the skilled and sympathetic critic. l Now it may be said 1 " Like Verdi when, at his worst opera's end (Th thing they gave at Florence what's its nam ?) 140 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. VL that in like manner, when we are dealing with conduct, the appeal is to the judgment of the moral connoisseur. This is the view of the Moral Sense School, to which we shall have occasion to refer in the sequel, and in particular of Shaftesbury, its most notable exponent. Without discussing the point of view of that School at present, it suffices to say here that it hardly seems to furnish us with a satisfactory answer to the present question. A work of art aims, as we have already noted, at the production of a certain result. The skilled critic is the only judge whether such a result has been achieved. "We musicians know." But in morals, as we have seen, it is rather the action than the result that is judged. Now this action, if it is a real action at all, has been already judged by the person who acts. He has deliberately chosen to act in a particular way. Yet his action is judged to be wrong, and judged to be wrong not merely by the moral connoisseur, but by himself when he reflects upon it. 10. THE IMPARTIAL SPECTATOR. A somewhat more elaborate theory was put forward by Adam Smith. His theory rests upon the fact of sympathy, to which reference has already been made. He points out that our approval or disapproval of the conduct of others depends on the extent to which we are able to sym- pathise with them. "We run," he says, 1 "not only to congratulate the successful, but to condole with th* While the mad houseful's plaudits near out-bang His orchestra of salt-box, tongs and bones, He looks through all the roaring and the wreaths Where sits Rossini patient in his stall" Browning Bishop Blougram's Apology, * Theory oj the Moral Sentiments, Part I., Sect I., chap. ii. 10.] SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 14! afflicted ; and the pleasure which we find in the con- versation of one whom in all the passions of his heart we can entirely sympathise with, seems to do more than compensate the painfulness of that sorrow with which the view of his situation affects us." " If we hear a person loudly lamenting his misfortunes, which, however, upon bringing the case home to ourselves, we feel can produce no such violent effect upon us, we are shocked at his grief ; and, because we cannot enter into it, call it pusillanimity and weakness. It gives us the spleen, on the other hand, to see another too happy, or too much elevated, as we call it, with any little piece of good fortune. We are disobliged even with his joy ; and, because we cannot go along with it, call it levity and folly. We are even put out of humour if our companions laugh louder or longer at a joke than we think it deserves ; that is, than we feel that we ourselves could laugh at it." "When," he goes on, 1 " the original passions of the person principally concerned are in perfect concord with the sympathetic emotions of the spectator, they necessarily appear to this last just and proper, and suitable to their objects ; and, on the contrary, when, upon bringing the case home to himself, he finds that they do not coincide with what he feels, they neces- sarily appear to him unjust and improper, and unsuit- able to the causes which excite them. To approve of the passions of another, therefore, as suitable to their objects, is the same thing as to observe that we entirely sympathise with them ; and not to approve of them as such, is the same thing as to observe that we do not entirely sympathise with them. The man who resenta iii 142 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. vi. the injuries that have been done to me, and observes that I resent them precisely as he does, necessarily approves of my resentment. The man whose sym- pathy keeps time to my grief, cannot but admit the reasonableness of my sorrow. He whp admires the same poem, or the same picture, and admires them exactly as I do, must surely allow the justness of my admiration. He who laughs at the same joke, and laughs along with me, cannot well deny the propriety of my laughter. On the contrary, the person who, upon those different occasions, either feels no such emotion as that which I feel, or feels none that bears any proportion to mine, cannot avoid disapproving my sentiments on account of their dissonance with his own. If my animosity goes beyond what the indig- nation of my friend can correspond to ; if my grief exceeds what his most tender compassion can go along with ; if my admiration is either too high or too low to tally with his own ; if I laugh loud and heartily when he only smiles, or, on the contrary, only smile when he laughs loud and heartily ; in ali these cases, as soon as he comes from considering the object, to observe how I am affected by it, according as there is more or less disproportion between his sentiments and mine, I must incur a greater or less degree of his dis- approbation ; and upon all occasions his own senti- ments are the standards and measures by which he judges of mine." It follows from this that our earliest moral judgments are passed, not upon ourselves, but upon others. "Our first ideas," he says, 1 " of personal beauty and deformity, are drawn from the shape and appearance IIL. chap i 10.] SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 143 of others, not from our own. We soon become sen- sible, however, that others exercise the same criticism upon us." "In the same manner our first moral criticisms are exercised upon the character and conduct of other people; and we are all very forward to observe how each of these affects us. But we soon learn that other people are equally frank with regard to our own. We become anxious to know how far we deserve their censure or applause, and whether to them we must necessarily appear those agreeable or disagreeable creatures which they represent us. We begin, upon this account, to examine our own passions and conduct, and to consider how these must appear to them, by considering how they would appear to us if in their situation. We suppose ourselves the spec- tators of our own behaviour, and endeavour to imagine what effect it would, in this light, produce upon us. This is the only looking-glass by which we can, in some measure, with the eyes of other people, scrutinise the propriety of our own conduct. If in this view it pleases us, we are tolerably satisfied. We can be more indifferent about the applause, and, in some measure, despise the censure of the world ; secure that, however misunderstood or misrepresented, we are the natural and proper objects of approbation." " When I endeavour,'' he goes on, " to examine my own conduct, when I endeavour to pass sentence upon it, and either to approve or condemn it, it is evident that, in all such cases, I divide myself, as it were, into two persons; and that I, the examiner and judge, re- present a different character from that other I, the person whose conduct is examined into, and judged of. The first is the spectator, whose sentiments with regard 144 ETHICS. [BK. i., CH. VL to my own conduct I endeavour to get into, by placing myself in his situation, and by considering how it would appear to me, when seen from that particular point of view. The second is the agent ; the person whom I properly call myself, and of whose conduct, under the character of a spectator, I was endeavouring to form some opinion. The first is the judge ; the second the person judged of. But that the judge should, in every respect, be the same with the person judged of, is as impossible, as that the cause should, in every respect, be the same with the effect." Adam Smith was thus led to the idea of what he called the "impartial spectator," from whose point of view our moral judgments are pronounced. He distin- guishes this point of view as that of "the man within," whose judgments are opposed to those of the "man without." An appeal, he says, 1 lies from the opinions of mankind " to a much higher tribunal, to the tribunal of their own consciences, to that of the supposed im- partial and well-informed spectator, to that of the man within the breast, the great judge and arbiter of their conduct." 11. THE IDEAL SELF. How far this conception of an "impartial spectator" is valuable, and what exactly is to be meant by his "impartiality," we cannot here discuss. I have given this reference to Adam Smith merely on account of the clearness with which he brings out the fact that our moral judgments involve a certain reference to a point of view higher than that of the in- dividual who acts an appeal, so to speak, "from Philip drunk to Philip sober." The point of view to which an appeal is thus made may perhaps be most L, Part IIL.chap.ii. II.] SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MORAL JUDGMENT. 14$ fittingly described as that of the Ideal Self. At early stages of development it corresponds to what Clifford described as " the Tribal Self." The normal member of the tribe * may be said to be the ' ' impartial spectator " to whose judgment the appeal is made. At more advanced stages of human development the nature of the Ideal Self becomes more complicated; and we cannot discuss it satisfactorily until we have con- sidered the significance of the moral standard. In the meantime this much seems necessary in order to bring out the fact that in the moral judgment there is an appeal from the Universe of the individual con- sciousness to a higher or more comprehensive system. With this in view, we are now able to proceed to the consideration of the various theories of the moral standard. 1 This may be compared with the view of the " normal man,* taken by such a writer as Dr. Simmel. A somewhat similar concep- tion is contained in the theory of the standard of moral value, given by Meinong in his Psycholo&scb-ethischc Untersuchungcn zur Werti* theorie. 10 146 ETHICS. [BK. I., CH. VI. NOTE ON THE MEANING OF CONSCIENCE. Throughout this chapter, as well as some of the preceding, w have had frequent occasion to refer to conscience ; and it may be well at this point to explain more precisely the sense (or senses) in which this term is used. The term is derived from the Latin con- scire, to be conscious (of wrong). The Greek ovwiijaw, the German Gewissen, and the old English Inwit,a.re similar in meaning. Conscientia used to be employed almost indifferently for conscience and for consciousness in general ; and in English, as in French, 1 the term conscience is occasionally found with the latter meaning. It is in this sense that Milton says, referring to the loss of his eyes, " What supports me dost thou ask ? The conscience, Friend, to have lost them overplied In liberty's defence, my noble task, Of which all Europe rings from side to side." But even here there is perhaps a certain implication of a moral consciousness ; as there is also in Hamlet's saying, " Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all," (hough here it seems to mean little more than reflection. In Chau- cer's description of the Prioress, where he says, " All was conscience and tender heart," It appears almost to mean sensibility. But the definitely moral sense soon became established in English, especially under the influence of such writers as Butler. Even in the moral sense of the term, however, there is some ambiguity. It sometimes means a feel- ing"of pleasure or pain, and especially a feeling of pain, accompany- ing the violation of a recognised principle of duty. At other times it means the principle of judgment by which we pronounce one action or one kind of action, to be right and another wrong. In the latter sense, again, it may refer to this principle of judgment as it appears in a particular individual or in a body of men. Such phrases as " the Non-Conformist Conscience," " the Conscience of Europe," and the like, illustrate this use of the term. We shall have to make some further comments on the nature of conscience, espe- cially in dealing with the intuitional school of morals and with the social nature of the moral consciousness. But this much seemed necessary at present by way of general explanation of the use of the term. 1 Malebranche and some other French writers use the term con* iricncc, more particularly in the sense of s//-consciousness. I.] DEVELOPMENT OF ETHICAL THOUGHT. 147 BOOK II. THEORIES OF THE MORAL STANDARD. CHAPTER I. THE DEVELOPMENT OF ETHICAL THOUGHT. 1. EARLY GREEK ETHICS. Thought on Ethics, as on most other scientific subjects, first took definite shape among the Greeks. 1 Attention, however, was not strongly drawn to this subject till a considerable time after philosophical thought in general had begun to develop. The earliest thinkers among the Greeks directed their attention chiefly to physical inquiries especially to the question, What is the world made of? Two of the physical philosophers, however, do appear to have touched with some definiteness upon the ethical problem viz. Heraclitus and Democritus (sometimes known as the "weeping" and the "laughing" philo- sopher). These two may be regarded as the founders of those modes of thinking which afterwards developed in- to Stoicism and Epicureanism respectively. Heraclitus took Fire as his fundamental physical principle i. e. the bright and dry and he seems to have regarded this as incessantly struggling with the dark and moist principle which is opposed to it In the life of man he 1 For a more detailed account of the way in which this took place, **fcrence should be made to Sidgwick's History of Ethics. 148 ETHICS. [BK. u., CH. i appears to have thought that this struggle can be found going on ; and the great aim of the moral life is to secure the victory for the bright and dry. ' ' Keep your soul dry," was with him the fundamental moral law. Hence also the saying, so often quoted, that ' ' the dry soul [or the 'dry light '] is the best.'' This opposition of the moist and dry the "blood and judgment "' runs through a very long period of philosophic thought. With Democritus, on the other hand, the fundamental principle of morals seems to have been pleasure.' But there is no evidence that either of these philosophers made any attempt to develop his ethical ideas in a systematic form. 2. THE SOPHISTS. Parmenides and the Pythago- reans, and indeed to some extent all the early phi- losophers, seem also to have touched, either in a purely theoretical or in a more directly practical way, upon the ethical and political side of speculation. In fact, from quite an early period, philosophy among the Greeks seems to have come to mean a way of living as well as a way of thinking. 3 But it was that remarkable group of teachers known as the Sophists who seem first to have brought the ethical problem to the front. The * " Blest are those Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled. That they are not a pipe for fortune's fingers To play what stop she pleases." On the views of Heraclitus, see Burnet's Early Greek Philosophy, PP. 138, 139, 178, 179 Not, however, sensuous pleasure. It was rather peace or Arapof ia. Perhaps his point of view might be compared with that represented, In modern times, by Dr. Stanton Coit in a paper in Mind, Old Series, VoL XI., p. 324 sqq. Thus we hear of the " Parmenidean Life," of the Pythagorean rules of conduct, &c Cf. Burnet, op. cit, pp. 29, 40, 182, 316 3-] DEVELOPMENT OF ETHICAL THOUGHT. 149 aim of these teachers was to a large extent practical, i. e. it was the aim of preparing the young men of Athens to be efficient citizens. In instructing them in the duties of citizenship, they found it necessary to inquire into the basis of political obligation and of social morality in general. This seems to have been done by them in general in a serious and candid spirit ; but, naturally enough, inquiries of this kind tended to be somewhat subversive of the older moral standards, and the more conservative minds were alarmed. This alarm found expression especially in the satirical drama of Aristophanes ; and as Plato also shared, to a con- siderable extent, the unfavourable view thus taken of the tendency of the sophistic teaching, the name of the Sophists has fallen into evil odour. Probably this is in the main unjust perhaps in pretty much the same way as the criticisms of such men as Carlyle and Ruskin on modern science were often unjust The Sophists were probably the most enlightened men of their day, and did more than any others to awaken the intellectual life of the city. * 3. SOCRATES. Socrates was closely associated with the Sophists, and indeed was regarded by Aristophanes as the typical example of them. He was distinguished, however, from most of the others by the fact that he did not set himself up as a professional teacher, but rather regarded himself throughout his life as a student of moral science. When commended by the oracle for his wisdom, he replied that it consisted only in know- ing his own ignorance. By this attitude he displayed, perhaps not more modesty (for his modesty was at 1 Reference may profitably be made to the articles on the " So phisu and " Socrates " in the Encyclopaedia Bntatimca. i$o ETHICS. [BK. n., CH. L least in part ironical), but at least more earnestness than his fellow-Sophists. He was less of a dogmatist, because he was more clearly aware of the difficulty of the problem. The one point on which he was fully convinced was the unsatisfactoriness of the commonly received explanations of the moral life, and the neces- sity for a more scientific account. He believed that this was necessary, not merely for the satisfaction of speculative curiosity, but for the sake of practical morality. For it seemed to him that there could be no true morality which did not rest on a scientific basis. " Virtue," he said, " is knowledge " (or is science). He believed that if any one fully understood the nature of the moral end, he could not fail to pursue it On the other hand, he conceived that if any one did not fully understand the nature of the moral end, he could not be moral except by accident ; and this is not, in the full sense, morality at all Whatever is not of knowl- edge is sin. 1 As to the nature of the moral end, how- ever, Socrates only professed to be an inquirer. The view that he suggested seems sometimes to have leaned to Hedonism ; * but there is no reason to suppose that he had explicitly developed any theory on the subject. The fact that diverse schools arose, claiming him as iThis is perhaps a slight exaggeration. But Socrates, like Platq maintained that to be temperate or courageous without knowledge* is to be temperate by a kind of intemperance or courageous by a kind of cowardice. He even went so far as to say that it is better to do wrong consciously than unconsciously ; since the former involves at least the knowledge of right Cf. Zeller's Socrates and the Socrabc Schools, p. 147. * In Plato's Protagoras he is represented as definitely putting for- ward such a doctrine ; and there are also indications of the sama tendency in Xenophon's Memorabilia. 5-] DEVELOPMENT OF ETHICAL THOUGHT. 151 master, seems to afford some evidence that his view had not been clearly defined. 4. THE SCHOOLS OF ETHICAL THOUGHT. Immediately after the time of Socrates, ethical speculation began to run in separate schools, which with variations may be said to have lasted even down to our own day. The two most distinctly ethical schools, among the fol- lowers of Socrates, were those of the Cynics and the Cyrenaics, which afterwards gave rise to those of the Stoics and Epicureans. The members of these schools fixed on points connected with the general char- acter and influence of Socrates, almost as much as with his speculative activity. The Cynics were struck with his independence and freedom from want ; and they made this their fundamental principle. The Cy- renaics were more impressed by his tact and skill in making the most of his surroundings. The Cynics were thus led to asceticism, and the Cyrenaics to Hedonism. These two tendencies have persisted throughout almost the whole course of ethical specula- tion. 5. PLATO AND ARISTOTLE. But in the meantime there were other writers who made more definite efforts to connect ethical ideas with the general principles of philosophy, and so to get beyond the one-sidedness of opposing schools. Plato, in particular, put forward a metaphysical view of the world, upon which he en- deavoured to rest his ethical conceptions. His general view is contained in what is known as the theory of Ideas or Types. ' He believed that the fundamental It is difficult to render this in English. The word " idea" has come to mean in English (chiefly through the influence of Locke. Berkeley, and Hume) that which exists or goes on in our head* 152 ETHICS. [BK. n., CH. i reality of things is to be found in the Type to whid> they conform, and to which they are imperfect approx- imations. Among these Types he held that the most fundamental is the Type or Idea of the Good, and it is in approximating to this that the ideal of virtue is to be found. To understand this Type it is necessary to go through a course of metaphysical training ; and hence the highest form of virtue is attainable only by the philosopher. Plato, however, recognised also a lower form of rirtue which can be cultivated by the good citizen, and he was accordingly led to analyse the virtue of the citizen. Aristotle carried this analysis further, and even devoted a considerable part of his great work on Ethics to the description of the various aspects of the virtuous life as found in the Athenian society of his time, * though he agreed with Plato in thinking that the highest type of life is to be found in the contemplation of the philosopher, rather than in the active life of the citizen. The opposition thus in- troduced between the life of the philosopher and that of the ordinary citizen was further developed by the Stoics. They flourished at the time when the Greek City State was decaying, and were thus not able, aa Plato and Aristotle had been, to see in the life of the citizen the type of an ideal self-realization. Hence they were led to seek for the highest form of human Our word " Ideal " comes nearer to the Platonic meaning, provided we remember that he understands it to signify, not an unreal hadow-picture, but rather the most real of all things, of which th existent world is but a shadow (or, as he seems to have generally conceived it, a realization in an imperfect medium the vwoaoxi of the Tinueus.) Cf. above, p. 28, note, and below, pp. 266-7. 1 This species of Descriptive Ethics was further developed by Thoophrastus, the chief of Aristotle's disciples. See his Characters* /.] DEVELOPMENT OF ETHICAL THOUGHT. 153 life in the perfect independence of the Sage, rather than in the activity of the good citizen. A similar ten- dency appears in the schools of the Epicureans and Sceptics. It was only with the advent of Christianity that it again became possible to conceive of an ideal kingdom, of which all are members, and in which even the humblest citizen may participate by faith, though unable to understand with any fulness the nature of the unity within which his life is passed. 6. MEDIAEVAL ETHICS. Mediaeval ideas on Ethics 1 were much influenced by those of Plato and Aristotle, but partly also by those of the Stoics and by concep- tions derived from Christianity. The more religious aspects of morals were specially developed ; and a good deal of attention was also given to the application of ethical ideas to the guidance of the individual life. Casuistry owed its origin to the efforts that were made in the latter direction. 7. SCHOOLS OF ETHICS IN MODERN TIMES. The de- velopment of Ethics in modern times is considerably more complex, and we can only indicate some of its main lines. Descartes is generally regarded as the founder of modern philosophy ; but his interests were mainly metaphysical. In Ethics he and his school did little more than develop the ideas of the Stoics, to which they were specially attracted in consequence of the opposition between mind and body involved in their metaphysics. In the meantime, however, a more ma- terialistic school of thought was growing up, led by Gassendi and Hobbes, and the members of this school allied themselves rather with the Epicurean school of > These are dealt with pretty fully in Sidgwick's History of Ethic* 154 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. L ancient times. Gassendi was definitely a disciple of Epicurus. Hobbes worked out a more independent line, regarding the attainment of power as the great aim of human life. Hobbes was opposed by the Cambridge Platonists and by Cumberland, who endeavoured to bring out the more social, and at the same time the more rational, side of human nature. Out of their posi- tion was developed what came to be known as the Moral Sense School, represented by Shaftesbury and Hutcheson. According to these writers we have an intuitive perception of the distinction between right and wrong, similar to the aesthetic perception of the distinction between the beautiful and the ugly ; but at the same time this perception is capable of explanation. It depends on the social nature of man. What is bene- ficial to society strikes one naturally as good ; what is harmful is instinctively regarded as bad. This point of view forms a sort of watershed, from which several streams of tendency in ethical speculation emerge. Some writers tended to emphasise exclusively the fact that there is an intuitive perception of right and wrong. Out of this came the Intuitionist School of Reid and his followers. Others were specially struck by the fact that the distinction between goo^ and bad rests on a reasonable consideration of the results of action. Hence arose the rational school, represented by Locke, Clarke, Wollaston, &c. This line of thought may be said to have culminated in Kant; and, in the works of his immediate successors, it gave rise to a point of view approximating to those of Plato and Aristotle. This view afterwards passed into English thought in tha school of modern Idealism represented by Green and Others. Finally, some of those who were impressed 7-] DEVELOPMENT OF ETHICAL THOUGHT. 1 55 by the teaching of the Moral Sense School were led to attach special importance to the fact that the good is that which is beneficial to society, or that which pro- motes human happiness. From this consideration the school of modern Utilitarianism was developed. These three schools the Intuitionist, the Rational, and the Utilitarian, were the main lines of modern ethical thought, until the school of the modern Evolutionists arose. 156 ETHICS. [BK. ii., CIL IL CHAPTER IL THE TYPES OF ETHICAL THEORY. 1. GENERAL SURVEY. We are now able to take ac- count of the leading types of ethical thought that hava occurred throughout the history of speculation. In details there is wide diversity, but in their broad out- lines the types are few and simple. Two types, in particular, come up again and again in the course of ethical thought as opposing points of view the types represented by Heraclitus and Democritus, An- tisthenes and Aristippus,Zeno and Epicurus, Descartes * and Gassendi, Cudworth and Hobbes, Reid and Hume, Kant and Bentham. This antithesis may be roughly expressed as that between those who lay the emphasis on reason and those who lay the emphasis on passion ; but, as we go on, we shall have to endeavour to define it more precisely. Besides these opposing schools, however, we find throughout the course of ethical speculation another point of view which may be de- scribed as that which lays the emphasis on the concrete personality of man, rather than on any such abstract quality as reason or passion. This point of view does not usually appear in opposition to the other two, but rather as a view in which they are reconciled and transcended. It appears chiefly in the great specula- 1 Geulincx and Malebranche represented the more ethical aspect of the Cartesian School somewhat more definitely than DesoutM himscli 2.] TYPES OF ETHICAL THEORY. 157 live thinkers who rise above the oppositions of the schools such as Plato and Aristotle, Hegel, an*" one or two others. ' In recent times, however, it has come out more distinctly as one school (or perhaps we should say two schools) side by side with the others the school which may be broadly characterized as that of development. Besides these main positions there are a number of others that are more transitory and les recurrent such as the aesthetic school, represented chiefly by the Moral Sense writers and Herbart ; the school of sympathy, represented by Adam Smith ; and one or two others. We must now try to make the main lines of contrast a little clearer. 2. REASON AND PASSION. It has already been in- dicated that the main line of opposition may be said to consist in the antithesis between reason and passion. We have seen that the human consciousness may be described as a Universe or system, consisting, when we regard it from the active point of view, of various desires placed within a more or less fully co-ordinated group. Now it is possible to direct special attention either to the separate desires existing within this whole or to the form of unity by which it coheres as a system. We may regard human life as essentially a struggle between desires seeking gratification, or as the effort to bring those desires into subjection to the idea of a system. The antithesis between the two schools arises, 1 Spinoza should on the whole be classed with them. Though a Cartesian, he fully recognises the element of truth in the point of view of such a writer as Hobbes, and his final view of the highest good as being found in the " Intellectual Love of God," is to a large extent a reproduction of the teaching of Plato and Aristotle Wtth regard to the Speculative Life. 158 ETHICS. [BK. ii., CH. ii. in the main, from the tendency to lay emphasis on one or other of these sides. The one tendency is perhaps best represented by such a doctrine as that of Hume, that "reason is and must always be the slave of the passions, " i. e. that reason can do nothing but guide the particular impulses to their gratification. When this view is taken, the chief good of life is almost in- evitably conceived as consisting simply in the gratifica- tion of the particular impulses as they arise. This is the view of the Cyrenaics, and, in a modified form, of the Hedonists in general The opposite view is that which recognises some law to which the particular impulses must be subjected, in order to bring them into systematic form. In the history of ethical thought, this law has generally been conceived as the law of reason, just as the attainment of the end of the parti- cular impulses has generally been thought of as plea- sure. But Hobbes thought of the end of the desires rather as Power than as Pleasure ; and so also there have been thinkers who have thought of the law to which the impulses are to be subjected in some other form than as the law of reason. Hence we are led to state the opposition in a slightly different form. 3. THE RIGHT AND THE GOOD. It has been pointed out already that there are two main forms in which the moral ideal presents itself as the Right and as the Good. We may think of morality as conformity to a rule or standard, or as the pursuit of an end. Now the distinction between the two opposing schools of Ethics connects itself, to a considerable extent, with this dis- tinction. It is on the whole true that the line of thinkers from Heraclitus, through the Stoics, to Kant, think of the supreme standard in morality as some g 4.] TYPES OF ETHICAL THEORY. 1 59 Bort of law, rule, or imperative, from which we learn what it is right to do ; while the line of thinkers from Democritus, through the Epicureans, to Bentham, think father of a Good (generally described as Happiness) at which men aim, and by reference to which their actions are to be praised or blamed. The two schools may thus be roughly characterised as those that take Duty and Happiness, respectively, as their standards. 4. DUTY, HAPPINESS, PERFECTION. If we describe the two opposing theories as those of Duty and Happi- ness, the term Perfection may appropriately be used to characterise the middle theory, which, to a large extent, combines the other two. It may be noted that these are not merely three different theories of the moral standard, but that differ- ent types of life correspond to them. It has been re- marked of Kant that his life reminds us of the " categor- ical imperative of duty," which was for him the kernel of morals. 1 In like manner the life of Bentham may 1 Caird's Critical Philosophy of Kant, VoL I., p. 63. Dr. Caird quotes, in this connection, the following humorous account of Kant from Heine. " The life of Immanuel Kant is hard to describe t he had indeed neither life nor history in the proper sense of the words. He lived an abstract, mechanical, old-bachelor existence in a quiet, re- mote street of Konigsberg, an old city at the northeastern boundary of Germany. I do not believe that the great cathedral clock of that city accomplished its day's work in a less passionate and more regular way than its countryman, Immanuel Kant Rising from bed, coffee-drinking, writing, lecturing, eating, walking, everything had its fixed time ; and the neighbours knew that it must be exactly half- past four when they saw Professor Kant in his grey coat with his cane in his hand step out of his house door, and move towards the little lime-tree avenue, which is called after him the Philosopher's Walk, Eight times he walked up and down that walk at every season of the year, and when the weather was bad or the grey oiouds threatened rain, his servant, old Lampe, was seen anxiously 160 ETHICS. [BK. n., CH. IL be taken as typical of the Hedonistic Dosition a life spent in devotion to the improvement of the mechanical conditions of existence, the means of happiness. 1 The kind of life that corresponds to Perfection would be best represented by such men as Plato and Aristotle, or by the modern Greek, Goethe. To some extent the three great peoples, the Hebrews, Romans, and Greeks, might be taken as representing these three ideals. With the Hebrews the law of righteousness is supreme. The Romans were also devoted to law, but in a different sense. The law which interested them most was rather that by which the mechanical conditions of life are regulated, and which provide the material of happiness. The Greeks obviously represent the ideal of perfect development of personality. 5. MIXED THEORIES. In contrasting these different following him with a large umbrella under his arm, like an image of Providence." " Strange contrast between the outer life of the man and his world-destroying, thought Of a truth, if the citizens of Konigsberg had had any inkling of the meaning of that thought, they would have shuddered before him as before an executioner. But the good people saw nothing in him but a professor of philoso- phy, and when he passed at the appointed hour, they gave him friendly greetings and set their watches." 1 Bentham's great interest was legislation. " Bentham," says Sir Henry Maine (Early History of Institutions, p. 400), " was in truth neither a jurist nor a moralist in the proper sense of the word. He theorises not on law but on legislation ; when carefully examined, he may be seen to be a legislator even in morals. No doubt his language seems sometimes to imply that he is explaining moral phenomena ; in reality he wishes to alter or rearrange them according to a working rule gathered from his reflections on legislation. This transfer of his working rule from legislation to morality seems to me the true ground of the criticisms to which Bentham is justly open as an analyst of moral facts." On this point, see below, Book II., chap, vi, 14 5-1 TYPES OP ETHICAL THEORY. l6l views of the supreme standard in morals, it should be remembered always that many of the theories held by the most representative writers cannot be classed quite definitely under any one head, but rather re- present combinations of the different views. Thus, even the Stoics may be said to stand midway between the theory of Duty and that of Perfection ; for though their ideal may be described as that of obedience to law, it is at the same time that of the attainment of th life of the perfectly wise man. The same applies to the Cartesians and to Kant. Again, in the Moral Sense School, the ideas of Duty and Happiness are to a large extent combined, as they are also, in a different way, in the views of Dr. Sidgwick. The modern Evolution- ists, such as Mr. Herbert Spencer, combine the ideas of Happiness and Perfection. And in many other ways the different theories have been united. But, as we are not at present studying the history of ethical theory, but only its most typical forms, it is most con- venient for us to consider the different views, as far as possible, apart l6f ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. IIL, PT. L CHAPTER IIL THE STANDARD AS LAW. PART I. : THE GENERAL IDEA OF MORAL LAW. 1. INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. In dealing with the different types of ethical theory, it seems most con- venient to start with those that take as their funda- mental conception the idea of Duty, Right, Law, Obligation. To the race, as to the child, morality presents itself first in the form of commandments, and even in the form of threats. It is only at a later stage of development that we learn to regard the moral life as a good, and finally as the realisation of our own nature. Hence it seems most natural to begin with those theories which are based rather on the idea of tightness than on that of the Good. From this point of view, morality presents itself as obedience to the Law of Duty. The significance of this conception, and the different forms which it may take, are what we have now to consider. 2. THE MEANING OF LAW IN ETHICS. A good deal of confusion has been caused in the study of Ethics, as well as in that of some other subjects, by a certain ambiguity in the word Law. 1 It is important, there- fore, that we should try to understand exactly the sense in which it is here to be used. It has been customary to distinguish two distinct * C/. Whately's Logic, p. 209 ; and Welton's Manual of Logic, voL i, 2.J GENERAL IDEA OF MORAL LAW. 163 senses in which it may be used. We speak of the laws of a country and also of the laws of nature ; but it is evident that the kinds of law referred to in these two phrases are very different. The laws of a country are made by a people or by its rulers ; and, even in the case of the Medes and Persians, there is always a possibility that they may be changed. There is also always a possibility that the inhabitants of the country may disobey them ; and, as a general rule, they have no application at all to the inhabitants of other coun- tries. The laws of nature, * on the other hand, are con- stant, inviolable, and all-pervading. There are three respects, therefore, in which different kinds of law may be distinguished. Some laws are constant : others are variable. Some are inviolable : others are liable to be disobeyed. Some are universal : others have only a limited application. The last of these three points, however, is scarcely distinguishable from the first : for what is universal is generally also constant and necessary, and vice versa. Consequently, it may be sufficient for the present to distinguish different kinds of laws as (i) changeable or unchangeable, (2) violable or inviolable though we shall have to return shortly to the third principle of distinction. Adopting these two principles, we might evidently have four different classes of laws (i) Those that can be both changed and violated, (2) those that can be changed but cannot be violated, (3) those that can be violated but cannot be changed, (4) those that can neither be changed nor violated. i 1 mean such laws as those that are stated In treatises on theore- tical mechanics. These laws relate to tendencies that are operative throughout the whole of nature. See following note. 164 ETHICS. [BK. ii., CH. in., PT. i. Of the first and last of these, illustrations have already been given. Of the second also it is not dif- ficult to discover examples. The laws of the solar system, of day and night, seedtime and harvest, and all the vicissitudes of the seasons, are inviolable so long as certain conditions last; but if these conditions were changed say, by the cooling of the sun, by the retardation of the earth's velocity, or its collision with some comet or erratic meteor the laws also would change with them. 1 Again, most of the laws of po- litical economy are of this character. They hold good of certain types of society, and among men who are swayed by certain motives ; and within these limits they are inviolable. But change -the conditions of society, or the characters of the men who compose it, and in many cases the laws will break down. Such laws are sometimes said to be hypothetical They are valid only on the supposition that certain conditions are present and remain unchanged. Some philoso- phers 2 have thought that even the laws of mathematics may be of this character that there might be a world in which two and two would be equal to five ; and that if a triangle were formed with the diameter of the earth for its base and one of the fixed stars for its apex, its three angles might not be equal to two right angles. 3 But this appears to be a mistake. The laws of * It might be urged that all laws of nature are of this character, I. . that they are all hypothetical, depending on the continuance of the present constitution of the universe. This is true, unless there are some laws of such a kind that no system of nature could exist without them. The consideration of this question, however, belongs to Metaphysics. Tbi waa the opinion of Gauss, for instance 2.] GENERAL IDEA OF MORAL LAW. 1 6$ mathematics belong rather to the last of our four classes. The laws of Ethics, however, must on the whole be regarded as belonging to the third class. They cannot be changed, but they may be violated. It is true, as has been already stated, that the particular rules of morals may vary with different conditions of life ; but the broad principles remain always the same, and are applicable not only to all kinds of men, but to all rational beings. If a spirit were to come among us from another world, we might have no knowledge of his nature and constitution. We might not know what would taste bitter or sweet to him, what he would judge to be hard or soft, or how he would be affected by heat or sound or colour. But we should know at least that for him, as for us, the whole is greater than any one of its parts, and every event has a cause ; and that he, like us, must not tell lies, and must not wantonly destroy life. 1 These laws are unchangeable. They can, however, be broken. We may, indeed, speak of ethical principles which it is impossible to violate. An ethical writer, for instance, may insist on the truth that every sin brings with it some form of punishment. This is a truth from which there is no escape ; but it is rather a metaphysical than an ethical truth. It is a fact about the constitution of the world, not a moral law. A moral law states something that ought to happen, not something that necessarily does happen. Moral laws are not the only laws that are of this 1 Some theological writers have denied this, holding that goodness in God may be something entirely different from goodness in man. This opinion is ably refuted by Mill in his Examination of Hamilton* chap, vii 1 66 ETHICS. [BK. n., CH. m., PT. L character. On the contrary, the laws of every strictly normative and of every practical science are essentially similar. No one can make the fundamental principles of architecture, navigation, or rhetoric, in any way different from what they are ; though in practice any one who is willing to take the consequences may defy them. No doubt the rules of these sciences might require modification if they were to be applied to the inhabitants of another planet than ours ; and even on our own planet they are not absolutely rigid. A style of building which is suitable for Iceland would scarcely be adapted for the Tropics. The navigation of the Mississippi is different from that of the Atlantic. And the oratory which would awake the enthusiasm of an Oriental people might move an Anglo-Saxon audience only to derision. Still, it is possible in all these sciences to lay down broad general laws which shall be applicable universally, or at least applicable to all conditions under which it is conceivable that we should wish to apply them laws, indeed, from which even the particular modifications required in special cases might be deduced. For example, we might take it as a prin- ciple of rhetoric that if an audience is to be moved to the performance of some action or the acceptance of some truth to which they may be expected to be disin- clined, they ought to be led up to the point by an easy transition, from step to step, beginning with some things that are obvious and familiar, and in which their affections are naturally engaged. From this it might be at once inferred that the character of such an appeal ought to vary with different audiences, accord- ing to the nature of the objects to which their experience has accustomed them, to the intensity of the feelings 3.] GENERAL IDEA OF MORAL LAW. 1 6; which have connected themselves with these objects, and to the average rapidity of their intellects in passing from one point to another. The law is constant : it is only the application that varies. The science of logic gives us a still more obvious instance of such laws. The rules of correct thinking cannot be changed, though the particular errors to which men are most liable may vary with different objects of study, different languages, and different habits of mind. In this case also, as in Ethics, the laws cannot be changed, 1 but may be violated.* 3. Is, MUST BE, AND OUGHT TO BE. The distinctions expressed in the preceding section may be conveniently summed up by saying that some laws express what is, some what must be (or shall be), and some what ought 1 II may be urged, no doubt, that some at least of the laws of logic are applicable only within certain hypothetical limits. Some of them, for instance (viz. those commonly discussed under the head of Formal Logic), depend on the admission of the principles of identity, contradiction, and excluded middle ; and it may be main- tained that there are objects to which these principles are not strictly applicable. But this point is too subtle to be more than merely hinted at in this place. a This distinction between laws, which can and cannot be violated, like other distinctions of the same sort, must be interpreted with some care, and not pressed too far. In a sense it is possible to violate a natural law, i. e. we can evade the conditions under which it holds. In a sense also it is not possible to violate a moral law. To act wrongly is, as we shall see, to be in contradiction with our- selves ; and " a house which is divided against itself cannot stand." Similarly, even the law of a nation, if it is a real law, cannot be violated. Punishment may be said to be the open expression of this impossibility. The violation recoils upon the perpetrator, and anni- hilates him and his act. Cf. below, Book III., chap, vi., 5. But of course all this does not in anyway interfere with the relatively true distinction between these different classes of law. 168 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. III., PT. L to be. * What we call laws of nature are simply general statements about what is. The law of gravitation simply states that bodies tend to move in certain ways relatively to one another. Even the laws recognised in the more abstract sciences are of this character. The law of demand and supply simply states that, as a general rule, prices tend to adjust themselves in par- ticular ways.* Laws of nations, on the other hand, state what must be, i. e. what is bound to be unless certain penalties are incurred. Atoms and prices do not and cannot violate their laws, so long as the appropriate conditions hold. Their laws are nothing but statements of the way in which certain occurrences uniformly take place under certain conditions. Human beings, on the other hand, may and do violate 1 It is one of the very few advantages, from a philosophical point of view, which the English language possesses over the German, that we have the two words shall and ought, where they have only sollen, which corresponds rather more closely to shall than to ought. Hegel's objection to the use of the word sollen (Logic of Hegel, Wallace's Translation, p. n) seem to be due chiefly to the fact that it suggests (i) something future, as opposed to what is actually realised, (2) something commanded by an external authority. The English word might seems to be free from both these defects. 2 It has already been indicated (note to Introduction, chap. L), that there is a sense in which the principles of the more abstract sciences may be said to be normative that theoretical astronomy may be said to state the laws according to which the planets ought to move, that geometry may be said to state the laws that ought to hold in a perfect triangle or circle, and so forth. But "ought" in this sense means that these relationships do hold, in so far as the appropriate conditions are realised ; and the significance of the sciences lies in the fact that, in the concrete world of experience, they either do approximately hold, or are determining conditions in the actual constitution of things. Truly normative principles are not of this nature. If all men were to go mad, the principle* of correct thinking would still bold as before. 4-] GENERAL IDEA OF MORAL LAW. 169 the laws of their country. But the law states that they must not do so, and attaches penalties (or sanctions) to the doing of it. A moral law, finally, is a law that states that something ought to be. It is the statement of an Ideal. Thus, if a Government decides to enter upon a war which is known by the citizens to be un- just, some of the soldiers may feel that it is wrong to serve, /'. e. that it is contrary to their ideal of what is right in conduct. Here they come in conflict with what they recognise as a moral law. Nevertheless, they must not desert ; i. e. they will be shot if they do. Here there is a law of the State. Suppose they do desert and are shot, they die by a law of nature. 4. THE CATEGORICAL IMPERATIVE. We are now in a position to understand the important conception which was introduced by Kant with reference to the moral law. He said that it was of the nature of a categorical imperative. The meaning of this may readily be made apparent. All laws which are not simply expressions of natural uniformities may be said to be of the nature of commands. The laws of nations are commands issued by the government, with penalties attached to the violation of them. Moral laws may also (subject to a certain qualification) be said to be commands, though we are not yet in a position to consider how they are issued. Now commands may be absolute in their character, or subject to qualification. The laws of a nation are laws that we must obey, unless we are prepared to sitffer the consequences of disobedience. Again, the fundamental principles of rhetoric may be said to be of the nature of commands or rules ; but the commands which are thus laid down are applicable only to rhetoricians. The laws of architecture, in like I/O ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. III., PT. I. / manner, apply only to those who wish to construct stable, commodious, and beautiful buildings. Some of the laws of political economy, again, are neither constant nor universal. They are not constant; for they may vary with different conditions of society. They are not universal ; for they are applicable only to those who wish to produce wealth. Even the laws of formal logic are not universal. They apply only to those who wish to be self-consistent. * Now a man may reject this aim. He may say, with Emerson,* "Suppose you should contradict yourself; what then ? " "A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do." 3 Such imperatives as these, therefore, are merely hypothetical. They apply only to those who adopt the 1 1 assume of course here that logic is to be regarded as a norma- tive science, laying down the rules of consistent thought Some logicians have treated the subject in a different way, regarding it either as an ordinary positive science, or as an art, or as a combina- tion of the two. a Essay on " Self-Reliance." * No doubt Emerson is referring here to consistency in action, rather than to consistency in thought But the same might be said of the latter under certain conditions. " In order to think at all," as Mr. Bradley says (Appearance and Reality), " you must subject your- self to a standard." Thinking is a game, and " if you sit down to the game, there is only one way of playing." So the laws of moral- ity may be said to constitute the rules of the game. But the latter Is a game that we must be always playing. We may take a holiday from thinking, and feel or dream instead, and there is nothingin the laws of thinking to prevent this. Morality, on the other hand, claimi a universal jurisdiction. It is not a rule of thought that you must always be thinking ; but it is a rule of action that you must always be doing what is right in the given conditions. 4 Such laws as those of political economy are thus hypothetical in a double sense hypothetical with regard to the conditions under 4-J GENERAL IDEA OF MORAL LAW. I /I end with which the particular normative science is concerned. The laws of Ethics differ from all other laws in being not hypothetical, but categorical. It is true that Emer- son's paradox about consistency has been capped by that of the preacher who bade us, "Be not righteous overmuch." 1 But if this maxim is to have any intelligible meaning, we must understand the term " righteous " in a somewhat narrow sense. It cannot be taken to mean that we should not, to too great an extent, do what we ought to do. This would be a contradiction in terms. If we are not to be too fana- tical in the observance of particular moral rules, it must be in deference to other moral rules or principles that are of a still higher authority. The supreme moral principle, whatever it may be, lays its command upon us absolutely, and admits of no question. What we ought to do we ought to do. There can be no higher law by which the moral imperative might be set aside. There are, indeed, some other laws which might eeem to be scarcely less absolute, because they relate to ends that every one naturally seeks. Thus, every one would like to be happy ; and consequently if there were any practical science of happiness, every one would be bound to follow its laws. Accordingly, Kant called such laws assertorial,* because although they de- pend on the hypothesis that we seek for happiness, yet it may be at once asserted of every one that he does seek which they are applicable, and hypothetical with regard to the end with reference to which they are applicable. 1 Cf. Stephen's Science of Ethics, p. 418. "'Be good if you would be happy,' seems to be the verdict even of worldly prudence ; but it adds in an emphatic aside, ' Be not too good.' " *Metaphysic of Morals, section IL 1/2 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. III., PT. t this end. Again, intellectual perfection is an end which a rational being can hardly help desiring. There is probably no one who would not, if he could, have the penetration of a Newton, or the grasp of a Shake- speare or a Goethe. Hence if there were any science that taught how such perfection is to be attained, its laws would have at least an almost universal applica- tion. Still, even such laws as these are not quite parallel to the laws of morals. Their universality, if they are universal, depends on the fact that every one chooses the end to which they have reference ; whereas the laws of morals apply to all men irrespective of their choice. If, indeed, happiness could be shown to be necessarily bound up with virtue, and unhappiness with vice, then the obligation to follow the rules of happiness would have the same absoluteness as the obligation to obey the moral law ; but only because these two things would then be identical. In like manner, if we were to accept quite literally the view of Carlyle, that all intellectual perfection has a moral root, so that a man's virtue is exactly proportional to his intelligence, in this case also the laws of intel- lectual perfection would become absolute, but only because they would become moral. The moral law, then, is unique. It is the only categorical imperative. 1 Up to this point, I have, so far as possible, been following the account of Kant There are, however, two points on which some slight criticism, or at least caution, seems to be required, (i) It is somewhat 1 On this subject the student should consult Kant's Metaphystc oj Morals, section II. The opening paragraphs of Clifford's Essay " On the Scientific Basis of Morals ' may also be found suggestive, though he does not entirely accept the view indicated above. 5-] VARIOUS CONCEPTIONS OF MORAL LAW. 173 misleading to describe the moral law as an impera- tive. At least it can only be so described on a certain view of its nature, which will have to be further con- sidered. To call it an imperative or command is to represent it as being of the nature of a must rather than of an ought. It should rather be described a based on an ideal. (2) In saying that it is categorical, we must remember that all that can at present be seen to be categorical is the principle that we must do what is right, when we know what it is. It remains to be seen whether it is possible to lay down any rule for the determination of what is right. If there is any such rule, it will be categorical; but it may turn out that there is none. In the latter case, it is somewhat misleading to speak of a categorical imperative. With these general remarks on the nature of moral law, we may now proceed to ask what exactly the law is which is thus categorically imposed. PART II.: VARIOUS CONCEPTIONS OF THE MORAL LAW. 5. THE LAW OF THE TRIBE. We have already seen that the earliest form in which the idea of law pre- sents itself is that of the law of the tribe, or of the chief of the tribe. s But this is soon felt not to be cate- gorical. It often comes into conflict with itself; and the reflecting consciousness demands something more consistent. At the best it furnishes a must, rather 1 An illustration of this form of law, in comparatively recent times, may be found in the well-known saving of the Highland wife, when her husband was at the foot of the gallows, " Go up, Donald, my man ; the Laird bids ye." Contrast this with the attitude of Antigone^ referred to above, Book I., chap, v., 7. i/4 ETHICS. [BK. n., CH, in., PT. 11 than an ought; and the free man soon rebels against such government from without. 6. THE LAW OF GOD. It is a stage higher when the moral law is distinguished from the law of the land, and regarded as a principle which owes its authority, not to any man or body of men, but to God or the gods. The best known instance of such a set of laws is to be found in the Ten Commandments of the Jews. But these also may come into conflict, and require qualification. Besides, the moral conscious- ness soon begins to ask on what authority the divine law rests. If it rest merely on the command of powerful supernatural beings, it is still only a must, not an ought. If God is not Himself righteous, His law cannot be morally binding merely on account of His superior power. But to ask whether God is right- eous is to ask for a law above that of God Himself, and by which God may be judged. Hence the law of God cannot be accepted as final 7. THE LAW OF NATURE. In order to get over this difficulty, the view has sometimes been taken that the most fundamental law of all is that which lies in the nature of things. In Greek Ethics, in particular, the conception of nature (^y * Cf. 5, and see below, ia 4 /. Sidgwick's History of Ethics, pp. 241-345. 8.] THE STANDARD AS HAPPINESS. 219 desires his own happiness. This, however, being a fact, we have not only all the proof which the case admits of, but all which it is possible to require, that happiness is a good : that each person's happiness is a good to that person, and the general happiness, there- fore, a good to the aggregate of all persons. " He then goes on to argue that happiness is the only good, on the ground that we have already noticed viz. that to desire a thing and to find it pleasant are but two ways of expressing the same thing. Now it would be diffi- cult to collect in a short space so many fallacies as are here committed. We have already noticed the confu- sion in the last point, due to the ambiguity in the word "pleasure." We have also noticed the confusion with regard to the meaning of "desirable," which vitiates the first part of the argument It only remains to notice the fallacy involved in the inference that " the general happiness is a good to the aggregate of all per- sons." The fallacy is that which is known in logic as "the fallacy of composition." It is inferred that be- cause my pleasures are a good to me, yours to you, his to him, and so on, therefore my pleasures -f- your pleasures -f- his pleasures are a good to me -f- you -f- him. It is forgotten that neither the pleasures nor the persons are capable of being made into an aggregate. It is as if we should argue that because each one of a hundred soldiers is six feet high, therefore the whole company is six hundred feet high. The answer is that this would be the case if the soldiers stood on one another's heads. And similarly Mill's argument would hold good if the minds of all human beings were to be rolled into one, so as to form an aggregate. But as it is, " the aggregate of all persons " is nobody, and con* 220 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. IV. sequently nothing can be a good to him. A good must be a good for somebody. f Dr. Sidgwick's proof is of a more satisfactory char- acter. He considers universalistic Hedonism to be established in the very same way as Egoistic Hedonism is established.* He thinks that he has shown that pleasure is the only thing that is in itself desirable. This being the case, pleasure is always to be chosen. And in the choice of pleasure, reason bids us be im- partial. The greatest attainable pleasure is always to be selected. In choosing our own pleasures, the future is to be regarded as of equal weight with the present. In like manner, also, the pleasures of others are to be regarded as of equal weight with our own. It might be thought that in this way Dr. Sidgwick had over- thrown egoistic Hedonism, and shown universalistic Hedonism to be the only reasonable Hedonistic system. But, for some reason which it is not easy to discover, he does not consider this to be the case. So far as can be made out, the reason seems to be that what is primarily our good is our own pleasure ; and it is only in a secondary way that we discover that the pleasure of others ought to be equally regarded. Now this secondary discovery cannot overthrow the first primary truth. Hence we are bound still to regard our own pleasure as a supreme good. For this reason Dr. Sidg- wick considers that there is a certain contradiction or dualism in the final recommendations of reason. We are bound to aeek our own greatest pleasure, and yet we are bound also to seek the greatest pleasure of the aggregate of sentient beings. Now these two enda 1 Cf. Bradley's Ethical Studies, p. 103. Methods of Ethics, Book IIL, chape xiii, J 3. 8.] THE STANDARD AS HAPPINESS. 221 may not, and probably will not, coincide. There is thus a conflict between two different commands of reason. This conflict is referred to by Dr. Sidgwick as "the Dualism of Practical Reason." 1 But if there is any force in this consideration, it seems as if we might carry it further, and say that there is a similar conflict between the pursuit of our own greatest plea- sure at a given moment and the pursuit of the greates* happiness of life as a whole. For it is the pleasure of a given moment that appears to be primarily desirable. At any given moment what seems desirable is the satisfaction of our present wants. Consequently, on the same principle we might say that we are bound to seek the greatest pleasure of a given moment no less than the greatest pleasure of our whole life. There would thus be three kinds of Hedonism instead of two the Cyrenaic view being recognised as well as the Epicurean and the Benthamite. However, it is per- haps scarcely worth while to consider which form of Hedonism is the most reasonable, as they seem all to be based on a misconception. Two points may be noted with regard to universal- istic Hedonism. In the first place, it used to be de- scribed as Utilitarianism, because it was supposed to inculcate the pursuit of what is useful. But it is now seen that pleasure is not more useful than any other possible end ; and the name has consequently been dropped in scientific writings though, for shortness, 1 For Dr. Sidgwick's view on this point, see his Methods of Ethics, concluding chapter. Prof. Gizycki, who is to a large extent a fol- lower of Dr. Sidgwick, does not accept his doctrine on this point See his criticism of the fourth edition of the Methods of Ethics in th Juternational Journal of Ethics for October, 1890. 222 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. IV. the term is still often used as a designation of the school In the second place, the end of universalistic Hedonism used to be described as being the attainment of "the greatest happiness of the greatest number." The mean- ing of this was, 1 that if we had to choose between a great happiness of a small number and a smaller hap- piness of a great number, we ought to prefer the latter, even if the total happiness were less. But it is now recognised that if pleasure is to be regarded as the good, we are bound to choose the greatest pleasure, even if it should be concentrated in a single person, instead of being distributed over a large number. Accordingly, this phrase has also been abandoned.* 9. GENERAL CRITICISM OF HEDONISM, (a) Pleasure and Value. We see now the general foundation on which the Hedonistic theory of Ethics rests. It may be based either on a psychological theory of the object of desire or on a theory of value. The former basis has been perhaps sufficiently discussed ; but on the latter some remarks must still be added. The general point of view is that, though our desires may often be directed to other objects than pleasure, yet, when we set ourselves calmly to consider the matter, we see that pleasure is that which alone con- stitutes the value for us of the objects of our experi- 1 In so far as it had any definite meaning. The phrase seems to have been frequently employed without any definite meaning being attached to it There is an interesting discussion of this point in Edgeworth's Mathematical Psychics, p. 117 sqq. 8 It should be observed that Bentham himself seems, in his later years, to have discarded the expression " of the greatest number.' His reasons for doing so (which are not very clearly explained) may be found in Burton's Introduction to Bentham's Works, pp. 18 and ift note. 9-] THE STANDARD AS HAPPINESS. 22$ ence. A psychosis (to use Prof. Huxley's term, 1 adopted by recent psychologists), it e. a state of con- sciousness, is valuable for us exactly in proportion as it is pleasant. Consequently, though the impulse of desire may sometimes move towards the less pleasant of two possible objects ; and though, therefore, we cannot say that our desires are always moved simply by the calculation of pleasure ; yet, when we reflect calmly, and from a purely egoistic point of view, we see that the only reasonable ground of preference be- tween two psychoses is that the one is more pleasurable than the other. Hence, though it is not true that we always act in such a way as to secure for ourselves the pleasantest of possible psychoses, yet we ought (/. e. it is reasonable) to secure for ourselves the most plea- sant, so long as this does not interfere with the pleasure of any one else ; and, in general, we ought to act in such a way as to make the sum of the pleasures of all psychoses, present and future, as great as possible. Now it is true, I think, that pleasure may fairly be described as a sense of -value. * Mr. Bradley has said * 1 Huxley's Hume, p. 62. 3 Cf. Dewey's Psychology, p. 16. I mean that it is truer to call pleasure a sense of value than to represent it as constituting value. But even to call it a sense of value involves a kind of anticipation. In sensuous pleasure, for instance, we can hardly be said to have any consciousness of value. The general subject of the relation between pleasure and value is, however, too complicated to be dis- cussed here. I have made some attempt to deal with it in a Note on Value at the end of Chap. IV. of my Introduction to Social Philosophy. Cf. also ' Notes on the Theory of Value " in Mind, New Series, Vol. IV., no. 16. ' Ethical Studies, p. 234. Mr. Bradley has since abandoned this view. The element of truth in it seems to lie in the fact that pleasure consists in a certain harmony of the content of conscious- ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. IV. that pleasure is essentially " the feeling ofself-realised- ness. " Exception might be taken to this, on the ground that it can scarcely be applied to the feelings of ani- mals, or to the more animal pleasures of men. But at any rate we may say that the feeling of pleasure is the accompaniment of objects which have a certain value ' for the consciousness to which they are presented. It is of some importance, I think, to remember that it is the objects, not the feelings of pleasure, that have value the feeling of pleasure being the sense of value, not the value itself; but with this point we need not here trouble ourselves. It is sufficient to note that, from this point of view, it seems at least plausible to say that, though pleasure is not the direct object of desire, and though it is not even in itself that which has value for us, yet it may be accepted as the measure of value ; just as the degrees of a thermometer, though not themselves heat, may be taken as the measure of heat ; or as a token currency, though of little value in itself, may serve to measure the values of commodi- ties. This, I say, is a plausible view. But it evidently rests on the assumption that pleasures are all of the same sort ; just as the power of money to serve as a measure of the values of goods rests on the assumption of a certain uniformity in the currency. If the sense ness with the form of unity within which it falls. But this form of unity need not be a definite consciousness of self and its realization. i Wherein this value consists, we are not here called upon to de- cide. It may lie, as many psychologists have supposed, in a certain heightening of general vitality or of particular vital functions. On the general nature of pleasure and pain, and their place in our conscious life, the student may be referred to Mr. Stout's Analytic PtychoUgy, chap, xii., or to his Manual, pp. 234-240. 9-] THE STANDARD AS HAPPINESS. 22$ of value which we have in pleasant feeling is to be taken as the measure of the values which we reasonably attach to the different objects that are presented to our consciousness, this implies that the values are always judged by the same standard, always presented, so to speak, before the same court of appeal. Or (taking Mr. Bradley's phrase) if pleasure is the feeling of self-rea- lisedness, then in taking pleasure as the measure of our self-realisation, we assume that it is always the same self that is realised. But is this the case ? Be- fore considering this point any further, it may be well to notice the form in which it was presented by Mill. (b) Quality of Pleasures. We may say briefly that the Hedonistic theory proceeds on the assumption that all pleasures are capable of being quantitatively com- paredthat it is always possible to determine with regard to two pleasures, or two sums of pleasures, which is the greater and which is the less. On this point a serious difficulty was raised 1 byj. S. Mill, who called attention to the fact that pleasures differ not merely in quantity but also in quality that some pleasures are preferable to others, not because as pleasures they are greater, but because they are of a more excellent kind. If this is the case, it is evident that the Hedonistic theory must be abandoned, for it is then no longer true that pleasure is the only desirable thing. One pleasure is, on this view, more desirable than another, not on account of its nature as pleasure, but on account of some other quality that it possesses, beyond its mere 1 Utilitarianism, chap. ii. He did not, indeed, raise the point as a difficulty, but rather as indicating a way out of a difficulty. But evidently it is a difficulty from the Hedonistic point of view. Eth. 226 ETHICS. [BK. ii., CH. iv. pleasantness. Further, if we admit differences of quality, it becomes impossible to place pleasures, and sums of pleasure, in any precise order of desirability. Qualities cannot be estimated against quantities, unless in some way they can be reduced to quantities and this, on Mill's supposition, is not the case. It becomes important, therefore, to consider whether there really are qualitative differences among pleasures. In order to do this, we must recur to some of the points that were discussed in a former chapter. (c) Kinds of Pleasure. At the beginning of Book I. we distinguished between appetites and desires, and we pointed out also that desires may belong to a great variety of distinct universes. Now just as there is a dis- tinction between different kinds of desire, so there is a distinction between the feelings of satisfaction which accompany the attainment of their objects. When an appetite is satisfied, the feeling of satisfaction is simple and immediate. It is to this kind of feeling that the term pleasure is perhaps most properly applied. On the other hand, the feeling which accompanies the satis- faction of desire is of a more intellectual or reflective character, and ought perhaps rather to be described as happiness. Human desire involves the more or less direct consciousness of an end, and in the feeling which accompanies its satisfaction there is also a more or less direct consciousness of an end attained. These feel- ings vary greatly, according to the nature of the uni- verse within which we are living at the time when the desire is satisfied. The feelings of satisfaction that belong to the universe of self-interest are very different from those that belong to the universe of duty ; those that belong to the universe of animal enjoyment are 9.] THE STANDARD AS HAPPINESS. 22/ very different from those that belong to the universe of poetic or religious emotion. Carlyle has suggested x that, in the case of such higher universes as these, the feeling ought to be described rather as blessedness* than as happiness. At any rate, whether or not we use different words for the different universes, it seems clear that the feelings in question are of very different characters. It is, in fact, a very different self that is realised in each of these cases ; and the feeling of self- realisedness is consequently different. Or, to put it in the other form that we have used, the sense of value in each case is a sense of value for a different judge. We are estimating, as it were, sometimes in gold, sometimes in silver, and sometimes in copper. Now it might be possible, no doubt, to find a common denominator for these : but this common denominator does not seem to be supplied in the feeling of pleasure itself. There is, however, a difficulty which is apt to pre- sent itself at this point. It is apt to be thought that what is different in these different cases is not the feeling itself, but merely the object on which the feeling depends. This is the point that we have next to consider. (d) Pleasure inseparable from its Object. Pleasure, it must be remembered, is not an entity, having an ex- istence by itself, independently of the object in which pleasure is felt, or of the unity of consciousness to 1 Sartor Resartus, Book II., chap. Ix * Spinoza also seems to use the term beatitude in this sense. This form of happiness is found, according to Spinoza, in the ' Intellec- tual Love of God," i. e. in the appreciation of the universe as tho realization of a spiritual principle. Cf. also Janet's Theory of Morals, Book L, chap. ix. ETHICS. [SIC. II., CH. IV. which that object is presented. It is an element in a total state of consciousness, and is entirely relative to the other elements in that state. It is the inner side of that of which the other elements may be said to form the outer side. The sharp distinction that we are apt to draw between an object of consciousness and the feeling of pleasure or pain which accom- panies it, is due largely to an inadequate apprehension of the nature of the object which is presented to our consciousness. Take, for instance, the pleasure which accompanies the hearing of a musical performance. The pleasure here is evidently quite distinct from the music which we hear. But it must be remembered that the music which we hear is not the total object that is before our consciousness. The hearing of the music is accompanied by all sorts of ideas which it calls up in our minds. It is accompanied also by other ideas which were passing through our minds before the music commenced. The object which is before our consciousness is a complex total of in- numerable thoughts and images. Now the feeling of pleasure is not this complex total ; but neither can it be said to be anything that is separable from that total. It is the inner side to which that total corre- sponds as the outer side. Given that total, we could not but have that feeling of pleasure. Change that total, and our feeling of pleasure must also be changed The total content of our consciousness in listening to a piece of music is different from the total content in reading a novel or witnessing a dramatic performance : the feeling of pleasure is also different The feeling and the object to which it corresponds are like the two sides of a curve. They are distinguishable 9-] THE STANDARD AS HAPPINESS. 22Q from one another ; yet they are inseparable, and the one necessarily varies with the other. 1 (e) Pleasures cannot be Summed. It follows from this that there cannot be any calculus of pleasures f. e. that the values of pleasures cannot be quanti- tatively estimated. For there can be no quantitative estimate of things that are not homogeneous. But, indeed, even apart from this consideration, there seems to be a certain confusion in the Hedonistic idea that we ought to aim at a greatest sum of pleasures. If pleasure is the one thing that is desirable, it is clear that a sum of pleasures cannot be desirable ; for a sum of pleasures is not pleasure. We are apt to think that a sum of pleasures is pleasure, just as a sum of i Dr. Sidgwick has replied to this objection, as stated by Green. " It is sometimes said," he remarks (Methods of Ethics, Book II., chap, ii., 2, note) " that ' pleasure as feeling, in distinction from its con- ditions which are not feelings, cannot be conceived.' This is true in a certain sense of the word 'conceive ' ; but not in any sense which would prevent us from taking pleasure as an end of rational action. To adopt an old comparison, it is neither more nor less true than the statement that an angle cannot be ' conceived ' apart from its sides. We certainly cannot form the notion of an angle without the notion of sides containing it ; but this does not prevent us from apprehending with perfect definiteness the magnitude of any angle as greater or less than that of any other, without any comparison of the pairs of con- taining sides. Similarly we cannot form a notion of any pleasure existing apart from some ' conditions which are not feelings ' ; but this is no obstacle to our comparing a pleasure felt under any given conditions with any other, however otherwise conditioned, and pro- nouncing it equal or unequal : and we require no more than this to enable IB to take ' amount of pleasure ' as our standard in deciding between alternatives of conduct" But this reply seems to involve a misconception of the precise nature of the criticism. The length of the sides makes no difference to the size of the angle ; whereas Green's argument is that the nature of the objects makes all the difference in the world to the kind of pleasure that we feeL 230 ETHICS. [BK. n., CH. iv. numbers is a number. But this is evidently not th ease. A sum of pleasures is not pleasure, any more than a sum of men is a man. For pleasures, like men, cannot be added to one another. Consequently, if pleasure is the only thing that is desirable, a sum of pleasures cannot possibly be desirable. If the Hedon- istic view were to be adopted, we ought always to desire the greatest pleasure i. e. we ought to aim at producing the most intense feeling of pleasure that it is possible to reach in some one's consciousness. 1 This would be the highest aim. A sum of smaller pleasures in a number of different people's conscious- nesses, could not be preferable to this ; because a sum of pleasures is not pleasure at all. The reason why this does not appear to be the case, is that we habitually think of the desirable thing for man not as a feeling of pleasure but as a continuous state of hap- piness. But a continuous state of happiness is not a mere feeling of pleasure. It has a certain objective con- tent. Now if we regard this content as the desirable thing, we do not regard the feeling of pleasure as the one thing that is desirable ; ;'. e. we abandon Hedonism. (/) Mailer without Form, We may sum up the de- fects of Hedonism by saying that it has the opposite 1 Just as, if our object were to produce the greatest man (instead of the greatest pleasure), Falstaff would have to be preferred to the whole of his ragged company. We may calculate, no doubt, that nine tailors make a man ; but that is only on the assumption thai our object is not man as such, but the fulfilment of certain function* of a man. It might be said that in a number of men there is morq flesh and blood and bone than in oue. But this is to measure flesh, blood, and bone, not men. So it is possible that in a number oj pleasant experiences there is more of something than there is it one. But they are not a greater pleasure. 9-] THE STANDARD AS HAPPINESS. 23! fault to that which we found in the system of Kant Kant's principle of self-consistency gave us form with- out matter the mere form of reason, with all the par- ticular content of the desires left out. Hedonism, on the other hand, gives us matter without form. It takes up all the desires as they stand, and regards the satisfaction of all as having an equal right, in so far as the pleasant feeling accompanying the satisfaction is equally intense and lasts equally long. This view ignores the fact that what we really seek to satisfy is not our desires but ourselves ; and the value of our satisfactions depends on the kind of self to which the satisfaction is given i. e. it depends on the universe within which the satisfaction is received. It may be mere animal pleasure : it may be human happiness : it may be saint-like bliss. To consider it in this way is to consider our desires with reference to their/orwz with reference to the universe in which they have a place. Hedonism ignores this form. It looks on our desires and their gratifications simply as quantities of raw material. It regards our wants as so many mouths to be filled, and the pleasures of their satisfac- tion as so many lumps of sugar to go into them. It is matter without form. ' 1 For further criticism on Hedonism, I may refer to Bradley's Ethical Studies, Essay III., Green's Prolegomena to Ethics, Book III., chap, i., and Book IV., chaps, iii. and iv., Sorley's Ethics of Natural- ism, Part I., chap, iii., Alexander's Moral Order and Progress, Book II., Part I., chap, v., 2, Janet's Theory of Morals, Book I., chap, iv., Dewey's Outlines of Ethics, pp. 14-67, Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, Book III., chap. i. See also Watson's Hedonistic Theories from Aristlppus to Spencer, and the article by Prof. James Seth, " Is Pleasure the Summum Bonum ?" in the International Journal of Ethics,Vo\. VI., no. 4. For a fuller statement of my own view on this subject, I may refer to my Introduction to Social Philosophy, chap. iv. 232 ETHICS. [BK. ii., CH. iv. 10. RELATION OF HAPPINESS TO THE SELF. But though we thus seem bound to reject the Hedonistic theory, we must not overlook the importance of hap- piness. If happiness is not exactly " our being's end and aim," it is yet certain that we cannot attain the end of our being without attaining happiness. All that we have to insist 6n is that in seeking happiness we must observe exactly what kind of happiness it is that we seek. Happiness is relative to the nature of the being who enjoys it. The happiness of a man is different from the happiness of a beast : the happiness of a wise man is different from the happiness of a fool. What con- stitutes our happiness, in fact, depends on the universe in which we live. The smaller our universe, the more easily is our happiness attained. " That low man seeks a little thing to do, Sees it and does it : This high man, with a great thing to pursue. Dies ere he knows it." " It is indisputable," as Mill says, 1 " that the being whose capacities of enjoyment are low, has the greatest chance of having them fully satisfied ; and a highly endowed being will always feel that any happiness which he can look for, as the world is constituted, is imperfect. But he can learn to bear its imperfections if they are at all bearable ; and they will not make him envy the being who is indeed unconscious of the im- perfections, but only because he feels not at all the good which those imperfections qualify. It is better to be a human being dissatisfied than a pig satisfied ; better to be Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied." IB important, then, is not that we should seek the * Utilitarianism, chap, ii II.] THE STANDARD AS HAPPINESS. 233 greatest sum of happiness, but the best kind of happi- ness. " We can only have the highest happiness, " said George Eliot, 1 " such as goes along with being a great man by having wide thoughts, and much feeling for the rest of the world as well as ourselves ; and this sort of happiness often brings so much pain with it that we can only tell it from pain by its being what we would choose before everything else, because our souls see it is good." The nature of the highest happiness, then, depends not on its being the greatest sum, but on its belonging to the highest kind of character. That is, it depends on the nature of the self, on the nature of the universe within which we habitually live. To attain the highest happiness, then, we must live habit- ually in the highest kind of universe, and the desires that belong to that universe must be satisfied. 11. SELF-REALISATION AS THE END. We seem, how- ever, to be very little farther on than we were at the beginning of this chapter. For at the beginning of the chapter we propounded the question, how we were to distinguish a higher universe from a lower; and this question is still unanswered. We have only been enabled to see that quantity of pleasure cannot furnish the criterion, and that we must look for the criterion rather in the nature of the character itself. We see, in fact, that the end must consist in some form of self- realisation, ;'. e. in some form of the development of character that the end, in short, ought to be described rather as perfection than as happiness. What per- fection or self-realisation consists in, we must endea- vour to find out in the following chapter. J Epilogue to Romola. 334 ETHICS. LBK. " CH ' v - CHAPTER V. THE STANDARD AS PERFECTION. 1. APPLICATION OF EVOLUTION TO MORALS. The idea that the end at which we are to aim is the realisation of the self or the development of character, leads us at once to regard the moral life as a process of growth. Although this idea has often been applied to the moral life in former ages, yet it is chiefly in recent times that the conception has been made prominent. The whole idea of growth or development the idea of "evolu- tion," as it is often called may almost be said to be a discovery of the present century. It was first brought into prominence by Hegel and Comte ; it was applied by Lamarck, Darwin, and others, to the origin of species ; while Mr. Spencer and others have extended its applications to the origin of social institutions, forms of government, and the like, and even to the formation of the solar and stellar systems. With these applications we are not here concerned. We have to deal only with the application of the idea of evolution to morals. And even with this application we have to deal only in a certain aspect. We are not concerned at present with the fact that the moral life of individuals and nations undergoes a gradual growth or develop- ment in the course of years or ages. This is a fact of moral history, whereas here we are concerned only with the theory of that which is essential to the very 2.] THE STANDARD AS PERFECTION. 235 nature of morality. When we say, then, that the idea of evolution is applicable to the moral life, we mean that the moral life is, in its very essence, a growth or development. The sense in which it is so will, it is hoped, become apparent as we proceed. 2. DEVELOPMENT OF LIFE. We may say, to begin with, that what we mean is this. There is in the moral life of man a certain end or ideal, to which he may attain, or of which he may fall short ; and the signi- ficance of his life consists in the pursuit of this end or ideal, and the gradual attainment of it. We may illustrate what we mean by reference to the forms of animal life. Among animals there are some that we naturally regard as standing higher in the scale of being than others. We judge them to be higher by reference to a certain (it may be a somewhat vague) standard that we have in our minds whether it be, as with Mr. Herbert Spencer, the standard of adaptation to their environment, or the standard of approximation to the human type, or whatever else it may be. Now if we are right in supposing that there is a continuous development going on throughout the species of animal existence, the main significance of this development Will lie in the evolution of forms of life that approach hnore and more nearly to the standard or ideal type. Similarly, the evolutionary theory of Ethics is the view that there is a standard or ideal of character, and that the significance of the moral life consists in the grad- ual approximation to that type. 3. HIGHER AND LOWER VIEWS OF DEVELOPMENT. In all development there is a beginning, a process, and an end. The developing thing starts from a certain level and moves onwards towards a higher level. Now in 236 ETHICS. [BK. ii. f CH. v. general what is presented to us is neither the beginning nor the end, but the process. The lowest forms of animal life do not often come before our notice, and the nature of the lowest of all is quite obscure. Nor do we know what possibilities there may be of still further development in the forms of animal life. The starting-point and the goal are alike concealed from us : we see only the race. So it is also with the moral life. The earliest beginnings of the moral conscious- ness are hidden in obscurity ; and, on the other hand, we can scarcely form a clear conception of a perfectly developed moral life. We know it only in the course of its development. Nevertheless, we cannot under- stand the process except by reference either to its beginning or to its end. And we may endeavour to understand it by reference either to the one or to the other. Hence there are two possible methods of inter- preting the moral life, if we adopt the theory of devel- opment. We may explain it by reference to its begin- ning or to its end. The former is perhaps the more natural method ; as it is most usual to explain pheno- mena by their causes and mode of origination. But further consideration seems to show that this is in reality the lower and less satisfactory method. Let us con- sider briefly the nature and merits of the two methods. 4. EXPLANATION BY BEGINNING. It seems most natural at first to endeavour to explain the moral life by tracing it back to its origin in the needs of savages, or even in the struggles of the lower animals. It is in this way that we explain ordinary natural phenomena, such as the formation of geological strata, and even the growth and decline of nations. We go back to the beginning, or as near to the beginning as we can get, 5-] THE STANDARD AS PERFECTION. 237 and trace the causes that have been in operation throughout the development of the object of our study. We do not inquire what the end of it will be. To inquire into this would, in general, throw little, if any, light upon its actual condition. Ought not the develop- ment of morals to be studied in the same way ? The answer seems clear. The science of Ethics, as we have already pointed out, occupies quite a different point of view from that of the natural sciences. It is not concerned with the investigation of origins and with the tracing of history, but with the determination of ideals and the consideration of the way in which these ideals influence conduct. Now the ideal lies at the end rather than at the beginning. In dealing with natural phenomena we are concerned primarily with what ts, and secondarily with the way in which it has come to be what it is. In Ethics, on the other hand, it is of comparatively little interest to know what is. 1 "Man partly is, and wholly hopes to be." It is what he hopes to be that determines the direction of his growth. The meaning of this, however, may become clearer if we direct attention for a little to the theory of one of the most eminent of those recent writers who have endeavoured to deal with the moral life by tracing it back to its origin. 5. MR. HERBERT SPENCER'S VIEW OF ETHICS. Mr. Herbert Spencer's theory on this subject is contained in a very interesting book entitled The Data of Ethics.* To give any complete account of the contents of that 1 /. e. what is in the purely natural history sense, in which we say that the lion is, while the unicorn is not. In the deeper sense, of course, Ethics is concerned with what is viz. with what man's fun- damental nature is. Cf. above, chap. iii. of the present Book, 3. * NQW Part L of his larger book, The Principles of Ethics. 238 ETHICS. [BK, IL, CH. v. book would be quite impossible here ; but the follow* ing may be taken as indicating its drift f Mr. Spencer begins by trying to determine what we mean by con- duct, and what we mean by calling conduct good or bad. He examines this question by going back to the life of the lower animals. In all life there is what may be called conduct, and in all life it may be good or bad. Now the essence of life, as seen in its lowest forms, consists, according to Mr. Spencer, in "the continuous adjustment of internal relations to external relations " **. e. the constant effort of an organism to adapt itself to its environment All conduct tends either to promote or to hinder such adaptation. In so far as it tends to promote it, it is good : in so far as it tends to hinder it, it is bad. Good conduct produces pleasure, because it brings the organism into harmony with its surroundings. Bad conduct produces pain. Nearly all conduct is partly good and partly bad. Perfectly good conduct would be that which produces only pleasure with no accompanying pain. But con- duct is relatively good when it tends on the whole to produce a surplus of pleasure over pain i. e. when it tends on the whole to produce a more perfect ad- justment of organism to environment. The supreme moral end is to help on the process of development, which consists in a more and more perfect adjustment of internal relations to external relations. 6. CRITICISM OF MR. SPENCER'S VIEW. Now this theory is in many ways suggestive. It helps to bring the study of the moral life into co-ordination with the study of life generally ; and this is in harmony with the whole development of modern scientific thought, Cf. Sidg wick's History of Ethics, pp. 254-25?. 6.] THE STANDARD AS PERFECTION. 239 which leads us to believe that there are no absolute divisions between the various objects of our knowledge, and that we are never likely to fully understand any one of these objects without bringing it into relation to all the rest. Yet a little reflection seems to show that Mr. Spencer's theory involves a kind of Zarepov -Kpdrepov, or putting the cart before the horse. For what is meant by saying that the development of our lives means a continuous process of adjustment to our environment ? It is easy to see that in a certain sense such a process is continually going on. The progress of our knowledge means that we are constantly adjust- ing our ideas more and more to the objective realities of nature. In like manner, the advance of the arts means that we are gradually learning to adjust our modes of life to the necessities imposed upon us by the conditions of the external world. And so in morals, in so far as we can claim to have "sweeter manners, purer laws "than our forefathers, in so far as we have wider ideas of what is required of us, and are more conscientious in meeting these requirements, all this means that we are adjusting our modes of life more and more to the necessities of the case. But what exactly is implied in this adjustment? Does it not imply, above everything, that we have certain ends that we set before ourselves to be attained ? When we say that two things are not adjusted to one another, we imply that we have some idea of a relation in which the two things ought to stand and in which at present they do not stand. In a sense everything is adjusted to everything else. Death is an adjustment A living being is conscious of a certain want of adjust- ment only because it has certain definite aims. The 240 ETHICS. [BK. IL, CH. v. scientific man perceives that his ideas are not fully adjusted to the facts of nature, and he pursues know- ledge in order that he may adjust them more com- pletely ; but a stone is adjusted to its environment without the need of any such effort. 1 The scientific man is aware of a want of adjustment simply because he is aware of an unattained end in other words, because he brings an ideal with him to which the world does not conform. But if this be so, then surely we ought to turn the statement the other way about W ought not to say that the deficiency of living beings, which the development of their lives is gradually removing, consists in the fact that they are not adjusted to their environment ; but rather, at least in the case of self-conscious beings, that the deficiency consists in the fact that their environment is not adjusted to them. For it is not in the environment, but in themselves, that the standard lies, with reference to which a deficiency is pronounced. If a man were content to " let the world slide," he would soon enough become adjusted to his environment ; it is because he insists on pursuing his own ends that the process of adjustment is a hard one. It is because he wants to adjust his environment to himself; or rather, because he wants to adjust both himself and his surroundings to a certain ideal of what his life ought to be. Even in the case of the lower animals, indeed, it would often be as true to say that they adjust their environment to themselves as that they adjust themselves to their environment In any case, adjustment seems to have no meaning unless we presuppose some ideal form of adjustment, some end that is consciously or uncon- 1 C/. Pro! Alexander's Moral Order and Progress, pp. 2/1-3. 70 THE STANDARD AS PERFECTION. 24! sciously sought But if so, then it is surely rather with the idea of this end that we ought to start than with the mere idea of the process of adjustment, in which the end is presupposed. Though it seems natural to begin at the beginning in our explanation and move on, through the process, to the end ; yet since in this case it is the end by which the process is determined, it is rather at the end that we ought to begin. x 7. VIEWS OF OTHER EVOLUTIONISTS. Mr. Spencer's theory is distinguished from that of most other writers of the evolutionist school by the distinctness with which he recognises an ultimate and absolute end to which conduct is directed. Although he begins his explanation from below, from the beginning, from the simplest forms of life, he yet leads up to the concep- tion of an absolute end. Hence he insists on the need of treating Ethics from a teleological point of view * ; and indeed carries his conception of an ultimate end so far that he even propounds the idea of an absolute system of Ethics, not relating to the present world at all, but rather to a world in which the adjustment to environment shall have been com- pletely brought about.' Most other evolutionists have repudiated this absolute Ethics,-* and have also avoided the statement of any absolute end to which we are moving. Thus, Mr. Leslie Stephen seems to content 1 For a more complete discussion of Spencer's doctrine, see Sor- ley's Ethics of Naturalism, especially pp. 303-220, Alexander's Moral Order and Progress, pp. 266-277, Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, pp, 136-159, and Dewey's Outlines of Ethics, pp. 67-78, and pp. 142-1461 * Data of Ethics, pp. 304-5, * See Dr. Sidgwick's account of this, History of Ethics,?. 236. * See, for instance, Stephen's Science of Ethics, p-43^ Alexander'* Moral Order and Progress, p. 270. *6 242 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. V. himself with the idea of health or efficiency. " A moral rule is a statement of a condition of social welfare." 1 Virtue means efficiency with a view to the maintenance of social equilibrium. 2 This theory does not require any view of an ultimate end to which society is mov- ing ; but simply takes society as it finds it, and regards its preservation and equilibrium as the end to be aimed at. 3 Prof. Alexander adopts a view which is sub- stantially the same. Thus he says,* "An act or person is measured by a certain standard or criterion of con- duct, which has been called the moral ideal. This moral ideal is an adjusted order of conduct, which is based upon contending inclinations and establishes an equilibrium between them. Goodness is nothing but this adjustment in the equilibrated whole." This view of Ethics bears a close relation to the doctrine of the development of animal life which was set forth by Darwin. According to Darwin's view, the develop- ment of animal species takes place by means of a ri struggle for existence, "in which " the fittest " survive. This process is commonly referred to as one of "nat- ural selection." In the same way, the view of Mr. Stephen and Prof. Alexander is that in the moral life there is a process of natural selection in which the most efficient, or the most perfectly equilibrated type of conduct is preserved. The connection between 1 Science of Ethics, p. 4501 8 Ibid., pp. 79-81, &c. Cf. the statement of Mr. Stephen's theory in Sidgwick's History of Ethics, p. 257. Of course, on such a view, any actual state of society is regarded as being only partly in equilibrium ; and the end aimed at may be said to be a condition of perfect equilibrium. But the writers referred to do not attempt to give any positive account ol what would be involved in such an equilibrium. * Moral Order and Progress, p. 399, 5.] THE STANDARD AS PERFECTION. 243 this theory and that of Darwin has been well worked out by Prof. Alexander in a recent article on ' ' Natural Selection in Morals " ' ; and as this seems to me to contain perhaps the best summary statement that we have in English a of the attempt to explain morality from below, it may be worth while to indicate briefly its general scope and gist. 8. NATURAL SELECTION IN MORALS. "Natural Selec- tion, " says Mr. Alexander, 3 " is a name for the process by which different species with characteristic structures contend for supremacy, and one prevails and becomes relatively permanent." In the case of animal life the struggle is primarily one between different individuals or sets of individuals, some of which die out, while the "more fit " survive. It is not exactly so in morals. "The war of natural selection is carried on in human affairs not against weaker or incompatible individuals, but against their ideals or modes of life. It does not suffer any mode of life to prevail or persist but one which is compatible with social welfare."-* What happens in the animal world is that certain individuals or sets of individuals happen to be born with peculiar natural gifts. These gifts turn out to be such as make them more fit to survive than other individuals ; and accordingly they do survive, and transmit their char- acteristics to their descendants, while their less favoured 1 International Journal of Ethics, vol. ii., No. 4 (July, 1882), pp. 400- 439. Cf. also Prof. Alexander's Moral Order and Progress, Book III., chap, iv., where the same point is brought out * An even more extreme instance of an attempt to explain morality from below, and on very similar lines, will be found in a recent Ger- man work entitled Einleitungin die Moralwisscnschaft by Dr. Georg SimmeL Loc. Cit,, p. 431. Ibid., p. 428. 244 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. V. rivals die out. In the case of morals, however, we are dealing "not with animals as such, but with minds." 1 In such cases "we have something of the following kind. A person arises (or a few persons) whose feelings, modified by more or less deliberate reflection, incline him to a new course of conduct He dislikes cruelty or discourtesy, or he objects to see- ing women with inferior freedom, or to the unlimited opportunity of intoxication. He may stand alone and with only a few friends to support him. His proposal may excite ridicule or scorn or hatred ; and if he is a great reformer, he may endure hardship and obloquy, or even death at the hands of the great body of persons whom he offends. By degrees his ideas spread more and more ; people discover that they have similar leanings ; they are persuaded by him ; their previous antagonism to him is replaced by attachment to the new mode of conduct, the new political institution. The new ideas gather every day fresh strength, until at last they occupy the minds of a majority of persons, or even of nearly all."* " Persuasion and education, in fact, without destruction, replace here the process of propagation of its own species and destruction of the rival ones, by which in the natural world species become numerically strong and persistent. " " Persua- sion corresponds to the extermination of the rivals"; for "the victory of mind over mind consists in persua- sion." 3 Thus, then, the origin of moral ideals, like the origin of species, is to be explained by a process of nat- ural selection. 9. NEED OF TELEOLOGY. Now there can be no Loc. d t, p. 414. * Ibid., p, 430, 9-] THE STANDARD AS PERFECTION. 245 doubt that all this is very suggestive and instructive ; but if it is to be taken as a complete account of the moral ideal, it labours under a fatal defect. It is a mere natural history of the growth of the moral life. Now in dealing with animal life we may be content with a mere natural history. In this case we do not want to know much more than the nature of the species that exist and that have existed, and the cir- cumstances that have led them to survive or perish. We are not much interested to inquire what right man has to extirpate the wolf, or how we are to justify the extermination of the mammoth or the survival of the ape. We are not specially interested in the relative values of different species of animal life. But it is just with the question of value that Ethics is concerned. We wish to know the ground of preference of one kind of con- duct over another ; and it is no solution of this problem to say that the one kind has succeeded in driving out the other. This, indeed, is partly admitted by Mr. Alex- ander himself. "A new plan of life," he says, "is not made good because it succeeds ; its success is the stamp, the imprimatur affixed to it by the course of history, the sign that it is good." * But this admission is of little value ; for when he is asked what it is, then, that makes it good, what is the common characteristic that makes ideals morally valuable, he can only answer "that that common characteristic consists in that such a plan of life is adapted to the conditions of existence ; that under it the society reacts without friction upon 1 Loc. cit., p. 418. Sometimes, I think, Mr. Alexander forgets this. Thus, in his Moral Order and Progress, p. 307, he says " Evil is timply that which has been rejected and defeated in the struggle with the good" 246 ETHICS. [BK. ii., CH. v its surroundings, or, as I should prefer to say, that in the conditions in which it is placed society can with this ideal so live that no part of it shall encroach upon the rest, that the society can be in equilibrium with itself." f But why should we desire that society should be in equilibrium with itself? What is it that makes this condition valuable to us? This is the question which we are forced to ask ; and it is a similar question that recurs in connection with the view of Mr. Spencer, and with all similar theories. These writers answer questions of natural history instead of questions of Ethics.* What they say may throw considerable light on the way in which the moral life has developed, but does not answer the question Why are we to choose that life ? Why, we may ask, for instance, should we not seek to disturb the equilibrium of society, instead of promoting it? The answer to this could only be given by showing that that equilibrium is a good. * Ibid., p. 4191 Cf. also Prof. Alexander's article on " The Idea of Value," in Mind, vol. L, No. i (Jan., 1892), especially pp. 44-48. a This point is very fully brought out in Sorley's Ethics of Natural- ism, Part II., chap, ix A short passage may here be quoted (pp. 270-1). "A man might quite reasonably ask why he should adopt as maxims of conduct the laws seen to operate in nature. The end, in this way, is not made to follow from the natural function of man. It is simply a mode in which the events of the world occur ; and we must, therefore, give a reason why it should be adopted as his end by the individual agent To him there may be no sufficient ground of inducement to become ' a self-conscious agent in the evolution of the universe.' From the purely evolutionist point of view, no definite attempt has been made to solve the difficulty. It seems really to go no deeper than Dr. Johnson's reply to Boswell, when the latter plagued him to give a reason for action : ' Sir,' said he, in an animated tone, 'it is driving on the system of life."" Cf. Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics, p. 83, Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, pp. 149-15^ 10.] THE STANDARD AS PERFECTION. 247 Similarly, we may ask Why may we not set our- selves in opposition to the stream of development which Mr. Spencer traces ? Here again the answer to this question must be found by showing that the stream of development is leading to something which we re- cognize as good something that can serve as an ideal for our moral nature. If this can be shown, then we may start from that ideal. That ideal then becomes the explanation of the process, instead of the process being an explanation of it. We go through the pro- cess of development because we are seeking that ideal. The end, and not the beginning, is thus taken as the principle of explanation. x 10. EXPLANATION BY END. Even in the case of the development of animal life it is not at all certain that the idea of teleology ought not to be introduced. Indeed even in Mr. Spencer's view of evolution there is a kind of teleology. The whole life of animals is regarded as a continual struggle after a perfect adjust- ment. That is the ideal by which the whole process is explained. And it is possible that on a deeper view of evolution the meaning of the process might be seen to have a still more profoundly teleological significance. So at least Emerson thought " Striving to be man, the worm Mounts through all the spires of form." So also Aristotle and Hegel thought.* But however 1 This seems to be the essential point in the argument of Prof. Huxley's famous Romanes Lecture (Evolution and Ethics). But Prof. Huxley partly obscures the point by drawing an unreal anti- thesis between the processes of nature and the activities of the moral life. Cf. also Principal Lloyd Morgan's Habit and Instinct, pp. 271 and 335, and Seth's Man's Place in the Cosmos, I. It is still more remarkable (though perhaps not so consistent) t 4.8 ETHICS. [BK. ii., CH. v. this may be with regard to animal life, and to the life of nature generally, there can be no doubt that we must apply teleological ideas in Ethics. Indeed, as we have seen, this is explicitly stated by Mr. Herbert Spencer himself. But if this is the case, then the at- tempt to explain the moral life from behind cannot be of much avail We must explain it rather by what lies in front of us, by the ideal or end that we have in view. How this may be done, may be indicated by a brief reference to the work of the most dis- tinguished of those thinkers in recent times who have attempted it the late Professor T. H. Green. 11. GREEN'S VIEW OF ETHICS. Green's doctrine is stated in his great work entitled Prolegomena to Ethics, probably the most considerable contribution to ethical science that has been made in England during the present century. 1 Green taught that the essential element in the nature of man is the rational or spiritual principle within him. Man has appetite, as animals have, and, like them, he has sensations and mental images; but these, and everything else in man's nature, are modified by the fact that he has reason. His appetites are not mere appetites : his sensations are not mere sensations. In his appetites there is always more or less explicitly present the conscious- ness of an end i'. e. they are desires and not mere appe- tites. * In his sensations there is always more or less find such a pronounced materialist as Dlihring objecting strongly to the Darwinian attempt to explain evolution by the mere struggle for existence, and urging the adoption of a more teleological view See his Cursus der Philosophic, II. iil * The account of Green's doctrine contained in Sidgwick's History qf Ethics (pp. 259-260) is unhappily very inadequate. 1 1 may lay *h3* Green seems to me to exaggerate the extent to 11.] THE STANDARD AS PERFECTION. 249 explicitly present the element of knowledge :'. e. they are perceptions and not mere sensations. This is due to the fact that man is rational, self-conscious, spiritual. This is the essential fact with regard to man's nature. Green points out, indeed, that even in animal life, and even in inanimate nature, we must assume the presence of a rational principle just as Mr. Spencer points out that even in animal life there is present the principle of adjustment. But in nature the presence of this prin- ciple is implicit. We must believe that it is there, but it is concealed or imperfectly manifested. In man it is explicit ; or, at any rate, it is becoming explicit. And the significance of the moral life consists in the con- stant endeavour to make this principle more and more explicit to bring out more and more completely our rational, self-conscious, spiritual nature. How exactly this is to be done, Green admits, it is not easy to answer, just because our rational nature is not yet completely developed. The moral life is to be ex- which animal appetites are transmuted in human consciousness. Perhaps, however, my own statement above (Book I., chap, i., 3) contains an exaggeration on the opposite side. At any rate, the main point here is that the essence of man consists in his rational nature, not in anything that he has in common with a mere animal (if there is any mere animal). What exactly is involved in the consciousness of the higher forms of animal life, is a difficult question. It seems absurd to deny them perception. It is hard even to suppose that they are without perceptual images. Else how does the ox know his master's crib ? How does the bird construct its nest ? There seems to be involved in such cases not only an apprehension of the object before them but an anticipatory image of what is about to be. And indeed this seems to be required even for Darwin's earthworms {Vegetable Mould, chap. ii.). But all this lies beyond our present sub- ject. Reference may be made to Lloyd Morgan's Animal I.ije and Intelligence (especially chapter ix.), to Wundt's Human and Animal Psychology,'^. 350-366, and to Stout's Manual, pp. 264-266. 250 ETHICS. [BK. IL, CH. v. planned by its end ; but as we have not reached the end, we cannot, in any complete form, give the ex- planation. Still, we can to a considerable extent see in what way our rational nature has been so far de- veloped, and in what direction we may proceed to develop it more fully. This is a brief statement of Green's point of view ; and it certainly appears to furnish us with an answer to the question with which we set out viz. the ques- tion how we are to determine which is the higher and which is the lower among our universes of desire. Green's answer is the highest universe is that which is most completely rational. The meaning of this, how- ever, must be somewhat more fully considered, in relation to the point of view that we have already tried to develop. 12. THE TRUE SELF. We have seen that there are a great number of universes within which a man may live. In some of these men live only for moments at a time : in others they live habitually. Some of them are universes within which no abiding satisfaction can be found. The universe of mere animal enjoyment is of this nature. Its pleasures soon pall upon the appetite. In others we find that we have a more per- manent resting-place. Now the nature of the universe within which a man habitually lives constitutes, as we have seen, his character or self. If he chances to be led into some other universe by a sudden impulse or unexpected temptation, the man scarcely considers himself to be responsible for his actions within that universe. He says that he was not himself when he acted so. He was not within his own universe. But there is no limited universe within which we can 12.] THE STANDARD AS PERFECTION. 2$ I find permanent satisfaction. As we grow older, we get crusted over with habits, and go on, with little misgiv- ing, within the universe to which we have grown accustomed. But if the universe is an imperfect one, we are not without occasional pricks of conscience i. e. we sometimes become aware of a higher universe within which we ought to be living. "Just when we are safest, there's a sunset-touch, A fancy from a flower-bell, some one's death, A chorus-ending from Euripides And that's enough for fifty hopes and fears, As old and new at once as nature's sell, To rap and knock and enter in our soul." 1 On such occasions we begin to feel that even in the life that we ordinarily live we are not ourselves. There is a want of permanence in our habitual universe, just as there is in those into which we find ourselves occa- sionally drifted by passion and impulse. Just as we do not feel satisfied in these, but escape from them as rapidly as we can, and declare that we were not ourselves when we were in them ; so we become con- scious at times that even in our habitual lives there is something unsatisfying, and if it were not for the frost of custom we would make our escape from these also, and declare that in them also we are not ourselves. Where, then, is the universe within which we should find an abiding satisfaction ? What is the true self ? The true self is what is perhaps best described as the rational self. It is the universe that we occupy in our moments of deepest wisdom and insight. To say fully what the content of this universe is, would no doubt, as Green points out, 2 be impossible. The content of 1 Browning Bishop Blougram's Apology. * Prolegomena to Ethics, 288, p. 3101 252 ETHICS. [BK. ii., CH. v. the universe of rational insight is as wide as the uni- verse of actual fact. To live completely in that uni- verse would be to understand completely the world in which we live and our relations to it, and to act con- stantly in the light of that understanding. This we cannot hope to do. All that we can do is to endeavour to promote this understanding more and more in our- selves and others, and to act more and more in a way that is consistent with the promotion of this understand- ing. So to live is to be truly ourselves. t 13. THE REAL MEANING OF SELF-CONSISTENCY. From this point of view we are better able to appreciate the real significance of the Kantian principle, that the supreme law of morals is to be self-consistent. This law, as we pointed out, seemed to supply us with a mere form without matter. It is not so, however, if we interpret the statement to mean not merely that we are to be self -consistent, but that we are to be consistent with the self i. e. with the true self. For this principle has a content, though the content is not altogether easy to discover. Kant's error, we may say, consisted in this, that he understood the term Reason in a purely abstract way. He opposed it to all the particular con- tent of our desires ; whereas, in reality, reason is rela- tive to the whole world which it interprets. The uni- verse of rational insight is the universe in which the whole world including all our desires appears in its true relations. To occupy the point of view of reason, 1 For some criticisms on the idea of self-realization, see the valu- able article by Mr. A. E. Taylor in the International Journal of Ethics, Vol. VI., no. 3. Mr. Taylor's objections do not seem, how- ever, to bear upon the theory as explained above and as developed iB the following Book I4-] THE STANDARD AS PERFECTION. 2$$ therefore, is not to withdraw from all our desires, and occupy the point of view of mere formal self-consist- ency ; it is rather to place all our desires in their right relations to one another. The universe of rational in- sight is a universe into which they can all enter, and in which they all find their true places. Dirt has been defined as " matter in the wrong place " : so moral evil may be said to consist simply in the misplacement of desire. The meaning of this will, it is hoped, become somewhat clearer as we proceed 14. THE REAL MEANING OF HAPPINESS. Just as we are now better able to appreciate the significance of the categorical imperative of self-consistency, so we ought now to be able to understand more fully the true significance of the principle of happiness. The error in the conception of happiness, as formerly interpreted, lay in its being thought of simply as the gratification of each single desire, or of the greatest possible sum of desires. We now see that the end is to be found rather in the systematisation of desire. Now happi- ness, in the true sense of the word, as distinguished from transient pleasures, consists just in the conscious- ness of the realisation of such a systematic content. It is the form of feeling which accompanies the har- monious adjustment of the various elements in our lives within an ideal unity. Happiness, therefore, in this sense, though not, properly speaking, the end at which we aim, is an inseparable and essential element in its attainment. 1 15. TRANSITION TO APPLIED ETHICS. We have now 1 It is in this sense, as Spinoza says, that " happiness [beatitude] Is not the reward of virtue, but virtue itself," i. e., it is an essential aspect in the attainment of the right point of view. 254 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. V. seen, in a general way, what the nature of the moral ideal is, and how the various imperfect conceptions of this ideal find their place within what seems to be the true one. We now see, in short, at least in some de- gree, what is the true significance of the ethical ought. We see that, if it is to be described as an " imperative" at all, it is at least not to be thought of, as it is apt at first to be, as a command imposed upon us from with- out. It is rather to be regarded as the voice of the true self within us, passing judgment upon the self as it appears in its incomplete development. Conscience, from this point of view, may be said to be simply the sense that we are not ourselves ; and the voice of duty is the voice that says, "To thine own self be true." But statements of this sort are still apt to seem rather empty and unmeaning, unless we can bring them into some sort of relationship to the concrete content of life. Accordingly, what we have now to do is to con- sider the way in which the concrete moral life may be interpreted in the light of the general principle which has now been laid down. This, of course, can only be done in such a book as this, in the most cursory and superficial fashion. But some indication of the kind of way in which it would have to be done in a more comprehensive work, may at least be found sug- gestive and helpful. Before we proceed to this, how- ever, it is necessary to consider the exact sense in which ethical principles are capable of application to the con- tent of the practical life. This is the subject of the following chapter. I.] HIE MORAL STANDARD., 255 CHAPTER VI. THE AUTHORITY OF THE MORAL STANDARD. 1. THE GENERAL PROBLEM OF AUTHORITY. In considering the nature of the moral standard, we have had to deal incidentally with the character of the authority which according to different theories is claimed for it. But it seems desirable now to add something on this particular point. As the moral standard is one that claims the absolute devotion of the human will, it is evident that its authority must be recognized as supreme and unquestionable ; and we have accordingly already felt ourselves to be justified in criticizing certain views of the moral standard on the ground that they provided no adequate motive for obedience to the principles that are involved in it. This defect appears, for instance, in the view which rests moral obligation on the law of God ; since the mere might of a supreme being could not be accepted as a sufficient ground for voluntary obedience. The same defect appears, in a somewhat different form, in the theory that appeals simply to the process of evolution ; since it is of the very essence of the moral life to oppose itself, if necessary, to the natural tendencies of things. The consideration of such ob- jections, however, leads us to inquire more definitely what is the nature of the authority on which moral principles must be based. 2 $6 ETHICS. [BK. u., CH. vi/ 2. DiFFEREiNT KINDS OF AUTHORITY. In dealing with this subject, it may be convenient to recur to the distinction that has already been drawn between is, must, and ought. A certain kind of authority may be said to lie in each. Even in an "is" there is often a compelling power. " Facts " are said to be " stubborn things." Carlyle was particularly fond of emphasizing the absurdity of contending against actualities. It would be futile for human beings to endeavour to train themselves to walk constantly on their heads; and many other actions, not on a surface view quite so absurd, may be equally impossible. If a man offends persistently against the general conditions of health, his sin is sure to find him out; and such sin may be described as a failure to recognize the existing circumstances. But even in such instances the com- pelling power is perhaps more properly to be described as a "must" than as a simple "is." We do not in such instances perform actions, or abstain from actions, in mere obedience to a natural tendency, as a stone falls to the ground, or as an animal follows its instincts. Rather we do or abstain, in general, with a certain foresight of the inconvenient consequences that would otherwise result. We recognise that we must or that we must not. We do not simply feel impelled. A better illustration of the operation of the simple " is " in human action might be found in certain conventional practices in rules of fashion, local customs, profes- sional etiquette, and the like. The " correct thing " in such cases means little more than what the " compact majority " does. Particular people follow the custom, as a sheep follows its leader. They do things simply 2.] THE MORAL STANDARD. 257 because they are done. But even in such cases it is probable that there is nearly always a more or less explicit consciousness of some ground for the action. It is done, it may be, from fear of public opinion, or from a conviction that eccentricity is undesirable. In the former case there is a " must," in the latter an "ought." On the whole, a careful consideration of such cases seems to show that, in all action that is distinctively human (as opposed to animal impulse or instinct), one or other of these (a "must" or an " ought ") is the compelling force. Now, taking the "must" and the "ought" as the two great moving forces in human action, there might be some convenience in limiting the uae of the term "authority," at least in its ethical application, to the latter. It is in this sense that the term is chiefly used by Bishop Butler, who has perhaps done more than any one else to give it a clear meaning in ethical literature. 1 But we must remember that the term is also commonly used with reference to the "is" and the "must," as well as the "ought" An appeal to " authority " means sometimes simply an appeal to the majority of views that have been expressed on a particular point ; though even in this case there is generally an implied conviction that the people whose views are referred to have some claim to be heard, that there are reasons why their opinions ought to be accepted as the most correct, or as the most likely to be correct, and that, if their views diverge, they should be weighed as well as counted Again, in law 1 Butler's second Strmon may be referred to as the locus dasricui on this point. Bth. 2 $8 ETHICS. [BK. II., CH. Vt. and politics, the "authority" for an action may simply refer to the force by which it is accompanied, or the penalties which can be inflicted in connection with it. But even legal and political powers are seldom regarded as authoritative without some degree of conviction that they represent, on the whole, justice as well as might. In strictly moral matters, at any rate, it seems clear that we cannot recognize any authority that is merely of the nature of force. But the more fully this is recognized, the more urgent does it become to ascertain the exact nature of the binding power that is contained in the moral standard. 3. VARIOUS VIEWS OF MORAL AUTHORITY. We have already noticed the chief theories of the moral standard, and, in doing so, we have incidentally seen what is the kind of authority that is claimed by each. But we must now proceed to consider the different views on this particular point more definitely. Broadly speaking, we may say that the authority claimed for the moral standard is either that of an external law, that of an inner law, or that which is contained in the idea of an end. The first is seen in views that refer us to a law of God, a law of Nature, or a law of some political or social power. The second appears in the doctrine of a law of conscience or reason. The third is found in the various doctrines that set up some form of pleasure or perfection as the end of action. But the nature of the authority does not always cor- respond to the nature of the standard. It is possible to maintain that the criterion of right is of one kind, while the power that binds us to its pursuit is of ano;her. Thus, Paley r garded pleasure as the end 4-j THE MORAL STANDARD. 259 of action, but set up the will of God as the supreme authority for its pursuit. And Utilitarians in general distinguish the ultimate end from the sanctions which bind us to follow it. Similar divergences may also be found, though perhaps in a less degree, in some other schools. Thus, Shaftesbury appears to have taken the well-being of society as the end, but the " moral sense " as the authority. Accordingly, it seems worth while at this point o consider the different theories of authority a little more in detail. 4. THE AUTHORITY OF LAW. We have already in- dicated the chief stages in the growth of the view which rests the authority of the moral principle on some form ot external law a view which has not much support from ethical theory, but a great deal from popular con- viction. We have traced the growth from customary obligation, through state law, to the law of a divine commandment. But there is probably no type of ethical theory in modern times that would seek to rest moral authority exclusively on any such external sources. There have, however, been several attempts in modern ethics, and especially in modern English ethics, to rest moral obligation to a large extent upon a legal basis. In recent times this tendency has been specially charac- teristic of the Utilitarian school, with whom the so-called "Sanctions" of morality have played a very important pnrt. These Sanctions, whether in the rudimentary form conceived by Paley, or in the more elaborate form set forth by Bentham and Mill, are external forces, carrying an authority of that non-moral kind which v c have characterised as a " must." Some special cor; H nfirn of ht-s.- will here be in p'ace. 260 ETHICS. [BK. IL, CH. vi. 5. THE SANCTIONS OF MORALITY. This term has been introduced into Ethics in consequence of the strongly jural way in which the subject has frequently been treated. 1 A sanction means primarily a ratifica- tion. 1 Hence it comes to be applied to that which ratifies or gives force to the laws of a state i.e. the punishment attached to their violation. The meaning of the term has been extended, chiefly by Utilitarian writers, to anything that gives force .to the laws of Duty t.e. to the motives by which men are induced to fulfil their obligations. According to the Utilitarian writers, the only motives are fear of pain and hope of pleasure. And the pains and pleasures may present themselves in a variety of forms. Thus, there is frequently a physical pain as a consequence of the violation of Duty. Again, there are the pains of social disapproval, and the pleasures of the approbation of our fellow-men. The pains of Hell and the pleasures of Heaven have also, at certain periods of human history, provided motives to right conduct. Now, if the view of Ethics indicated in the present handbook is to be accepted, all this is not of much ethical im- portance. The right motive to good conduct is the desire to realize the highest end of human life ; 8 and 1 Cf. Sidpwick's History of Ethics, pp. 8-IO. 1 E.g. " The Pragmatic Sanction." It is derived from the Latin sanctio, and means primarily " the act of binding," or " that which serves to bind a mau." Cf. Bentham's Principles of Morals and Legis- lation, chap, iii., note to ii. * It is scarcely necessary to repeat that this motive need not be consciously present. (Cf. above, p. 197.) In a particular good action the motive is as a rule simply the interest in some particular good to be achieved. But the ultimate justification of our interest in * 5-] T I IE MORAL STANDARD. 26 1 what this is we have already seen. That we may be moved to act rightly in other ways is a fact rather of psychological, historical, or sociological, than ot strictly ethical interest. It is also, no doubt, a fact of some importance for jurisprudence, education, 1 and practical politics. Since, however, the consideration of these external motives plays a prominent part in the Utilitarian theory of morals, some further remarks on this point seem to be called for. If the theory of Universalistic Hedonism is accepted, and if this theory is made to rest on the basis of Psychological Hedonism, it becomes important to con- sider the motives by which the individual is led to seek the general happiness. His primary desire, according to this view, is for his own greatest happiness ; and he can be induced to seek the general happiness only by being led to see that the conduct which leads to " the greatest happiness of the greatest number " is in the long run identical with that which leads to his own greatest happiness. Now it is chiefly by means of the Sanctions that this identity is shown. As Bentham puts it, 1 the general happiness is the final cause of human action ; but the efficient cause for any given individual is the anticipation of his own pleasure or particular good consists in the fact that it is an element in the general good ; and our interest in a particular good requires frequently to be modified and corrected by reference to this. 1 Sanctions, as already noted (above, p. 312), are of use as helping to form habits of goo^ willing and good conduct ; though this use of them should be gradually decreased till the necessity for them disappears. Cf. Miss Gilliland's paper on " Pleasure and Pain in Education," pp. 301-3. * Principles of Morals and leg 'slation, chap. iii. 262 ETHICS. [BK. n., CH. vi. pain. "The happiness of the individuals, of whom a community is composed, that is, their pleasures and their security, 1 is the end and the sole end which the legislator ought to have in view ; the sole standard, in conformity to which each individual ought, as far as depends upon the legislator, to be made to fashion his behaviour. But whether it be this or anything else that is to be done, there is nothing by which a man can ultimately be made to do it, but either pain or pleasure." Accordingly, Bentham proceeds to enumerate the various kinds of pain and pleasure which may be made to serve as motives to the adoption of those forms of conduct which it is desirable, with a view to the general happiness, that men should be induced to follow. These various kinds of pain and pleasure are what he calls the Sanctions. Bentham enumerates * four classes of such Sanctions, which he calls the physical, the political, the moral, and the religious. If the pleasure or pain comes simply in the ordinary course of nature, and is not attached to our actions by the will of any individual, such a source of motives is called a physical sanction. The pains following from drunkenness are an example. It, on 1 Bentham does not, ot course, mean that the principle of security is to be regarded as an independent end in addition to pleasure. He only mentions it as the indi.spensable condition of the certainty, dura- tion, and fecundity of our pleasures. Cf. his Principles of the Civil Code, Part II., chap. vii. Of all the principles subordinate to utility, there was none to which he attached so much importance as to that of security. * Principles of Morals and Legislation, chap. iii. Cf. also Principles if Legislation, chap, vii., and Sidgwick.'s History of tAics, pp. 240-245. $ 5-] THE MORAL STANDARD. 263 the other hand, the pleasure or pain is attached to an action by the will of a sovereign ruler or government, it is called a political sanction ; as in the case of ordinary judicial punishment. If it is attached to an action by the will of individuals who are not in a position of authority, it is called a moral (popular) sanction ; as when a man is " boycotted " or " loses caste." Finally, if it is attached to an action by the will of a supernatural power, it is called a religious sanction ; as in the case of Heaven and Hell, or of the penalties inflicted by the Roman Catholic Church as the representative of the Divine will on earth. It may be worth while to give Bentham's own examples. 1 " A man's goods, or his person, are consumed by fire. If this happened to him by what is called an accident, it was a calamity: 2 if by reason of his own imprudence (for instance, from his neglecting to put his candle out), it may be styled a punishment of the physical sanction ; if it happened to him by the sentence of the political magistrate, a punishment belonging to the political sanction ; that is, what is commonly called a punish- ment : if for want of any assistance which his neighbour withheld from him out of some dislike to his moral character, a punishment of the moral sanction : if by an immediate act of God's displeasure, manifested on account of some sin committed by him, or through any distraction of mind, occasioned by the dread 1 Principles of Morals and Legislation, chap, iii., ix. * In this case, of course, it is not a sanction at all ; since it is not regarded as a result of any particular kind of conduct, and consequently does not serve as an inducement to the avoidance of any particular kind of conduct 264 ETHICS. [BK. IL, CH. vi. of such displeasure, a punishment of the religious sanction." J. S. Mill accepted all these sanctions, but character- ized them all as "external"; and held that we ought to recognize, in addition to them, the " internal " sanction of Conscience i.e. the pleasures and pains of the moral sentiments. 1 All the other sanctions are to a large extent " physical" Indeed, Bentham himself says : * "Of these four sanctions the physical is altogether, we may observe, the groundwork of the political and the moral ; so is it also of the religious, in as far as the latter bears relation to the present life. It is included in each of those other three. This 8 may operate in any case (that is, any of the pains or pleasures belonging to it may operate) independently of them*: none of them can operate but by means of this. In a word, the powers of nature may operate of themselves ; but neither the magistrate, nor men at large, 6 can operate, nor is God in the case in question supposed to operate, but through the powers of nature." What Mill calls the " internal " sanction, on the other hand, does not rest on physical conditions, but is purely psychological or subjective; though the particular way in which it 1 Utilitarianism, chap, iii., p. 41 sqq. * Principles of Morals and Ltgislation, chap, iii., xi. * The physical sanction. 4 The other three sanctions. * It might be urged that the moral sanction sometimes takes the form simply of an expression of opinion. The fear of adverse public opinion is often one of the strongest forms of this sanction. But I suppose Bentham would say that even in this case the expression of the opinion takes place "through the powers of nature," viz. through vibrations of sound or light 6.] THE MORAL STANDARD. 26$ is developed is, no doubt, affected by the external environment in which our lives are passed. 1 Though this sanction is distinguished by Mill as "internal," yet, in a sense, it is just as external as the others. All may be called internal, since all involve the subjective experience of pain, actual or prospective. On the other hand, all are external, in the sense that the pain is connected with some law not definitely recognised as the law of our own being. If, however, Conscience is definitely regarded as the law of our nature, it ceases to be merely of the nature of a sanction, and becomes a real moral authority. It is in this way that it is conceived, for instance, by Bishop Butler. 8 6. THE AUTHORITY OF CONSCIENCE. The force of conscience, from Mill's point of view, lies simply, as we have seen, in its sting, in its power of making itself a nuisance. The Intuitionists, on the other hand, 1 Professor Sidgwick notes {History of Ethics, p. 242, note) that even Bentham, in one of his letters to Dumont, refers separately to what are ordinarily called moral sentiments as " sympathetic and antipathetic sanctions." He thus partly anticipated Mill. But there is no official recognition of these sanctions in his published writings. The reason a probably that Bentham had a supreme contempt for such sympathetic and antipathetic sentiments. See his Principles of Morals and Legisla- tion, chap, ii., xi, note. 2 An excellent account of the Sanctions will be found in Fowler's Progressive Morality, chaps, i. and ii. Cf. also Sidgwick's Methods f Ethics, Book II., chap, v., and concluding chapter ; and Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, pp. 101-4. It should be observed that the use of terms is not quite uniform. Bentham's Political Sanction is sometimes described as the Legal Sanction ; and his Moral or Popular Sanction is frequently described as the Social Sanction ; while the term " Moral Sanction" is reserved for Mill's Internal Sanction. This use of the terms seems preferable to Bentham's. 266 ETHICS. [BK. IL, CH. vi. represent conscience, in general, as having an authority which is independent of any such power. The attitude of Butler on this point is particularly striking. As we have already seen, he represents man's nature as a con- stitution, in which conscience is the supreme authority. " Thus that principle," he says, 1 " by which we survey, and either approve or disapprove our own heart, temper and actions, is not only to be considered as what is in its turn to have some influence which may be said of every passion, of the lowest appetites but likewise as being superior, as from its very nature manifestly claiming superiority over all others, inso- much as you cannot form a notion of this faculty, conscience, without taking in judgment, direction, superintendency. This is a constituent part of the idea, that is, of the faculty itself; and to preside and govern, from the very economy and constitution of man, belongs to it. Had it strength as it has right, had it power as it has manifest authority, it would absolutely govern the world." " But allowing," he says again, 2 "that mankind hath the rule of right within himself, yet it may be asked, ' What obligations are we under to attend to and follow it ? ' I answer : it has been proved that man by his nature is a law to himself, without the particular distinct consideration of the positive sanctions of that law; the rewards and punishments which we feel, and those which from the light of reason we have ground to believe, are annexed to it. The question then carries its own answer along with it. Your obligation to obey this law is its being the law of your nature. That your conscience approves 1 Sermon II. * Sermon III. 6.] THE MORAL STANDARD. 267 of and attests to such a course ot action, is itself alone an obligation. Conscience does not only offer itself to shew us the way we should walk in, but it likewise carries its own authority with it, that it is our natural guide." If, however, we ask more definitely what is the nature of the authority of conscience, it seems impos*. sible to give any clear account of it without reference to the idea of an end. Butler himself, in seeking to explain the nature of its authority, compares it with that which belongs to " reasonable self-love." " Sup- pose a brute creature," he says, " by any bait to be allured into a snare, by which he is destroyed. He plainly followed the bent of his nature, leading him to gratify his appetite : there is an entire correspondence between his whole nature and such an action : such action therefore is natural. But suppose a man, fore- seeing the same danger of certain ruin, should rush into it for the sake of a present gratification, he in this instance would follow his strongest desire, as did the brute creature : but there would be as manifest a dis- proportion between the nature of man and such an action, as between the meanest work of art ; which disproportion arises, not from considering the action singly in itself, or in its consequences, but from com- parison of it with the nature of the agent. And since such an action is utterly disproportionate to the nature of man, it is in the strictest and most proper sense unnatural ; this word expressing that disproportion. . . . Thus, without particular consideration of con- science, we may have a clear conception of the superior nature of one inward principle to another ; and see that 268 ETHICS. [ BK. II., CH. VI. there really is this natural superiority, quite distinct from degrees of strength and prevalency." But it seems clear that the authority which is claimed for reasonable self-love in this instance rests on the idea of an end. It would be unnatural for us simply to follow our appetites and instincts, like brute beasts, because we have definite ideas of ends that we pursue, and know the means that may be expected to secure them. If the authority of conscience is of this nature, it is not the authority of a blind faculty, but the authority of reason itself. This view is not definitely brought out by Butler, but appears quite distinctly in Kant. 7. THE AUTHORITY OF REASON. Kant is the writer who has most explicitly accepted reason as the only ultimate authority in the moral life, and in this he has been followed by the school of modern idealism. But in reality the same authority was adopted, though in a somewhat less explicit form, by nearly all the Greek moralists, and especially by Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, and the Stoics ; and, in more modern times, by the Cartesians and by some of our own British writers And, in recent times, there may almost be said to be a consensus of opinion that, if any ultimate authority is to be found for the moral life at all, it can only be found in reason. Even Utilitarianism, as represented by Sidgwick, Gizycki, and others, has come round to this view. The only flourishing school at the present time which does not accept this position is the school of biological evolution ; and this is the kind of excep- tion that proves the rule, since writers of this school deny in general that any ultimate authority can be found for the iroral life at all. According to them, $ 8.] THE MORAL STANDARD. 269 morality has merely a de facto justification, and the development of the species may transform and even abolish it. Simmel, for instance, represents moral principle simply as the will of the " compact majority." It is the dominant tendency ot what "is," not an " ought " or even a " must." A moral scepticism of this kind seems to be the only real alternative to the doctrine of the authority of reason. 8. THE ABSOLUTENESS OF THE MORAL AUTHORITY. It is apt sometimes to seem as if the authority of the moral standard becomes less absolute the more it is refined and made strictly moral. A few written rules, whether of a state or of some divine law-giver, seem to carry a direct and indisputable authority, especially if they are sanctioned by heavy penalties, such as the prison or the gallows or hell fire. Hence writers who are specially desirous of enforcing moral principles, such as Carlyle, tend to throw them into the form of divine commandments, and to emphasize the penalties for their neglect. In comparison with such laws, a simple injunction to do what is reasonable, because it is reasonable, seems weak and ineffective. Even Kant's " categorical imperative " carries no terrors with it ; for the sting of conscience may be suppressed. And still less does there seem to be any strong binding force in such an idea of an end, as we have sought to put forward in the present Manual. The realization of a rational universe seems strangely remote; and, if we fail to realize it, there seems no immediate prospect that we shall be flogged or burnt or jeered at, or suffer any serious detriment to mind or body or estate. Where, then, is the authority of this standard ? ETHICS. [BK. n., CH. vi. But no one who truly realizes to himself what the standard means, is likely to argue in this way. Some illustrations from similar cases of development may serve to show that the moral authority, in its highest form, is stronger, not weaker, than it was in its more primitive modes of presentment. A child v\ho is set to draw simple lines under the guidance of a teacher, or to learn the alphabet and elementary combinations of letters, may appear to be under a strict authority, in comparison with which the great artist or poet enjoys unbounded licence. But is this really so ? Has the word of the master anything like the con- straining force on the child that the ideal of beauty has on the artist or poet ? The one law, no doubt, is simple and definite, and carries with it, perhaps, an explicit reward or punishment. The other may be hard to define, impossible to exhaust, and it may have no reward but the joy of creation, no penalty but the pain of failure. Yet surely it is on the great artist that the sternest necessity is laid. Again, the duty of a patriotic soldier may be simple and obvious : he has but to do or die, as his officers may bid. The duty of a patriotic statesman is far more complex. He has to consider, amid the tangle of surrounding conditions, what is likely in the end to be to the highest interest of his country ; and often a clear answer is nowhere to be found. Yet surely no statesman who is truly patriotic would feel the obligation to be any less real than that which is laid on the simplest soldier. Rather, the magnitude of the issues at stake must render it vastly greater. So we may say of conduct in general. The more we advance in the development of the moral $ 8.] THE MORAL STANDARD. 27 1 life, the less possible does it become to point to any single rule that seems to carry its own authority with it, to any law that stands above us and says categori- cally, You must do this. What we find is, more and more, only the general principle that says, You ought to do what you find to be best. And what is best may vary very much in its external form, and even in its inner nature, with changing conditions. But this does not in any way destroy the absoluteness of the moral standard. It still remains as true as ever that we are bound to choose what is right " in the scorn of consequence," though it may be more difficult for us to say at any given point what precisely is right. The authority, indeed, must come home to us with a far more absolute power, when we recognise that it is our own law, than when we regard it as an alien force. This much, however, is true: that, as moral principles cease to be laws of a state or of a divine lawgiver or of a definite voice of conscience within us, it becomes all the more important to have a clear view of the concrete content of the moral life. A few generalities will no longer suffice for our guidance. This is, indeed, what we find with reference to the advance of all the more distinctively human sciences. In Economics, for instance, scientific treatment began with the formu- lation of a few simple " laws," and it was only by degrees that it came to be recognised that what is really wanted is a concrete study of the facts of the economic system. In the case of Ethics, the science was to a large extent established on the right lines at a comparatively early point in its development by Aristotle; but, both before and after his time, there ETHICS. [BK. n., CH. vi. have been constant efforts to introduce an unreal simplification by appealing to some rigid abstract standard. The significance of the work of Hegel and of the recent school of development has lain largely in bringing us back again to the more concrete point of view of Aristotle. In the following Book some attempt will be made to show the value of this point of view in enabling us to deal with some of the more important problems of the moral life. Before we proceed, however, to the consideration of the moral life in the concrete, it seems desirable to raise the general question of the bearing of ethical theory on practice. The exact sense in which it is possible to apply the moral standard varies a good deal with different theories of its nature; and accordingly it seems desirable at this point to devote a chapter to the discussion of this subject. I.] THEORY AND PRACTICE. 273 CHAPTER VII. THE BEARING OF THEORY ON PRACTICE. 1. DIFFERENT VIEWS. As I have already indicated, there are different views with regard to the nature and extent of the bearing of ethical theory on the practical life of mankind. According to some, the aim of Ethics is practical -throughout. According to others, it is a purely theoretical study, with just as little direct bear- ing on practical life as astronomy or chemistry or metaphysics. Others, again, steer a middle course, and, while holding that its aim is not directly practical, yet believe that it has important practical bearings, inasmuch as it makes clear to us the ideal involved in life. As examples of the directly practical treatment of Ethics, we may refer to most of the earlier thinkers up to Plato, to the Stoics and Epicureans, to the Mediaeval Casuists, to Bentham and most of the modern Utilita- rians, and on the whole to Mr. Herbert Spencer. This view corresponds also to what is probably the popular conception of the subject. Most men expect that an ethical teacher will tell them what they ought to do ; and the common phrase " the Ethics of " ( Gambling, Competition, Controversy, &c. ) is generally understood to mean a statement of the right attitude to be adopted with reference to certain departments of action. The more purely theoretical view is to some extent repre- sented by the effort of Spinoza to treat morals after the 274 ETHICS. [BK. ir., en. vn. manner of Geometry. It seems also to be the view taken, though in somewhat different senses, by various recent writers, among whom may be mentioned Dr. Simmel, and perhaps Mr. F. H. Bradley and Mr. B. Bosanquet, x and one or two others. The middle course, however, has been adopted by most of the great writers on the subject, from Aristotle downwards ; i. e. these writers have treated the subject theoretically, but at the same time have clearly indicated its bearings upon the concrete moral life. Now, the view which we ought to take on this point depends largely on the general theory of Ethics which we adopt. Some consideration of the way in which the nature of our theory affects its bearing on practice may, consequently, be here in place. 2. RELATION OF DIFFERENT VIEWS TO THE VARIOUS ETHICAL THEORIES. From the point of view of the Moral Sense School the bearing of ethical theory upon 1 Simmel's views are to be found especially in his Einleitung in die Moralwissenschaft, voL i., p. iii, and vol. iL, pp. 408, 409, &c. Mr. Bradley's most forcible statements on this point are to be found in his Ethical Studies, pp. 174-5, an< ^ > n his Principles ofLogic,pp. 247-8. For some criticisms on the statements there given, I may refer to the International Journal of Ethics, vol. iii., No. 4, pp. 507 sqq. ; and to the paper by Mr. Hastings Rashdall on " The Limits of Casuistry " in the same Journal, vol. iv., No. 4, pp. 459 sqq. Cf. also ibid., voL iv., No. 3, pp. 160-173, &c. It is probable, however, that Mr. Bradley'a statements are intended only as an emphatic protest against the op- posite extreme of those who think that ethical science should tell us directly what we ought in particular to do. At any rate, there is ground for thinking that Mr. Bradley no longer holds to the extreme position indicated in the passages to which I have referred, and in several others throughout the Ethical Studies. From several indi- cations in the writings of Mr. Bosanquet, however, it would appear that he adheres to the view expressed by Mr. Bradley ; but I am not ware that be has ever given any clear statement of his position. 2.] THEORY AND PRACTICE. 275 practical life would be exceedingly slight. For, ac- cording to this view, Ethics is on substantially the same footing as Esthetics. Now it will be generally allowed that aesthetic theory * has very little direct bear- ing upon the cultivation of taste or the production of works of art. Of course a bad theory does sometimes corrupt the taste of a generation, and a good theory may help to set it right. But the influence of aesthetic theory in this way is probably not much greater than that of particular views on astronomy or biology might be. All knowledge affects practice, but not all know- ledge guides it ; and on the whole aesthetic theory does not guide taste or artistic production. Similarly, if morality were simply dependent on a kind of intuitive taste, the theory which expounded the nature of this taste would not have much effect on practical life, ex- cept in a comparatively indirect way. In like manner, it is true of most intuitional theories of morals that, if they are accepted, the bearing of Ethics on practical life must be of the slightest description. If we know what is right by an instinctive perception, or by any other kind of direct insight, the theoretical considera- tion of this insight can bring nothing to light which is not already involved in the practice of mankind. A rational theory, like that of Kant, on the other hand, 1 Here, and elsewhere, I understand aesthetic theory to be con- cerned with the study of the Beautiful (whither found in Nature or In Art). Some writers regard Esthetics rather as the theory of artistic production. In so far as there is any such theory, it would more nearly resemble Ethics. But I think it is better to regard ^Esthetics as concerned with the apprehension of the Beautiful rather than with its creation. On the other hand, the moral life is, from the nature of this case, necessarily treated as a creative activity. Etk. iy 276 ETHICS. [BK. IL, CH. VH. would seem to leave more stope for practical applica- tion ; for, though the rational principles recognised by such a theory are implicit in the ordinary conscious- ness of mankind, yet the making of them explicit would bring them into greater clearness, and so might be ex- pected to have a considerable influence upon practice. It is the Utilitarian theory, however, which lends itself most directly to practical application. According to this view there is a definite end (the greatest happiness of the greatest number) to be aimed at in life; and human beings cannot be assumed to have this end in view in their ordinary actions, except in a very vague and blundering fashion. Hence it would be the aim of ethical theory, from this point of view, to bring the end to light and to consider the means best adapted for its attainment This would apply also to any view (such as that of Socrates), according to which there is some ascertainable end (some summum bonum), to which human life ought to be directed, whether this end be described as Happiness or in any other way. Finally, if we adopt the view of development, we are naturally led to take up an intermediate position with reference to the applicability of ethical theory to practice. Of course if any one were to take the view that the process of development is inevitable and not open to criticism, there would be no scope for the application of theory to practice from this point of view, any more than from the point of view of pure Intuitionism. If there are absolute laws, either of the nature of intuitive com- mands or of inevitable natural forces, by which the nature of the moral life is determined, the science of Ethics can only stand by and admire them. Now there are some evolutionists who appear to take this 3-] THEORY AND PRACTICE. riew. But, in general, the view taken by those who adopt the theory of development is that the develop- ment, at least in its higher phases, is capable of re- flective guidance, and, in fact, can only take place by means of reflection. Hence, while thinkers of this school would be chary of any attempt to deal with life by a reference to some abstract end, taken up without regard to the process of its development, they would yet be ready to study this process of development with a view to ascertain how far it is adequate to the ideal that is involved in it ; and this reflective criticism might be expected to have a considerable influence on prac- tical life. These general statements, however, are only roughly true ; and we must now try to explain them some- what more accurately in relation to the most im- portant theories. 3. THE INTUITIONIST VIEW. According to the In- tuitionist view, we apprehend immediately that cer- tain lines of action are right and others wrong. On the most stringent interpretation this means that there can never be any real doubt as to the best course to pursue. "An erring conscience is a chimera." The study of moral principles cannot, therefore, lead us to any truth which was not known before ; and scien- tific Ethics is simply an intellectual luxury. This stringent view, however, has seldom been taken by Intuitionists. They have generally believed that Conscience can be to some extent educated. They have also sometimes held that even intuitive moral principles may come into collision, and that reflection is required in dealing with such cases of conflict. Casuistry is not unknown among Intuitionists. 278 ETHICS. [BK. ii., CH. vii. Again, I have pointed out that, according to the view of the more rational Intuitionists ' (i. e. those represented by the line of thought extending from Cudworth to Kant), the function of Ethics would naturally be regarded as more directly practical ; since the principle of morals is, from this point of view, one that is capable of reflective analysis. It should be observed, however, that Kant himself did not regard Ethics as being practical in this sense. For, though Kant held that the Categorical Imperative is capable of reflective analysis, yet he also held that it is so simple and obvious in its application, that it is used by all rational beings, without the need of re- flective analysis. In fact, it was Kant who put for- ward the dictum that " an erring conscience is a chimera." In accordance with this view, Kant also held that there are no real cases of moral conflict, and that, consequently, . casuistry is an absurdity. The laws of duty are absolute, and admit of no ex- ceptions. Kant, indeed, is, from this point of view, quite the most stringent of all Intuitionists. In general, however, it is true that those who accept a rational principle as their standard acknowledge the importance of reflective analysis from a practical point of view. 4. THE UTILITARIAN VIEW. From the Utilitarian point of view, the moral life is conceived as directed towards a definite end viz. the attainment of pleasure, and, more definitely, of the greatest possible pleasure of all sentient creatures. So far, then, as this end can be precisely determined, and the means to its attainment definitely ascertained, it would be possi- 1 II they are to be called Intuitionists. See above, chap, iii, xa 4-] THEORY AND PRACTICE. 279 ble to calculate what course of action is the best under any assignable conditions. The task of Ethics would thus become a quite directly practical one. But, even from the Utilitarian standpoint, this view is subject to considerable qualification. Even the Utilitarians hardly conceive that it falls within the province of Ethics to invent a morality for mankind. It would be unfair, at any rate, to attribute so crude a misconception to any of the leading exponents of the ideas of the school. J. S. Mill, in particular, has expressly guard- ed against it, by the statement in which he com- pares the results of the moral experience of mankind to the Nautical Almanack which is used in navi- gation. He explains that, all through the course of human life, men have been testing the consequences of various lines of action, and the results of this experience are summed up in the common sense of mankind. The ethical philosopher, as well as the "plain man," finds his Almanack already calculated, and only requires to use it. Mill conceives, however, that these calculations have been somewhat roughly made, and have not been carried, so to speak, to many places of Decimals. The ethical philosopher will endeavour gradually to revise and extend them. Dropping metaphor, we may say that there is a large body of moral truths which, from the Utilitarian point of view, may be accepted as embodying the best ex- perience of the race ; but, since the race has not been consciously guided by Utilitarian considerations, it has not always summed up its results quite accurately in the moral precepts that have come to be recognised as binding. The finer distinctions have been blurred, and the more remote consequences ignored, Henca 280 ETHICS. [BK. n., CH. vn. reflection on the moral end may enable us to intro- duce considerable corrections into the judgment of common-sense morality. * 5. THE EVOLUTIONIST VIEW. When thus qualified, the Utilitarian view on this point is not substantially different from that commonly adopted by the Evolu- tionists at least by those who take a definitely teleological view of the process of development From this point of view, as from that of Utilitarianism, there is a definite end in view, though it may be an end that is a good deal more difficult to formulate. The greater complexity of the end, however, tends to introduce greater uncertainty with respect to the best means to its attainment ; while, at the same time, the idea of development brings with it a greater con- fidence in the fruits of past experience, as embodied in the traditions and intuitions of the race. The l Cf. Fowler and Wilson's Principles of Morals, Part I., pp. 118-19. " What is most of all important to the practical moralist is, that his- tory will familiarise him with the idea of development or evolution, shewing him that institutions or habits are not accidental in their origin, or mere devices of the legislator ; that they have grown up for the most part by virtue of tendencies in human nature modified and directed by external circumstances, and that these tendencies should be understood by all who seek to direct them. This con- sideration will teach us the precaution necessary in dealing with prevalent ideas and customs, and prevent us from making attempts to modify them without due preparation. On the other hand, by studying the circumstances in which moral ideas or rules had their origin, we shall be better able to see whether they are suitable to the present condition of mankind, or whether the necessity for them has ceased. History, in short, enables us to understand and appreciate the present ; it enables us to some extent to anticipate the future, and the knowledge which it supplies is an indispensable condition of all wise attempts at moral and social improvement.'' It is thus that the careful Utilitarian recognises the necessity of tha tody of the actual course of concrete moral development 5.] THEORY AND PRACTICE. 28 1 Evolutionist is, consequently, as a rule, less prone than the Utilitarian is to imagine that it is possible by reflection to introduce definite improvements into the morality of common sense. Mr. Herbert Spencer has perhaps shown himself more ready than most to suggest practical conclusions ; but this is not so much because he thinks it possible to improve upon the results of experience as because he thinks that the experience of the race has resulted in the establish- ment of certain quite definite intuitions as to natural rights, &c., though the perversity of the human race leads it very frequently to neglect these intuitive truths. But Mr. Spencer's views on this point do not seem to me to be quite consistent. There are, however, as we have seen, other writers of the Evolutionist school who do not hold that it is possible to formulate any definite end to which the process of development may be regarded as tending. According to these writers, there is a gradual process of Evolution, and various forms of moral action and moral judgment arise in the course of it ; but it is not possible to give any clear account of its ultimate goal. It must be taken simply as we find it; and the forms of action and of moral judgment must be taken along with the rest. The study of Ethics, from this point of view, is simply a part of the wider study of Psychology and Sociology, and hence is simply a study and in- terpretation of facts. This is the view, in particular, of Dr. Simmel, who ridicules the attempts of what he calls the Monistic Moralists to give an account of any single principle by which the moral life is guided. It is merely a struggle of opposing forces, and the result- ing moral system expresses nothing but the tendencies 282 ETHICS. [BK. ii., CH. vii. of the "compact majority." But this is not so much a theory of Ethics as a theory of its impossibility. In so far, however, as such a view is taken, ethical theory would have no practical application, just as it has none according to the purely Intuitionist view. When we enter the region of absolute Law as the foundation of morals whether it be that of God, of Conscience, of Reason, or of a blind struggle we are beyond the possibility of regulative principles based on an ideal. 6. THE IDEALISTIC VIEW. How does the matter stand, finally, from the point of view of the more idealistic theory of development ? From this stand- point the process of development is conceived in a more distinctly teleological fashion than it is from the standpoint of biological evolution ; but on the other hand the end in view is more complex and more diffi- cult to define. The unfolding of the capabilities of mankind, the realisation of the rational Universe phrases such as these, though they have a quite defi-. nite and intelligible meaning, hardly serve to furnish us with a clear-cut end to the attainment of which definite means may be adopted. If such an end were not one that is naturally and inevitably adopted by mankind, it would be hopeless to seek to impose it upon them. Besides, as the ideal, from this point of view, is not thought of as an external end, but as the unfolding of the essential nature of mankind, we may naturally expect to find it unfolding itself throughout the whole course of human history. If this view is correct, the ideal would be found in human life by the psychologist and the sociologist, as well as by the student of Ethics ; the difference being that the former are not specially concerned with it, and find it only as 6.] THEORY AND PRACTICE. 283 one f*ct among others, while the student of Ethics makes it his special business to examine it. From the point of view of idealism, therefore, more than from most others, it must be clearly recognised that it is not the business of Ethics to invent a new morality for the world. If it were not true that "morality is the nature of things," no amount of reflection could ever make it so. At the same time, this ought not to be under- stood as meaning that the student of Ethics accepts the world as he finds it. Like the poet, he " Looks at all things as they are But through a kind of glory " He looks at the world in the light of the ideal which is developing through it. Taking the world as it stands at any particular time, we do not find that it is a homogeneous whole. It is a struggling, developing process, in which, as the Persians put it, there is a continual conflict between Ormuzd and Ahriman, Light and Darkness. The student of Ethics, from the point of view of Idealism, is not an indifferent spectator of this struggle. He looks for the evidence of the triumph of Light. In what direction this triumph will come, he will hardly undertake to prophesy ; but, in his study of life and history, of the contest between the Family and the State, Individualism and Socialism, Law and Freedom, the ideals of the Hebrews and of the Greeks, he is interested to watch not simply the direction in which at any time things are moving, in the swaying to and fro of opposing forces, but rather in trying to bring out the significance of the movement, i.e. its bearing upon the gradual unfolding of the ideal which it involves. To study it in this way is at the same time to criticise it 284 ETHICS. [BK. ii., CH. vii. There are thus two sides in the idealistic view of Ethics. On the one hand, it looks to the experience of mankind ; on the other hand, it looks to the ideal. Without the former it would be empty ; without the latter it would be blind. And on the whole all the writers who have dealt with the subject from this point of view have kept their eyes upon both aspects. But some writers have tended to lay more emphasis on the one side than on the other. The typical instances of the two methods are Plato and Aristotle. Plato seems, at least *o the superficial view, to be perpetually con- structing ideal Republics and ideal types of life, with but little reference to the concrete facts of human development. 1 Aristotle, on the other hand, seems again to the superficial view to throw aside the ideal as not 7T/>axT(5v xa} zTTjTov toOptoKu), and to concentrate his attention upon the virtues and institutions of the Greek State, as he found it beside him. Hegel, in more modern times, has seemed to lend himself to both forms of misunderstanding. Some have regarded him as a father of revolutionists, 2 who created a world out of his inner consciousness, without regard to fact and history ; others have scoffed at him as an upholder of the status quo, who simply accepted the world as he found it. J But wisdom is justified of all her children ; 1 That Plato was not a mere dreamer of dreams, but a true inter- preter of the moral life of his time, is well brought out by Hegel in his History of Philosophy and Philosophy of Right, a The Socialists and Nihilists used to be fond of claiming Hegel as their founder. They seem to have abandoned this view now. * Fries said of Hegel that his political views were grown " not in the garden of science, but on the dunghill of servility." In some- what the same way Goethe was called the Friend of the powers that be (Freund des Bcstehenden), The confusion, in the case of 7-] THEORY AND PRACTICE. 28$ and the opposition between these different aspects of truth is wholly superficial. The ethical idealist takes the world as he finds it ; but he takes it to bring out its significance, and so to criticise it. He brings an ideal to bear upon it, but the ideal is one that is in- volved in the facts themselves. The seeming opposi- tion is a real identity ; and Aristotle is not the enemy of Plato, but his interpreter. 7. SUMMARY OF RESULTS. On the whole, then, we see that there are three views of the way in which Ethics bears on practical life : (1) There is the view that it has essentially no bearing upon it at all. This is the view of the more extreme Intuitionists, whether perceptional or rational ; of those evolutionists who believe that no end can be discovered in the process of development ; and perhaps also of a few idealists. (2) There is the view that Ethics is directly practical. This is the view chiefly of the Utilitarians, but partly also of all those who think that some definite end can be formulated for mankind, which is not involved in the process of human development itself. (3) There is the view that Ethics has for its primary function to bring out the significance of the moral life in relation to the ideal that is involved in it, and that this process is at the same time a criticism of it. The third of these views is of course the one that is here Hegel, arises mainly from not appreciating his distinction between the Actual (Wirklich) and the Existent He held that the Actual is Rational, but he meant by the Actual, not what is at any time found existing, but the underlying spirit by which the movement of history is carried on. It is the business of Ethics to bring this clearly to liffal 286 ETHICS. [BK. n., CH. vn. adopted ; and, in the light of what has now been saiw, the remarks at the beginning of this treatise on the essentially normative character of ethical science may perhaps become more intelligible. 8. COMPARISON BETWEEN ETHICS AND LOGIC. Perhaps a comparison between Ethics and Logic, from this point of view, may help in some degree to make my meaning clearer. The essential similarity between these two sciences has been already indicated. Now, it is possible to take different views of Logic, in its bearing upon the work of the particular science, just as it is possible to take different views of Ethics, in its bearing upon practical life. It may be held that it is the business of Inductive Logic to lay down the rules to be observed by the particular sciences in the inves- tigation of nature. This is on the whole the view suggested by Mill, just as on the whole the corre- sponding view of Ethics is suggested by him. Or again, such a Logic as that of Hegel, in which the, ideas, of Quantity, Substance, Cause, &c., are dealt with in their relationship to one another, may be supposed to be (and has been supposed to be) an effort to deduce these ideas priori, without any reference to the way in which they emerge in our experience. Such views of Logic would be on a par with the view of Ethics according to which it is its business to invent a system of morality. But most logicians would now admit that the methods of the sciences have to be first dis- covered by the sciences themselves, and that the ideas used by them (Quantity, Substance, Cause, &c. ), could never be known by us if they did not inevitably emerge in the course of our experience. So also it seems to be true that the content of the moral life it 8.] THEORY AND PRACTICE. 287 developed hi the course of human experience, and does not wait for the science of Ethics to invent it. But then, it may be asked, does Logic simply accept the methods of the sciences as it finds them, and simply arrange the ideas of which the sciences make use ? This view also seems to be incorrect. Logic seeks to bring out the significance of those methods and ideas, and to test their validity. In this way it at once justifies them within their proper sphere, and brings out their limitations. It does not invent ideas and methods for the sciences, but it certainly criticises those that it finds, in the light of the ideas of truth and con- sistency which it finds in them. So with Ethics. It does not invent the Family and the State, or the ideas of Love and Truth, or the laws about Life and Pro- perty. Still less does it seek to overturn these ideas and institutions. It finds them in the concrete world with which it deals ; and it seeks to understand them in the light of the ideal of human development, to which they have reference. It thus at once shows their significance, and indicates their limitations. For the "plain man "such an institution as the Family or Private Property is apt to seem an eternal and inviolable fact in the moral life ; and, if he is taught to doubt about this, by being shown that they have had a history, and have not always existed in the form in which they now appear, he is apt to become confused, and to think that the significance of those elements in human life has been destroyed. The student of Ethics should be able to see the significance and value of such institutions, while at the same time he is able to put them in their proper place as elements in a whole. It 288 ETHICS. [BK. n., CH. vn. 13 in this form of critical insight that the study of Ethics has practical value. 9. THE TREATMENT OF APPLIED ETHICS. In the light of those observations, we are now able to proceed to the treatment of Applied Ethics. Hitherto we have been concerned with the pure theory, t. e. with the consideration of the nature of the standard or ideal. Now, a treatise on Ethics frequently contains nothing more than the discussion of this point ; and, if our view of the nature of the standard had been some- what different from what it is, this might possibly have sufficed for our purpose. If we had adopted an in- tuitional view, there could have been hardly any Applied Ethics to deal with. If we had adopted a Utilitarian view, the applications would have consisted in working out the Calculus in various directions ; and however difficult (if not impossible) this might be, the general principle of it at least would have been so obvious, that we might fairly have been dispensed from the working of it out. But for any one who adopts the point of view of development a treatment of Ethics which made no attempt to interpret the concrete pro- cess of development in the light of the ideal principle involved, would be little short of an absurdity. Hence, this part of the subject has generally been a prominent one with those writers who adopt the point of view of Development. It is so, for instance, with Aristotle, in whose Nicomachean Ethics the concrete life of the citizen is sketched with considerable fulness, and who seeks to complete the subject by a consideration of the State and Education in his treatise on Politics. It is so also with Hegel, whose chief work on Ethics (the 9-] THEORY AND PRACTICE. 289 Philosophy of Right) is almost entirely concerned with the concrete moral life. In dealing with this concrete aspect of the subject, the student must guard against two possible miscon- ceptions, which have perhaps already been sufficiently indicated, but which it may be well to repeat and em- phasize once more. (i) It must not for a moment be imagined that the concrete elements of the moral life are to be extracted by some sort of alchemy, out of the general principle. The task of Ethics would indeed be a hard one if it had to invent the moral life as well as to interpret it. But happily there were some good men in the world before there were books on Ethics ; and even now that many books have been written, Heaven help the hapless mortal who gets his ideas of the moral life from them ! We can learn what the moral life is by living it, and there is no other way. It is only after it has been lived that the science of Ethics can step in, and explain what it means. No doubt in thus explaining it, it is at the same time criticising it ; and a moral life that has been subjected to criticism (like a book that has been sub- jected to criticism) is not quite the same thing as it was before. But the student must altogether clear his mind of any sort of notion that may linger in it, that in the chapters which follow a brand-new moral life is to be unfolded before his wondering eyes. Even a treatise on medical science does not teach us to breathe with our ears. We learn to breathe before we study physi- ology or hygienics, and to live before we study Ethics ; and, on the whole, after we have studied them, breathe and live very much as we did before. We learn such things by action and experience. If a man is "a fool Eth. X 9 290 ETHICS. [BK. ii., CH. vii. or a physician at forty," it is certain that he is a muff or a moralist at a still more tender age ; and the reflec- tive analysis of life can only teach him to do a little more carefully and exactly (it may be, only a little more pedantically) what in the main he did before. (2) On the other hand, the student must equally guard against the opposite misconception, that in study- ing the content of the moral life we regard it simply from the point of view of Sociology. To the student of Sociology the immoral life is on the whole as inter- esting as the moral life (Simmel says ' it is more so), and degeneration is as interesting as development. For us, on the other hand, life is interesting only in the light of its ideal. We do not care for what it is, but for what it signifies. Hence also our method of treatment is different. We do not aim at a statement of the course through which the moral life has passed in the che- quered career of its history, but rather at an account of its most significant aspects. In a complete treat- ment of it, we might perhaps be led to arrange it, after the manner of Hegel, in the order of its dialectical development. But in an introductory account like the present a somewhat less systematic arrangement may suffice. At any rate, we have now had enough of these pre- liminary observations and warnings. Let us plunge, as best we can, into our account of the concrete moral life. i See International Journal of Ethics, VoL III., no. 4. So also in physiology and psychology, pathological states are often more enlightening than those that are normal 1.] THE SOCIAL UNITY. 291 BOOK III. THE MORAL LIFE. CHAPTER L THE SOCIAL UNITY. 1. THE SOCIAL SELF. We have seen that the true self is the rational self. We must now try to under- stand what this means. And, first of all, we have to add that the true self is the social self. Up to this point we have spoken of the individual almost as if he might bean isolated and independent unit. But every individ- ual belongs to a social system. An isolated individual is even inconceivable. Aristotle said truly that such a being must be "either a beast or a god." 1 Such a being could have no ideal self. He must either have realized his ideal like a god, or have no ideal to realize like a beast. For our ideal self finds its embodiment in the life of a society, and it is only in this way that it is kept before us. Not only so, but even the realiza- tion of our ideal seems to demand a society. For to have a perfectly rational self would involve that our universe should have a perfectly rational content Now the only possible universe with a rational content seems to be a universe of rational beings. Hence we 1 Politics, I. ii. 14 : " He who is unable tr live in society, or who haa no need because he is sufficient for himself, must be either a beast 292 ETHICS. [BK. III., CH. t must go even beyond the saying of Aristotle, and say that even a God must be social. Even a God must have a rational universe in relation to Himself, and must consequently create, or, in Hegelian phrase, go out of Himself into a world of rational beings. But this is perhaps too abstruse a subject to be more than hinted at here. It is sufficient for our purpose to say that it is in relation to our fellow-men that we find our ideal life. "Where two or three are gathered to- gether, there am I in the midst of them." 1 The " I " or ideal self is not realized in any one individual, but finds its realization rather in the relations of persons to one another. It embodies itself in literature and art, in the laws of a state, in the counsels of perfection which societies gradually form for themselves. 2. SOCIETY A UNITY. Society, therefore, must be re- garded as a unity in fact, as we shall see shortly, as an organic unity. The parts of it are necessary to each other, as the parts of an animal organism are ; and it is in all the parts in relation to one another, rather than in any one of them singly, that the true life is to be found. " We are members one of another. " The ideal life of one requires others to complement it, and it is by mutual help that the whole develops towards per- fection. This we shall see more fully in the sequel* 1 1 do not mean to imply that this saying was originally intended to bear the sense here ascribed to it But I think it has frequently been used by religious men to express that consciousness of unity, and of elevation into a higher universe, which arises when a number of men gather together in a common spirit and with a common aim for the advancement of their moral lives. Clifford's "tribal self" contains a similar idea. (See above p. 115.) 3 See sections n and 12 below. The present section is intend*} only as a preliminary statement. 3 4-] THE SOCIAL UNITY. 293 3. EGOISM AND ALTRUISM. This fact leads us to in- troduce a certain modification into the view of the moral life that has been presented up to the present point. We have spoken of the great end of the moral life as self-realization. But since an individual is a member of a social unity, his supreme end will be not simply the perfecting of his own life, but also of the society to which he belongs. To a great extent the one end will indeed coincide with the other. Yet there appears, at least primd fade, to be a certain possibility of conflict. Now when we seek simply our own in- dividual ends, this attitude is called Egoism ; while the term Altruism is used to denote devotion to the ends of others. It is of great importance to consider the precise relation of these two attitudes to one another. 4. MR. SPENCER'S CONCILIATION. A good deal of attention has been given to this subject by Mr. Herbert Spencer, 1 and he has endeavoured to show how a con- ciliation may be effected between the two attitudes. He points out that either of them, if carried to an ex- treme, is self-destructive. If every one were to seek only his own ends, this would be a bad way of secur- ing the ends even of any one individual. For each one stands frequently in need of help. On the other hand, if every one were to devote himself entirely to the good of others, this would be fatal to the good of others. For if each one neglected himself, he would deteriorate in his ability to help others. This point is worked out in a very interesting way by Mr. Spencer, * Data of Ethics, chaps, xl and xiv. Cf. Stephen's Science of Ethics, chap, vi, Dewey's Outlines of Ethics, pp. 70-1, and .\i airhead's, Elements oj Ethics, pp. 164-5 294 ETHICS. [BK. IIL, CH. i. and h eomes to the conclusion that what we should aim at is neither pure Egoism nor pure Altruism, but a compromise between them. He thinks also that the more completely society becomes developed, the more will the two ends tend to become identical 5. SELF-REALIZATION THROUGH SELF-SACRIFICE. The truth seems to be, however, that there is even less opposition between Egoism and Altruism than that which Mr. Spencer recognizes. We can realize the true self only by realizing social ends. In order to do this we must negate the merely individual self, which, as we have indicated, is not the true self. We must real- ize ourselves by sacrificing ourselves. 1 The more fully we so realize ourselves, the more do we reach a uni- versal point of view e. a point of view from which our own private good is no more to us than the good of any one else. No doubt it must always be neces- sary for us to take more thought for our own individual development than for that of any one else ; because each one best understands his own individual needs, and has the best means of working out his own nature to its perfection. But when this is done from the point of view of the whole, it :s no longer properly to be de- scribed as Egoism. It is self-realization, but it is self- realization for the sake of the whole. In such self- realization the mere wishes and whims of the private self have been sacrificed, and we seek to develop our- selves in the same spirit and for the same ends as those in which and for which we seek to develop others. When we live in such a spirit as this, the opposition between Egoism and Altruism ceases. We seek neither i CJ. Caird's He&l, pp. 2ICHU& 6, /.] THE SOCIAL UNITY. 29$ our own good simply nor the good of others simply, but the good both of ourselves and of others as mem- bers of a whole. Looking at the matter, therefore, from this point of view, it might be better to describe the ultimate end as the realization of a rational uni- verse, rather than as self-realization. 6. ETHICS A PART OF POLITICS. We must recognize, In short, that man is, as Aristotle expressed it, "a po- litical animal," ' and that Ethics cannot be satisfacto- rily treated except as a part of Politics i. e. as a part of the study of Society. Our duties and our virtues are at every point dependent on our relations to one another. This fact was more clearly recognized by some of the ancient Greek thinkers than it has been by many in modern times for, in modern times, partly on account of the influence of Christianity,* we have come to think more of the independence of the indi- vidual It may be well, therefore, to glance for a moment at the way in which Ethics was regarded by Plato and Aristotle. 7. PLATO'S VIEW OF ETHICS. Plato was so strongly Impressed with the social nature of man, and with the necessity of studying his life in relation to society, that, in his study of Ethics, instead of inquiring into the characteristics of a virtuous life in an individual, he endeavoured first to determine the characteristics of a good state. Having found what these are, he considered that it would be perfectly easy to infer what are the characteristics of a good man. Accordingly, the great ethical treatise of Plato is the Republic, in 1-noAm-riwtfor" (Politics, I. il Q). i Partly also, no doubt, because our wider international relation- ships have made it impossible for us to regard any one social system ma a complete and exclusive unity in itsell 296 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. i. which he gives a sketch of an ideal state. It seemed to him in accordance with a classification that was current among the Greeks that there were four great virtues required for the existence of an ideal state, viz. wisdom, courage, temperance, and justice ; and he thought that by observing exactly the significance of these virtues in the ideal state, he was able to see also what their exact significance must be in the life of the individual. 1 8. ARISTOTLE'S VIEW OF ETHICS. Aristotle was not less convinced than Plato of the essentially social nature of man. He began his great treatise on Ethics perhaps the greatest that has ever been written with a statement to the effect that Ethics is a part of Politics ; a and the greater part of his treatise is occupied with an investigation of the virtues that are required in a good citizen of a state such as he found in Greece, and especially in Athens. He did indeed think that there was a kind of life, what he called the contem- plative or speculative life (what we might call the life of science, or the life of the student), which was essen- tially higher than the life of political activity ; but he 1 For a fuller account of Plato'3 Ethics, see Sidgwick's History of Ethics, pp. 35-51. Plato's Republic is a book of such interest and importance that every student ought to find some opportunity of reading it It has been admirably translated both by Jowettand by Davies and Vaughan, In connection with this, Dr. Bosanquet's Companion to Plato's Republic should by all means be used * In the wide sense in which the term Politics was used by the Greeks. Perhaps in modern times we should rather say that Ethics Is a part of Social Philosophy. I have discussed this point in my Introduction to Social Philosophy, p. 48. On the relation between Ethics and Politics the student may profitably consult Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics, Book I., chap. U. See also M airhead's Element* of Ethics, Book I., chap, iji, 14, 9 I0 -] THE SOCIAL UNITY. 297 considered that even this higher life must be built up on a basis of civic virtue. l 9. COSMOPOLITISM. The best Ethics of the Greeks, then, was based on the conception of the State, as the sphere within which the life of the individual is to be realized. It was only after the best days of the Greek state were over, when everything was beginning to be crushed under the iron heel of Rome,* that the Stoics began to speak of a nohrda. TOO xofffioo, and to think of the virtuous man (or "the wise man," as they called him) as one who is bound by no particular social ties, but lives an independent life of his own. Even the Stoics, however, recognized that the good man is a citizen ; but they said that he ought to be "a citizen of the world," not of any particular community. In this way his social relations were made so vague that it almost seemed as if they might be altogether ignored. There was a great elevation in much of the teaching of the Stoics ; but its want of any definite recognition of social relationships made it cold and hard, and some- what destitute of content. And often it was inflated with a certain false pride in the independence of the individual. 10. CHRISTIAN ETHICS. Christianity may be said to have gone to some extent in the same direction as Stoicism. 3 It also was essentially cosmopolitan, and it also tended to insist on the independent life of the individual.'* Each one must "work out his own l See Sidgwiclfs History of Ethics, pp. 51-70. 8 See Caird's Hegel, pp. 204-207, Zeller's Stoics, Epicureans, and Sceptics, pp. 15-16, and Wallace's Epicureanism, chap, i Sidgwick's History of Ethics, pp. 114-117. Christianity insisted on the dignity of man as man more strongly 298 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. L salvation," and must even forsake father and mother, and all other social relationships, in order to follow after the ideal life. Christianity represented the ideal life also as an imitation of a divine personality. Still, this was only one aspect of Christianity. It was no less emphatic in its insistence on the doctrine that we are "members one of another," and that in order to attain perfection we must recognise our essential unity both with each other and with God. The fact, how- ever, that Christianity had to make its way in an adverse world rendered it necessary at first to insist somewhat strongly on the need of isolation. Its fol- lowers had to recognize that they were "not of the world," in order that they might keep their ideals pure. But after Christianity had to a great extent conquered the world, the other side the social side began to come out ; and it is perhaps on that side now that its significance is greatest Whether we look, therefore, to ancient or to modern systems of morals, it is not difficult to see that the recognition of the essentially social nature of man plays a prominent part in all that is best in them. This being the case, it will be well now to abandon the view of the mere individual life as that which is to be perfected, and to consider rather what is involved in the perfection of society. 11. THE SOCIAL UNIVERSE. We must, however, first bring this point of view into relation to what has been already said with respect to the universes in which men habitually live. The life of every man, except an absolute madman, constitutes a more or less con- than even Stoicism had done. Stoicism proclaimed the dignity only of the wise man or philosopher ; whereas Christianity was preached to "publicans and sinners." II.] THE SOCIAL UNITY. 299 sistent whole. His actions fall within a more w less ordered scheme or plan. This whole, this plan, this totality of ends which a man pursues, we have agreed to describe as the universe within which he lives. Now this universe is always of a social character. Even the most original and even the most misanthropic of men cannot escape from the influence of the social environment by which they are formed. They inevi- tably imbibe something of what has been called "the ethos of their people," the moral point of view adopted by the race or nation or body of men among whom, or under the influence of whom, their lives are spent. This moral atmosphere in which they pass their lives supplies the main part of that universe within which their desires find scope. So much is this the case that a man always, except when in some abnormal state of mind, thinks of himself, not as an isolated personality, but as a member of some body. This fact is em- phasized even by a writer in some respects so indi- vidualistic as Mill. 1 "The social state," he says, 3 "is at once so natural, so necessary, and so habitual to man, that, except in some unusual circumstances or by an effort of voluntary abstraction he never con- ceives himself otherwise than as a member of a body ; and this association is riveted more and more, as man- kind are further removed from the state of savage independence. Any condition, therefore, which is es- sential to a state of society, becomes more and more an * This element In Mill's teaching is due, as he partly acknowledges two pages later, to the study of Comte. Cf. his Autobiography, chap. fv. Mill seems never to have made any serious effort to reconcile the elements which he derived from Comte with the general tenor of his philosophy. * Utilitarianism, chap. iiL, pp. 46-7 3oo ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. i. inseparable part of every person's conception of the state of things which he is born into, and which is the destiny of a human being. " For this reason, when we consider any large society of human beings, bound together by a common language, a common law, a common religion, a common interest, we may say in a broad sense that they all live habitually within the same universe. They will all be distinguished no doubt by individual peculiarities ; some of them will be more and some less affected by the common ties ; and even from year to year and from day to day the universe of each will be liable to considerable varia- tions. Still, speaking broadly, what the Germans call the Sillen, t. e. the moral habitudes of a man's time and place, tend to overshadow the peculiarities of his individual nature, and to have a strong determining influence on his view of life and on his conception of his own vocation. The necessity of making himself intelligible to those around him, the immense advan- tage of understanding them, and the need of constantly co-operating with them, would of themselves be suf- ficient to bring about a certain homogeneity among the members of a community. And when we add to this the influences of heredity and education, the force is overwhelming. 12. SOCIETY AN ORGANISM. These considerations may partly enable us to understand an idea which has become prevalent in recent times among writers of very diverse schools the idea, namely, that a society of human beings is, as we have already indicated, to be regarded as an organic unity. The meaning of this is, broadly speaking, that just as we recognize a common life animating all the members of which a 12.] THE SOCIAL UNITY. 301 living body is composed, so we must acknowledge a similar unity among the members of a human society. This idea has sometimes been presented in the form of an analogy ; i. e. an attempt is made to draw parallels between the structures of human societies and the constitutions of animal or vegetable bodies. 1 Such analogies are no doubt occasionally suggestive ; but on the whole they supply more scope for ingenuity than for insight. The essential point seems to be that a human personality is never an isolated phenomenon. It is even inconceivable apart from certain relations to other personalities. The positive content of a man's moral life depends on these relationships : apart from them it would stagnate and die, very much as a limb dies when it is cut off from its organic connection with the body of which it forms a part. The whole of a man's moral life, all its purposes, all its meaning and value, receive their tone and colour from the ideals, the institutions, the moral habits, among which his life develops. This being so, it is important, in deal- ing with the moral life, not merely to consider the life of an individual man, but to have regard to the unity within which the main part of his life falls. 1 That, in 1 This has been done, for instance, by Mr. Herbert Spencer in his Principles of Sociology, vol. i., part ii. ; and, in a still more elaborate form, by a German writer, Schaffle, in his Bau und Leben dcs sodalen Kb'rpers. Mr. Leslie Stephen (Science of Ethics, p. 126) thinks it pre- ferable to speak of " social tissue " rather than of a " social organism,* because there is no one abiding unity in which individuals are combined, as the parts are combined in an animal organism. 2 On the organic nature of society, the student may be referred to Bradley's Ethical Studies, pp. 145-158, Bosanquet's Philosophical Theory of the Staff, especially chapters vii. and viii., and Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, pp. 165-172. I have expressed my own view on this subject at greater length in my hilrjduction to Social Philosophy t 302 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. L spite of this unity, the individual has yet in a sense a private life of his own is a point that we shall have to consider at a later stage. 13. WHY is THE SOCIAL UNIVERSE TO BE PREFERRED ? Now the question naturally presents itself at this point Why should the social universe be preferred to the universe of the individual consciousness ? The answer, of course, from the point of view that we have now reached, is that the individual self is in its nature in- complete, and requires a larger whole for its realization. Such a larger whole might no doubt conceivably be found in something beyond and abovehuman society ; and, if we were inventing a new morality, we might have to look about for such a larger universe. But if we accept the point of view of development, we must accept the only medium within which any actual process of moral development can be found. If it is true that the individual has no reality apart from the social whole, and that it is within that whole that his development takes place, the devotion to that whole has all the binding force which belongs to devotion^ to the Ideal Self. We cannot separate ourselves from the necessary medium of our evolution, and seek to per- fect ourselves in vacua. The further discussion of this question, however, would lead us into a metaphysical investigation of the nature of the self, its relation to the social whole within which it develops, and to the universe in general. Such a discussion would be necessary for the complete establishment of the validity of the moral ideal. But it lies beyond the province of chap. iii. The student of the present handbook will probably under- stand this conception better after reading some of the following chapters. 14.] THE SOCIAL UNITY. 33 a work which does not profess to enter into meta- physics. We can only hint a little further, in our con- cluding chapter, at the nature of the problem- involved. In the meantime, we must content ourselves with the effort to bring out the general significance of the social universe in its bearings on the moral life. 14. RELATION OF CONSCIENCE TO THE SOCIAL UNITY. The importance of the social environment in the forma tion of what is commonly known as Conscience, has been noticed by a number of recent writers. This is emphasized, for instance, by Mill * in his treatment of the moral sanctions.* Without endorsing all that has been said on this subject by him and others, it may at least be convenient to sum up at this point what has to be said on the nature of Conscience, and to indicate its relations to our social universe. It has been pointed out already that there is a certain ambiguity indeed a twofold ambiguity in the use of the term " Conscience." 3 It is sometimes used to ex- press the fundamental principles on which the moral judgment rests : at other times it expresses the principles adopted by a particular individual : at other times it 1 Utilitarianism, chap. iiL Cf. also Bradley's Ethical Studies, p. 180 Stephen's Science of Ethics, chap. viiL, Clifford's Lectures and Essays (" On the Scientific Basis of Ethics-"), and Dr. Starcke's article on * The Conscience " in the International Journal of Ethics, voL il No. 3 (April, 1892), pp. 342-37Z Hegel, in. his Rechtsphilosophie, was, I think, the first writer who clearly brought out the social bear- ing of Conscience. Much of what Hegel says on this point will be found reproduced, in an excellent form, in Dewey's Outlines of Ethics pp. 182-190, 8 On the meaning of the moral sanctions, see the Note at the end of chap. vi. See above, Book I, chap. VI. Cf. also Hegel's Philosophy a) Right, 136-139. 304 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. I. means "a particular kind of pleasure and pain felt in perceiving our own conformity or non-conformity to principle." f The last seems to me to be the most con- venient acceptation of the term,* except that I should prefer to say simply that it is a feeling of pain accom- panying and resulting from our non-conformity to principle, s This sense of the term is evidently closely connected with the second sense ; for the principles in connection with which an individual feels pain are of course the principles recognized by him. Nevertheless, the first sense also is not entirely excluded : for even if an individual is not clearly conscious of the deeper principles of reason on which the final moral judgment depends, he will yet often feel a vague uneasiness when he goes against them. It is difficult to believe, for instance, that St. Paul's conscience was entirely at rest in the midst of his persecuting zeal, even if he did think that he was ' ' doing God service. " However, in general no doubt the pain of Conscience accom- panies only the violation of clearly recognized duty. 1 Starcke, loc. cit, p. 348. * Chiefly because it gives the most definite meaning. When wo go beyond this, we land ourselves in almost hopeless ambiguities. The element of mystery so often thought to attach to Conscience is, I think, largely due to the fact that it is often not accompanied by . any direct perception of " conformity or non-conformity to principle." A man has often simply an uneasy feeling of having gone wrong, without being able to say precisely what principle he has violated. Further, I am doubtful whether it is correct to speak of a pleasure of Conscience. Conformity to moral principle is the normal state ; and this may be regarded as the neutral point Any violation of princi- ple, on the other hand, brings pain. The performance of duty leaves a man still in the position of an "unprofitable servant* 44 Spiritual pride," of course, is accompanied by a certain pleasure , but should this be described as a pleasure of Conscience ? I think Carlyle was right on this point t "To say that we have a clear con* I4-] THE SOCIAL UNITY. 305 Now we have seen that the principles of duty which an individual recognizes are largely determined by the social universe which he inhabits. Hence his con- science also must be largely determined by this.' A man's conscience, we may say broadly, attaches itself to that system of things which he regards as highest. There is, indeed, a certain feeling of pain, analogous to that of Conscience, in connection with every universe in which a man lives, whether he regards it as the highest or not. Thus, there is a feel- ing of pain or shame a accompanying the violation of rules of etiquette or good taste, or even accompanying the consciousness of any physical defect or awkward- science is to utter a solecism ; had we never sinned, we should have had no conscience." See his Essay on "Characteristics." Of course, there is a certain gratification accompanying the fulfil- ment of unaccustomed duties. If a man gets drunk only twice in the course of the week, instead of three times as usual, or if he tells the truth when there was a strong temptation to lie, he may feel pleased in reviewing his action. But there does not appear to be the same spontaneity and immediacy in this feeling as there is in the case of the corresponding pain ; nor is its character so purely moral It is more akin to the pleasure of solving a difficult problem. I sus- pect that, just as there is no pleasure of the teeth, corresponding to toothache ; so there is, strictly speaking, no pleasure of the con- science, corresponding to its characteristic pain. 1 Hence Clifford's idea of a " tribal self "a sell which belongs to a man's tribe or society, and to which his mere individual self is subordinate. Clifford says, as we have seen, that a man's conscience is " the voice of his tribal self." The pain of his conscience is equiv- alent to his saying to himself, " In the name of my tribe, I bate my- self for this treason which I have done." See above, Book I, chap. V., and cf. Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, pp. 157-9. * The Greek word u*, usually translated M shame," seems to b very nearly equivalent to what we understand by Conscience, at ^ast in one of its aspects. Cf. Stephen's Science of Ethics, p. 33^ and Caird's Critical Philosophy of Kant, vol. il, pp. 265-61 Eth. so 36 ETHICS. LBK. III., CH. L ness, even if we are aware, not only that the universe within which these things lie is not of supreme impor- tance, but even that it does not lie within the power of our will to avoid such deficiencies. Such a feeling might be called a ^wasz'-Conscience. ' On reflection we perceive either that we are not responsible for such shortcomings, or that they are not of serious moral importance ; but the feeling at the moment is scarcely distinguishable from that of Conscience proper. Some- times such a feeling may even conflict with Conscience. Thus, the performance of duty may involve a violation of etiquette ; so that, in whichever way we act, we are bound to have the pain either of Conscience or of quasi- Conscience. Again, Conscience sometimes attaches itself to a universe which has been transcended. When we have recently passed from one universe to another, Conscience will generally be found to have lagged a little behind, and to attach itself to the older universe rather than to the newer one. "Feeling," as Mr. Muirhead says, * "is the conservative element in human life." It does not attach itself to a new 1 An excellent illustration of this is given by Mr. Muirhead (Ele~ ments of Ethics, p. 77) in an extract from Prof. Royce's Religious Aspect of Philosophy (pp. 53-4) : " You ride, using another man's season ticket, or you tell a white lie, or speak an unkind word, and conscience, if a little used to such things, never winces. But you bow to the wrong man in the street, or you mispronounce a word, or you tip over a glass of water, and then you agonize about your shortcoming all day long ; yes, from time to time for weeks. Such an impartial judge is the feeling of what you ought to have done.' For similar illustrations, see Stephen's Science of Ethics, p. 323, and Spencer's Principles oj Ethics, p. 337. a Elements of Ethics, p. 80. Cf. the saying of Mr. Jacobs, quoted by Miss Wedgwood (The Moral Ideal, p. 233), "The thoughts of one generation form the feelings of its successor." I4-] THE SOCIAL UNITY. 30/ universe, until we have thoroughly lived into it and made ourselves at home in it ; nor does it sever itself from an old universe, until we have thoroughly broken off our connection with it. Hence a man will often feel a pain of Conscience, or guasi-Conscience, in doing an action which his reason has taught him to regard as perfectly allowable ' or even as a positive duty ; while, on the other hand, he will often be able to violate a recently discovered obligation without feeling any pain. 2 In general, however, the pains of Conscience attend any inconsistency with the principles which we recognize as highest ; and these, in general, are the principles recognized as binding within the social universe in which we habitually live. 3 With these remarks, we may pass on to the more detailed consideration of social ethics i. e. to the con- sideration of the moral order within which the life of 1 " The contradiction between reason and feeling which some of us will recollect, when first we permitted ourselves to take a row or attend a concert on Sunday, is a good example from contemporary life " (Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, p. 80). 2 Hence, partly, the frequency of "back-sliding" in converts to new principles. Conscience does not respond to their shortcom- ings with sufficient readiness. It may be noted here also that it is often possible to stifle Conscience by transferring ourselves from one universe to another. Thus, a man may perform, under the in- fluence of fanatical zeal, acts of cruelty from which, in his normal state, he would shrink in horror. He stifles Conscience by escaping from the universe in which such acts are condemned into one in which they are rather approved. A good illustration of this is given by Macaulay in his account of the state of mind of the Master of Stair in sanctioning the massacre of Glencoe (History of England, chap, xviii.). ' For general discussion of the subject of Conscience, see Porter's Elements of Moral Science, Part I., chap, xvi., Dewey's Outlines of Ethics, pp. 182-206, and Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, pp. 73-84 and 208-242 308 ETHICS. [BK. m., CH. i. the individual is spent, and of the relation of the indi- vidual life to that moral order. Of course this can be done, in such a work as this, only in the most sketchy fashion. But some remarks on the ethical significance of the recognized moral institutions, duties and virtues, may be found helpful $ I.] MORAL INSTITUTIONS. 309 CHAPTER IL MORAL INSTITUTIONS. 1. THE SOCIAL IMPERATIVE. We have seen to some extent what the nature of the " ought" is. It is, as we may say, the law imposed by our ideal self upon our actual self. Since, however, the ideal self is the rational self, and since the rational self is not realized in isolation, but in a society of human beings, it follows that this "ought" is imposed on societies as well as on individuals. As Mr. Herbert Spencer says, 1 "we must consider the ideal man as existing in the ideal social state"; and in considering such an ideal we pass a criticism not only on existing men, but on existing social states. Not only can we say that an individual ought 'to act in such and such a way, but we can also say that a society ought to have such and such a constitution.* In so far as an individual acts as he ought to act, we say that his conduct is right, and that he is a good, upright, or moral man. In so far as a society is constituted as it ought to be, we say that it is a well-ordered society, and that its constitution is just In each case we compare actually existing men or states with the ideal of a rational man and a rationally 1 Data of Ethics, chap. xvL, 106. *It may be asked, Cn whom is this "ought" imposed? The answer is, on the society as a whole, and more particularly on its politicians and other " active citizens." 310 ETHICS. [BK. III., CH. IL constituted state. The latter of these we must now briefly consider. 1 2. JUSTICE. "Blessed," it is said, "are they that hunger and thirst after justice. " * But perhaps it is more easy to hunger and thirst after it than to define pre- cisely what it means. Here, at any rate, we can only indicate its nature in the vaguest and most general way. For a fuller treatment reference must be made to works on Politics. A just arrangement of society may be briefly defined as one in which the ideal life of all its members is promoted as efficiently as possible. The constitution of a society is, therefore, unjust when large classes in it are so enslaved by others as to be unable to develop their own lives. It is unjust, for instance, when there is any class in it so poor, or so hard-worked, or so dependent on others, as to be unable to cultivate their faculties and make progress towards the perfection of 1 A complete discussion of this subject belongs rather to Politics or Social Philosophy than to Ethics. But it seems necessary to consider it here, in so far as it can be dealt with from a purely ethical point of view. Some of the points dealt with here are some- what more fully discussed in my Introduction to Social Philosophy, chaps, v. and vL English writers on Ethics have, as a rule, not given much attention to the subjects referred to in this chapter. Reference may, however, be made to Stephen's Science of Ethics, chap. Hi., Porter's Elements of Moral Science, Part II., chaps, xiil xvl, Rick- aby's Moral Philosophy, and Clark Murray's Introduction to Ethics, Book II., Part II., chap. i. For fuller treatment the student must consult such works as those of Hoffding and Paulsen. Some of the points are also referred to by Prof. Gizycki, whose work has been adapted for the use of English readers by Dr. Stanton Coit Hegel's Philosophic dcs Rechts must, however, still be regarded as the model for the treatment of this whole subject It has recently beer, trans- lated into English by Professor Dyde. 2 The Greek word S<.K' f industrial life are vitiated by their Acceptance of slavery and by t eirc ntempt for all forms of manual labour except agriculture. On the Family, see Hegel's Philosophy of Right; also Rickabys Moral Philosophy, Part II., chap, vi, and Devas's Studies of Family Life. Aristotle's treatment of the subject IB ttw fint two Book* of the Politics is still highly suggestive, 7-] MORAL INSTITUTIONS. 321 vidual liberty. This is, therefore, a matter on which it is important to develop a strong public opinion. A good deal, however, can be done by law in removing disabilities which stand in the way of the recognition of perfect equality. ' (b) The Workshop. Industrial relations are strongly contrasted with those of the family. They are not based on mutual affection but on contract ; and they are not relations of equality but of subordination. No doubt, in the family also there is the subordination of children to their parents ; but this is the subordination of the undeveloped to the developed, of the helpless to their natural protectors ; whereas in the industrial life the subordination which exists is not with a view to the protection or development of those who are subordinated, but simply with a view to external ends. In these circumstances it is important to make such re- gulations as will secure fairness of contract, and prevent subordination from becoming slavery. It has some- times been made a matter of regret that, as civilization advances, the relations of men in industrial life depart more and more from the type of the family. Formerly the relation between master and apprentice was almost 1 Mr. Leslie Stephen has objected (Science of Ethics, chap, Hi, 36-39) to the common practice of classing the family along with other forms of social organization, on the ground that it rests on physiological necessities, and that it is rather a basis than a result of political unity. For a student of sociology or politics this con- tention would, I think, have some force. The ethical significance of the family, however, does not appear to me to be affected by it Besides, the existence of the family, in any developed sense of the term, seems to require some kind of legal or gwasi-legal sanctions, enforcing acknowledged rights of marriage, whether in the form of polyandry, polygamy, or monogamy. It thus presupposes social organization, and varies with the growth of that organization. Eth n 322 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. ii of a paternal character ; whereas now, as Carlyle used to say, f there is nothing but the "cash nexus." But it is doubtful whether this ought to be made a matter for regret. A paternal relationship easily passes into tyranny when there is no basis of natural affection. It is probably best that business relationships should be made a matter of pure contract This may to some slight extent interfere with the development of relations of mutual kindness and loyalty ; but there can be little doubt that to a much greater extent it helps to prevent injustice. The feelings of kindness are more likely to arise in men as neighbours and fellow-citizens than as masters and servants ; 2 and the practical offices of help can probably be better undertaken by society as a whole than by particular employers. At the same time it cannot be doubted that anything that can be done to make the relation of subordination less harsh is in the highest degree desirable. For this reason all forms of co-operation that are practicable ought to be earnestly promoted. The question, What kinds of industry ought to be encouraged or discour- aged ? is also largely an ethical question ; though the methods by which industries may advantageously be promoted or impeded, must be left to be discussed by economists and political philosophers. Under modern conditions of industrial life, industries are promoted or retarded chiefly 3 by changes in the demand for the objects produced by them ; and these again are brought 1 See his Past and Present; and cf. below, pp. 346, 4KX At least in the former relationship they are more likely to become widely diffused : perhaps when they do arise in the latter relationship, they are apt to be more intense. Setting aside changes in natural conditions, and changes pro- 7-] MORAL INSTITUTIONS. 323 about mainly by changes in men's tastes, fashions, and habits of life. Now in so far as the objects brought into demand by such changes are necessary for the preservation or maintenance or advancement of human life, and in so far as the industries by which they are produced are not injurious to human life, there can be no question about their moral justification. The ethical question, therefore, arises chiefly with regard to the use of what are called luxuries, and to the use of objects which can be produced only by means of dangerous or deleterious processes. And the question which thus arises can be answered only by balancing the advantages which such objects bring towards the advancement of the supreme end of life against the loss occasioned by their injurious effects. * (c) The Civic Community. If men's business relations are to be purely a matter of contract, it is necessary that the community as a whole should undertake those more paternal functions which cannot conveniently be left to the care of individuals. Thk is partly the business of the central government; b i to a great extent it can be more conveniently man ged by each district for itself. The care which has to be exercised over the citizens consists in such matters as the pro- vision of sanitary arrangements (including baths, and duced by new discoveries and inventions, with which Ethics is only very indirectly concerned (since the question, how far men should be allowed to make and utilize new discoveries can scarcely at the present time be regarded as a practical one). 1 There have been several interesting discussions of Luxury in re- cent times. See, for instance, Bosanquet's Civilization of Christen' dom, MacCunn's Ethics of Citizenship, L. Stephen's Social flights and Duties, Smart's Studies in Economics, and the article by iVofessoc Sidgwick in the International Journal of Ethics^ VoL V. no. i 324 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. n, the like), the means of education (including well- furnished public libraries), the enforcement of pre- cautions against accidents, the prevention of adultera- tion of foods and other forms of deception, and the securing of the means of livelihood to those who are incapacitated for labour. The discussion of the details of such provisions, and of the question whether they can be best managed by a central authority or by local administrations, must be left to writers on Politics. (d) The Church, The paternal care of the citizens, however, cannot be fully provided by any form of civic machinery. There must always be a certain hardness in all such machinery, which must be managed on a basis of law and not of affection. Hence it is necessary that it should be supplemented by more per- sonal relations among the citizens. A centre for such personal relationships is furnished by the Church, whose function it is to secure the carrying out of the highest moral ideal in human relationships. It is greatly to be regretted that differences of religious opinion prevent the Church from being so efficient in this way as it might otherwise be. There can be little doubt that in the Middle Ages, under the sway of Catholicism, its work was more efficiently done if it Is in reality possible to compare the action of institu- tions under very different conditions of social life. Perhaps it may be found necessary to supplement the work of the Churches by unsectarian ethical institutions. But the discussion of this question would not be suitable for an elementary text-book ; * and indeed it could \ It is, however, discussed at considerable length by Prof. Gizydd in hia Introduction to the Study oj Ethics (Dr. Colt's adaptation), chap fc MORAL INSTITUTIONS. 32$ scarcely be satisfactorily answered without introducing considerations that are not of a purely ethical char- acter. The same remark applies to the discussion of the important question of the right relation of the Churches to the State. (e) The State. The State is the supreme controller of all social relationships. It makes laws and sees that they are enforced. It also carries on various kinds of work that cannot conveniently be left to private en- terprise. It undertakes, for instance, the provision of the means of national defence, the conveyance of letters, and in some countries the conducting of rail- ways. The extent to which it is desirable that such work should be undertaken by the State, cannot be discussed in an ethical treatise. But it is important to insist that any one who seeks to answer this question, must answer it by a consideration of the degree to which such action tends to promote the highest life of the citizens of the State. (/) Friendship. These are some of the leading forms of social unity, but the relationships between human beings, through which the moral life is devel- oped, are not exhausted by these. Such a relationship as that of individual friendship has also to be noted. This was a form of unity to which the ancient Greek writers on Ethics gave special attention, and, in par- ticular, it rose into the highest degree of prominence in the speculations of the Epicureans, with whom it may almost be said to have taken the place of the State. In modern times the expansion of man's social universe through books, travel, &c. , may have somewhat dimin- ished the significance of these closer personal ties ; but it still remains true that in a friend a man may find ao ETHICS. [3K. III., CH. IL alter ego through whom the universe of his personality is enlarged in a more perfect way than is possible by any other form of relationship, especially in cases of ideal friendship like that of Tennyson and Hallam, when it can be said, "He was rich where I was poor." This also, however, is a form of relationship to which we can do nothing more than allude. * 8. SOCIAI- PROGRESS. -All the institutions to which reference has now been made, are continually under- going changes, which are rendered necessary by the progressive civilization of mankind. In carrying out such changes it is important to see that they are not made with a view to merely temporary advantages, and that the advantages which they secure are not bought with any loss of human efficiency. The ulti- mate standard by which all progress must be tested is the realization of the rational self. Material and social progress is valuable only in so far as it is a means to this. The nature of this progress will be somewhat more fully considered in a succeeding chapter. 9. INDIVIDUALISM AND SOCIALISM. In recent times discussions with regard to social progress have ap- peared chiefly in the form of the question, whether we ought to move in an individualistic or in a socialistic direction. Individualists think that it is chiefly impor- tant to secure, as far as possible, the freedom of action of the individual citizens. Socialists, on the other hand, think that what is chiefly desirable is to regulate the actions of individuals so as to secure the good of all. It does not appear, however, that there is any i The discussion of Friendship in Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics Is perhaps still the best that we have. See also MacCunns Ethics 9j Citizenship, IL 9-] MORAL INSTITUTIONS. 327 real opposition between the principles of Individualism and of Socialism. ' The good of all can certainly not be secured if the nature of each is cramped and under- fed; nor can freedom be allowed to each except on the assumption that that freedom will on the whole be used for the good of all. The question that ought to be asked is In what directions is it desirable to give men more freedom, and in what directions is it desirable that their actions should be more controlled? It is a question of detail, and it must be answered differently at different stages of human development. Perhaps at the present time it is chiefly in the socialistic direction that advance is demanded. But the reason is simply that in recent generations the individualistic side has been too strongly insisted on. This again is mainly due to the fact that in recent times the main social advance has consisted in the emancipation of highly- skilled labour from cumbersome restraints. The pro- blem of the next age is rather that of providing a truly human life for those who are less skilled and capable, and who are consequently less able to look after their own interests. The former advance could be made by individualistic methods : the latter seems to demand a certain degree of Socialism. a But here again we can do no more than indicate, quite generally and roughly, the nature of the problem involved. 1 From the point of view of Ethics, we may say that both Indi- vidualism and Socialism supply us with economic commandments. The commandment of Individualism is Thou shalt not pauperize ; or Every one must be allowed to work out his own salvation. The commandment of Socialism is Thou shalt not exploit, or No one must be used as a mere means to any one else's salvation. This subject is treated with considerable ful ness by Prof. Paulsen In his System dcr Ethik, voL ii. Book IV. iii., 3. On the general sub- 328 ETHICS. [BK. m., CH. n. Jecl of Socialism as a question of practical politics, the student ma; consult Sidgwick's Principles of Political Economy, Book III., chaps. U vii, and Elements of Politics, chap. x. See also his Methods oj Ethics, Book III., chap. v. Reference may also be made to Mon- tague's Limits of Individual Liberty, Ritchie's Principles of State Inter- ference, Schaffle's Quintessence of Socialism, Conner's Socialist State, Kirkup's Inquiry into Socialism, Rae's Contemporary Socialism, Graham's Socialism New and Old, Rickaby's Moral Philosophy, Gil- man's Socialism and the American Spirit, McKechnie's The State and the Individual, Donisthorpe's Individualism, &c. A singularly searching examination of the ideas underlying Individualism and Socialism has lately appeared in Mr. Bosanquet's Civilization of Christendom. The recent discussions in the International Journal oj Ethics, Vols. VI. and VII. are also valuable. MORAL INSTITUTIONS. 329 NOTE ON JUSTICE. Anything like a complete discussion of the difficult conception of Justice would evidently be quite beyond the scope of such a text, book as this. But a few remarks seem to be called for. Much confusion has arisen in the treatment of this subject from a failure to observe an ambiguity in the term which was well known even to Plato and Aristotle, but which some modern writers seem to have forgotten. The term "Justice* is used in two distinct senses. We speak of a "just man,* and we speak of a " just law" or a "just government" Just, in the former sense, means almost the same as morally good : it means morally good in respect to the fulfilment of social obligations. Justice, then, in this sense is equivalent to all virtue in its social aspect 1 On the other hand, when we speak of a just law or a just government, we mean one that is fair or impartial ' in dealing with those to whom it applies or over whom it rules. 8 This ambiguity in the use of the term is partly concealed by the fact that we sometimes speak of a man as being just in the same sense as that in which the term is applied to a law or government viz. in those cases in which a man occupies a position of authority (as a judge, a king, or even a parent), so as to be a representative of law or govern- ment Hence many writers have failed to perceive that there are two senses in which the term is used. The confusion between these two senses vitiates, for example, nearly all that is said about Justice in the fifth chapter of Mill's Utilitarianism. The influence of the same ambiguity seems, moreover, to be not without effect even on some 1 See Aristotle's Ethics, Book V., chap. L Sometimes, however, when we speak of a " just man " we mean merely one who fulfils those obligations that are enforced by positive law. Cf. below, chap, iil, iz But I do not think that this use of the term is common, or to be commended. a Ibid., chap, ii * Justice is derived from the Latin jus, law. This again is cognate with jussum, meaning what is ordered. A just man means one who obeys orders, i. e. the moral orders or laws. A just law or govern- ment on the other hand, means one that possesses the qualities that belong to, or ought to belong to, a law (jus) viz. in particular, the quality of fairness or impartiality. 33O ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. n. more recent writers. Dr. Sidgwick carefully distinguishes * between the two senses of Justice now referred to, and states that he intends to confine himself to the second. Nevertheless, one of his illustra tions appears to refer to Justice rather in the first sense. He remarks * that we cannot say, " in treating of the private conduct of individuals, that all arbitrary inequality is recognized as unjust : it would not be commonly thought unjust in a rich bachelor with no near relatives to leave the bulk of his property in providing pensions exclusively for indigent red-haired men, however unreasonable and capricious the choice might appear." When it is said that this is not unjust, does not this mean simply that it is not contrary to any recognized moral obligation ? And is not the term, therefore, used in its first sense ? If a law, or a government, or even a parent in dealing with his children, were to exhibit any similar caprice to that here supposed by Dr. Sidgwick, would not this be at once regarded as unjust ? In such a case, we should be using the term in its second sense. The person supposed by Dr. Sidgwick is not said to be un- just, apparently simply for the reason that he is not in a position in which Justice, in this sense, can be predicated of him at all. A man cannot, in this sense, be either just or unjust, unless he represents some form of law or government But there is a still further ambiguity in the use of the term. And this also was pointed out by Aristotle. 8 In speaking of Justice in the sense of fairness, we may be referring either to the apportionment of goods or to the apportionment of evils. Now evil can be fairly apportioned only to those who have done evil i. e. as punishment Justice, then, may be either distributive or corrective. But some- times the term is used emphatically in the latter sense as if this were its exclusive use. To " do justice * is frequently understood as mean- ing simply to award punishment Thus, there is an ambiguity be- tween the broader sense of the term, including distributive and cor- rective Justice, and the narrower sense in which it is confined to the latter. Mill seems to have been misled by this ambiguity also. Thus, when he says that " the two essential ingredients in the senti- ment of Justice are, the desire to punish a person who has done harm, and the knowledge or belief that there is some definite in- dividual or individuals to whom harm has been done," he seems to > Methods of Ethics, p. 264- * Ibid., p, 268-9, note. Op. tit, Book V., chap. ii. MORAL INSTITUTIONS. 331 be referring exclusively to corrective Justice, without being aware that he is dealing only with a part of the subject As far as I can judge, Aristotle's treatment of the whole subject of Justice is still the best that we have. Dr. Sidgwick's treatment, however, to which reference has just been made, has of course the advantage of being more fully adapted to modern conditions of knowledge and practice. 33* ETHICS. IBK. in., CH. ni. CHAPTER IIL THE DUTIES. 1. NATURE OF MORAL LAWS. The Jews, by whom the moral consciousness of the modern world has been perhaps mainly determined, 1 summed up their view of duty in the form of ten commandments. And we find in other nations also a certain more or less explicit recognition of definite rules to which a good man must adhere rules which say expressly, Do this, Abstain from that. 1 Now, in the moral "ought, "as we have so far considered it, there are no such explicit com- 1 It is hard to say whether the Jews or the Greeks have had most influence on us in this respect See Hatch's Hibbert Lectures ; and cf., for a vigorous but very paradoxical view of the same subject, Duhring's Ersatz der Religion. * The Greeks had no definite code of moral rules. Their earliest moral wisdom was expressed rather in brief proverbial sayings, such as fi>)8ii' AYs, shame or reverence. This feeling forbids us to interfere unnecessarily with any established institution. It forbids, for instance, any violation of the sanctities of the family ; it enjoins that we should "honour the king" and all constituted au- thorities ; * and the like. The authority of this group of commandments rests on the importance of maintaining the social system to which we belong. The soldier feels himself in general bound to carry out the com- mands of his superior, even if he knows very well that "some one has blundered" ; and in the same way the citizen feels bound in general to give his support to the constituted authorities of his state, even if he sees clearly that their laws are not altogether wise. Occa- sionally also a pol/tician may feel himself bound to act with his party, even if he does not approve of some detail in its policy. Evidently this group of command- ments might be split up into a number of separate rules. But it is so easy to do this, that it is scarcely worth while to attempt it here. 7. RESPECT FOR TRUTH. The next commandment is, Thou shalt not lie. This rule has a double appli- cation. On the one hand, it may be taken to mean that we should conform our actions to our words 1 It has already been remarked (p. 287, note 2) that " is almost equivalent to conscience. Since, however, the moral obligations of the early Greeks were connected entirely with social laws and in- stitutions, it was almost entirely with these that the feeling of aifcif was associated. 3 I need hardly say that this rule is not to be understood as exclud- ing the right of revolution. As we shall shortly see, none of these rules is to be regarded as absolutely binding. Just as a Nelson may look at the signals of his superior officer with his blind eye, so a far- seeing social reformer may defy the laws of his state. But it is onlj IB exceptional circumstances that such conduct is justifiable. Etk ta 338 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. IIL that, for instance, we should fulfil our promises, and observe the contracts into which we have entered. On the other hand, it may be taken to mean that we should conform our words to our thoughts i. e. that we should say what we mean. Evidently, these two interpretations are quite different. A man may make a promise which he does not mean to keep. In that case, he lies in the second sense. But it does not fol- low that he will necessarily lie in the first sense. Foi; having made the promise, he may keep it. Still, both senses are concerned with respect for the utterance of our thoughts though the latter is concerned with care in the utterance of them, the former with care in con- forming our actions to that which has been uttered. Lying, however, ought not to be understood as re- ferring merely to language. We lie by our actions, if we do things in such a way as to imply that we intend to do something else, or that we have done something else, which in fact we neither have done nor intend to do. The commandment, then, Thou shalt not lie, may be taken to mean that we must always so speak and act as to express as clearly as possible what we believe to be true, or what we intend to perform; and that, having expressed our mean- ing, we must as far as possible conform our actions to it 8. RESPECT FOR PROGRESS. The last commandment of which it seems necessary to take notice, is the com- mandment too often overlooked in moral codes which bids us help on, as far as we can, the advance- ment of the world. It may be expressed in this form, Thou shalt labour, within thy particular province, with all thy heart and with all thy soul and with all 9-] THE DUTIES. 339 thy strength and with all thy mind. ' It is not without reason that I express this commandment in the same form as that in which the love of God has been en- joined. It was wisely said, Laborare est orare, Work is Worship. The love of God is perhaps most clearly shown by faith in human progress; and faith in it is shown most clearly by devotion to it. 2 With this great positive commandment, we may conclude our list. 9. CASUISTRY. I have made no great effort to re- duce these commandments to system. It might be a good exercise for the student to work them out more in detail, and show their relations to one another. But it seems clear that no system of commandments can ever be made quite satisfactory. There can be but one supreme law the law which bids us realize the rational self or universe ; and if we make any sub- ordinate rules absolute, they are sure to come into conflict. Such a conflict of rules gives rise to casu- istry. Casuistry consists in the effort to interpret the precise meaning of the commandments, and to explain which is to give way when a conflict arises. 3 It is evident enough that conflicts must arise. If we are always to respect life, we must sometimes appro- priate property e. g. the knife of a man about to commit murder. If we are always to do our utmost This is Carlyle's commandment " Know what thou canst work at; and work at it, like a Hercules " (Past and Present,Book III., chap. xi.). " All true work is religion " (Carlyle, ibid., chap. xil). See Dewey's Outlines of Ethics, p. 88, Muirhead's Elements of Ethics p. 69-70, Caird's Critical Philosophy of Kant, vol. iL, pp. 186igo, and p, 215, and Bradley s Ethical Sbidits, p. 142. ETHICS. [BK. III., CH. IIL for freedom, we shall sometimes come into conflict with order. So in other cases. We have already quoted the emphatic utterance of Jacobi on this point ; and though it may be somewhat exaggerated, yet it cannot be denied that there are occasions in which we feel bound to break one or more of the command- ments in obedience to a higher law. Now casuistry seeks to draw out rules for breaking the rules to show the exact circumstances in which we are en- titled to violate particular commandments. This effort is chiefly associated historically with the teaching of the Jesuits.* It was called "casuistry" because it dealt with "cases of conscience." It fell into dis- repute, and was severely attacked by Pascal. And on the whole rightly. It is bad enough that we should require particular rules of conduct at all, 3 but rules for the breaking of rules would be quite intolerable. They would become so complicated that it would be impossible to follow them out ; and any such attempt would almost inevitably lead in practice to a system by which men might justify, to their own satisfaction, any action whatever. * The way to escape from the limita- tions of the commandments, is not to make other commandments more minute and subtle, but rather to fall back upon the great fundamental law, of which i See above, pp. 198-9. a See Sidgwick's History of Ethics, pp. 151154. * The expression of the moral law in the form of particular rules belongs to an early stage in moral development It naturally comes immediately after that stage in which morality is identified with the laws of the State. Cf. Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, pp. 6873. * Hence Adam Smith says (Theory of Moral Sentiments, Part VL, sect. IV.) that "books of casuistry are generally as useless as they are Commonly tiresome.* 10.] THE DUTIES. 34! the particular commandments are but fragmentary aspects. 10. THE SUPREME LAW. What is that fundamental law? It is, as we have already seen, the command- ment that bids us realize the rational self. This commandment is so broad, and is apt to seem so vague, that it is certainly well that it should be sup- plemented, for practical purposes, by more particular rules of conduct. But when these rules come into conflict, and when we feel ourselves in a difficulty with regard to the course that we ought to pursue when, in short, a " case of conscience " arises we must fall back upon the supreme commandment, and ask our- selves : Is the course that we think of pursuing the one that is most conducive to the realization of the rule of reason in the world ? No doubt this is a ques- tion which it will often be difficult to answer. * But, 1 Sometimes it may be easier to answer in the form of feeling. The commandments in which the Jewish Law was summed up " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, &c., and thy neighbour as thyself "express the right attitude of feeling, that of love for the supreme reason and for all rational beings. In the form of feeling, however, there is the disadvantage that the definite duties to be per- formed are not suggested, whereas the command to pursue the ad- vancement of the rational life suggests at once the means that must be adopted for this end. At the same time, it is important to insist that the right attitude of mind necessarily brings with it the right form of feeling. To this point we have already referred (Book I., chap, iii , 5, and Book II., chap, iii., 13). We have seen that Kant refused to regard love as a duty, interpreting the Christian injunction as meaning merely that we should treat others as r/ we loved them. But, as Adam Smith remarked (Theory of Moral Sentiments. Part III., sect III., chap, iv.); this could scarcely be described as loving our neighbour as ourselves ; since " we love ourselves surely for our own sakes, and not merely because we are commanded to do so." On the same point, Janet has well quoted (Theory of Morals, p. 354) the emphatic utterance of St Paul, " Though I bestow all my goods 342 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. in. in general, a man who keeps his conscience un- clouded, and sets this question fairly before himself will be able to keep himself practically clear from errors, without resorting to casuistical distinctions. * 11. CONVENTIONAL RULES. Besides the command- ments, or strict moral laws, we find in every com- munity a number of subordinate rules of conduct, in- ferior in authority, but often superior in the obedience which they elicit. Such are, for instance, the rules of courtesy, those rules that belong to the "Code of Honour," the etiquette of particular trades and particu- lar classes of society.* There is often a certain absurd- ity in these rules ; and some of them are frequently laughed at under the name of "Mrs. Grundy." Cer- tainly a superstitious devotion to them, a devotion which interferes with the fulfilment of more important duties or with the development of independence of character, is not to be commended. Yet sometimes such rules are not without reason. Schiller tells us, in a wise passage of his Wallenstein,* that we ought not to despise the narrow conventional laws ; for they were often invented as a safeguard against various forms of wrong and injustice. Pectus sibi permissum is not less to be distrusted than intellectus sibi per missus / and it is often well that the impulses of a man's own heart should be checked by certain generally understood con- to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing." i See, on this point, Green's Prolegomena to Ethics, Book IV chap. ii. * Sometimes referred to as " minor morals." * Die Piccolomini, Act I., scene iv. " Lass uns die alten engen Ordnungen Gering nicht achten 1 " 12.] THE DUTIES. 343 mentions. * The law of respect for social order, at any rate, will generally lead a man to follow the established custom, when no more important principle is thereby violated. Still, this is not a matter of supreme impor- tance. A scrupulous adhesion to petty rules is no doubt as foolish as a total neglect of them. Eccen- tricity has its place in the moral life ; and there are certainly many customs which are "more honoured in the breach than the observance." Perhaps the ten- dency at the present time a result of our individual- istic modes of thought is to attach too little impor- tance to general rules of life. The Chinese, however, under the influence of Confucius, seem to have gone to the other extreme. 12. DUTIES OF PERFECT AND IMPERFECT OBLIGATION. The impossibility of drawing out any absolute code of duties has led some writers to draw a distinction be- tween that part of our obligations which can be defi- nitely codified and that part which must be left com- paratively vague. This distinction has taken various forms. Sometimes those obligations which are capable of precise definition are called duties ; while that part of good conduct which cannot be so definitely formu- lated is classed under the head of virtue as if the vir- tuous man were one who did more than his duty, more than could reasonably be demanded of him." Again, 1 Indeed, such rules are often more useful in small matters than in great ; just because the small matters interest us less. Cf. below, 13, note. * There can be no doubt that this is a common use of the term " Virtue " in ordinary language. Perhaps it is even the original sense of the word. It certainly seems to have been at first applied to those qualities that appeared most eminent and praiseworthy. See Alex- aader's Mor*l Order and Progress, p. 243 ; " The distinctive mark of 344 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. HI, Mill ' classifies strict duties under the head of Justice ; and adds that " there are other things, on the contrary, which we wish that people should do, which we like or admire them for doing, but yet admit that they are not bound to do ; it is not a case of moral obligation. " But surely we have a moral obligation to act in the best way possible. Another distinction is that given by Kant* between Duties of Perfect and Imperfect Obliga- tion. According to this classification, Duties of Perfect Obligation are those in which a definite demand is made upon us, without any qualification as, Thou shall not kill, Thou shall not lie, Thou shall nol steal. These are, for the most part, negative. On the other hand, most of our positive obligations cannot be stated in this absolute way. The duty of beneficence, for instance, is relative to time, place, and circumstance. virtue seems to lie in what is beyond duty : yet every such act must depend on the peculiar circumstances under which it is done, of which we leave the agent to be the judge, and we certainly think it his duty to do what is best" Cf. Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, p. 190, note. See also Adam Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiments, Part I., sect II., chap, iv., Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics, Book III., chap. ii, Rickaby*s Moral Philosophy, p. 70, i Utilitarianism, chap. v. Some other writers have limited the application of the term Justice to those actions which can be enforced by national law. Thus Adam Smith says (Theory of Moral Senti- ments, Part II., sect II., chap, i.) : "The man who barely abstains from violating either the person, or the estate, or the reputation of his neighbours, has surely very little positive merit He fulfils, how- ever, all the rules of what is peculiarly called justice, and does every- thing which his equals can with propriety force him to do, or which they can punish him for not doing. We may often fulfil all the rules of justice by sitting still and doing nothing." Cf. the Note at the end of chap, x * Metaphysic of Morals, section II. (Abbott's translation, p. 39) Observe what is said in Mr. Abbott's note. Cf, also Caird'a Critical Philosophy of Kant, vol. il, pp. 383-3. 12.] THE DUTIES. 345 No man can be under an obligation to do good in all sorts of ways, but only in some particular ways, which he must in general discover for himself. Hence this may be called an Imperfect Obligation, because it can- not be definitely formulated. Now it is no doubt true that there is a distinction of this kind. There is, indeed, a threefold distinction be- tween duties of different kinds. There are, in the first place, those duties that can be definitely formulated, and embodied in the laws of a State, 1 with penalties attached to their violation. In the second place, there are those duties that cannot be put into the form of national laws, or that it would be very inconvenient to put into such a form, but which, nevertheless, every good citizen may be expected to observe. In the third place, there are duties which we may demand of some, but not of others; or which different individuals can only be expected to fulfil in varying degrees.* But the distinction between these different classes of duties is not a rigid one. The duties that can be made obliga- tory by law vary from time to time, according to the constitution of the State concerned, and the degree of the civilization of its people. The same applies to those duties that every good citizen may fairly be expected to observe. Consequently, while at any given time and place it might be possible to draw out a list of the i This was the original meaning of Duties of Perfect Obligation. Kant altered the use of the phrase. Some points in connection with the relation between Ethics and Jurisprudence will be found well brought out in Adam Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiments, Part VI., sect IV. a The fulfilment of these in an eminent degree might be said to constitute Virtue, as distinguished from Duty, in the sense explained above. But this is on the whole an inconvenient usage. 346 ETHICS. [BK. III., CH. III. Duties of Perfect Obligation, and to express them in a code of Commandments, yet the tables of stone on which these were engraved would require to be periodi- cally broken up.' And many of the most important duties for any particular individual would remain un- formulated. 13. MY STATION AND ITS DUTIES. The determination of a man's duties, therefore, must be left largely to his individual insight Ethics can do little more than lay down commandments with regard to his general atti- tude in acting. In the details of his action, however, a man is not left entirely without guidance. Human beings do not drop from the clouds. Men are born with particular aptitudes and in a particular environ- ment ; and they generally find their sphere of activity marked out for them, within pretty narrow limits. They find themselves fixed in a particular station, help- ing to carry forward a general system of life ; and their chief duties are connected with the effective execution of their work. Hence the force of Carlyle's great principle, " Do the Duty that lies nearest thee." 1 The 1 This of course is no sufficient reason for not formulating them as well as we can. As Hegel says (Philosophy of Right, 216), " The universal law cannot be forever the ten commandments. Yet it would be absurd to refuse to set up the law 'Thou shalt not kill ' on the ground that a statute-book cannot be made complete. Every statute-book can of course be better. It is patent to the most idle reflection that the most excellent, noble, and beautiful can be con- ceived of as still more excellent, noble, and beautiful A large old tree branches more and more without becoming a new tree in the process ; it would be folly, however, not to plant a new tree for the reason that it was destined in time to have new branches." 8 Sartor Rccartus, Book II., chap. ix. : "The situation that has not its Duty, its Ideal, was never yet occupied by man." See also the admirable chapter by Mr. Bradley on " My Station and its Duties " 1 3.] THE DUTIES. 347 prime duty of a workman of any kind is to do his work well, to be a good workman. ' Of course he must first have ascertained that his work is a valuable one, and one that he is fitted to do well. Having thus found his place in life, he will not as a rule have much difficulty in ascertaining what are the commandments that apply within that sphere. Hence the important point on the whole is not to know what the rules of action are, but rather the type of character that is to be developed in us. A well-developed character, placed in a given sit- uation, will soon discover rules for itself. 3 Thus, we (Ethical Studies, Essay V.). Cf. Dewey's Outlines of Ethics, Part II. : "The moral endeavour of man takes the form not of isolated fancies about right and wrong, not of attempts to frame a morality for him- self, not of efforts to bring into being some praiseworthy ideal never realized ; but the form of sustaining and furthering the moral world of which he is a member. 1 ' Thus we agree, after all, with the view of Dr. Johnson, that a good action is one that " is driving on the system of life." But for this view we now have a rational justifi- cation. l Cf. Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, p. 47: "An artisan or an artist or a writer who does not ' do his best ' is not only an inferior workman but a bad man." Mr. Muirhead quotes Carlyle's saying about a bad joiner, that he "broke the whole decalogue with every stroke of his hammer." See also Dewey's Outlines of Ethics, p. 112 : "The good artisan 'has his heart in his work.' His self-respect makes it necessary for him to respect his technical or artistic capacity ; and to do the best by it that he can without scrimping or lowering." * It may be worth while to note here that rules of conduct are, In general, valuable for us in proportion as our interest in the concrete matter concerned is small A man does not wa'nt rules for the per- formance of anything which he has deeply at heart Thus, a serious student has little need of rules for study. His own interest is a suf- ficient guide. On the other hand, a man whose main work does not lie in study, but who is able to devote a few hours to it now and then, may find it advantageous to have definite rules for the perform- ance of the uncongenial task. So it is in life generally. Christian, ity abolished the external rules of Judaism, by enjoining upon us an 348 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. in. are naturally led from the consideration of the com- mandments to the consideration of the virtues. 1 interest in life instead. Such an interest is the only safe final guide, But so long as such an interest cannot be pre-supposed, particular rules retain a certain relative value. Some very suggestive remarks on this point will be found in Adam Smith's Theory of Moral Senti- ments, Part III., sect IV. He there gives some interesting examples of actions which are naturally done in obedience to rule, because our interest in them is slight ; and of others which are naturally done rather from an interest in the object to be attained. 1 Prof. Dewey says (Outlines of Ethics, p. 231) : " It is a common remark that moral codes change from ' Do not ' to ' Do,' and from this to ' Be.' A Mosaic code may attempt to regulate the specific acts of life. Christianity says, ' Be ye perfect' The effort to exhaust the various special right acts is futile. They are not the same for any two men, and they change constantly with the same man. The ver words which denote virtues come less and less to mean specific act? and more the spirit in which conduct occurs." Cf. Muirhead'* El* ments of Ethics, p.. 71, note. THE DUTIES. 349 NOTE ON RULES OF CONDUCT. I have no doubt that some readers will be a good deal disappointed by the results of this chapter. Many of those who take up the study of Ethics expect to find in it some cut-and-dried formulas for the guidance of their daily lives. They expect the ethical philoso- pher to explain to them, as I once heard it put, what they ought to get up and do to-morrow morning. And no doubt it is true enough in a sense that the ethical philosopher, if he is good for anything, will explain this. He will explain to them the spirit in which they ought to apply themselves to the particular situation before them to-morrow morning. But most people, and especially most English people, are not content with this. The cause of this discontent is no doubt partly that most of us have become accustomed in our youth to a code of Ten Commandments, generally accompanied by cer- tain subordinate rules deduced from them. Partly, again, it is that most of the English schools of Ethics have connected themselves closely with Jurisprudence, 1 and have thus given encouragement to the notion that a set of moral laws might be devised similar to the laws of a nation. Now I admit of course that it is possible to draw out certain rules of conduct, founded on the general nature of human life and the conditions under which it has to be carried on ; and it is part of the task of the moral philosopher to explain the general nature of these rules, and to show their place in the conduct of life. This I have endeavoured to do. But to suppose that Ethics is called upon to do more than this appears to me to be a most fatal error. Happily life cannot yet be reduced to rule. A moral genius must always, like Mirabeau, "swallow his formulas" and start afresh. Pedantry will not carry one far in life, 3 any more than in literature. At the same time, while emphasizing this point, I have certainly no wish to rush to the opposite extreme. There has been so strong a tendency in former times to lay down an absolute " ought " in 1 The chaotic state of English law led men like Bentham to seek for a rational basis of Jurisprudence in ethical principles. This ap- plication of Ethics has reacted on the study of Ethics itself. On the Continent the prevalence of Roman Law has perhaps made the demand for a fresh ethical basis less urgent * There are some good remarks on this point in Adlcr's Moral Instruction of Children, pp. 19-33. 350 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. in. Ethics, with a rigid scheme of obligations hanging from it, that now, by a not unnatural reaction, we find a number of our ethical writers treading very gingerly, hesitating to say that there is any such thing as duty, apologizing for the use of the word " ought," and mildly conceding that Ethics is of no practical value. This extreme appears to me to be quite as pernicious as the other. It is the function of the ethical philosopher to discover and define the supreme end of life. This is what all the great ethical writers have done, from Plato and Aristotle to Spinoza, Kant, Hegel, and Green. As soon as this end is clearly seen, the duty of pursuing it becomes an absolute imperative, from which there is no escape. And with this end in view, the whole of our life falls into shape. Hence, as Aristotle puts it,* " from a practical point of view it much concerns us to know this good ; for then, like archers shooting at a definite mark, we shall be more likely to attain what we want* Undoubtedly, in this sense, Ethics is of the greatest practical value. Nor is its value in any way dimin- ished by the fact that the moral genius, or even the man of ordi- nary good sense, may act well without any knowledge of Ethics The human end is involved in man's very existence. No one can exist at all without being in some degree conscious of it The task of the moral philosopher is only that of bringing it to clear con- sciousness. Only that ! In the same way, the task of the poet is only that of making clear to us the beauty that is everywhere around us. The task of the metaphysician is only that of bringing out the mean- ing and connection of the principles made use of in the sciences. This " only " is a little out of place. While we must insist, then, that it is not the task of Ethics to furnish us with copy-book headings for the guidance of life, we must equally insist that it is its task to furnish us with practical principles to bring the nature of the highest good to clear consciousness, and to indicate the general nature of the means by which this good is to be attained. It thus tells us, not indeed the particular rules by which our lives are to be guided, but what is of infinitely greater practical importance the spirit in which our lives are to be lived. I am well aware that all this will seem unsatisfactory to many minds. The military spirit is deeply rooted in human nature. Men are eager to catch the word of command, and are disappointed when they are only told, as by Jesus, to " love one another," or, as by Hegel, to " be persons," or, as in the vision of Dante, to " follow their star." And, indeed, as I have already said, Ethics does supply some- i Ethics, Lii. a. THE DUTIES. 35 I thing more than this. It does interpret for us the meaning and im- portance of some more special rules. But assuredly neither Ethics nor anything else will tell a man what in particular he is to do. There would be an end of the whole significance of life if any such information were to be had. All action that is of much consequence has reference to concrete situations, which could not possibly be exhausted by any abstracthnethods of analysis. It is the special busi- ness of every human being to find out for himself what he is to do, and to do it Ethics only instructs him where to look for it, and helps him to see why it is worth while to find it and to do it Like all sciences, it leaves its principles in the end to be applied by the instructed good sense of mankind. 1 1 It may perhaps appear that this point has been somewhat over- emphasized ; but I think there is a real danger of misconception here, and I have been anxious to guard against it On the general question involved, it maybe well to refer, in addition to the authori- ties already cited, to Mill's System of Logic, Book VI., chap. xiL, Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics, Book IV., chaps, iv. and v., Green's Prolegomena to Ethics, Book IV., Hegel's Philosophy of Right, Intro- duction, Bosanquet's Civilization of Christendom, p. idosqq., and the article by Mr. Muirhead on " Abstract and Practical Ethics " in the American Journal of Sociology for November, 18961 352 ETHICS. [BK. III., CH. IV CHAPTER IV. THE VIRTUES. 1. RELATION OF THE VIRTUES TO THE COMMANDMENTS. When we have ascertained what are the most important commandments, we have at the same time discovered to a considerable extent what are the most important virtues. The virtuous man will be on the whole the man who has a steadfast habit of obeying the com- mandments. There are, however, many virtuous hab- its which do not correspond to any commandments that can be definitely formulated.* Moreover, as the virtues are concerned mainly with inner habits of mind, whereas the commandments deal with overt acts,s the 1 Virtue (from Latin vir, a man or hero) meant originally man- iiness or valour. The Greek open} (from the same root as Ares, the god of war) and the German Tugend (connected with our English word "doughty") have a somewhat similar origin. The term is here employed to denote a good habit of character, as distinguished from a Duty, which denotes rather some particular kind of action that we ought to perform. Thus a man does his Duty ; but he pos- sesses a Virtue, or is virtuous. Another sense in which the term " Virtue * is used, has been already noticed above (chap, iii., 12). * Mr. Alexander (Moral Order and Progress, p. 253) definitely con- nects the virtues, as well as the duties, with social institutions. In both cases there seems to be some exaggeration in this. Cf. Muir- head's Elements of Ethics, p. 188. ' The Jewish commandments, as interpreted in the Sermon on the Mount, and by modern Christian thought, are of course concerned with the heart as well as with outer acts. Also the summary of the commandments in terms of love refers entirely to an inner habit of mind. But when the commandments are thus summed up, they 2.] THE VIRTUES. 353 lines of cleavage in dealing with the virtues are natu- rally somewhat different from those that we find in dealing with the commandments. Hence it seems desirable to devote a separate chapter to the subject of the virtues. 2. VIRTUES RELATIVE TO STATES OF SOCIETY. The virtues which it is desirable for human beings to culti- vate vary considerably with different times and places. They are more variable even than the commandments * ; because the latter confine themselves to those broad principles of conduct which are applicable to nearly all the conceivable conditions of life. At the same time, even the virtues are less changeable than they are apt at first sight to appear. The Greek virtue of courage, confined almost entirely to valour in battle, has but little correspondence to anything that is su- premely important in modern life. Yet the temper of mind which it indicates is one for which there is as much demand now as ever.* And so it is also with most of the other virtues. The precise conditions of their exercise change ; but the habit of mind remains intrinsically the same. Still, even the habit of mind does undergo some alteration. The kind of fortitude which is required for valour in battle is, even in its most inward aspect, somewhat different from that cease to be particular rules. Particular rules relate to particular modes of action. Cf. Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, p. 70. For a discussion of the relation of Virtue to Duty, see Sidgwick's Methods vf Ethics, Book III., chap. ii. The following chapters of the same book contain interesting analyses of most of the particular virtues. Cf. Rickaby's Moral Philosophy, Part I., chap. v. * In that broad sense in which alone, as we have seen, universally ignificant commandments can be laid down. * See Green's Prolegomena to Ethics, Book III., chap. v. Eth. at 354 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. iv. fortitude which sustains the modern man of science, politician, scholar, or philanthropist Hence this side of ethical study is one which each generation of writers requires almost to reconsider for itself. However in- structive the great work of Aristotle may still remain on this point (and there is perhaps nothing more in- structive in the whole range of ethical literature), it is yet not quite directly applicable to the conditions of modern life. In order to understand what are the most important virtues for us to cultivate in modern times, it is necessary to consider them in relation to the structure and requirements of modern society. 3. THE ETHOS OF A PEOPLE. It is for this reason that it is so important, from an ethical point of view, to study carefully what the Germans call the Sitten (the moral habitudes of thought and action) of differ- ent times and peoples. We have no English word that quite expresses this idea ; but, instead of having recourse to the German, we may use a Greek term, and speak of the ethos of a people.* The ethos of a people is partly constituted by definite rules or precepts. The Ten Commandments formed a very important element in the ethos of the Jews ; and they have continued, 1 The English word " Manners " used to have a meaning closely approximating to this, but it has deteriorated. See International Journal of Ethics, VoL VII., no. L * Cj. Bradley's Ethical Studies, chap, v., especially p. igb, where the following is quoted from Hegel : "The child, in his character of the form of the possibility of a moral individual, is something sub- jective or negative ; his growing to manhood is the ceasing to be of this form, and his education is the discipline or the compulsion thereof. The positive side and the essence is that he is suckled at the breast of the universal Ethos" Similarly on p, 169.! "The wisest men of antiquity have given judgment that wisdom and virtue con- list in living agreeably to the Ethoe of one's people.* 3] THE VIRTUES. 355 with certain modifications and enlargements, to form an important element in the ethos of modern European peoples. The precepts contained in the Sermon on the Mount have perhaps never been sufficiently appro- priated by the world in general to be made definitely into a part of the ethos of any people ; but they have undoubtedly exercised a most profound influence on the ethos of nearly all civilized nations. The ethos of a people, then, is partly expressed in definite com- mands and precepts. But partly also it consists in re- cognized habits of action and standards of judgment which have never been precisely formulated. Thus, in England there is a general idea of the kind of con- duct which is fitting in a " gentleman " ; and though it might be difficult to reduce this standard to the form of definite rules, yet it has undoubtedly exercised a great influence in forming the ethos of our people. The ethos of a people, then, we may say, constitutes the atmosphere in which the best members of a race habitually live ; or, in language that we have previously employed, it constitutes the universe of their moral activities. It is the morality of our world ; and on the whole the man who conforms to the morality of that world is a good man, and the man who violates it is a bad man. Mr. Bradley has even said emphatically ' l Ethical Studies, p. i8a So also on p. 181 he says : " We should consider whether the encouraging oneself in having opinions of one's own, in the sense of thinking differently from the world on moral subjects, be not. In any person other than a heaven-born prophet, sheer self-conceit" There is, however, some paradox in this. A man may be a moral reformer in a small way, without being exactly a " heaven-born prophet" The suffering or witness- tag of wrong in some particular form, for instance, often makes a urn sensitive to an evil to which most men are callous. Alao tba 356 ETHICS. [BK. III., CH. IV. that the man who seeks to have a higher morality than that of his world is on the threshold of immorality. But this is an exaggeration. For the ethos of a people is not a stationary thing. 1 It develops, like social life generally ; and its development is brought about mainly by the constant effort of the best members of a race to reach a higher standard of life than that which they find current around them. The xaX.oxdra.06? of the Greeks might occasionally permit himself to do many things, and to abstain from doing many things, which would scarcely be thought becoming in a modern "gentleman"; while the teachings of Christianity hold up to us an ideal of life which has not yet been fully embodied in the current morality of the world. While, then, it is on the whole true that the ethos of our people furnishes us with our moral standard, it must yet be remembered that it is often desirable to elevate that standard itself.* disciples of the * heaven-born prophets " will for a time hold opinions different from those of the world But what Mr. Bradley means is simply, Try to be as good as your world first : after that you may seek to make it better. His meaning is similar to that of Burke (Reflections on the Revolution in France) : * We are afraid to put men to Hve and trade each on his own private stock of reason ; because we suspect that the stock in each man is small, and that the indi- viduals would do better to avail themselves of the general bank and capital of nations and of ages." 1 Sometimes, indeed, it is a highly artificial thing, brought into being by the accidental circumstances of a particular time and place. Thus Adam Smith remarks (Theory of Moral Sentiments, Part V, sect II.) that "in the reign of Charles II. a degree of licentiousness was deemed the characteristic of a liberal education. It was con- nected, according to the notions of those times, with generosity, incerity, magnanimity, loyally, and proved that the person wha cted in this manner was a gentleman, and not a puritan." Cy. below, chap, vii 4-] THE VIRTUES. 357 Now the virtues that are current among a people at a given time are the expression in particular forms of the ethos of that people ; and their significance can be appreciated only in relation to the general life of the times. 4. VIRTUES RELATIVE TO THE SOCIAL FUNCTIONS. Not only, however, are the virtues relative to different times and different social conditions : they are also relative to the functions that different individuals have to fulfil in society. Here again it is true that the differences are not so great as one is apt to think We are apt to say that a poor man cannot exercise the virtue of liberality ; and that a man who is rich and prosperous has little need for the virtue of patience. This is to a large extent true ; yet the habit of mind which with a rich man leads to liberality may equally well be present, and is equally admirable, in one who is poor. And the same applies to other qualities. Still, it remains on the whole true that the virtues which we respect and admire in a man are not quite the same as those of a woman.; that those of the rich are not quite the same as those of the poor ; those of an old man not quite the same as those of a young man ; those of a parent not quite the same as those of a child ; those of a man in health not quite the same as those of one who is sick ; those of a commercial man not quite the same as those of a man of science ; and so in other cases. In describing the virtues, there- fore, we must either go somewhat minutely into the consideration of different circumstances of life, and of the qualities that are most desirable under these vary- ing conditions ; or else we must confine ourselves to statements that are very general and vague. The 358 ETHICS* [BK. III., CH. IV. limits of space and the difficulties of the subject both lead us to adopt the latter alternative. 5. THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. The virtues, as waa admirably pointed out by Aristotle, are habits of deli- berate choice. To be virtuous means to have a char- acter so developed that we habitually choose to act in the right way. Now as the right action nearly always stands between two possible bad actions one erring by excess and the other by defect Aristotle con- sidered f that virtue consists essentially in a habit oj choosing the mean. He well added, however, that ik is the choice of the relative mean f. e. of the particular Intermediate course which is appropriate to the par- ticular individual in question, and to the particular circumstances in which he is placed. That mean must be determined in each case by a consideration of its conduciveness to the general development of social life. To hit upon it rightly is often a problem for in- dividual tact and insight ; but a study of the greatest examples in human history is in many cases a valuable aid in deciding on the most fitting conduct in a given case. 6. THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. From the earlitst pe- riods of ethical speculation, attempts have been made to enumerate the various forms of virtues. The most celebrated of these lists are those given by Plato and Aristotle. The former seems to have been current among Greek moralists even before the time of Plato. It has at least the merit of simplicity, containing only four cardinal* virtues Wisdom (or Prudence), Courage Ethics, Book II., chaps, vi ix. Cf. Sidgwick's History of Ethics, P. & From cardo, a hinge. The Cardinal Virtues are suppotedto b 6.] THE VIRTUES. 359 (or Fortitude), Temperance (or Self-Restraint), and Justice (or Righteousness). This classification, how- ever, simple as it appears, was soon found to give risa to considerable difficulties. It began to be perceived, for instance, that in a certain sense the first of the virtues includes all the others ; for every virtuous activity consists in acting wisely in some particular relationship. Again, Justice (or Righteousness) seems to be made somewhat too comprehensive in its mean- ing when it is used to include (as, on this acceptation, it must) all the social virtues. Perceiving these and other defects in the catalogue of the virtues, Aristotle was led to a considerable expansion of the list. 1 But his expansion had so constant a reference to the virtues that were expected of an Athenian citizen that its direct interest for modern life is comparatively slight And it would perhaps be somewhat futile to attempt to draw up any similar catalogue specially adapted for those on which the others hinge or depend Cj. the Cardinals in the Roman Catholic Church. 1 It might be held, however, that Plato and Aristotle were in reality engaged on distinct problems. Plato sought to give an ac- count of the Cardinal Virtues i. e. the general elements Involved in all virtuous activities ; whereas Aristotle sought to give a list of special virtues, exhibited not in all virtuous activities, but in parti- cular kinds of virtuous activity. But this view seems to me to be scarcely tenable. The distinction here referred to is clearly drawn by Prof. Dewey in his Outlines of Ethics, p. 230. I am doubtful, however, whether his interpretation of the term " cardinal virtue " is sanctioned by the best usage. He means those general charac- teristics of a virtuous attitude, such as purity of heart, disinterested- ness, conscientiousness, and the like, which belong to the very essence of virtue as such. The relation of such qualities of the "Inner life" to the virtues proper is partly dealt with in the next chapter. For the origin of the phrase "cardinal virtue, 'see Sidg- wick's History of Ethics, p, 133. C/. Rickaby's Moral Philosophy, p. 84 3 6o ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. rv. modern times, with their complicated problems and varied relationships. 1 Nevertheless, a few suggestions towards such a catalogue may be found useful. We may note, to begin with, the distinction which is commonly drawn between self-regarding virtues and those that are altruistic, or have reference to the good of others. This distinction is apt to be mislead- ing. The individual has no life of his own independ- ent of his social relations ; and any virtue which has reference to the good of the individual, must have reference also to social well-being. This fact, how- ever, need not prevent us from distinguishing between the life of an individual and the wider world to which it is related ; and some virtues may be said to bear specially on the former, while others bear more par- ticularly on the latter. It may be convenient to loot at these two classes of virtues separately. (a) Taking the four Platonic virtues as a convenient starting-point, it is evident that courage and temper- ance are the two that bear specially* on the life of the individual. If we understand courage (or fortitude) in the wide sense of resistance to the fear of pain, and temperance in the equally wide sense of resistance to the allurements of pleasure, these two virtues will include all forms of opposition to temptation in the individual life. Temptation appears either in the form of some pain to be avoided or some pleasure to be 1 An interesting list has been drawn up, in the form of a table, by Mr. Muirhead, in his Elements of Ethics, p. 201. Some suggestive remarks on the particular virtues required in modern life will be found in Adler's Moral Instruction of Children, Lectures XI. XV * Wisdom, as we shall see immediately, is also directly concerned in the guidance of the individual life. But it applies equally to our social relationships, 6.] THE VIRTUES. 361 secured ; and he who is proof against these will lead a steadfast life along the lines that he has chosen. It is evident, however, that a man may be courageous and temperate in the conduct of his life, and yet be living foolishly. A wise choice of the line to be pursued is a necessary preliminary. If we understand the Platonic virtue of wisdom (or prudence) in this sense, we shall have in a manner a complete list of the virtues required for the conduct of the individual life. But it is evident that each of these virtues must be understood in such a sense as to comprehend under it a great variety of qualities not always found together in the same indi- vidual. Thus wisdom would require to be understood as including care, foresight, prudence, and also a cer- tain decisiveness of choice. Courage, again, would include both valour and fortitude, /. e. both the active courage which pursues its course in spite of the pro- bability of pain, and the passive courage which bears inevitable suffering without flinching. * But these are not the same virtues, and are indeed perhaps not often found together in any high degree. Again, courage would have to be understood as including perseverance ; and this seems a somewhat unnatural extension of its meaning ; just as it is somewhat un- 1 Mrs. Bryant (Educational Ends, pp. 71-2) regards fortitude as a higher virtue than the more active courage which goes to meet danger ; because the former bears actual pain, the latter only the fear of pain. This is so far true. Courage is a blinder virtue than fortitude. The courageous man sets pain aside and forgets it whereas the man who shows fortitude is one who endures an ac- tually present pain which cannot be set aside. But on the other hand courage is a more active and voluntary virtue than fortitude. It not merely endures pain, but goes to meet it in the fulfilment of a purpose. In this respect courage seems to be the higher virtue of the two. 362 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. iv. natural to include decision under wisdom. Perhaps the qualities of decision, diligence, and perseverance would come most naturally under a separate heading by themselves. These qualities are concerned not so much with the resistance to the solicitations of plea- sure and pain, as with the resistance to the natural inertia of human nature. The Christian virtues of faith and hope are closely connected with valour and fortitude, in so far as they supply the latter vir*ues with an inner ground. A confident and cheerful view of life seems to be presupposed in the highest forms of courage. 1 With reference to temperance, again, this virtue would require to be understood as including the resistance to all kinds of solicitation from pleasures, whether sensual or intellectual, in so far as these tend to interfere with the conduct of life along the lines that have been chosen. Broadly speaking, then, we should be led in this way to recognize four distinct classes ol virtues as bearing directly on the conduct of the indi- vidual life wisdom in the choice of its general course, decisiveness in pursuing it, courage and temperance in resisting the solicitations of pain and pleasure.' i Browning's portraiture of Hercules in Balaustion's Adventuri well illustrates the qualities involved in the highest forms of active courage. 3 Mr. Muirhead remarks (Elements of Ethics, p. 198-9) that the vir- tues of courage and temperance involve one another. " In order to be temperate a man must be courageous : in order to be able to resist the allurements of pleasure he must be willing to endure the pain that resistance involves. Similarly, in order to be courageous, he must be temperate." But this is perhaps a needless subtlety. The man who temperately abstains from a bottle of wine must no doubt be courageous enough to face the difficulties and dangers in- volved in going without it But does not this mean simply that temperance is a kind of negative courage ? And does not the dis- tinction between positive and negative still remain ? 6.] THE VIRTUES. 363 (b) The virtues that relate to the individual's deal- ings with his fellow-men are perhaps best summed up under the head of justice. At the same time, this term, as commonly understood, is much too narrow to include all the virtues that arise in such relation- ships. It must be understood, for instance, to include not merely the fulfilment of contracts, and the perform- ance of every duty required by the laws, express or understood, of the community to which one belongs, but also perfect honesty and fidelity in all one's rela- tionships with others. Mr. Ruskin has taught us to look for honesty even in modes of artistic expression ; and this kind of honesty, as well as others, 1 must be included in our idea of justice, if that idea is to be made to comprehend all the virtues connected with our social obligations. Further, the Christian ideal of life has taught us to expect something beyond the mere satisfaction of obligations in our dealings with our fellow-men ; and indeed more than this was expected even by the moral consciousness of the Greeks. We commonly say that generosity is expected as well as justice ; and in Christian communities love also is re- quired. In a sense, however, we may say that all this ought to be included in our idea of justice. 2 For it is part of what is due from one individual to another that 1 Other instances of honesty, going beyond mere truthfulness, might easily be given. Thus the student who " crams " for an ex- animation may be said to be dishonest, because his knowledge is not genuine. Again, what Mr. Bosanquet calls (History of ^Esthetic, p. xiii) " the scholar's golden rule never to quote from a book that he has not read from cover to cover," is a good instance of the ex- tension of the idea of honesty. a Thus, generosity, as Mr. Muirhead says, " is only justice ade- quately conceived " (Elements of Ethics, p. 200). 364 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. iv. the latter should be treated not as a mere thing to which certain specifiable obligations are owed, but as a person, an absolute end, with infinite claims. It is true that as a general rule such ideal relationships are only partly attainable ; but the thoroughly just man will endeavour to realize them as far as possible, and will be glad when the external relationships of mere contract can be transmuted into the relationships of friendship or Christian love. 1 Hence also such ideas as those of courtesy, and even of a certain cheerfulness and good humour in social intercourse ; such efforts as that of being, as far as possible, all things to all men, of avoid- ing all appearance of evil, of abstaining from that which is lawful when it is not expedient, and in general all the chivalries of the Christian gentleman, are not foreign to the conception of justice. They are part of what we owe to one another as persons and as abso- lute ends. We see, then, that, by giving a broad interpretation to each of the terms used, we may accept the old Greek classification of the virtues with but slight modi- fications. The only positive addition that we have to make is the recognition of a virtue of decisiveness and perseverance. Perhaps it was natural that the Greeks should omit this, partly because their plan of life was more mapped out for them beforehand than it is with us, and partly because with their simpler method of life steady persistence in any particular line was less essential. Perhaps also the light inconstancy of the 1 Here we are in agreement with Carlyle. Cf. above, chap, ii., 7 We doubt only whether the abolition of contract would of itself produce this desirable result Justice must on the whole precede generosity. 6.] THE VIRTUES. 365 Athenian character, its perennial youthfulness, made the omission of this stern virtue easy. A Roman would scarcely have forgotten the idea of disciplined application ; ' an Englishman would not naturally omit decision of character : a German would remember Daurbarkeit* Besides this, however, it must not be forgotten that we have been extending the meaning of the four Greek virtues to senses which the Greeks themselves would not have acknowledged. 3 But such an expansion of the conception of duty is inevitable as the world advances. Having made this classification, however, we may at once add that any attempt to draw out such a list, like an attempt to make a list of the command- ments, is of very slight importance. There is essen- tially but one virtue (what we may, if we like, call practical wisdom*), just as there is essentially but one commandment. The particular virtues, like the par- ticular commandments, are only special forms in which l The decisiveness of such a man as Caesar, for instance (cf. below, chap, v., n. note), seems to be a virtue which cannot be identified either with wisdom, courage, or temperance. a Persistence. Cf. also the peculiarly German virtue of Treue (fidelity). These virtues were all somewhat foreign to the Athenian character. * This was habitually done by the early Christian moralists who accepted the Platonic classification. See Sidgwick's History of Ethics, P- 133- 4 It might be urged, of course, that there is a great difference be- tween what Bacon calls " wisdom fora man's self " and that wisdom which manifests itself in a just regard for others. But wisdom for a man's self, in the sense of mere selfish prudence, is not virtue at all Wise care of a man's own interests, in the sense in which that is a virtue, is precisely the same quality as that which leads, when extended, to a wise care of the interests of others. The only dif- ference lies in the extension of our universe. 366 ETHICS. [BK. ni., CH. iv. the right attitude of mind manifests itself. The effort to make a last of these forms is almost frivolous. I have thought it worth while to say so much as I have done on the subject, only in order to make it clear what such an effort would mean. Perhaps the best way of regarding the virtues is to treat them as those forms of character that are implied in the fulfilment of the duties or commandments ; while those duties or commandments, again, depend on the elements in- volved in the social unity. 7. EDUCATION OF CHARACTER. Having ascertained what are the types of character to which we wish to approximate, we have next to inquire into the means by which these types are to be developed. Here, how- ever, it would be necessary to trespass on the province of Psychology, and especially on that part of Psycho- logy which is concerned with the theory of Education. This subject is still in a somewhat undeveloped state ; * and there are only one or two remarks that seem to have any practical value for our present purpose. It is scarcely necessary to refer to what every moralist has noticed, the influence of example in the development of character. "As iron sharpeneth steel, so a man sharpeneth the countenance of his friend." But all the forms of social relationship have a similar value. Per- haps we may say generally that the important thing, 1 Reference, may, however, be made to Herbart's Science of Educa- tion. Some good points will be found also in Guyau's Education and Heredity, Fouillee's L'Enseignenient au Point de Vue National, Mrs. Bryant's Educational Ends, Rosenkranz's Philosophy of Educa- tion, and Dr. Adler*s Moral Instruction of Children. Herbart's chief point is that the great work of education is to extend the " circle of thought" By a " circle of thought " he means very nearly what baa been described in this handbook as a "universe.* 7.] THE VIRTUES. 367 from this point of view, is the influence that comes from connecting oneself with some organization that has a certain completeness in itself. Schiller said that a man must either be a whole in himself or else join him- self on to a whole. To this Mr. Bradley has added, 1 "You cannot be a whole, unless you join a whole." Complete development of character can be attained only by devoting ourselves to some large end, in co-operation with others. Such an attachment comes to different men in different ways. Some find it in the pursuit of science, others in particular practical interests, others in the political life of the State, others in poetry or religion. It matters little what the form may be ; but unless a man has, in some form, a broad human interest which lifts him out of himself, his life remains a fragment, and the virtues have no soil to grow in. The first requisite, then, for the development of the virtues, is to unite ourselves with others in the pursuit of some end or ideal. In the second place, we may observe that a certain amount of ascetic discipline is sometimes found valuable. As Aristotle put it, a when a man's character has been twisted in one direction, it may be straightened by bending it in the other. Also, even apart from this, a certain check to the gratification of our natural propensities helps to waken up the will : 3 it prevents us from living on by rote, and thus serves 1 Ethical Studies, p. 72. Mr. Bradley attributes the saying to Goetha It is one of the Xenien, and was probably of joint authorship. 2 Ethics, II. ix. 5. 8 Cf. James's Principles of Psychology, voL L, p. 126. Prof. James lays down the maxim : " Keep the faculty of effort alive in you by a little gratuitous exercise every day." He adds, " Be systematically ascetic or heroic in little unnecessary points ; do every day or two omething for no other reason than that you would rather not do it' 368 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. iv, as a stimulus to the development of character ; so that, like Rabbi Ben Ezra, we may " welcome each rebuff That turns earth's smoothness rough, Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand but go." It is best, however, when such a rebuff comes to us in the ordinary course of nature. When it is consciously administered, it is apt to involve too much attention to our own inner development, which almost always leads to the production of a morbid habit of mind.' On the whole, it is generally better to escape from our defects, not by thinking about them and trying to elude them, but by fixing our attention on the opposite excellences. Dr. Chalmers used to speak of "the ex- pulsive power of a new affection"; 3 and it certainly seems a more effectual method as a rule to expel our evil propensities by developing good ones rather than by seeking directly to crush the evil ones. At the same I venture to doubt the wisdom of this. A man who is living with serious ends in view will, I think, always find sufficient occasions for ascetic discipline " Room to deny himself, a road To bring him daily nearer God * without artificially seeking them out (except perhaps in the way in- dicated by Aristotle). See the whole passage from James quoted in Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, p. 129, note. Cf. also Miss Gilliland's Essay on " Pleasure and Pain in Education " in the International Journal of Ethics, voL ii., No. 3 (April, 1892), pp. 303-4. 1 Cf. below, p. chap, v., n. * So also Mrs. Humphry Ward says in Robert Elsmcrc : " This, Indeed, is the only way in which opinion is ever really altered by the substitution of one mental picture for another * ; and again : * An idea cannot be killed from without it can only be supplanted, transformed, by another idea, and that, one of equal virtue and magic," These quotations are due to Mr. Welton. 8.] THE VIRTUES. 369 time, it must be allowed that it is seldom possible to develop the moral life, like a flower, by a simple pro- cess of steady growth. Usually a certain amount of attention to the inner life is necessary; and often a man has to pass through crises, such as used to be called, in religious language, conversion or new birth, in which the attention is turned inwards, and the man is occupied, as it were, in feeling his own pulse and fingering the motives of his conduct. This is an attitude from which we ought to escape as rapidly as possible ; but it is so characteristic a feature in the development of the moral life that it seems worth while to devote a separate chapter to the consideration of it the more so, as it will lead us to a further study of what may be called the inner side of virtue. T 8. THE MORAL SYLLOGISM. Before we conclude this chapter, it may be convenient to take note of a highly significant conception of Aristotle, which seems here in place. In the present and the two preceding chapters we have briefly indicated the various forms i With reference to moral education, it may be noted here that a certain confusion is frequently fallen into between the culture of the moral nature and the acquisition of knowledge about morals. The former is all-important : the latter frequently leads to nothing more than that form of spiritual pride which is vulgarly known as " prig- gishness." In the former sense, all real education is moral education. It is in this sense that Herbart says (Science of Education, p. 57), " The one and the whole work of education may be summed up in the concept Morality. ' 7.n the latter sense, on the other hand, a moral education would generally be a bad education, leading to nothing but self-conscious introspection. C/. the important distinction be- tween "moral ideas" and "ideas about morality" drawn by Mr. Bosanquet in his article on "The Communication of Moral Ideas' in the International Journal of Ethics vol. I., No. i (Oct 1890), p. 86 See also Miss Gilliland, loc. cit, pp. 294-5 Eth. M ETHICS. LBK. III., CH. IV. in which the moral atmosphere (if we may so call it) affects the individual consciousness. The moral ideal involved in social life presents itself to him in the three forms of institutions to be maintained, duties to be fulfilled, and a type of life to be realized. At different stages of social development, and in different races of mankind, it tends to present itself more distinctly in one or other of these forms. Thus the Jews thought chiefly of Commandments, the Greeks chiefly of Virtues, and perhaps the Romans attached most im- portance to the maintenance of social institutions. But, in whatever form the moral life is conceived, the good citizen may be said to derive from these general conceptions of its nature the principles by which his life is guided. It is then his business to apply these principles in detail. This process was described by Aristotle as the formation of a practical syllogism. The major premiss consists of the general statement, that a particular social institution is to be maintained, that a particular commandment is to be obeyed, that a particular type of life is to be realized. The minor premiss consists in the apprehension that an action of a particular kind would be one that fulfilled these conditions. Then the conclusion would consist in the carrying out of the action in question. The power of thus apprehending the general prin- ciple to be followed, and of bringing the particular action under it, was called by Aristotle practical wisdom (?>/><5vijs to the consideration of that of the ffopds (the man of speculative wisdom), which he declares to be higher. This raises the general question how far the highest life of the individual can be regarded as something to be realised apart from the life of the community, or as something that contains elements that are not adequately expressed in his relations to the social unity to which he belongs. It is this question that we have now to consider. 1 Nicomachean Ethics, II., vi. , 15. 'Eon* ipa. ^ apcrij fi irpoatprruc^ '* ofio-a TTJ irpbs ^ias, upiyfjLtvji Aoyy CJ. above, p. 355, noU. 380 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. v, of one's general attitude in life. This is a part of self- knowledge ; and though, as Carlyle says, the motto Know thyself \s an impossible one to carry out with any completeness, yet it is important to make a cer- tain approximation to the carrying of it out. One reason of this is, that it is not always possible in our actions to go fully into the reasons of what we do. We often require to let ourselves go, relying on the intui- tions that have been acquired in the course of our lives. On such occasions it is important that we should know how far we can trust ourselves to go. For this pur- pose it is necessary to have an insight into the nature of our "besetting sins," and these cannot always be discovered from our overt acts. There are few, how- ever, who carry this kind of self-knowledge very far. "The heart is deceitful," and even those who observe it most carefully are apt to miss some secret chambers. The advice of an intimate friend will often help one more than self-observation ; and even self-observation is generally more successful in the form of a study of our acts and habits than in that of a study of our secret motives. 5. THE STUDY OF THE IDEAL. I have already re- marked that it is usually a more profitable way of developing the inner life rather to fix our attention on some external type than to attend to our own motives. Such types have frequently been selected and set up for the imitation of whole nations and peoples e. g. Buddha, Jesus, Socrates, and the various Roman Ca- tholic saints. And, on a smaller scale, we have in- numerable biographies of heroes held up as examples not only of right action, but of a right attitude of mind and heart Novelists also and poets have created for 6.] THE INDIVIDUAL LIFE. 381 us imaginary types to serve the same end. 1 Indeed, this may be said to be the end of all poetry, in so far as poetry has an end at all. It is a " criticism of life," inasmuch as it presents to us higher ideals of what life might be and ought to be and that chiefly on its inner side. 2 6. THE MONASTIC LIFE. The importance of the study of the inner life, whether by direct self-exam- ination, or by the contemplation of ideal patterns, has at certain times been so keenly felt that men have set themselves apart, like the Eastern mystics or the monastic orders of Catholic Christianity, for the express purpose of making this their study. We must regard this, in general, as an undesirable form of the Division of Labour. It had a certain justification in lawless times, when most men were so much occupied with violent action that they had no time for reflection. In such times men who led a contemplative life had the task of acting as the inner life for the whole commu- nity to which they belonged. And perhaps in some Oriental countries the nature of the climate renders it difficult to carry on the active and the contemplative life together. 3 The existence of a monastic order has in fact somewhat the same justification as the setting apart of a special day for religious worship. But just as, when the Sabbath is too rigidly divided from the rest of the week, it tends to become a mere ceremonial 1 On the moral and aesthetic significance of " types," the student may be referred to Stephen's Science of Ethics, pp. 74-76. Reference may also be made to Bacon's De Augmentis, Book VII., chap, iil 8 Cf. the famous passage in Goethe's Wilhelm Meister, Book II., chap, il, ending, " Who but the poet was it that first formed gods for us ; that exalted us to them, and brought them down to ML' See Marshall's Principles of Economics, p. iz 382 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. v. observance, with little reference to actual practice, so when the priestly or monastic order is too rigidly divided from the rest of the community, the inner life comes to be regarded as their special province, with which the rest of mankind have no concern. 1 This has a pernicious effect on general morals, and ulti- mately on the morals of the monastic order itself. No order of men can confine their attention exclusively to the inner side of life ; and the pretence of doing so turns rapidly into cant and hypocrisy. Just as it is desirable that secular interests should not be entirely forgotten on Sunday, nor the religious spirit throughout the remainder of the week, so it is desirable as a gen- eral rule that "all the Lord's people should be pro- phets," or at any rate that prophets should retain sufficient contact with the world to enable men of the world to catch something of the spirit of the prophets. 7. BEAUTIFUL SOULS. Apart, however, from the existence of any special order for the cultivation of the inner life, we occasionally find individuals who 1 Cf. the amusing account, in Milton's Areopagitica, 55, of the man whose religion has become " a dividual movable * : " A wealthy man . . . finds religion to be a traffic so entangled, and of so many piddling accounts, that ... he cannot skill to keep a stock going upon that trade. . . What does he therefore, but resolves to give over toiling, and to find himself out some factor, to whose care and credit he may commit the whole managing of his religious affairs ; some divine of note and estimation that must be. To him he adheres, resigns the whole warehouse of his religion, with all the locks and keys, into his custody ; and indeed makes the very person of that man his religion. . . . His religion comes home at night, prays, is liberally supped, and sumptuously laid to leep ; rises, is saluted, and after the malmsey, or some well-spiced bruage ... his religion walks abroad at eight, and leaves hi kind entertainer in the shop trading all day without bis religion." 8.] THE INDIVIDUAL LIFE. 383 set themselves apart for this purpose. It has been customary to describe these as "beautiful souls" (schone Seelen) ; and Goethe has given a striking account of one in his Wilhelm Meister.* They are usually people who have been prevented in some way from taking part in the active affairs of life. The lives of such individuals have often a singular charm, and the good effects of their influence are sometimes felt over a wide circle ; but this is especially the case when they do not entirely withdraw themselves from contact with active life. If they do this, their contemplation is apt to become emptied of all real content ; their fine feelings turn into hysterical dreaming ; and it is well if they do not end in madness. 8. ASCETICISM. The development of the study of the inner life is generally accompanied by a contempt for pleasure. This sometimes goes so far, as in the case of the Indian mystics and the Medieval monks, as to lead to the positive infliction of torture. The ostensible reason for this is frequently the idea that torture is pleasing to the gods ; but the fundamental v'eason seems to lie in the desire of suppressing the flesh and its lusts. This is of course in some degree an essential of the moral life in any form ; but asceti- cism seems to commit the error of turning the means into an end. It is important to repress our lower desires, in order that we may be able to devote our- selves, without let or impediment, to the highest ends of life. But the ascetic regards the suppression of desire as the end in itself. And the effort thus to suppress all 1 Carlyle erroneously translated schSne Seele " fair Saint* For some very suggestive remarks on the attitude of the "beautiful soul," see Caird's Hegpl, pp. 28-31. 384 ETHICS. [BK. III., CH. V. natural desire frequently defeats its own aim. It con- centrates attention on the objects of desire, and in a sense makes a man the slave of his desires as truly as in the case of him who yields to them. The best way to free ourselves from our lower desires is, as we have already indicated, to interest ourselves in something better. It is only into a mind swept and garnished that the devils can enter : when it is well furnished and occupied they can find no room. 9. THE CONTEMPLATIVE LIFE. The study of the inner life is, in truth, but a part of the general life of speculation as distinguished from action. The distinc- tion between the active and the contemplative life has impressed men in all ages ; and different thinkers have attached importance to the one or the other. Aristotle placed the contemplative life (meaning by that the pursuit of scientific and philosophic truth) above the practical life in which the ordinary social virtues are exercised.* It is essentially the same point of view * that we find among many Eastern mystics and Medi- aeval saints, and, in more modern times, in such men as Wordsworth, who withdraw from the struggle of ordinary labours and find a higher life and a serener wisdom in the contemplation of nature. Wordsworth ays of nature that, " She has a world of ready wealth The mind and heart to bless, Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health, Truth breathed by cheerfulness * ; 1 See above, p. 350. * Ethics, Book X., chaps, vil and viiL * Except (a very important qualification) that Aristotle regarded the active life of social duty as an indispensable preparation for tha higher life of thought Moreover, even the life of thought he re* 9-] THE INDIVIDUAL LIFE. 385 and the same thought finds utterance, in more homely fashion, from Walt Whitman, when he says, " I loal and invite my soul." Ruskin also has sung the praises of rest and contemplation, and William Morris has found his earthly paradise in "a century of rest," in which the turmoil of modern civilization shall have been appeased, and men shall find a more worthy existence in a closer walk with nature. Similar ideas dominate Emerson and Thoreau. All these seem to think that the contemplative life is essentially higher than the active, and that this higher life is to be reached simply by withdrawing from the life of action. On the other hand, Carlyle preached a gospel of labour, and was fond of quoting the words of Sophocles that "the end of man is an action and not a thought," or the exclamation of \rnauld "Rest 1 Shall I not have all eternity to rest in ? " This view fits in well also with the robust philosophy of Browning, who cannot even accept the orthodox view of the rest of eternity, but conceives of it as the most fitting address to his departing spirit " ' Thrive and strive ' cry, ' Speed ! Fight on, fare ever, there as here!'" The truth seems to be that an ordinary healthy hu- man existence requires boths ides. Thereare energetic natures, like Csesar or Napoleon, that seem able to go on with a perpetual activity, scarcely requiring rest or reflection. But the activity of such men is not usually the wisest or the most beneficial. There are others whose special mission it seems to be to with- draw from the world of action and bring messages to garded as essentially a higher form of activity, to which the life of the good citizen leads up. Eth. as 386 ETHICS. [BK. III., CH. V, mankind from the inner world of feeling and reflection. But the wisdom of such men is apt to be deficient in the depth of universal applicability which a wider con- tact with life can give. The Words worths and Emer- sons are not equal to the Shakespeares and Goethes. For the majority of men, at any rate, times of action natu- rally alternate with times of reflection, times of creation with times of re-creation. In retirement we criticise the acts of life ; in life we criticise the ideas of retire- ment Action and reflection are the gymnastic and music of moral culture.' 10. RELATION OF THE INNER TO THE OUTER LIFE. Looking at it in a more speculative light, we may express the relation of the inner to the outer life in this way. The life of unreflective action takes place entirely within the universe with which we have iden- tified ourselves. In the contemplative life we bring ourselves into relation with the broader universe, whether revealed in the form of the moral ideal within us, some ideal exemplar without us, the beauty and suggestiveness of nature, the discovery of scientific law, or in any other shape. Now, since the life of al] 1 Q Goethe's famous lines " Es bildet ein Talent sich In der Stille, Sich ein Character in dem Strom der Welt" (" A genius forms itself in solitude ; A character, in struggling with the world") " Music" and " Gymnastic* were the names of the two elements in Greek education " Music," of course, including what used to be called " polite literature " and a good deal more. Plato points out in his Republic (Book III.) that both these elements are required for the development of character. See Nettleship's admirable essay on "The Theory of Education in Plato's Republic* (Hellenica, pp 10.] THE INDIVIDUAL LIFE. 387 of us involves progress, or, at the very lowest, re- adjustment to new conditions, it is impossible that it should be carried on successfully without a periodic reference to the principles on which it is based. Like chronometers, we can go on for a time by the mere impulse of our moral springs, but if we are to be kept in permanent order we must readjust ourselves by the stars. On the other hand, it would be a poor chro- nometer which was perpetually being set, and never could be let go. A life of pure reflection would never acquire any positive content. It would have principles, but no facts to apply them to ; yet it is by contact with such facts that the principles themselves grow. It is experience that tests them, and that sends us back again to improve them. "Best men are moulded out of faults " ; for it is our errors of conduct that reveal to us the defects of our principles, and show us where they need improvement.* There are, then, these two sides in every healthy moral life. It is a mistake, on the one hand, to sup- pose that all the worth of our life lies in its outer acts. This is not even the only part of us that affects those with whom we come in contact. "Men imagine," says Emerson, " that they communicate their virtue or vice only by overt actions, and do not see that virtue or vice emit a breath every moment." Of course, this means in reality that the virtuous man acts a little dif- ferently from the vicious man even where the external act appears to be the same. The beauty of the inner .ife, in Aristotle's phrase, "shines through." Hence the importance of having the heart right On the other 1 Hence the element of truth in the popular view about the sowing wild oats.* See below, p. 381. 388 ETHICS. [BK. m., CH. v. hand, it is a mistake to suppose that we should be perpetually fingering our inner motives. If we do this^ we shall always find that they are somewhat wrong. The impulse of the moment can never quite rise to the dignity of the eternal ideal ; and the more we watch it, the less likely is it so to rise. If we make sure that our overt action is thoroughly right, the right motive will soon become habitual to us ; * and it is a man's habitual motives that are important, not the motives that may happen to enter into a particular act. 11. THE VIRTUOUS MAN AND THE WORLD. If our life is to be one both of action and reflection, it must also in a sense be one that is both in the world and rsotofit A life of activity cannot be one of entire withdrawal from the world and its ways ; yet the man who guides himself by reflection will not simply be carried along by its currents. The man who is simply reflective and not active is sometimes characterized as 1 It might be thought, from what has been already said in chap, iil, that, if we are resolutely setting ourselves to do good actions, the motive of them must necessarily be good. But this is only partly true. If a statesman devotes himself persistently to the passing of beneficial laws, this must be because he takes the benefit of his country as part of his motive. But he may also be influenced by the desire of personal fame, or even by that of spiting a rival A man can seldom be quite sure that some such lower motives do not form part of his inducement to the performance of an action which he clearly sees to be in itself desirable. But the best practical coursf, is evidently that of habituating ourselves to the performance of actions which we perceive to be desirable. By doing this, we ac- custom ourselves to the point of view of the "universe " within which the actions are good. We forget the lower universe of personal ambition, or of personal spite ; and, by forgetting it, we gradually cease to live in it We lose ourselves in the pure interest in our ob- jective end ; and this is the highest motive i. e. on the assumption that our objective end is really a desirable one, forming ?n element to human progress. II.] THE INDIVIDUAL LIFE. 389 "over-conscientious." 1 Sometimes this reproach is merely an indication of prejudice on the part of "men of the world"; but often it is a mark of a real want of decision of character, like that of Hamlet, or a want of appreciation of the limits within which our moral life has to be lived. 3 It is a man of this type who is sometimes said to be " so good that he is good for nothing" ("si buon che val niente"). On the other hand, the commoner defect is that of living entirely within the universe of the society in which we find ourselves, and following a multitude to do evil. The good man adapts himself to his environ- ment, but tries at the same time to make his environ- ment better. He does not simply try to keep himself "unspotted of the world," but also to clear the world of spot. Such a man will in a sense be "not of the world." He will live in the light of principles which are not fully embodied in the modes of action around him. But he will not withdraw into himself, and abstain from taking part in the activities of his world. This attitude of the virtuous man is strikingly de- picted by Wordsworth in his sonnet to Milton, 3 in 1 See Green's Prolegomena to Ethics, p. 323, and Dewey's Outlines of Ethics, p. 201. a Froude says of Julius Caesar (Cccsar, p. 339), " His habit was to take facts as they were, and when satisfied that his object was just, to go the readiest way to it" A very conscientious man can seldom bring himself to do this, and hence lacks " force of will." Cf above, pp. 82-3. Descartes was so much afraid of the indecision due to a reflective habit, that he thought it necessary to make it a special practical rule for himself, never to hesitate when once he had come to the conclusion that a particular line of conduct was on the whole the best See his Discourse on Method, Part III. (Veitch's translation, P- 25). C/. also Milton's own emphatic declaration in the Arcopagitica t 390 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. v. which he expresses both his aloofness and his readi- ness to serve. "Thy soul was like a star and dwelt apart ; And yet thy heart The lowliest duties on herself did lay." 12. THE MORAL REFORMER. This twofold attitude is perhaps best seen in the case of great moral reformers. Every good man, no doubt, is a moral reformer on a small scale ; but occasionally in the history of a nation there arises a man who holds up new ideals of the moral life, and induces men in some degree to adopt them, thus advancing the general moral ideas of mankind. Types of such reformers are Buddha, Socrates, and Jesus. These are generally men who have a profound appreciation of the moral life of their peoples, and who by reflection upon it are led to transcend its limitations. There was no better Athenian citizen than Socrates, none more attached to his native state, none more ardent in the perform- ance of civic duties, few more thoroughly at home in its customs and traditions. 1 IJut he was more than this. He had his hours of reflective abstraction, in which he went beneath the moral traditions of his nation and examined the fundamental principles on which they rested. This reflective examination en- abled him to transcend .the limitations of Greek mo- rality, and to prepare the way for deeper conceptions '' I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and seeks her adversary, but slinks out of the race, where that immortal garland is to be run for, not without dust and heat" See also Bacon's DeAugmentis, Book VII, chap. i. 1 See Zeller's Socrates and the Socratic School, Part II., chap v. 12.] THE INDIVIDUAL LIFE. of duty. Similarly, Jesus was no ascetic or recluse. He "came eating and drinking," and was familiar with the ideas and habits of his people, even of those that were regarded as outcast and degraded. But he had also his times of retirement, temptations in the wilderness, and withdrawal to mountains. This com- bination of active participation and reflective with- drawal enabled him to sum up the morality of his nation, and by summing it up to s"et it upon a deeper basis, which fitted it to become the morality of the modern civilized world. So it is with most great moral reformers. They hold, in a sense, the mirror up to their times and peoples. They show them clearly what is already stirring dimly within their own con- sciences. They often seem to proclaim something entirely new and contrary to the whole spirit of the age ; and consequently they often become martyrs to their convictions, as both Socrates and Jesus did. And no doubt they often do, like Moses, bring down a new law from heaven. But the new law was nearly always contained implicitly in the current morality of their time. They only interpreted that morality more carefully and strictly, freed it from self-contradictions, and pressed it back to the fundamental principles on which it rested. * When they do more than this, their work is seldom entirely beneficial. It is too much in the air, and has too little reference to the actual condition of things, to have much practical effect. Perhaps we may venture to blame our own great moral reformers of recent times, Carlyle and Ruskin, and, still more, Tolstoi, that they have made too little * See Green's Prolegomena to Ethics, pp. 323 330, Muirhead's Ele- ments of Ethics, pp. 253-4, an ^ Dewey's Outlines of Ethics, pp. 189-901 392 ETHICS. [BK. III., CH. V. effort to understand what is best in the spirit of their times, and that their censures, consequently, are too much like the voice of one crying in the wilderness, an external accusation instead of an internal criticism. But even this would be only partly true. Carlyle and Ruskin are on the whole no exception to the general nature of moral reformers. Much of what is best in the spirit of the age finds in them its best expression, and their criticisms are to a very large extent organic to the thing criticised. They are to a certain extent the criticism of the age upon itself, its condemnation by its own principles, strictly interpreted ; and this is perhaps the only kind of criticism that is permanently beneficial I.] MORAL PATHOLOGY. 393 CHAPTER VL MORAL PATHOLOGY. 1. MORAL EVIL. So far we have been mainly occu- pied with the consideration of the moral life in its posi- tive aspect as a development towards goodness and perfection of character and social activity. We must now dwell for a little on its more shady aspects. Man's life is not a simple struggle towards virtue and holi- ness : it is quite as often a lapsing into vice and sin. This aspect we have on the whole neglected ; and we must now give a little consideration to it. Each man's moral life may, as we have seen, be regarded as a universe in itself. This universe may be a broad one or a narrow one. In the case of the majority of men it is sufficiently narrow to exclude many human interests. This narrowness is a source of conflict. It causes the individual good to appear to be in opposition to the general good of humanity. There is a sense in which no one ever seeks anything except what he regards as good. Quidquid petitur petitur sub specie boni. Evil is not sought as evil, but as a good under particular circumstances. 1 But 1 Many of the acts that we regard as vices were at one time scarcely vices at all. They are the virtues of a lower stage of civilization, a lower universe which has been superseded, but in which some men still linger. Thus, Prof. Alexander says (Moral Order and Progress 394 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. VL the good sought is only the good of the universe con- cerned at the particular moment. This need not even be what the individual himself, taking a survey of his life, would regard as good for him : still less is it necessarily identical with or conformable to the general good. It may be the good of a very narrow universe the universe of a man who is making no serious efforts to reach that rational point of view in which alone, as we have seen, true freedom is to be found ; one who, remaining in servitude to his passions and animal propensities, prefers "bondage with ease to strenuous liberty." Indeed, there are even cases in which opposition to the general good becomes almost an end in itself; in which an individual is inclined to say, like Milton's Satan, "Evil, be thou my good." Social duty presents itself as a continual menace to a man who has not learned to identify the good of society with his own ; and he is thus tempted to take up arms p. 307) : " Murder and lying and theft are a damnosa hcreditas left us from a time when they were legitimate institutions : when it was honourable to kill all but members of the clan, or to lie without scruple to gain an end, and when there was promiscuity of property." Cf. Dewey's Outlines of Ethics, pp. 215-16. In this connection, Ben- tham refers to a passage in Homer where " Menelaus, courteously addressing a stranger, seeks to learn his occupation, and asks him what his business may be, whether by chance it is that of a pirate or what other." In Aristotle's Politics (I., viii. 7, 8.) pirates are men- tioned along with fishermen, hunters, etc., as classes of workers who maintain themselves without retail trade. In Sparta, again, it was not thought dishonourable to steal, though it was thought dishonour- able to be found out Cf. Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, p. 210. Per- haps some forms of action which are popularly approved at the pre- sent day will seem equally surprising in future generations Indeed, it would seem that even the pirate or filibuster has not ceased to be honoured in certain quarters among ourselves. And we can hardly even say laudatur et alget. I.] MORAL PATHOLOGY. . 395 against it. f He cannot simply set it aside, as he can narrower goods that lie outside his own : it is a wider circle that includes his own, and he must either identify himself with it or fight against it. This war against society seldom indeed presents itself in the extreme form in which it is depicted in Milton's Satan or Shake- speare's Timon of Athens ; but on a smaller scale we see it often enough in the wilful mischief of children, or in the anti-social delight that gives its edge to scandal. But apart from any such war against the social good, even the best of men show at times "the defects of their qualities," i. e. the limitations connected with the particular kind of universe in which they live ; and the more definite that universe is, the more marked are likely to be the defects. Hence the shortcomings which are often noticed in men of strong and original characters. A weak character has no definite limits. It flows vaguely over the boundaries of many universes, without distinctly occupying any. It excludes little because it contains little. It takes on, like a chame- leon, the colour of any universe with which it comes in contact. Such a person is not likely to offend profoundly against any laws of his social surround- ings. He will rather be "faultily faultless," drifting securely because he is making for nowhere, carried safely by wind and tide without any force of seaman- ship. It is to such that the proverb applies that "Fortune favours fools." No one can find any fault 1 C/. Shakespeare's King Richard III. : " And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover, To entertain these fair well-spoken days, I am determined to prove a villain, And hate the idle pleasures of these days." ETHICS. [BK. III., CH. VL with one who has "no character at all." 1 On the other hand, one who has great strength of char- acter in some particular direction has generally some accompanying weakness. His universe is a clear- cut circle, and excludes many elements of a com- plete moral life. Thus, the great poet, tenderly sensi- tive and full of high aspirations, is often deficient in steadiness of will and in attention to the more con- ventional rules of morals. The great reformer is apt to be inconsiderate of the weakness of others, and sometimes even unscrupulous in selecting the means to secure his purposes. The man who is devoted to great public achievements is often, like Socrates, un- successful in his domestic life. And so in many other cases. Hence in our moral judgments on individuals it is very necessary to consider not merely where they fell short, but also what they positively achieved or endeavoured. 3 A man's sins are the shadows of his virtues ; and though a life of transparent goodness would cast no shadow, yet, so long as men fall short of this, the strongest virtues will often have the deepest shades. 2. VICE. Moral defects may be regarded either from the inner or from the outer side as flaws of character or as issuing in evil deeds. From the former 1 " Nothing so true as what you once let fall, Most women have no characters at all." POPE. It is perhaps scarcely necessary to say that I do not mean to ex- press agreement with this dictum. * Cf. Carlyle's Essay on Burns : " Granted, the ship comes into harbour with shrouds and tackle damaged ; the pilot is blameworthy ; he has not been all-wise and all-powerful : but to know how blame- worthy, tell us first whether his voyage has been round the Globe, or only to Ramsgate and the Isle of Dos." 2.] MORAL PATHOLOGY. 397 point of view, we may describe them as vices vice * being the term that corresponds to virtue, and that denotes the inner stain of character rather than the overt act. From the outer side, we may speak of them rather as sins and crimes. The inner side is more extensive than the outer ; for stains in the inner char- acter may be to a large extent concealed, and not issue definitely in evil deeds though they can scarcely fail to give a certain colour to our outer acts. It is chiefly Christianity that has taught us to attach as much weight to the evil in the heart as to the evil in outer deeds. 2 The more superficial view is to regard the latter as alone of importance. Such sayings as " whoever looketh on a woman to lust after her, has committed adultery with her already in his heart," gave a new extension to the conception of morals. Similarly, the conception of morality was deepened when it was recognized that an action which is ex- ternally good may in reality be evil if it is not done from the highest motive. "Whatever is not of faith is sin. "3 It was from this point of view that some of 1 From Latin vitiunt, a defect or blemish. Sin appears to come from a root meaning a breach of right The corresponding Greek word, ofiopWa, means an error. Crime is from the Latin crimen, an accusation or judgment 3 The term generally employed by Christian writers, however, is rather Sin than Vice. And thus Sin, though properly referring to an outer act rather than to a stain of character, has acquired the sense of Vice, and indeed has come to bear an even more inward meaning than Vice. For Vice corresponds to Virtue, and means a general habit of character issuing in particular bad acts ; whereas Sin, as used by Christian writers, refers more often to the inner disposition of the heart, want of purity in the motive, and the like. It is in this sense, for instance, that St Paul speaks of " sin dwelling in him.* * C/. Sidgwick's History oj Ethics, pp 114-115 398 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. VL the early Christian writers spoke of the virtues of the heathen as only "splendid vices." 1 If we were to attempt to classify vices, the subdivi- sions of them would naturally correspond to those of the virtues. Thus we should have vices arising from our yielding to pleasure, or failing to endure pain, or not being sufficiently wise in our choice or strenuous in our purposes. We should also have various vices connected with imperfections in our social relation- ships. But into the details of such a classification we need not here enter. 3. SIN. Although it is true, however, that the inner side of an evil character is quite as important, from a moral point of view, as the evil acts that flow from it, yet it must be remembered that there is a considerable difference between vice that remains in the heart and vice that issues in an evil deed ; just as there is a dif- ference between virtue that remains mere "good in- tention " and virtue that issues in deed. Mr. Muirhead remarks on this point*: "How far the resolution is from the completed act has become a proverb in respect to good resolutions. It is not, perhaps, very creditable to human nature that a similar reflection with regard to bad resolutions does not make us more charitable to persons who are caught apparently on the way to a crime. Hoffding (Psychology, Eng. ed., p. 342) quotes a case of a woman who, having got into a neighbour's garden for the purpose of setting fire to her house, and been taken almost in the act, swore solemnly in court i Green, however, rightly insists that the best Greek writers were perfectly aware of the importance of the inner motive. See his Prolegomena to Ethics, Book III., chap, v., 252 ; and # below, * Elements of Ethics, p. 50, note. 3-] MORAL PATHOLOGY. 399 that she knew she would not have perpetrated the act, but hesitated to state upon oath that she had abandoned her intention when she was surprised. With this we may compare the passage in Mark Rutherford's story of Miriams Schooling, where, speaking of Miriam's temptation to take her own life, he says : ' Afterwards the thought that she had been close to suicide was for months a new terror to her. She was unaware that the distance between us and dreadful crimes is much greater often than it appears to be. ' " ' Perhaps we should say, then, not merely that " Hell is paved with good intentions," but that Heaven is paved with bad ones. It should be remembered, however, that there is an important difference here between good intentions and bad intentions. Bad intentions, like good intentions, are often frustrated by infirmity of purpose. In this case the good intention is not so good as the good act ; whereas the bad intention is on the whole worse than the bad act. We do not think the better of Macbeth for his hesitation in committing murder ; and often we feel almost an admiration for a determined crime. On the other hand, if a crime is prevented by genuine moral scruples, which arise often just at the moment when we have the opportunity of actually performing 1 Cf. Carlyle's French Revolution, vol. iii., Book I., chap. iv. j "From the purpose of crime to the act there is an abyss ; wonderful to think of. The finger lies on the pistol ; but the man is not yet a murderer : nay, his whole nature staggering at such a consum- mation, is there not a confused pause rather one last instant of pos- *ibility for him ?" This distinction is, indeed, generally recognized in our ordinary moral judgments though perhaps it is not so much dwelt upon as the corresponding distinction in the case of good actions. Cf. Adam Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiments, Part IL, sect 111, chap, ii 400 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. vt the deed, the hesitation which then arises is partly an exculpation. Thus we think on the whole the bettel of Lady Macbeth for her exclamation " Had he not resembled My father as he slept, I had done!" While, then, it Is the case that a good intention is always inferior to the corresponding good deed, 1 it depends on circumstances whether a bad intention is or is not less evil than a bad deed. 2 So also, from the point of view of the development of the character of the agent, a bad deed is often less evil than a stain in the character which does not go forth in action. An overt act brings, as a rule, an overt punishment. At any rate, the wickedness of the act is made openly apparent, in a way in which an evil thought is not made apparent And when a man thus sees plainly the consequences of his action, he is often led to repent of it and amend his life. It is here that we see the element of truth in the common idea of the 1 Even this, no doubt, is subject to some qualification. A compar- atively unscrupulous man may often perform an action on the whole good, where a more conscientious man would hesitate. In such a case we should not always regard the conscientious man as blame- worthy. Still, even here, the good intention of the conscientious man is not so good as his good action would have been, if only he could have brought himself to do it though it may be as praise- worthy as the good action of a man who is more unscrupulous. a Of course evil thoughts may also pass through a man's mind without getting the length even of intentions. In this case they are not morally culpable. C/. Milton's Paradise Lost, Book V. " Evil into the mind of God or man May come and go, so unapproved, and leave No spot or blame behind." Even such evil, however, may be taken as evidence of the existence 4-] MORAL PATHOLOGY. 40 1 benefit of "sowing wild oats." Here also we ee the force of Luther's Pecca fortiter. * If there is evil in a man's heart it is generally best that it should come out plainly. There is more hope of a straightforward sin- ner than of one who is neither cold nor hot.* 4. CRIME. The term Crime is generally used in a narrower sense than sin, It denotes only those offences against society which are recognized by national law, and which are liable to punishment. It is impossible that all moral offences should be brought under this category. Ingratitude, for instance, cannot be made punishable by law, because it would be practically impossible to specify the offences that come under this head. Again, the moral sense of conscientious persons is constantly outrunning the ordinary moral code of the society to which they belong, and thus inventing of some lower universe within a man's nature some extinct vol- cano, as it were which may at some time or other burst forth into action. Milton, I suppose, would scarcely have admitted this ai least with regard to God. i C/. Browning's The Statue and the Bust " The sin I impute to each frustrate ghost Is, the unlit lamp and the ungirt loin, Though the end in view was a vice, I say." See Jones's Browning as a Philosophical and Religious Teacher, p^ in 118. 3 Similarly, in the life of a state, it is often desirable that an evil should be brought to a head. For this reason, it has often been ob- served that it is generally better to have a thoroughly bad despot than a half good one. Thus Hallam remarks (Constitutional History of England), "We are much indebted to the memory of Barbara, Duchess of Cleveland, Louisa, Duchess of Portsmouth, and Mrs. Eleanor Gwyn. . . . They played a serviceable part in ridding the kingdom of its 'besotted loyalty." Cf. Buckle's History of Civil" ization, vol. i., p, 338, where this passage is more fullyigiven. Eth. 96 402 ETHICS. [BK. III., CH. VL sins which are not recognized as crimes. Also when the evil effects of a sin fall mainly on the perpetrator of it, it is generally thought unnecessary to have a special law against it. 5. PUNISHMENT. Sin always brings evil conse quences with it, and these evil consequences always react in some way upon the perpetrator. It was one of the paradoxes of the Socratic teaching that it is worse for a man to do wrong than to suffer wrong. In a sense this is true. The consequences of suffering wrong are external. They do not hurt the soul ; where- as when a man does wrong, he lowers himself in the scale of being, and thus wrongs himself worse than any one else could wrong him. Still, the evil effects of a man's wrongdoing upon himself are not always apparent either to himself or to others. He often seems to have got off scot-free. Now this is contrary to our natural sense of justice. We naturally think that a man should be rewarded according to his deeds. And this idea seems to have a rational justification. The virtuous man is fighting on ihe side of human progress, and we feel it natural to expect that the gods will fight with him, and that his labours will prosper. The vi- cious man, on the other hand, is fighting against the gods, against our ideals of right ; and it seems unnatural and unreasonable that his course should prosper. If for a time the virtuous man is unsuccessful, we yet feel bound to believe that his ultimate reward cannot "be dust." ' His cause at least must prosper, unless the world is founded on injustice ; and it is natural to ex- pect and hope that he will prosper along with it On > See the concluding paragraphs in Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics* 5-] MORAL PATHOLOGY. 403 the other hand, if the wicked for a time seems to flourish, we cannot help believing that his triumph is ephemeral, that in the long run the wages of sin must be death. It is here that the natural feelings of grati- tude and revenge find their rational basis. Of course, we are not here maintaining that these feelings derive their origin from any such rational consideration. The psychological question of the development of these feelings is not now under consideration. 1 But these feelings could scarcely maintain their ground in the developed consciousness of mankind unless they had support in reason ; and it is this rational support that we have now to take notice of. Now it is out of these natural feelings that reward and punishment take their origin. In the case of revenge, indeed, and to some extent even in the case of gratitude, there is a certain tendency for the feeling to grow weaker as the race develops, so far as merely personal relationships are concerned. The primeval man resents keenly every wrong done to himself or to those who are intimately connected with himself, and seeks to return it at the earliest opportunity upon the head of the perpetrator. As the moral consciousness develops, this feeling of personal resentment becomes less keen. Men begin to learn that their merely per- sonal wrongs are not of infinite importance ; and under certain circumstances forgiveness becomes possible. They see that a wrongdoer to them is not necessarily a wrongdoer to humanity ; and it is only this last that 1 On this point, see Mill's Utilitarianism, chap. v. See also Adam Smith'* Theory of Moral Sentiments, Part II., sect. II., chap, in., where the distinction between an inquiry into the origin of revenge and an inquiry into its rational basis is clearly drawn. 404 ETHICS. [BK. IIL, CH. VL is of moment. As regards society, however, there is not anything like the same weakening of the sense of injury. A wrong against social law z's a wrong against humanity, and cannot be forgiven until the offended majesty of the law has been appeased, t. e. until the wrongness and essential nullity of the act has been made apparent It is here that the justification of punishment is to be found. 6. THEORIES OF PUNISHMENT. Three principal the- ories of the aims of punishment have been put forward. These are generally known as the preventive (or deter- rent), the educative (or reformative), and the retribu- tive theories. According to the first view, the aim of punishment is to deter others from committing simi- lar offences. It is expressed in the familiar dictum of the judge "You are not punished for stealing sheep, but in order that sheep may not be stolen." If this were the sole object of punishment, it seems probable that, with the development of the moral consciousness, it would speedily be abolished : for it could scarcely be regarded as just to inflict pain on one man merely for the benefit of others. It would involve treating a man as a thing, as a mere means, not an end in himself. The second view is that the aim of punishment is to educate or reform the offender himself. This appears to be the view that is most commonly taken at the present time ; f because it is the one which seems to fit in best with the humanitarian sentiments of the age. It is evident that this theory could hardly be used to justify the penalty of death ; and many other 1 Though perhaps it is most often held in conjunction with the preceding view (the deterrent). 6.] MORAL PATHOLOGY. 40$ forms of punishment also would have to be regarded from this point of view as ineffective. Indeed it is probable that in many instances kind treatment would have a better effect than punishment. The third view is that the aim of punishment is to allow a man's deed to return on his own head, i. e. to make it apparent that the evil consequences of his act are not merely evils to others, but evils in which he is himself in- volved. ' This is the view of punishment which ap- pears to accord best with the origin of punishment among early peoples : but in later times, especially in Christian countries, there has been a tendency to reject it in favour of one or other of the two pre- ceding theories, because it seems to rest on the unchristian passion of revenge. In this objection, however, there seems to be a misunderstanding in- volved. Revenge is condemned by Christianity on account of the feeling of personal malevolence which is involved in it. But retribution inflicted by a court of justice need not involve any such feeling. Such a court simply accords to a man what he has earned. He has done evil, and it is reasonable that the evil should return upon himself as the wages of his sin the negative value which he has produced. Indeed there would in a sense be an inner self-contradiction in any society which abstained from inflicting pun- ishment upon the guilty. Suppose a society had a law against stealing and yet allowed a thief who was unable to make restitution to escape scot-free. 1 For an emphatic statement of this view, see Carlyle's Latter* Day Pamphlets, No. z See also Adam Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiment, Part II., sect I., chap. \v.,note, Bradley's Ethical Studie^ Essay I., and Dtihring's Cursus der Philosophic, sect IV., chap. ii. 406 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. vi. The laws of such a society would be little more than injunctions or recommendations to its citizens. They would not have the force of imperatives, or at least they would be imperatives which are liable to exceptions. Absolute imperatives must either be able to prevent any violation of their commands, or else must in some way vindicate their author- ity when they are violated. r This seems to be the primary aim of punishment It should be observed however, that this aim in a sense includes the other two. If the aim of punishment is to vindicate the authority of the law, this will be partly done in so far as the offender is reformed, and in so far as similar acts are prevented. And indeed neither reformation nor prevention is likely to be effected by punishment unless it is recognised that the punishment is a vindication of the law i. e. a revelation of the fact that the law holds good although it has been broken, that, in a sense, the breaking of it is a nullity. It is only when an offender sees the punishment of his crime to be the natural or logical outcome of his act that he is likely to be led to any real repentance ; and it is only this recognition also that is likely to lead others to any real abhorrence of crime, as distinct from fear of its con- sequences. We may regard the retributive theory, then, when thus understood, as the most satisfactory of all the theories of punishment* 1 Cf. above, p. 167, note 2. 2 A complete discussion of the theory of Punishment must be left to writers on the Philosophy of Law. I have here noticed only those points that seemed most important The most original and sug- gestive treatment of the whole subject is that contained in Hegel's Philosophy of Right, 96-103. Besides the theories above re- ferred to, there are other possible views of Punishment For in /.] MORAL PATHOLOGY. 40? 7. RESPONSIBILITY. In considering the subject o! punishment, it is necessary to ascertain to what extent a man is to be regarded as responsible for his actions. The plea of insanity is always held to exempt a man from punishment ; but some thinkers go much further than this. Some hold, in fact, that all crime ought to be regarded as an evidence of insanity, and conse- quently that no one is to be regarded as responsible for his evil deeds. Instead of punishing men for their crimes, therefore, we ought rather to try to cure them of their distempers. 1 This view, of course, rests on the purely determinist conception of human conduct It regards a man's acts not as the outcome of himself but of his circumstances. If the view of freedom which we have already taken is correct, this idea is false. A man's acts, when he is fully aware of what he is doing, are the expression of his own character ; and it is im- possible to go behind this character and fix the blame of it on some one else. 2 The case of insanity is dif- ferent. Here the man is alienated from himself, and his acts are not his own. Of course, we must recog- stance, there is the view that a main object of Punishment is to get rid of the offender, so as to prevent him from working further mis- chief. This is a preventive theory in a somewhat different sense from that already referred to under that name. But this view would evident! y nppl y only to some forms of Punishment For an interest- ing treatment of the whole subject, the student may be referred to Green's Collected Works, Vol. II., pp.486 511. Discussions on this subject will also be found in Stephen's Social Rights and Duties and in the International Journal of Ethics, Vol. II., No. I, pp. 2031 and 5176, and No. 2, pp. 232-239 ; also Vol. IV., No. 3, pp. 269-284, Vol. V., No. 2, pp. 241-243, VoL VI., No. 4, pp. 479-502, and VoL VII, No, I, pp. 95-4 1 This is amusingly illustrated in S. Butler's Erewhon. C/. above, Book I, chap, iii, especially the Note at the end 408 ETHICS. [BK. in.. CH. VL nize in the sane man also a certain part of conduct for which he is not entirely responsible. Ignorance ex cuses much, unless the ignorance is itself culpable. Any condition in which a man is not fully master oi himself removes his responsibility, except when as in drunkenness he can be blamed for the condition in which he is. When an act is done impulsively, also, a man has not the same full responsibility as he has for a deliberate action ; except in so far as he is to be blamed for having habitually lived in a universe in which impulsive acts are possible. E 8. REMORSE. When an evil deed has been done, and when the wickedness of it has been brought horn* to the actor, it is accompanied by what is known as the pain of conscience. This pain arises from the sense of discord between our deeds and our ideals. It is proportioned, therefore, not to the enormity of our sins, but to the degree of discrepancy between these and our moral aspirations. In the "hardened sinner " it is scarcely felt at all, because he has habitu- ated himself to live within a universe with whose ideals his acts are in perfect harmony. It is only in the rare moments in which he becomes aware of the larger universe beyond, that he is made conscious of any pang- On the other hand, in a sensitive moral nature, habituated to the higher universe of moral purpose, an evil deed is not merely accompanied by a pang of conscience, but, if it is an evil of any con- siderable magnitude, by a recurrent and persistent sense of having fallen from one's proper level. This persistent feeling of degradation is known as remorse. In its deepest form, it is not merely a grief for parti* 1 On this whole subject, see Aristotle's Ethics, Book III., chap, v 9-] MORAL PATHOLOGY. 409 cular acts but a sense of degradation in one's whole moral character a sense that one has offended against the highest law, and that one's whole nature is in need of regeneration. The best expression of this in all literature, is, I suppose, that contained in the 5ist Psalm: "Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight. . . . Behold, I was shapen in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me," etc. 9. REFORMATION. The natural effect of remorse T is to lead to a reformation of character. This effect may be prevented by "stifling the conscience," i. e, by per- sistently withdrawing our attention from the higher moral universe and endeavouring to habituate our- selves to a life in a lower one. This endeavour may easily be successful. There is nothing inevitable about the higher point of view. Facilis descensus Averni. But if we do not thus abstract our attention from the voice of conscience, the natural result is that we make an effort to regain the level from which we have fallen, to bring our own actions once more into accordance with the ideals of which we are aware. This rise often requires a certain renewal of our whole nature. It requires a process of conversion like that to which we have already referred. Such a process is brought out in the Psalm which we have already quoted. 1 Some writers limit the application of the term " remorse " to those cases in which it does not lead to repentance. Sometimes the sense of aberration from the right path is so strong, that a return to it seems impossible, and the mind sinks into absolute despair. But there seems to be no sufficient reason for confining the term to such cases as these. It applies properly to any case in which there is a gnawing pain of Conscience. The word is derived from the Latif remorcUo meaning " to bite again and again." 4io ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. VL "Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean. . . . Create in me a clean heart. " What is here figuratively referred to is the process of habituating ourselves to a higher universe, involving a transformation of oui whole nature. When such a transformation is effected, it becomes almost impossible to act upon the lower level. Our habits of action become adjusted to the ideal within us, and go on almost without an effort. The will becomes to some extent "holy." Indeed some religious enthusiasts have even thought that such a process of " sanctification " may go so far as to make sin an impossibility. * But this is an exaggera- tion ; "for virtue," as Hamlet says, "cannot so in- oculate our old stock but we shall relish of it." What actually is possible is that we should definitely identify our wills with the highest point of view, and habituate ourselves by degrees to action that is in accordance with this. In this way we may asymptotically ap- proximate to a state of perfect holiness of will. 10. FORGIVENESS. The place of punishment has been indicated as the recoil of guilt upon the offender, thereby asserting the majesty of law, and leading on, through this, to repentance and reformation. In this way "the wheel comes full circle": the crime is wiped out i. e. its essential nullity is exhibited within the universe occupied by the criminal. It is possible, however, that this revolution may be effected without the intervention of punishment. The guilt may be brought home to the mind, not by the working of it out within the universe in which it has 1 Cf. First Epistle of John, chap, ill, 9. : " Whosoever is born of God doth not commit sin ; for his seed remaineth in him; and ho cannot sin, because he is born of God" 11.] MORAL PATHOLOGY. 411 arisen, but by rising to a higher universe. Education, for instance, may bring about this result. Modern humanitarian sentiment leads us, as far as possible, to seek to deal with criminals especially young criminals in this way, rather than by way of punishment. Where this is possible, the offence can be forgiven, be- cause it no longer exists at the higher point of view. It must be remembered, however, that to say this is not to deny the validity of the preceding account of punishment.* 11. SOCIAL CORRUPTION. So far we have been look- ing at moral evil only as it appears in the individual life. But a society, as well as an individual, may have moral excellence or defect. It may have its customs and its institutions so framed as to give encourage- ment to its citizens at every turn to live at the highest human level ; or it may have them so devised as to obstruct the moral life and make virtue, in certain aspects, almost an impossibility.* Civilization ought to mean the arrangement of social conditions so as to make virtue as easy and vice as difficult as possible. But civilization, as it actually exists, is partly a product of the vices as well as of the virtues of mankind ; and is adapted to the former as well as to the latter. It is not arranged for the extinction of vice, but at most, in Burke's language, that vice may " lose half its evil by losing all its grossness." It is arranged not for the promotion of virtue but only of respectability. Heroic 1 Some highly suggestive remarks on the relation between Pun- ishment and Forgiveness will be found in Caird's Hegel, pp. 28-30. * Mr. Muirhead enumerates, as illustrations of such institutions (Elements of Ethics, p. 174), " brothels, gambling dens, cribs, and cramming establishments." 412 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. VL virtue is in many ways made difficult rather than easy. 1 Among the rich luxury is encouraged. Wants are multiplied, and go on multiplying themselves, and men are tempted to seek the satisfaction of them by dishonourable means. The poor, on the other hand, are exploited i. e. used as a mere means for the ad- vantage of others. They have no leisure for culture and are exposed to many temptations. When a nation has reached such a stage as this, it often declines and falls. Indeed it must do so, unless it is reawakened by a reformer, such as in our own time Carlyle and Ruskin. Sometimes also it is saved by a revolution ; but this generally involves almost as much moral evil as the corrupt state of society itself. Sometimes, again, a nation wanders so far from the ways of righteousness that other nations feel justified in stepping in for its punishment. It is in such cases that an offensive war- fare seems to be justified. But it is seldom that one nation is thus entitled to make itself the judge of an- other. The Jews seem to have regarded themselves in this way in ancient times. In modern times, as a general rule, only a combination of nations could feel themselves to represent the side of right reason against the corruptions of some particular society.' 1 See Carlyle's view on this point in his Essay on " The Opera. * * This chapter is of course concerned only with the ethical aspect of moral pathology. For other aspects see the interesting books by Mr. W. D. Morrison on Juvenile Offenders and Crime and its Causes ; also Enrico Ferri's Criminal Sociology, Maudsley's Body and Mind, and other works on morbid psychology, criminology, &c I X.] MORAL PROGRESS. 413 CHAPTER Vlt MORAL PROGRESS. f 1. SOCIAL EVOLUTION. Although we have frequently referred, throughout the preceding chapters, to the fact that the moral life is to be regarded as a process of development, yet our treatment of it has been to a large extent statical. What has been said, however, in the closing paragraphs of the last two chapters, with reference to the work of the moral reformer, seems to lead us naturally to a more explicit consideration of the conditions of moral development. That there is a certain "increasing purpose through the ages," is a truth that is now in some form generally admitted, however much we may be tempted at times to doubt it. This is on the whole an entirely modern conception, and is somewhat contrary to the impressions of the natural man. It is not only to the graceful pessimism of a Horace that the present generation seems a degenerate offspring of heroic sires. The idea of a Golden Age behind us, of the "good old times," when men were uncorrupted by the luxuries and follies of a later age, of the "wisdom of our ancestors," when men looked at the world with a fresher and deeper glance, has a certain natural fascination for the discontented spirit of man. Nor is it entirely without a basis in fact. If "new occasions bring new duties," they also bring new opportunities for vice. Looking, for instance, at 4H ETHICS. [BK. III M CH. VIL the commercial morality of the present time, and com paring it with the practices of more primitive peoples, we have often a difficulty in determining whether, in the root of the matter, we have advanced or receded. If in some respects our actions seem more trustworthy and based on broader and more reasonable principles, in other respects we seem to have grown more selfish and dishonest than men ever were before. 1 It is only when we pass from the actions of individual human beings to the consideration of the principles on which men are expected to act the codes of duty and ideals of virtue which have grown up among us that we gain any firm assurance of progress. When we reflect, however, that those higher conceptions of conduct which prevail among us could scarcely hold their ground if there were not some individuals who habitu- ally acted in accordance with them, we may be led to believe that even in the individual life there must on the whole have been a certain advancement And, indeed, this conviction ought to be rather strengthened than otherwise by the recognition that, in our modern system of life, there are depths of degradation which to a ruder state of existence are scarcely known. Corruptio optimi pessima. The grass, as Mr. Ruskin somewhere remarks, is green every year : it is only the wheat that, on account of its higher nature, is liable to a blight So, too, a mere animal is incapable of such a fall as we find in man. As Walt Whitman says, " They do not sweat and whine about their condition. They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins, They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God ; Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented Cf. Marshall's Principles oj Economics, pjx 6-8 and 361. I.] MORAL PROGRESS. 41$ With the mania of owning things ; Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago ; Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth." All this is, no doubt, very creditable to the lower animals ; yet it need not induce us to envy their con- dition. Man's relative un happiness, as Carlyle says, is due to his greatness. "The assertion of our weak- ness and deficiency," as Emerson puts it, "is the fine innuendo by which the soul makes its enormous claim." "A spark disturbs our clod ;" and this dis- turbance brings with it the possibility of new forms of evil. Animals are not capable of the higher forms of sin. " The advantages which I envy in my neighbour, the favour of society or of a particular person which I lose and he wins and which makes me jealous of him, the superiority in form or power or place of which the imagination excites my ambition these would have no more existence for an agent not self-conscious, or not dealing with other self-conscious agents, than colour has for the blind." 1 So it is also, in some measure, with the growth of civilization. Knowledge is power for evil as well as for good. The depth of our Hell measures the height of our Heaven ; and when we are conscious of special degradation and misery in the midst of a high civilization, we may reflect, with Milton's Satan, "No wonder, fallen such a pernicious height" There seems, therefore, to be no real reason * Green's Prolegomena to Ethics, p. 131. It should, however, in fairness be noted, that practically all the evils here alluded to are to be found in a rudimentary form even among the lower animals. What is peculiar to man is not so much the presence of new forms of evil as the clear consciousness that they are evil, and the conse- quent degradation in yielding to them. Still, it is also true that civilization creates more subtle forms of evil 416 ETHICS. [BK. III., CH. VIL for doubting that in the general improvement of the conditions of life there is also a certain moral advance. 1 To the consideration of this advance we may now appropriately devote a few paragraphs. 2. THE MORAL UNIVERSE. We have seen already that the moral life of an individual is lived within what may be described as a social or moral universe. Such a universe is constituted by various elements. It con- sists, on the one hand, of a moral ideal, generally recognized by the society in which the individual lives. This ideal may be expressed in a code of command- ments, in a series of injunctions, or in the form of a life which is set up as a model for our imitation. This is the ideal side of our moral universe. On the other hand, it consists of definite social institutions, such as we have referred to in Chapter II. Finally, it consists of certain habitual modes of action, acquired rather by half-unconscious imitation than by any distinct injunc- tions or efforts to copy an ideal pattern. In any given age and country these three elements of a social universe will nearly always be found in some more or less fully developed form ; but often there is a very considerable divergence between the three. A people's ideal does not always bear a close resemblance to its i Even Carlyle partly admits this. See his Heroes and Hero-Wor- thip, Led IV. " I do not make mnch of ' Progress of the Species' as handled in these times of ours. . . . Yet I may say, the fact itself seems certain enough. . . . No man whatever believes, or can believe, exactly what his grandfather believed : he enlarges somewhat, by fresh discovery, his view of the Universe ; and consequently hii Theorem of the Universe. ... It is the history of every man ; and in the history of mankind we see it summed np into great historical amounts revolutions, new epochs. ... So with all beliefs whatso- ever in this world all Systems of belief and Systems of Practice thai 3-] MORAL PROGRESS. 417 Institutions or its habits ; and sometimes even its habits are not entirely conformable to its institutions. A religion of peace and good-will has been found not incompatible with the thumb-screw and the torpedo ; and the existence of the monogamic family is not always a guarantee of social purity. A large part of the moral development of peoples consists in the effort to adjust these three elements to one another; though it also partly consists in the effort to elevate their ideas, and improve their institutions and habits. 3. INNER CONTRADICTION IN OUR UNIVERSE. The mere want of adjustment between the various elements in our moral universe is often of itself sufficient to suggest the need of a new ideal or of new institutions. Institutions to which men's habits cannot be adapted are soon felt to be unsatisfactory, and have to be abolished. This was largely true, for instance, of the institution of celibacy among the clergy in the middle ages. So, again, if our institutions and habits are in contradiction with our ideal, this will sometimes be the means of enabling us to see that our ideal is too narrow. The early Christian ideal has been in this way expanded by the absorption of elements derived from the Greeks and other pagan peoples. On the other hand, our habits may become gradually reformed, so as to adapt themselves to the institutions among which we live ; and our institutions may gradually be adjusted to our ideals. This is perhaps the more normal course of the two. Sometimes there is a crisis in a people's life, in which the question arises, whether the institutions are to be revolutionized or men's habits reformed. There seems to be such a crisis, for instance, at the present time with regard to our industrial system. Eth. 97 418 ETHICS. [BK. in., en. vn. 4. SENSE OF INCOMPLETENESS. Even apart, how- ever, from those contradictions within our universe which drive us forward by a kind of natural dialectic, there is also a tendency to progress in our habits, institutions, and ideals, due simply to our conscious- ness of their incompleteness. This incompleteness is often first brought to clear consciousness by some reformer who points out a certain want of logic in our present system. Such a reformer points out, for in- stance, that we habitually act in one way under certain circumstances, but in quite an opposite way under other circumstances, when there is no sufficient rea- son to account for the difference. He may point out inconsistencies, for instance, in the way in which men commonly treat their children, being sometimes cruel and sometimes over-indulgent. Or he may point out the difference between the morality recognized in the relations between countries in their negotiations with one another and that recognized in the relations between individuals, and may ask whether there is any adequate reason for this contrast Or he may point to the pains inflicted on animals in certain processes of vivisection, or in various forms of the chase, or in slaughter-houses, or even in the ordinary use of animals as instruments of human service ; he may contrast this with the treatment accorded to human beings ; and may ask whether, seeing that in respect of the suffering of pain there appears to be no distinction between men and animals, there is any sufficient reason for tolerating in the case of animals what would not be tolerated in the case of men. Or, again, he may turn to the institutions of social life, as distinguished from its habits, and may call attention to anomalies in the govern- 5.] MORAL PROGRESS. 419 ment of the country, in the regulation of family life, in the methods of industnal action, and in the various other organized forms in which the life of the com- munity is carried on. He may thus criticise these institutions by means of themselves, showing that the principles underlying them are incompletely carried out. He may ask, for instance, upon what recognized principle women are excluded from certain functions and privileges which are universally open to men. Finally, such a reformer, carrying his weapon of criticism still higher, may attack our ideals themselves. He may ask whether we are quite consistent in our ideas of what constitutes the highest kind of life. Is there not a certain narrowness about them? Do we not apply principles in one direction which we omit to extend in another? If wo attach so much importance to the tithing of mint and cummin, should we not be at least equally careful about some other weightier matters of the law ? If the ideal man should be brave in battle and temperate in his food and drink, should he not also show fortitude under disaster and self- restraint in power? Such questions lead r to an extension of the conception of our duties and of the virtues which we ought to cultivate ; and this aspect of moral development is so important that it may be well to consider it a little more fully. 5. DEEPENING OF SPIRITUAL LIFE. There is no re- spect in which moral progress can be more clearly seen than in the deepening views which men are led to take of the nature of the virtues and of the duties 1 Through the force of persuasion. It is here that Mr. Alexander's view of " Natural Selection in Morals " is in place. See above, pp. trot* 420 ETHICS. [BK. IIL, CH. vn. that are required of them. This has been illustrated in a most masterly manner by Green in that part of his Prolegomena to Ethics ' in which he contrasts the Greek with the modern conceptions of virtue perhaps the most original and suggestive chapter in the whole of that great work. He takes up the two most prominent of the personal virtues recognized by the Greeks, courage and temperance,* and shows how in modern times both the range of their application has been ex- tended and the conception of the principle on which they rest deepened. With regard to temperance, for instance, he observes that the Greeks limited the ap- plication of this virtue to questions of food and drink and sexual intercourse ; whereas, in modern times, we apply it to various other forms of self-denial. He urges, moreover, that even with regard to those parti- cular forms of self-indulgence which the Greeks recog- nized as vicious, the principles on which they rested the claim for self-denial were not so deep as ours. " We present to ourselves, "as he says,J " the objects of moral loyalty which we should be ashamed to for- sake for our pleasures, in a far greater variety of forms than did the Greek, and it is a much larger self-denial which loyalty to these objects demands of us. It is no longer the State alone that represents to us the melior natura before whose claims our animal inclina- tions sink abashed. Other forms of association put restraints and make demands on us which the Greek knew not. An indulgence, which a man would other- wise allow himself, he foregoes in consideration of * Book IIL, chap. v. C/. also Muirhead's Elements oj Ethict, pp. 325 & 5.] MORAL PROGRESS. 42 I claims on the part of wife or children, of men as such or women as such, of fellow-Christians or fellow-work- men, which could not have been made intelligible in the ancient world. ... It is certain that the require- ments founded on ideas of common good, which in our consciences we recognize as calling for the surrender of our inclinations to pleasure, are more far-reaching and penetrate life more deeply than did such require- ments in the ancient world, and that in consequence a more complete self-denial is demanded of us." And Green goes on to add that even in respect of those aspects of life in which the Greeks did recognize the virtue of self-denial, their recognition is less complete and far-reaching than that of the moral consciousness in our own time. This is especially true with regard to self-denial in matters of sexual indulgence. And the change which has thus taken place in our moral consciousness does not mean merely that we have ex- tended the range within which certain virtues are ap- plicable. It involves also a deepening of our concep- tion of the principles on which the virtue rests. " The principles from which it was derived " * by the Greek moralists, "so far as they were practically available and tenable, seem to have been twofold. One was that all indulgence should be avoided which unfitted a man for the discharge of his duties in peace or war; the other, that such a check should be kept on the lusts of the flesh as might prevent them from issuing in what a Greik knew as ufipts a kind of self-assertion and aggression upon the rights of others in respect of person and property, for which we have not an equivalent name, but which was looked upon as the antithesis of i Loc. di, p. 285 422 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. the civil spirit" Another prevalent notion among Greek philosophers was " that the kind of pleasure with which temperance has to do is in some way unworthy of man, because one of which the other animals are susceptible." "Society was not in a state in which the principle that humanity in the person of every one is to be treated always as an end, never merely as a means, could be apprehended in its full universality ; and it is this principle alone, however it may be stated, which affords a rational ground for the obligation to chastity as we understand it The society of modern Christendom, it is needless to say, is far enough from acting upon it, but in its conscience it recognizes the principle as it was not recognized in the ancient world. The legal investment of every one with personal rights makes it impossible for one whose mind is open to the claims of others to ignore the wrong of treating a woman as the servant of his pleasures at the cost of her own de- gradation. Though the wrong is still habitually done, it is done under a rebuke of conscience to which a Greek of Aristotle's time, with most women about him in slavery, and without even the capacity (to judge from the writings of the philosophers) for an ideal of society in which this should be otherwise, could not have been sensible. The sensibility could only arise in sequence upon that change in the actual structure of society through which the human person, as such, with- out distinction of sex, became the subject of rights." Thus we have here, not merely an extension of the range of the virtue, but also a deeper conception of the principle upon which it rests. And the same truth might be illustrated in the case of other virtues, Th 6.] MORAL PROGRESS. 423 principle of the virtues, in fact, becomes universalized, and ceases to attach itself simply to this or that particular mode of manifestation. And along with this universa- lization there comes a deeper consciousness of the in- wardness of the virtuous life. So long as the virtues are connected only with particular modes of manifesta- tion in social life (e. g. courage with the activities of war), they seem to be little more than outer facts. When, on the other hand, we see that the essence of the virtues consists in the application of a certain prin- ciple, whatever may be the sphere in which it is ap- plied, we recognize at the same time that their essence lies rather in the attitude of the individual heart than in the particular forms of outward action. It is true that the Greeks were by no means ignorant of this essentially inward character of the virtues. They knew i. e. their best thinkers knew that the virtues are not virtues at all unless they are accompanied with purity of heart and will, unless they are done TOO xalolj f-vexa, for the sake of what is beautiful or noble. But the recognition of this has been very much deepened f by the growth of a clearer consciousness of the uni- versality of the principles on which the virtues rest. 6. NEW OBLIGATIONS. In the preceding section we have seen that the deepening of the conception of the principle on which the virtues rest is accompanied by an extension of the sphere of their application. The expansion of our ideas of obligation which takes place V this way is of a comparatively simple kind. We * It seems to me that Green somewhat exaggerates the unity of sentiment on this point in the Greek and Christian moral con- Bciousness, Ibid., p. 271 seq. t p. 288, &c, But no doubt there is greater danger in unduly emphasizing the divergence between them. 424 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. learn to recognize that what applies to the Greek ap- plies equally to the Barbarian, that what applies to the Jew applies equally to the Gentile, that what applies to men applies equally to women. But along with this expansion there is another of a less simple kind, by which we become aware of obligations that present themselves to our minds as new rather than as mere extensions of the old ones. Thus, when the Christian conception of man's nature and destiny was intro- duced, it seemed to bring with it an obligation of pro- pagandism which had not been felt in the same way before. The recognition of the infinite issues at stake Jn the moral regeneration of mankind, and of the in- terest in these issues which belongs to every individ- ual soul, rendered it an imperative obligation on those who accepted the Christian doctrine to endeavour, to the utmost of their power, to "preach the Gospel to every creature." On the other hand, the knowledge which has been subsequently acquired of the gradual way in which the moral nature develops, has modified the obligation of preaching, and transformed it into the obligation to make intellectual and moral education universally accessible. Again, the knowledge that has recently been acquired of the relation between men and animals has led to a transformation of our view with regard to the way in which the latter ought to be treated. It would be going somewhat too far to describe this transformation by saying that we have extended to the lower animals the same conception of rights and obligations as we apply to men. In the case of some of the lower animals any such extension would be generally regarded as absurd ; and even with respect to the highest of them, unless we allow that 6.] MORAL PROGRESS. 42$ they are self-conscious, rational beings, with a moral life like that of man (which even their best friends scarcely claim for them), we cannot acknowledge that they possess rights, in any strict interpretation of the term. All that we seem entitled to say is, that we have begun to recognize that the animal consciousness has a certain kinship with our own, that we can dis- cover in it traces of feelings, perceptions, and instincts that appear to be on the way towards the development of a moral life, and that consequently we feel bound to treat the animals, at least in their higher forms, in a way that is semi-human in a way approximating to that in which we treat children, in whom also the moral consciousness, to which rights attach, is not fully developed. 1 But the acknowledgment of our relationship has, in recent times, extended even further than this. Even with inanimate nature we have be- gun to recognize a certain kinship ; and this has given rise in some minds to a more or less vague sentiment that even natural scenery possesses a certain quasi- right to exist, and ought not to be wantonly outraged. In noticing such extensions of our obligations as these, it ought not to be denied that there are also some obligations of which we are apt to lose the con- sciousness. Thus, it has often been pointed out that, in more primitive times, the consciousness of the mutual obligations of master and servant was much stronger than it is now. This must be fully admitted. At the same time it should be remembered that this 1 1 need hardly say that I do not intend this passage to be taken as a complete discussion of this difficult questioa The quasi-rights of children, for instance, must differ widely from those of the lower animals, inasmuch as the former are actually on the way to become rational, whereas the latter are not 426 ETHICS. [BK. in., CH. vit partial obliteration of the consciousness of a duty is partly due to an extension of the sphere within which our obligations hold. The intensity of the personal relationship between master and servant (which, how- ever, is often greatly exaggerated) was due in part to the fact that no human obligation was acknowledged except what was due to that particular relationship. The servant was supposed to owe a debt of gratitude to his master for the protection and patronage vouch- safed to him. r The obligation recognized on the side of the master was, I am afraid, generally of a much vaguer character. Now, on the other hand, we recog- nize the obligation of man to man, as such, independ- ently of any special relationships. That this recogni- tion of a wider sphere of duty has practically weakened the narrower ties, seems to be partly true. It is always more difficult to act up to the requirements of a large obligation than to those of a small one. But this ought not to prevent us from perceiving that there has been a great extension of the sphere of acknow- ledged duty. 7. MORAL CHANGE AND CHANGE OF ENVIRONMENT. The question is sometimes raised a whether the exten- sion which thus takes place in our view of moral obligation is in reality due to a development of our moral consciousness, or only to a change in our en- vironment. Thus, it may be urged that the emancipa- tion of slaves 3 in modern times may be accounted for by the general development of our industrial methods; i Cj. Buckle's History of Civilization , VoL III., p. 325. See alao above, pp. 304, note i, and 346, note I. * Cf. Muirhead's Elements of Ethics,, p. 229 seq. Cf. Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations, Book IIL, chap. ii. 7,] MORAL PROGRESS. 427 and it may be suggested that the attempt to rest the movement in this direction on general considerations of the rights of men is merely an illustration of the cant and hypocrisy of the modern age. Now it seems clear that the general recognition of the possibility of abolishing slavery (which Aristotle could not acknow- ledge), and with this the recognition of the duty of actually abolishing it, was really due to the develop- ment of economic conditions. And a similar remark would apply in most other cases in which an extension of recognized obligations occurs. It is so, for instance, also with the movement towards the emancipation of women. New industrial conditions have pushed for- ward the demand for it. But this fact need not in any way stumble us, or make us hesitate the more to be- lieve that there is a moral advance. Doubtless the moral life does not grow up in vacuo. It is relative throughout to the environment in which it is nurtured. It grows by the increase of our knowledge, by the in- crease of our power, by the increase of the possibilities of our action. The moral life is thus constantly being determined anew by the new conditions and combina- tions presented for solution, and by the new directions in which possible solutions appear. * But its growth is not therefore the less real. Those who know anything of the spirit in which the emancipation of the slaves was carried out, must be well aware that, however true it may be that industrial conditions made it pos- sible, that industrial conditions first brought it to men's minds, and first won for it a general acceptance, how- * The spirit of man " makes contemporary life the object on which it acts ; itself being the infinite impulse of activity to alter its forma." Hegel's Philosophy of History (English translation), p. 215. 428 ETHICS. [BK. III., CH. VII. ever true it may even be that commercial and merely political motives weighed most strongly with the rank and file of those who fought for its accomplishment, yet the inspiration of the great leaders of the move- ment, without which the necessary self-sacrifice would never have been undergone, was at bottom purely moral. Mere external changes may bring the need of a moral reform to light ; but it is only in so far as they thus serve to awaken a moral consciousness that the world is moved by them. 8. THE IDEAL UNIVERSE. The fact of moral progress causes it to be not entirely true that the good man, and especially the moral genius (who is generally at the same time a moral reformer), lives within a uni- verse constituted by actually existing habits and in- stitutions, or even by ideals that are definitely acknow- ledged at a given time and place. What is said of Abraham may be applied to the moral life generally. " By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place which he should after receive for an in- heritance, obeyed ; and he went out, not knowing whither he went. . . . For he looked for a city which hath foundations, whose Builder and Maker is God." The spirit of man, in its moral growth, looks continu- ally for such a city. It is continually " moving about in worlds not realized." It is dissatisfied with the habits and institutions actually established at any time and place, and even with the ideals that are customa- rily recognized, and presses forward towards a form of life that shall be more complete, consistent, and satis- fying. 1 Hence the perennial interest of Utopias and 1 " That which gives life its keynote is, not what men think good, but what they think best True, this is not the part of belief which 8.] MORAL PROGRESS. 429 poetic dreams and anticipations of better modes of existence. The danger, in such dreams and anticipa- tions, is that they are apt to represent only a partial and abstract phase in the development of life, and to involve some loss of hold upon its concrete content. In this sense, there is some truth in the saying that the world as a whole is wiser than its wisest men. The fresh intuitions of the prophets, who are as strangers and pilgrims on the earth, require to be re- interpreted in the light of the practical good sense of those who are at home on it. The prophetic seer is sometimes apt to be blinded by his own light, so that the rest of the world seems to him darkness. Hence the melancholy which Carlyle regarded as at the basis is embodied in conduct : the ordinary man tries to avoid only what is obviously wrong ; the best of men does not always make us aware that he is striving after what is right We do not see people growing into the resemblance of what they admire ; it is much if we can see them growing into the unlikeness of that which they condemn. But the dominant influence of life lies ever in the un- realized. While all that we discern is the negative aspect of a man's ideal, that ideal itself lives by admiration which never clothes itself in word or deed. In seeing what he avoids we judge only the least important part of his standard ; it is that which he never strives to realize in his own person which makes him what he is. The average, secular man of to-day is a different being because Christendom has hallowed the precept to give the cloak to him who asks the coat ; it would be easier to argue that this claim for what most would call an impossible virtue has been injurious than that it has been impotent. Christianity has moulded character where we should vainly seek to discern that it has influenced con- duct Not the criminal code, but the counsel of perfection shows us what a nation is becoming; and he who casts on any set of duties the shadow of the second best, so far as he is successful, does more to influence the moral ideal than he who succeeds in passing anew law." These suggestive, and even profound remarks are taken from Miss Wedgwood's work on The Moral Ideal (p. 373). Th* italics are mine. 430 ETHICS. [BK. III., CH. VIL of all true insight the pessimism and despair which cloud the consciousness, so long as it sees only the imperfection and incompleteness of all actual achieve- ment in the moral life, in contrast with the partial Pisgah-sight of something better to be attained ; and does not yet perceive, what is often the deeper truth, that the germs of the better are already at work in the partly good, and may even be contained in what pre- sents itself at first as simply bad. r fhe recognition, however, of this moral faith, this presence of the consciousness of an unattained and even unformulated ideal, leads us at once into the region of poetry and religion, which in a manner transcend morality. The consideration of these would carry us beyond our present subject ; but we may conclude with a chapter on the relationship between Ethics and Metaphysics, in which the place of religion will be in- cidentally referred to. 1 1 The whole subject of the present chanter is most admirably treated in M airhead's Elements oj Lthics, iiook V. I.] ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 43 l CONCLUDING CHAPTER. ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 1. GENERAL REMARKS. It must be evident to the discerning reader that, in what has gone before, we have occasionally been skating on rather thin ice. The ultimate questions to which we have been led have not received any quite satisfactory solution. We have perhaps seen the insufficiency of all other theories of Ethics more fully than we have seen the sufficiency of that which we have been led to adopt. The truth is that the theory of Ethics which seems most satisfactory has a metaphysical basis, and without the considera- tion of that basis there can be no thorough understand- ing of it. If we could have satisfied ourselves with a Hedonistic theory, a psychological basis might perhaps have sufficed. On the other hand, if one of the current evolution theories could be accepted, we might look for our basis in the study of biology. But if we rest our view of Ethics on the idea of the development of the ideal self or of the rational universe, the significance of this cannot be made fully apparent without a meta- physical examination of the nature of the self; nor can its validity be established except by a discussion of the reality of the rational universe. Some further exami- nation of this point seems now to be demanded. 2, VALIDITY OF THE IDEAL, The general result of 43 2 ETHICS. [CONCLUDING CH. our inquiry may be summed up as follows. We have seen that the moral consciousness presents itself first of all in the form of law, a supreme command or cate- gorical imperative imposed on the will of the individual. Hence, when reflection begins on the nature of morality, the first theory which presents itself is one that con- ceives of it as an absolute law of Duty. But this breaks down, because, as we have seen, when this idea is carefully analyzed, it is found to yield no con- tent. The next form in which the idea of morality presents itself is that of the Good ; and this is naturally thought of at first simply as that which satisfies desire, *. e. as the pleasant. But the pleasant is formless, just as the law of Duty is empty ; and we are thus led to look for a more adequate conception of the Good. This is found in the idea of the complete realization of the essential nature of mankind. But in order to under- stand this, it is necessary to study the nature of man- kind in its concrete development. Accordingly, we have been led to notice, in a brief and summary fashion, the ways in which the realization of humanity may be regarded as accomplishing itself through the various institutions of social life, through the duties and virtues which grow up in connection with these, through the growth of the inner life of the individual, and through the progressive development of human history. Through these various activities mankind may be seen to be gradually attaining to that complete rationality which can only be reached through the complete grasping of the world of experience, and bringing it into intelligible relationship to ourselves. This process cannot be seen to complete itself within the actual moral life of mankind : and the ideal involved in the 3-] ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 433 moral life is consequently unfulfilled. Life remains at the best incomplete a noble work, it may be, but a torso. Now this incompleteness in the concrete reali- zation of the moral ideal brings with it the further de- fect that the validity of the moral ideal is not fully made apparent in the course of its concrete realization. If mankind could be supposed actually to attain that complete development of human faculty, that complete bringing of the world into intelligible and harmonious relationship to the human consciousness, at which we may be said to aim, the result would no doubt be seen to be so satisfying in itself that it would be impossible to question the validity of the ideal as an object of human effort. But this complete justification is not possible so long as the process is not fully worked out. Now it is this insufficiency in the moral life that leads us to the point of view of religion ; and perhaps some consideration of the latter may enable us to see more clearly the nature of the ultimate problem which is in- volved in the moral consciousness. 3. MORALITY AND RELIGION. Matthew Arnold, as is well known, defined religion as "morality touched with emotion." "This," remarks Mr. Muirhead, 1 "does not carry us far. Emotion is not a distinctive mark of religious conduct. All conduct . . . is touched with emotion, otherwise it would not be conduct at all." This criticism is perhaps not entirely fair. All conduct is in a sense touched with emotion /'. e. it involves an element of feeling. So does all conscious life. But this need not prevent us from distinguishing between emotional and unemotional acts and states. In ordinary life the element of feeling is to all intents i Elements o/Etitics, p. i8a Eth 434 ETHICS. [CONCLUDING CH. In abeyance. It influences us quietly, but does not rise into prominence. We do what is in harmony with our habits and convictions ; we shun what is in dis- cord with them : but our attention is not specially directed to the agreeableness of the one or the disagree- ableness of the other. The one does not thrill us, and the other does not jar upon us or shock us. This is the case so long as we are living steadily within the universe to which we have become habituated. And we are so living throughout the greater part of that conduct which we describe as moral. Even the saint or hero may perform saintly or heroic acts with no consciousness that he is doing anything particular, and consequently with no sense either of harmony disturbed or of harmony restored. The more entirely he is absorbed in his work, the more likely is this to be the case. Still more is it the case that the "good neighbour" and the "honest citizen" go about their avocations, for the most part, with no particular stir- rings of the breast. On the other hand, Matthew Arnold was probably so far in the right, that the reli- gious attitude, as distinguished from the simply moral, is at least generally characterized (as is also the artistic) by a more or less distinctly marked emotion. Still, I agree with Mr. Muirhead in thinking that Matthew Arnold's definition is inadequate, and this for more reasons than one. In the first place, although it seems an exaggeration to say that all conduct is in any special sense char- acterized by emotion, yet conduct is frequently emo- tional without being, in any ordinary sense of the term, religious. Conduct becomes emotional whenever our attention is strongly directed to some end, affected by 3.] ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 435 our conduct, which we have come to regard as su- premely important. Now this end may or may not be of such a kind as we ordinarily designate religious. In a hotly-contested political election, a man may perform his duty as a citizen under a strong emotional influence, which in some cases has been so powerful as to pro- duce death. Yet we should scarcely say that his con- duct is more religious than that of the good workman who carefully finishes his job, without feeling that anything particular is at stake. Or again, when one of the parents of a large family suddenly dies, leaving the whole responsibility on the shoulders of the other, the sense of this new responsibility, in a conscientious person, will generally cause the ordinary duties of the family to be, for some time at least, performed with a keener feeling than before of the issues that are at stake. Yet we should scarcely say that it is thereby rendered more religious. The truth is that the emo- tional quality of our actions depends largely on the question whether they are habitual acts, acts that belong to the ordinary universe within which we live, or whether we are rising into an unfamiliar universe. Now it may be readily granted that religion, in any real sense of the word, can hardly be made so habi- tual as not to involve some uplifting of the soul, some withdrawal from the point of view of ordinary life to a more comprehensive or more profound apprehension of the world and of our relations to it. Hence it can hardly fail to involve emotion. Even the Amor iniel- kctualis Dei of Spinoza, however purely intellectual it may be, is still amor. But conduct may involve strong and deep emotion and yet not be specially religious. But, in the second place, Matthew Arnold's definition 436 ETHICS. [CONCLUDING en seems to err not merely by including much which would not, in any ordinary sense, be regarded as re- ligion, but also by excluding much which would naturally fall under that category. Some religions have scarcely any direct bearing on the moral life. Even the religion of the Greeks, one of the most beauti- (ful and typical of all religions, was largely a worship of the powers of nature. Their gods were not con- jppicuously respectable ; and though in an indirect way they had an ennobling influence on Greek life, yet they were not consciously set up as models of moral conduct, nor did the worship of them involve any direct incite- ment to virtue. They did indeed, stand to some ex- tent as representations of the social bond ; so that to violate social order was to offend against the gods of the society. But this was not perhaps their most pro- minent characteristic. And the same is true of many other forms of religion. * It cannot, therefore, be said that religion is always to be regarded as immediately connected with the moral life. 4. THE RELATION OF RELIGION TO ART. The connec- tion of religion with Ethics, in fact, appears to be very similar to the connection of art with Ethics ; * and we 1 E. g., the Scandinavian. The religion of the Romans, on the other hand, was strongly moral (Cf. Froude's Ccesar, p. 12). No doubt, even the Scandinavian and early German mythologies con- tained some strongly-marked ethical traits : Cf. Carlyle's Heroes and Hero-Worship, sect I., and Prof. Pfleiderer's article on "The Na- tional Traits of the Germans as seen in their Religion," in the Inter* national Journal of Ethics for October, 1892 (voL iiL, No. I, pp. 27). 3 A chapter dealing with this subject, which appeared in the earlier edition of this Manual, has been omitted, partly from want of space, and partly because it was felt that the treatment of such a subject in a handbook like this is necessarily too slight to be of any value. The remarks in the present chapter will probably be found euf6- ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 43 ? may understand the connection better by noticing the relation of art to religion. Carlyle was fond of remind- ing us of the connection between the terms " Worship " and " Worthship." What we worship is what we re- gard as having supreme worth or value. Religion, in short, like art, is concerned with ideals. But while the ideals of art are beautiful objects that yield an imme- diate satisfaction, the ideals of religion are rather objects that are regarded as having supreme and ultimate worth. In their immediate aspect they may have "no beauty that we should desire them." For the same reason the ideals of religion must be regarded as true. Art, aiming; at an immediate satisfaction, may be partly dream. No doubt, if it is to be great art, it must keep close to reality ; and even its most imaginative crea- tions must express some inner truth in nature or in morals. Indeed, in its highest forms art approaches Tery closely to religion. But still it is never necessary Jiat the creations of art should be absolutely true. It is enough that they should be beautiful suggestions of truth. Even in the highest regions of art, such a work as Shakespeare's Tempest has no literal truth. There are no Calibans or Ariels ; nor is it necessary for our appreciation of the play that we should actually believe that there are any. We can feel the whole beauty of it, and yet be well aware that all the creations in it are "such stuff as dreams are made of." Religion, on the other hand, gives us ideals which are regarded as realities, and even as the most real of things. The Homeric gods, as depicted in the poems, are poetic creations ; and there is no necessity for supposing ciently intelligible without reference to the preliminary chapter on Art 438 ETHICS. [CONCLUDING CH, them to be anything but dreams significant dreams, no doubt, but still dreams. As worshipped by the Greek people, on the other hand, the gods were neces- sarily regarded as realities. Hegel, indeed, has con- trasted the Greek with the Christian religion, by saying that the gods of the former were mere creations of the imagination. 1 This is partly true. The Greeks were an artistic much more than a religious people ; and their gods never became, in any complete sense, definitely established objects of belief. But just to this extent they remained poetry rather than religion. So also in the Christian religion there are many mythical elements which have been made subjects of poetry and of various forms of artistic representation. We may admire the paintings of Jesus and of the Virgin, and feel an artistic pleasure in the contemplation of them, without believing that they are anything more than beautiful dreams.* But the man who takes Jesus i See Wallace's Logic of Hegel, p. 233. * No doubt there are stages of human development at which the distinction here indicated is scarcely perceived. To the Greeks, for instance, Homer supplied poetry, philosophy, and religion all in one. And so, no doubt, it was to some extent in the great ages of Mediaeval art At such periods the significance of art for a nation's life is much greater than it is after the three provinces have been more rigidly divided. " However excellent," says Hegel, " we think the statues of the Greek gods, however nobly and perfectly God the Father and Christ and Mary may be portrayed, it makes no differ- ence, our knees no longer bend." See Bosanquet's History of ^Esthetic, p. 344, and cf. Caird's Hegel, pp. m-iz Of course, the clearer distinction in modern times between art and philosophy or religion need not in the end cause our art to be less perfect or less serious than that of the ancient world. For we may still recognize that art is the best expression of all that is deepest in philosophy and religion. But it is necessarily dethroned from its former unique position. Homer and Dante may have been treated as authorities : 5-] ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 439 as a supreme object of worship necessarily regards him as real and as the greatest of realities. 5. THE NECESSITY OF RELIGION. Religion, being thus akin to art, is related to Ethics in somewhat the same way as art is. It carries us, in a sense, beyond the moral life, by raising us to the idea of a sphere of attainment beyond the sphere of mere struggle. And this it does, not, like art, in the way of hint and sug- gestion, but rather in the way of definite conviction. Such convictions are a necessity of man's life a neces- sity partly intellectual and partly moral. 1 Both on the intellectual and on the moral side this necessity may be said to arise from a consciousness of the incom- pleteness and inadequacy of our experience. On the purely intellectual side this presents itself as a feeling of wonder at the inexplicable in nature. Out of this wonder, as Plato taught, all science arises. But the imagination outruns science, and creates explanations for itself; and even after science has done its best, there remains a sense of unexplained mystery into which we still seek to press. On the moral side, in like manner, there is a sense of inadequacy in our ordinary experience a want of completeness in our lives, a want of poetic justice in our fates. It is chiefly on this side that religion touches on Ethics. But even the demand for intellectual explanation expresses a moral need. It is the desire to be at home within our universe, and not to be confronted at every turn with alien mysteries. In an unintelligible world we could Shakespeare and Goethe are regarded only as exponents and illustra- tors. But perhaps they have gained in breadth what they have lost in height Cf. Bosanquet, of>. cit, p. 469. i See Caird's Philosophy of Religion, chap. ir. 44O ETHICS. [CONCLUDING CH, not lead a moral life, because we should not know what ends to propose to ourselves, or how to set about realizing them. 1 Hence even when the imagination constructs myths to explain the formation of the clouds or the motion of the sun, it is indirectly serving mo- rality. It saves us from that prosaic abandonment in which the higher life expires that state in which as Wordsworth complains, " Little we see in nature that is ours." Natural religions, like that of the Greeks, save us in some measure from this. They enable us in the presence of nature to 44 Have glimpses that may make us less forlorn ; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea ; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn." Even here, then, the religious imagination comes to the aid of the moral life. Still, it is chiefly in so far as it supplies a relief from the inadequacy of the moral life itself that religion touches on Ethics. On this aspect we must now look a little more closely. 6. THE FAILURE OF LIFE. Those who fix their at- tention on the lives of individuals have always suf- ficient ground for Pessimism. Even the most favoured human beings attain only a small part of what they hope ; and what they hope is generally but a small part of what they would wish to be able to hope. And a large proportion of the human race scarcely seem to get the length of hope at all. Nor is it merely 1 It is chiefly for this reason that intellectual scepticism is apt to have a detrimental effect on the moral life. This effect was strongly insisted on by Plato, and, in more recent times, by Carlyle. Descartes also, in the pursuit of his intellectual scepticism, felt the need of guarding himself against its moral accompaniment See his Dis* tonrst of Method, Part III. Burke also emphasized this point /.] ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 441 that the average individual does not get so much out of life as he could wish. The apparent unfairness of fate is equally galling. Sometimes the sight of the wicked flourishing "like the green bay tree " offends the moral sense even more than the failures of the righteous ; and this not from envy, but from a sense of injustice. 7. THE FAILURE OF SOCIETY. Some consolation may be found, indeed, for the failure of the individual life in the confidence that society at least goes on ad- vancing. But the progress of society can scarcely be regarded as compensating for individual failure. Society is not an entity apart from the individuals who compose it ; and if the individuals fail, society cannot have wholly succeeded. It might be argued, indeed, that it is moving towards success, towards some " far- off divine event." Still no such event could be morally satisfactory if it were reached, so to speak, by tramp- ling over the fallen bodies of generations of men who "all died not having received the promises." 1 And even the poor comfort that society advances, does not seem an altogether certain hope. In nearly all ages wise men have been inclined to think that they and their generation were no better than their fathers ; and even if we can on the whole trace a line of progress through the lives of nations, "yet progress has many receding waves," * and in nearly every case it seems to be followed in the end by a period of cor- 1 This point is strikingly emphasized in Prof. A. Seth's pamphlet on The Present Position of the Philosophical Sciences, near the end Cf. also his Hegelianism and Personality, p. 228. With much of what is said in both these places, however, I do not agree. * Sorley's Ethics of Naturalism, p. 272. 442 ETHICS. [CONCLUDING CH. ruption and decline. And even such progress as there is, appears only to lead in an asymptotical way to the goal that we hope for. The highest civilizations that have ever been achieved, have been accompanied by corrupting luxury on the one hand and degrading toil and misery on the other ; and there has never been a time at which the most deeply moral natures have not been made to feel that, in some important respects, the world was out of joint, and that neither they nor any others were born to set it right. Is there, it may well be asked, any sober and certain ground for supposing that it will ever be otherwise ? If not, we must regard society as having failed, just as, for the most part, the individual life is perceived to fail. 8. THE FAILURE OF ART. Conscious of the failure of life and society, many of the finest natures have taken refuge in art. Matthew Arnold, in one of the most striking of his poems, 1 represents Goethe as turning from the vain strife of his age, after having ex- posed its weaknesses, and proclaiming to his contem- poraries as their last resort " Art still has truth, take refuge there." And indeed in the same poem Matthew Arnold describes the message of Wordsworth to his generation, though in very different language, as being yet substantially the same. Seeing the folly and confusion of the actual world around him, he taught his age to set it aside, and seek relief in feel- ing. But this is a somewhat treacherous refuge. "Art for Art's sake" is a shallow doctrine at the best.* It is true in a sense that art is play. Ernst ist das 1 Memorial Verses. * Se Bosanquet's History of ^Esthetic, p. 457. 8.] ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 443 Leben, heiter ist die Kunsi. 1 Men may seek a tem- porary relief in it from the struggle of life ; and it may be a not unworthy commendation to say of a great poet " The cloud of mortal destiny. Others will front it fearlessly But who, like him, will put it by ?" But even this service can be rendered to us by art only so long as it is believed by us to be a revelation of a deeper truth in things. 8 If it is taken merely as art, merely as a beautiful dream, it s f r, 1 's into play, becomes a mere refined amusement, and loses all its real power over the human spirit.3 There could hardly be any worse sign of an age than that it regards art as a mere amusement, as a mere escape from the graver problems of life* In the great ages of art, there has always been a ftr'li behind the art a belief that it symbolizes trutLc lhat are eternal, and that can be expressed, though with an unspeakable loss of adequacy and completeness, in sober prose as well as in the form of artistic dreams. Their art was, indeed, in a sense, play ; but it was a playful mode 'of giving utterance to the exuberance of a nation's faith, and as such it had the highest beauty and value. 1 " Life is serious, art is joyous." Schiller. Cf. Bosanquet's His- tory of ^Esthetic, p. 296. 1 On the relation of Beauty to Truth, see Caird's Essays on Litera- ture and Philosophy, voL i., pp. 54-65, 151-154, &c. ; and cf. Bosan- quet's History of ^Esthetic, pp. 336, 458-460, &c * " We cannot give the name of sacred poet to the ' idle singer of an empty day,' but only to him who can express the deepest and widest interests of human life." Caird, loc. ciL, p. 154. Cf. also Caird's Critical Philosophy of Kant, voL ii., pp. 465-6. 4 Dante actually gave a prose interpretation of his Divine 444 ETHICS. [CONCLUDING CH. But as a desperate escape from scepticism it could have no such worth. Its dreams, if they were supposed to be altogether unreal, would only make the emptiness of life the more conspicuous. ' We might still feel that they were beautiful ; but it would be like the beautify- ing of a sepulchre full of dead men's bones. The soul would have gone out of them. 9. THE DEMAND FOR THE INFINITE. "Man'sUnhap- piness," says Carlyle, "comes of his greatness. It is because there is an Infinite in him which with all his cunning he cannot quite bury under the finite." The ideal unity of our self-consciousness demands a per- fectly harmonious and intelligible universe ; and this cannot be found so long as we see the world in its finite aspect, as a series of isolated events set over against each other. Art partly breaks down this finitude, and lets us see the infinite significance of it shining through. 3 But it does this in a form that is not quite adequate to the truth a form that is partly playful ; and we return from its ideals to the actual 1 Some suggestive remarks on the possibility of making art a sub- stitute for religion will be found in Dilhring's Erzatz der Religion, pp. 106-111. See also Caird's Hegel, pp. 37-8. * Carlyle says (Heroes and Hero-Worship, LecL III.) that music is " a kind of inarticulate unfathomable speech, which leads us to the edge of the Infinite, and lets us for moments gaze into that,* C/. also Caird's Hegel, pp. 112-114; a d see the passage quoted from Hegel in Bosanquet's History of ^Esthetic, p. 361. " For in art we have to do with no mere toy of pleasure or of utility, but with the liberation of the mind from the content and forms of the finite, with the presence and union of the Absolute within the sensuous and phenomenal, and with an unfolding of truth which is not ex- hausted in the evolution of nature, but reveals itself in the world- history, of which it constitutes the most beautiful aspect and the best reward for the hard toil of reality and the tedious labours of know- ledge." 10.] ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 44$ world with all our discontent again sometimes, in- deed, with our discontent deepened and intensified. Art reaches its intuitions of truth, as Browning put it, "at first leap ; " and often, when reflection supervenes, we find that what we have received is not a solution of our problems, but at most the suggestion of a solu- tion. What we require is an ideal which shall at the same time be absolutely real. 10. THE Two INFINITES. Now there are two main forms in which we become aware of the infinite as a reality within our experience what we may call the purely intellectual form and the moral form. These two are well expressed by Kant in a familiar passage, in which he states the two great objects of reverence. * "Two things fill the mind with ever new and increas- ing admiration and awe, the oftener and the more steadily we reflect on them : the starry heavens above and the moral law within. I have not to search for them and conjecture them as though they were veiled in darkness or were in the transcendent region beyond my horizon ; I see them before me and connect them directly with the consciousness of my existence. The former begins from the place I occupy in the external world of sense, and enlarges my connection therein to an unbounded extent with worlds upon worlds and sys- tems of systems. . . . The second begins from my in- risible self, my personality, and exhibits me in a world which has true infinity, but which is traceable only by the understanding, and with which I discern that I am i Conclusion of Critique of Practical Reason (Abbott's translation), p. 360. Cf. also Janet's Theory of M orals. Book III., chap. xiL, whera the whole subject of the relation of Ethics to Religion is treated ia suggestive way. 446 ETHICS. [CONCLUDING CH. not in a merely contingent but in a universal and nec- essary connection. . . . The former view of a countless multitude of worlds annihilates as it were my import- ance as an animal creature, which after it has been for a short time provided with vital power, one knows not how, must again give back the matter of which it was formed to the planet it inhabits (a mere speck in tho universe). The second, on the contrary, infinitely elevates my worth as an intelligence by my person- ality, in which the moral law reveals to me a life in- dependent on animality and even on the whole sen- sible world,^ at least so far as may be inferred from the destination assigned to my existence by this law, a destination not restricted to conditions and limits of this life, but reaching into the infinite." These two reverences, separately or in combination, may be said to furnish the basis of religious worship. When the first is taken alone, it gives rise to Pantheism or to Agnosticism : when the second is taken alone, it gives rise to Monotheism or to the Religion of Humanity. When the two are combined, we have a more com- plete form of religion. 11. THE FIRST RELIGION. The first form of reve- rence, then, in which the demand for the infinite is recognized, is the worship of Nature in the boundless- ness of its extent and power. In its crudest form this religion is summed up in the saying that " All is God." This form of worship rises very naturally in our minds when we are brought face to face with the great elemental forces of nature. " What is man," we are then tempted to exclaim, "that he should be put in comparison with the infinity of the material universe ! " This point of view is materialistic, and is scarcely dis- 12.] ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 447 tinguishable from Atheism. It is, however, a super- ficial view. The infinity which is reached by the mere adding on of an endless number of parts is what Hegel called "the bad infinite." Such^an infinity is in no way more satisfying to our minds than the finite is. The mere fact that we cannot get to an end of a thing does not add anything to its value. The blank empti- ness of space, for instance, has no worth for us. The deeper Pantheism is distinguished from this superficial one, in that its meaning is summed up, not in the say- ing that "All is God," but that "God is all" i. e. that the finite world is an unreality, and that the ultimate reality is the spiritual power behind it. This view is developed, with great force and suggestiveness, in the Ethics of Spinoza. 1 Since, however, it rests on the mere negation of the finite, it ends either in the asser- tion of blank nothingness as the ultimate reality (the Nirvana of the Buddhists), or in the assertion of some ultimate reality of which nothing can be known (the Unknowable of Mr. Herbert Spencer). This infinity of emptiness is in the end quite as unsatisfactory (both from an intellectual and from a moral point of view) as the infinity of an inexhaustible aggregate. 12. THE SECOND RELIGION. The second religion is the worship of the moral law in the absoluteness of its authority. In order, however, that this may be made an object of reverence, it requires to be regarded as embodied in some concrete form. The simplest form is that of a supreme Law-giver, as in the religion of the Jews. The unsatisfactoriness of this view arises from the fact that such a Law-giver has to be thought of as external to that to which he gives the law. He i There is, however, another side to the doctrine of Spinoza, which 448 ETHICS. [CONCLUDING CH. deals with a. refractory material He requires, there- fore, to be thought of as in some sense finite, * being limited by a world outside. Accordingly, this view leads readily to Manicheism, the belief in an infinite Devil as well as an infinite God. Other methods of escape are (i) to say frankly, like J. S. Mill, that God is not infinite at all, a which deprives us of that supreme satisfaction which the infinite alone can give ; or (2) to abandon the idea of a personal God, and assert only a progressive realization of the moral ideal. This latter resource appears in the Religion of Humanity, insti- tuted by Auguste Comte,* in which the human race as a whole is represented as a Great Being struggling for- ward against the opposing tendencies of an unintelli- gent and unintelligible nature. A similar view is to be found in Matthew Arnold's idea of a "Power, not our- selves, that makes for righteousness." The inherent weakness of any such position is that it leaves an ir- reconcilable dualism in our world. Evil is left unac- counted for, and we have no assurance that it will be finally overcome with good. 13. THE THIRD RELIGION. It is one of the supreme merits of the Christian religion that it combines these two infinites so completely. The God of Christianity is conceived at once as the infinite Power revealed in nature, and as the source and end of the moral ideal. It is even more important and characteristic, and which brings it into connection rather with the moral point of view, referred to in the next section. The same may be said of Buddhism. 1 In which case this view would become identical with Mill's. * A similar view is developed in a recent book entitled Riddles oj ike Sphinx. For an account and criticism of this, see Caird's Social Philoso- phy and Religion of Comic, \ I4-] ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 449 enables men to see in the world outside them the work- ing out of their own moral aspirations, 1 to believe that " morality is the nature of things," and to have con- fidence, not indeed that "whatever is, is right," but that ' ' whatever is right, is " i. e. as Carlyle put it, that "the soul of the world is just," that in the last resort "the Good" (in Plato's phrase) is the only- reality. Other religions have partly contained this same inspiring faith ; but Christianity seems to bring it out most clearly. 14. RELIGION AND SUPERSTITION. It has been fre- quently noted that ages of religious faith tend to be rapidly followed by times of doubt and disbelief. The cause of this is not far to seek. The religious imagina- tion, as we have already remarked, in its effort after a final explanation of the mysteries of things, outruns science. It cannot wait for the plodding processes of reasoning and verification. But these come after- wards ; and when they come, they generally find that the kernel of religious truth has been hastily wrapped up in a husk of superstition. The religions of the world have grown out of the buoyant faith of some imaginative and impassioned natures. To the founders of them they have nearly always been an inextricable blending of truth and poetry. * Those who came aftei 1 Beautifully expressed by Browning Epistle from Karshish " So through the darkness comes a human voice. Saying 'O heart I made, a heart beats here," &c. 3 /. e. their meaning takes the form of an image, which for them is inseparable from the meaning. As the Germans say, the Bcgrijf (i. e. the conception or meaning) appears in the form of a VorsUllung (imaginative representation). C/. Wallace's Logic of Hegel (First Edition), pp. 1-2, and Ixxxvii buorix, Eth. 29 4$o ETHICS. [CONCLUDING CH. them have seldom been able to catch just that point of view at which insight passed into beauty. The poetry evaporates, and the truth does not remain. The happy intuition becomes a miserable creed ; and the beautiful images that clustered round it turn into the spectres of superstition. Then, as soon as another man of real insight arises, the hollowness of the dogma is revealed, and with this revelation the entire religion appears to be exploded. The gods before which the rapt adora- tion of saint and poet once knelt become mere names that serve perhaps only to give gusto to an oath. 15. THE ETHICAL SIGNIFICANCE OF RELIGION. What remains essential in religion, however, is the convic- tion of the reality of the moral life ; and this convic- tion it is which metaphysics is required to justify. In other words, it has to justify the belief that the moral life is worth living. From a practical point of view we may say no doubt that such a justification is hardly re- quired. It is the faith which is inevitably involved in life itself, just as in science there is involved the faith that the world can be seen as an intelligible system. In a stirring article entitled "Is Life worth Living?" Professor James remarks "If this life be not a real fight, in which something is eternally gained for the universe by success, it is no better than a game of private theatricals from which one may withdraw at will. But it feels like a real fight ; " and he con- cludes by urging that our attitude on this matter is necessarily one of faith. "Believe," he says, "that life is worth living, and your belief will half create the fact The 'scientific proof that you are right may not be clear before the day of judgment (or some stage f Being which that expression may serve to symbolize) 1 6.] ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 451 is reached. But the faithful fighters of this hour, or the beings that then and there will represent them, may then turn to the faint-hearted, who here decline to go on, with words like those with which Henry IV. greeted the tardy Crillon after a great victory had been gained : ' Hang yourself, Crillon 1 we fought at Arques, and you were not there.' " The belief, then, that the moral life is in this sense real may be said to be the essential significance of religion ; and without some such belief the moral life is hardly possible at all. In all spheres of thought, however, the human intellect demands proof ; and the proof of this particular point can only be found in metaphysics. 16. THE ULTIMATE PROBLEMS OF METAPHYSICS. We thus see how it is that the science of Ethics is incom- plete in itself, and stretches out its hands to metaphysics. But in a sense this is true of all science, and we may even say, of all art All positive science rests on the belief that the world can be seen as an intelligible system, and this belief cannot be justified except by metaphysical inquiry. All fine art, in like manner, at least in its higher and more serious forms, may be said to rest upon the conviction that " Beauty is Truth," that the point of view from which the beautiful is appre- hended is a point of view which grasps a more essen- tial form of actuality than that which appears in mere existence. Similarly, the moral point of view involves the conviction that Good is more real than Evil, that the moral ideal has a higher actnality ' than the exist- 1 In so far as such a point of view as that here indicated can be adopted, the Ideal becomes transformed into the Idea (in the sens* in which that term was used by Plato and Hegel) i, c, instead of 45 2 ETHICS. [CONCLUDING CH, ing world as it appears to the ordinary consciousness of mankind. How this can be established by metaphysical reflec- tion it is not our business here to inquire. It may be possible, as in the system of Hegel, to show that "the actual is rational, and the rational is actual ;" or again, it may only be possible, as in the view of Bradley, to show that the moral point of view contains a higher ' ' degree of reality " than that to which it is- opposed. Or it may be that we are left in a purely agnostic posi- tion. Such questions could not be answered here except in a purely dogmatic fashion, and a dogmatic answer is of course worse than none. It is enough for us to have indicated where the ultimate problem lies ; and to have shown that Ethics, regarded as a separate science, is not complete in itself. 1 being thought of Ideologically, as the end or standard by which we are guided in the realization of the moral life, it would be regarded rather as the underlying principle by which reality itself is deter- mined, in the process by which its inner significance is gradually unfolded. Thus, from the point of view of religion, or of a meta- physical system such as that of Plato or Hegel, the distinction between the Ideal and the Actual vanishes. The term Idea, ex- presses in this sense (which must be carefully distinguished from its use by Descartes, Locke, Berkeley, Hume, &c), the point of view from which this transcendence of the opposition takes place. But it would obviously be far beyond the scope of such a work as this to consider whether this point of view can be justified. It would require a complete metaphysical system to deal with it 1 Metaphysics is a subject which it is hardly worth while for any one to take up unless he intends to study it thoroughly. The student who takes it up in this way will soon find that the writer who is most important at the present time is HegeL A popular introduc- tion to Hegel has been written by Dr. Edward Caird (Blackwood's Philosophical Classics); and Professor Wallace has also written valuable Prolegomena to his Translation of the Logic and the P/ZJ'/O. sophy of Mind. The best introduction to Hegel an English is, how* l6.] ETHICS AND METAPHYSICS. 453 ever, Caird's Critical Philosophy of Kant, where the transition from Kant to Hegel is explained with the greatest thoroughness and clearness. Mr. McTaggart's Studies in Hegelian Dialectic and the Prefatory Essay to Dr. Bosanquet's translation of the Introduction to Hegel's Aesthetik may also be found helpful. As a more ele- mentary introduction to the study of Metaphysics, Watson's Comte, Mill and Spencer may be recommended, with some slight reserva- tions ; and, for still more elementary purposes, Mr. W. M. Salter's First Steps in Philosophy may be mentioned. With special reference to the more religious aspect of the subject, Caird's Evolution of Religion will be found exceedingly instructive. Mr. Bradley's Ap- pearance and Reality is the most important attempt at a metaphysical construction in English. It is largely, but not entirely in harmony with the Hegelian system. But perhaps it must still be sorrowfu'ly admitted, as it was by Kant, that " Metaphysics is undoubtedly the most difficult of sciences ; but it is a science that has not yet come into existence." APPENDIX. NOTE ON ETHICAL LITERATURE. THB chief function of such a handbook as this must be, like that f Goldsmith's village preacher, to " allure to brighter worlds and lead the way." The " brighter worlds " in this case are the works of the great masters of the science. To these frequent references have been given throughout this sketch ; but it may be worth while now to make a few general remarks upon them, and to indicate the order in which they may be most profitably read. The precise order in which they should be taken will of course depend partly on indi- vidual taste, and partly on the amount of time at the student's disposal For the majority of readers, I believe that Mill's Utilitarianism will be found one of the most easy and interesting books to begin upon ; and it will give a good general impression of the Hedonistic point of view. If thought desirable, the concluding chapter on Justice may be omitted on a first reading. The study of the whole book may be accompanied by a reference to the criticisms contained in Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics. Portions of Kant ought also to be read at an early date. The student will soon find that modern Ethics, like modern Philosophy generally, turns largely upon him. The first two sections of the Jdetaphysic of Moral (to be found in Abbott's KanFs Tlieory oj Ethics) will be found comparatively easy, even by students who have not read anything on Metaphysics, and will convey a fair un- derstanding of Kant's general position : but it is difficult to proceed far in Kant's ethical system without some knowledge of his meta- physical principles. 1 The student who has mastered the general principles of Mill and Kant will have a fair idea of the bases of the Utilitarian and the > Those who are prepared to go fully into Kant's point of view will find invaluable aid in Caird's Critical Philosophy of Kant 455 456 APPENDIX. Idealistic systems of morals. Those who wish to go more fully 5nto the modern developments of these points of view must read Sidg- wick's Methods of Ethics and Green's Prolegomena. Of these two, Green's is the more difficult to understand, on account of his strongly metaphysical point of view. Muirhead's Elements of Ethics, how- ever, will give the student great assistance in following the line of Green's argument Sidgwick's book has the advantage of supplying the student not only with the best statement of the modern Utilitarian point of view, but also with the best criticism of Intuitionism. For a statement of the Intuitionist point of view by one of its own adherents, reference may be made to Martineau's Types of Ethical Theory. An element- ary student, however, would probably find this book somewhat confusing. The chief books written from the Evolutionist point of view are Spencer's Data of Ethics, 1 Stephen's Science of Ethics and Alex- ander's Moral Order and Progress* Each of these possesses spe- cial merits of its own. Mr. Alexander's book seems to me the most profound of the three ; but for this very reason it may perhaps be the most difficult for an elementary student Mr. Stephen's book, being by a man of letters, is written in remarkably clear and vigorous English, and will probably be found the most pleasant to read It is also in some respects the most suggestive. Mr. Spencer's work has the advantage of forming part of a complete and compre- hensive speculative system ; and the way in which he connects Ethics with the various other departments of knowledge gives his book a peculiar interest and stimulating power, especially perhaps for young students. Otherwise, it does not seem to me so satisfac- tory as the work of either of the other two. While, however, the more recent books will naturally have a cer- tain attraction for the student, he ought not to neglect the older masterpieces. Plato's Republic and Aristotle's Ethics 8 are still in many respects the greatest works on Ethics that we possess ; and i Now Part I. of The Principles of Ethics. * Chapters v. and vi in Darwin's Descent of Man may also be referred to. But the treatment of this subject there is slight and superficial * In connection with these, Bosanquet's Companion to Plato's Re- public and Muirhead's Chapters from Aristotle's Ethics may be used. See also the Commentaries by Nettleship and Stewart. NOTE ON ETHICAL LITERATURE. 457 every serious student ought to read them at as early a point in his course as he finds possible. Spinoza's Ethics is a very difficult book, and can only be fully appreciated by an advanced student of Meta- physics.! The same remark is on the whole true of Hegel's Philoso- phic des Rechtsa. great book of which at last there is a tolerable translation. Some of the most important points in Hegel's system are, however, reproduced in a simple and interesting form in Dewey's Outlines of a Critical Theory of Ethics. 3 Bradley's Ethical Studies also represents the Hegelian point of view ; but this most interest- ing and stimulating work is unhappily out of print 8 Among other works of historical importance, which the student may profitably read, may be mentioned Butler's Sermons and Dissertation H. (" Of the Nature of Virtue "), Hume's Treatise on Human Nature, Books II. and III., or Dissertation on the Passions and Inquiry con- cerning the Principles of Morals, Adam Smiths Theory o] Moral Sen- timent, Bentham's Principles of Morals and Legislation, Bacon's De Augmentis, Books VII. and VIII., and Hobbes's Leviathan.* 1 Students who desire to read Spinoza will derive great assistance from Principal Caird's excellent monograph in Blackwood = " Philo- sophical Classics." Those who read German will find his whole system expounded very fully and with extraordinary clearness and brilliancy in Kuno Fischer's Gcschichte der ncuern Philosophic, l.,ii. For a shorter account, students may be referred to the article on " Cartesianism " in the Encyclopedia Britannica, Spinoza as a pure Determinist, and as : ic who wholly excludes the conception of ideals or of final causes, may be said to begin by denying the possibility of Ethics. He treats it as a positive or natural history science, not as a normative science. C/.. above, p. 92, note I. But as he goes on with the development of his system, he is led, in spite of himself, to admit the conception of an ideal or end in human life, and even of a certain " immanent finality* in nature. This point is well brought out by Principal Caird (op. cit., pp. 270, 304) 2 Hegel's Philosophy of History (translated in Bohn's Series) will also be found very interesting. * Bosanquet's Civilization of Christendom a collection of Essays on Applied Ethics is also written from this point of view * A lairly complete list of important English works on Ethics, arranged according to schools, will be found at the ei:d of Muir- head's Elements of Ethics. 4j8 APPENDIX. Many other useful books might be mentioned Students who read German will find Paulsen's System der Ethik, 1 Hoffding's Ethik, Wundt's Ethik, and Simmel's Einleitung in die Moralwissen- schaft, of the greatest value.2 In French, the writings of Guyau and Fouille*e will be found particularly suggestive : Simon's Du Devoir and Renouvier's La Science Morale may also be referred to. For Social Ethics Comte's Politique Positive is invaluable. 8 I may also mention Sorley*s Ethics of Naturalism,* Fowldr's Progressive Morality, Clifford's Lectures and Essays (containing some extremely suggestive points), Lotze's Practical Philosophy , Janet's Theory oj Morals, Royce's Religious Aspect of Philosophy, Edgeworth's Mathe- matical Psychics and New and Old Methods of Ethics. In the History of Ethics, in addition to Sidgwick's History of Ethics and to the short statements contained in General Histories of Philosophy (ft, g. Erdmann's, Zeller's, and Kuno Fischer's), reference may be made to Lecky's History of European Morals, to Stephen's English Thought in the Eighteenth Century, and (for readers of German) to Ziegler's Ethik der Grlechen und RSmern and Gcschichte der Christ- lichen Ethik, and to Jodl's Gcschichte der neuern Ethik. C. M. Wil- liams's recent work on Evolutional Ethics will be found useful with reference to that particular school Notices of current litera- ture on the subject, as well as discussions on particular points, will be found from time to time in the pages of Mind, of the Philo- sophical Review, and of the International Journal of Ethics. 1 This is particularly valuable on the side of Applied Ethics. * The last-named is almost purely critical. For a summary of Comte's point of view, see Caird's Social Philosophy and Religion of Comte. For the history of social Ethics before Comte, reference may be made to Janet's Histoire de la Science Politique ; also to the same writer's Philosophic de la Revolu- tion francaise, Saint-Simon et le Saint-Simonisme, and Les Origincs du Socialisme contemporain. See also Mohl's Gcschichte und Litera- tur der Staatswissenschaften. 4 Containing extremely valuable criticisms of the Utilitarian and Evolutionist schools. INDEX. 4 BBOTT, T. K. : referred to, <* 192, 344. Act : will and, 54-7. resolution and, 398-9. crime and, 398-9. Action: reflection and, 109,384-8. nature of voluntary, 98-100. Actions : as lies, 189, 338. and motives, 65, 388. as dependent on character, 407. and remorse, 408. Activity : involved in morality, 14. Adjustment : in relation to morals and science, 239 teq. Adler: referred to, 349, 374. .aesthetics and Ethics, 12, 16, 28-30, 177 teq. Alexander: on natural selection in murals, 243 teq. on sroiul conduct, 245-6. on uuiies, 333. on virtue and duty, 343-4. on the relation of the virtues to social institutions, 352. on vices as old virtues, 394. Altruism : and Egoism, 293. conciliation of, with Egoism (Spencer), 293-4. Animals : conduct in, 85, 105-6. incapable of higher sins, 415. moral judgment in, 114. relation to men, 424-5. spontaneity of, 94. Appetite : and Want, 44 seq. and desire, 46 seq., 248. Aristotle : ou moral activity, 14. Aristotle : on the Good Will, 18. on Ethics and Politirs, 32. definition of the Good, 44. on motive, 64. on good habit and the good man, 84, 88. on the relation of virtue and knowledge, 88. view of Ethics, 152, 296. on practical utility of Ethics, 350. on virtue as a mean, 358. list of virtues, 358-9, 372-3. on changing of character, 367. " practical syllogism," 370. definition of virtue, 371. on the contemplative life, 384, 387. referred to, 3, 46, 53, 89, 92, 268, 272, 284, 288, 291, 295, 318, 329, 331, 394/456. Arnauld : quoted (on rest ,373. Arnold, Matthew : on Conduct, 17. definition of religion, 433-6. on art as truth, 442. and a " power not ourselves, that makes for righteoua- nefis," 448. Art: and Science, 11-12. morality a fine, 12 teq., 28-30. relation to religion, 436 teq. the failure of, 442-4. Ascetic principle: Bentham on, 205. Asceticism, 383-4. 459 460 INDEX. Atheism, 447. Attainment: progressive &nd. catat' trophic, 79 seq. Authority, 255 seq. T3ACKSLIDING, 307. -*-* Bacon : referred to, 365. Bain, Prof. : referred to, 68. Beautiful souls, 29-30, 382-3. Beautiful, the : and the Good, 177-8. Beauty, 28-30, 177-8. Bentham : on pleasure and pain, 67. his life, 159-160. on " the Ascetic Principle," 205. confused egoistic and univer- salistic hedonism, 211. his view of " ought," 213. on value of pleasures, 214. doggerel on qualities of pleasures, 215. discarded the expression "of the greatest number," 222. on final and efficient cause of human action, 261-2. on sanctions, 259, 261-4. Biology, 26-7, 235 seq. Blunc, Louis: referred to, 315. Blessedness : term for the satis- faction of higher desires, 227. Bosanqnet: on Moral Ideas and Ideas about Morality, 110. on " the scholars golden rule," 363. referred to, 87, 113, 274, 444, 453. Bradley, P. H. : what pleasure is, 224. on personal opinions as self- conceit, 355. on being a whole, 367. referred to, 67, 170, 203, 274, 346, 354, 453. Browne, Sir T. : quoted, 196. Browning: quoted on art, 16, 139. on change of universe, 251. on education of character, 368. on estimate of an individual, 84, 385, 401. on intuitions of art, 445. on religion, 449. referred to, 362. Bryant, S. : referred to, on edu- cation, 34. on fortitude, 361. Bryce, J. : quoted, 115, 207-8. Buckle: referred to, 401, 426. Buddha : referred to, 390. Buddhists : referred to, 447. Burke: quoted, 356, 411. Burns: quoted, 136. Butler, J. : on conscience, 182 seq., 185, 266-8. on objects and desires, 71. on authority, 257, 267. on self-love, 267. CAIRD, E. : on Kant, 159. on art, 443. referred to, 452-3, 455. Caird, Princ. J. : referred to, 52, 457. Calculus of pleasure, 229. Capacity and act, 14. Carlyle : his view of Economics, 12. on character as an inheritance, 102. on blessedness and happiness, 227. on a clear conscience, 304. on slavery, 318. his commandment, 339, 346. on the unconscious as the only complete, 375. on know thyself, 386. on crime and act, 399. on birth of heroes, 412. on ' Progress of the Speciee,' 416. INDJdX. Garlyle : on greatness and melan- choly, 429. on worship, 437. on greatness and unhappinesa, 444. on music, 444. " the soul of the world is just," 449. referred to, 172, 256, 269, 322, 376, 383, 392. quoted, 396. Cartesians, 153, 268. Casuistry, 339-41. Categorical imperative, 169 seq. Categories, 188. Cause, final and efficient, 62. Bentham on, 261-2. Celibacy, 200. Chalmers, Dr. : referred to, 368. Character, 83-4. Novalis on, 57. of women : Pope on, 68, 396. as object of the moral judg- ment, 137-8. respect for, 335-6. education of, 366 seq. a weak, 395. of great strength, 396. development of, 400. in relation to action, 407. Children : quasi-rights of, 425. Christ: referred to, 390, 391. Christian Ethics, 297-8. Christianity, 30. Christian love, 363-4. Church : the, 324. Circumstance, 85-8. Civilization : the product of vir- tues and vices, 411. Clarke, 154, 175. Clifford, W. K. : the " tribal self," 115-6, 305. on conscience, 117-8. Code of honour, 8, 342. Coit, Dr. S., 148. Commandments, 8, 332. relation to the virtues, 352-3. the Jewish, 121, 352. what they are, 365-0. Common sense ethics, 183 seq. Community: of goods, 317. the civic, 323-4. Comte, Auguste, 113, 448. Conduct, 1-2, 58. a fine art, 12, 14 seq. the whole of life, 17. definition of, 84-5. - Spencer's view of, 85. evolution of, 104 seq. germs of, in lower animals, 105-7. among savages, 107. guidance of, by custom, 108. , by law, 108. , by ideas, 108-9. as object of the moral judg- ment, 135. rules of, 349-50. sanctions of, 260. and emotion, 433 seq. Conscience, 146, 186, 198. origin of, 117-8. individual, as moral standard, 122-3. law of, 182 seq. as sanction, 264. authority of, 265-8. and the social unity, 303 seq. mystery of, 304. pain of, 304. attached to the highest system of things, 305. quasi-, 305-6. stifling of, 307. " case of," 341. Conscientiousness, 376t over-much, 389. Consistency, 170, 191 seq. Contract : right and obligation of, 318-9. " from status to," 318. "social," 318. Conventional rules, 342-8. Conversion, 375. Corruption : social, 411. Cosmopolitan, 297. Courage : a Greek virtue, 363 .;., 420. INDEX. Courage : a cardinal virtue, 360 teq., 372. Crime, 401-2. as evidence of insanity, 305. Custom, 1, 107-8, 343. as the moral standard, 119* 120. Cyrenaics : and Cynics, 151. and Egoistic Hedonism, 215. TYANTE: referred to, 438, 443. *-* Darwin : referred to, 85, 242. Decisiveness and perseverance as virtues, 362, 364, 372. Democritus, 148. Descartes : referred to, 153, 389, 440. Desirable : ambiguity of, 213. Desire : general nature of, 43 teq. and appetite, 46-7. universe of, 47-9. and wish, 52-3. and pleasure, 67-9, 79-82. the object of, 69 teq. "disinterested," 72. imaginative satisfaction of, 81-2. higher and lower forms of, 208-9. satisfaction of, ia happiness, 209-210. Desires : conflict of, 49-51. not for pleasure, 73-4. satisfaction of, 209-210. Determinists, 94. and crime, 407. Devas, C. S., 33. Development : of the moral con- sciousness, 111-2. general nature of moral, 126. of life, 235. higher and lower views of, 235-6. of moral life, 236. explanation of, 237 teq. Devil, the : an ass, 15. Dewey, J. : conflict of desires, 61-2. Dewey, J. : on motives, 65. on actions of animals, 95. on the good artisan, 347. referred to, 203, 359. Discipline: value of ascetic, 367. Diihring : referred to, 248. Aura/xu, 14. Duties: my station and its, 346-8. Duty, 162 teq. Duty : happiness, perfection and, 159-160. of perfect and imperfect obli- gation, 343 teq. and virtue, 345, 352. and work, 346-7. paradox of, 373. Tf DUCATION : right and ob- *-* ligationof, 319. of character, 366 teq, and psychology, 366. moral, 369. punishment aa agent of, 404. Egoism: and altruism, 293. conciliation of, with altruism, 293 teq. Egoistic hedonism, 215-8. Eliot, George : on the highest happiness, 233. Emancipation of slaves : and mo- rality, 426-8. Emerson : on self-consistency, 170. quoted, 91, 247, 387, 415. End, 2-4. idea of, 85. as self-realization, 233. perfection rathe* than hap* piness, 233. 'Erl/ryeux, 14. Environment; change of, and moral change, 426-8. Epicureans : identified virtue with happiness, 206. and egoistic hedonism, 216. Ethical hedonism, 212. INDEX. 463 Ethical hedonism, general mean- ing of, 214 seq. Ethos of a people, 354-7. the universal, 354. Evils: use of, 401-2. Evolution : of conduct, 104 seq. its application to morals, 234-5. and theory of ethics, 235, 280 nq. and Spencer's ethical theory, 237-241, 247. social, 413-6. Evolutionists: on ethics, 241 seq. Example : influence of, 366. Exceptions, 199. Exploitation : of the poor, 412. TRACTS ana -rules, 5-8. - 1 - Failure: of life, 440-1. of society, 441-2. Fairbanks, Prof. A., 113. Faith, 429-30, 451-2. Family : the, 320. violation of the sanctities of : forbidden, 337. Fanaticism, 57, 136-7, 185. Faults : as moral agents, 387. Feeling, 63, 196. of " self-realisedness," 224. of pleasure is sense of value, 223. of satisfaction : differences of, 226. Fichte, 198. Fidelity, 365, 372. Forgiveness, 410-1. Form and matter, 191, 192 stq., 230-231. FouillSe: referred to, 113, 458. Fowler : referred to, 280. Freedom : essential to morals, 91-2. the tnm sense of, 93-4. the highest 97-8. a right of man, 315-6. respect for, 314-5. Friendship, 3-J5-6. Froude, J. A. : quoted, 389. GASSENDI: referred to, 15:5-4, 216. Gauss : referred to, 164. Genius: moral, 12, 350. Giddings, F. H., 113. Gilman, N. P. : referred to, 12. Gizycki : referred to, 221 , 268, 324. God: mediaeval conception of, 101. goodness in, 165. law of, 174, 258. must be social, 292. as all, 456. as infinite and not infinite, 458. Goethe: quoted, 310, 378, 381, 386. Goldsmith : quoted, 64. Golden Age, a, 413. Good, 2-3. will, the, 15-16, 128-130. its relation to desire, 44. habit, 84. happiness the only, 218. must be for somebody, 220. is explained by the end, 247. the only thing desired, 393-4. the only reality, 449. Goodness: an activity, 14. and the beautiful, 177-8. as adjustment, 242. Goods : community of, 317. Greek religion, 436. Green : on the will, 54. on the relation of pleasure tc objects, 229. his view of ethics, 248-250. on good and evil actions, 379. on Greek virtues, 420. on self-denial, 420-2. referred to, 377, 398. Guyau, referred to. 104, 113,458. Gymnastic and music, 386. HABIT, 88-90, 106. good, 84. Hallam : referred to, 401; Happiness, 171. 464 INDEX. Happiness, the only pood, 218. fallacy of the gcivral, 219. its relation to the s>uif , 232. is a relative term, 232. the highest, 233. is not the end, 233. real meaning of, 253. Heart: 198-9. Heaven : and freedom of the will, 101. Hedonism : psychological, 67-69. paradox of , 69-71- varieties of, 210-212. ethical, in relation to psycho- logical, 212-3. egoistic, 215-8. universalistic, 218 seq. three forms of, 221. general criticism of, 222 seq. foundation of, 222. gives matter without form, 231. and motives to seek general happiness, 261. Hedonists: ethical and psycho- logical, 211. Hegel : on the planets, 94. his view of "ought," 168. his Logic, 286. on the history of freedom, 315. on the Greek gods, 438. on art, 444. " the had infinite," 447. on the real and the rational, 452. quoted, 52, 336, 346, 354, 427- referred to, 284, 288, 310, 449, 450-1. Heine, on Kant, 159-160. Hell : paved with good intentions, 129. and freedom of the will, 101. Helvetius : referred to, 216. Heraclitus: referred to, 147-8. Herbart : referred to, 366. quoted, 369. Heredity, 101-2, 106. Hobbes: referred to. 154, 158, 216. Hoffding : referred to, 398. Homer: referred to, 394, 438. Honesty : more than mere truth* fulness. 363. Honour : code of, 8, 342. Humanity : religion of, 448. Hume : on reason and passion, 75-6. on self, 96. referred to, 318. Hunger : not a desire, 81. Hutcheson, 154, J78, 181. on desires, 71. Huxley : referred to, 223. IDEAL: meaning of, 28-9. the : study of, 380. the universe of, 428-30. validity of the, 432. as real, 445. Idealistic view of ethics, its bear- ing on practice, 282 seq. Ignorance : and responsibility, 408. Imagination : and morality, 439- 440. Imperative : the social, 309. absolute, 350, 406. with exception, 406. Impulse, 57 : and responsibility, 408. Inclination, 57. Incompleteness : sense of, 418-9. and need of religion, 439. and morality, 439. Indifference : liberty of, 90, 9.4. Individual: and society, 291 seq. life, 374 seq. Individualism : and Socialism, 326-7. commandment of, 327. the higher, 374-5. Inducement, 62-64. Infinite, the: demand for, 444, 446. "the bad, "447. INDEX. 465 Infinites : the two, 445-6. Insanity : exempts from respon- sibility, 407. Instinct, 105-6, 248-9. Institutions : social, 320 teq. unsectarian ethical, 324. and rights, 333. And duties, 333. and virtues, 352, 366. Intention : meaning of, 69 teq. relation to motive, 64 teq. the good : and virtue, 398. good and bad, 399. lut'uitionisiu, 183 1*9., 277-8. TACOBI, 195, 198-9. ** James : referred to, 867, 450-1. Janet, P. : referred to, 188, 198, 341-2. Jansenists : referred to, 205. Jesuits : referred to, 340. Jevons, 214. Jewish law summed up, 341. Jews : commandments of, 121, 352. and moral laws, 124. the religion of, 447- John, Epistle of: quoted, 410. Judgment : the artistic, 16. the moral, 114 teq. the reflective, 123. on act and agent, 130 seq. Jurisprudence and Ethics, 349. Justice, 15. social, 310-11. note on, 329-30. use of the term, 344. as social virtue, 303, 372. KANT: on the goodwill, 16- 16, 128, 190-1. on idea of end, 86. on love not a duty, 91. on " ought " and " can," 91. bin life, 169-160. JU. Kant : on the categorical impera- tive, 169, 191 ttq. on conscience, 186, 278. his categories, 188. his view of the moral reason, 190